Four years ago, I published the first part of this little challenge. Back then, the game was still in its early stages and didn’t have nearly as many characters as it does now. But now, after four years, I’m finally ready to show you new characters – as seen through my eyes. I truly hope you’ll enjoy it!
Throughout August, I’ll be posting one scenario per day, each focused on a different Genshin Impact character of my choosing; both SFW and NSFW. Don’t worry about repetition – the characters will be completely different from those featured in ‘Genshin Impact Month 1’, so you can expect all-new stories. Most of these scenarios will include one, two, or sometimes a few characters at once. Just like four years ago, I’ll mostly be writing from a gender neutral or female reader perspective – it’s what I’m most comfortable with.
I hope you’ll have as much fun reading as I’ll have writing.
Enjoy, and see you soon! ✨
P.S. My other special months are here: ‘I love girls Month’, ‘Music & Vocaloids Month’.
done | 01/08. his sister’s new friend with KAMISATO AYATO and KAMISATO AYAKA
done | 02/08. eating pussy with NEUVILLETTE
done | 03/08. between hot and cold with YELAN and MAVUIKA
done | 04/08. crying on his shoulder with ARATAKI ITTO
done | 05/08. nightmares with YUMEMIZUKI MIZUKI
done | 06/08. exams time with XIANYUN and CLORINDE
done | 07/08. misunderstanding with FREMINET and ESCOFFIER
done | 08/08. making dinner with TIGHNARI
done | 09/08. sloppy kisses with SANGONOMIYA KOKOMI
done | 10/08. wedding night with DAINSLEIF
11/08. cheating with XILONEN on CANDACE
12/08. rainy day with GAMING
13/08. one night stand with WRIOTHESLEY and SKIRK
14/08. besties with FARUZAN and VARESA
15/08. little kindergarten with NAHIDA, YAOYAO, DORI, IANSAN, SIGEWINNE and KACHINA
16/08. lactation kink with KAVEH
17/08. big sis with LYNEY and LYNETTE
18/08. games and discord with KUKI SHINOBU
19/08. final battle with RAIDEN EI
20/08. sixth yaksha with ALL YAKSHAS
21/08. fight for you with ARLECCHINO and COLUMBINA
22/08. mascara and lipstick with YAE MIKO
23/08. PMS with THOMA
24/08. breaking up with ORORON
25/08. summer trip with SHENHE, CHASCA and CITLALI
26/08. his new student with BAIZHU and EMILIE
27/08. sweet granddaughter IL CAPITANO and PULCINELLA
synopsis: Your wedding with Dainsleif was one of the most lively and unforgettable celebrations in this part of the city. You were surrounded by the warmth of close friends and dearest family. But after the party, as tradition gently dictates, the newlyweds were finally free to bask in each other’s presence during the wedding night.
# tags: scenario; current marriage relationship; fluff; romance; comedy at the end; wedding night!au; kisess, touches, praises; naked bodies described; suggestive
includes: female reader ft. dainsleif {genshin impact}
“…Would you like to take a bath with me?” Your voice was soft, worn slightly thin from the dancing, the music, and the endless laughter of the night. It slipped into the quiet of the bedroom and reached Dainsleif’s ears just as he was unfastening his tie and removing the cufflinks from his shirt. He paused for only a heartbeat before turning toward you. There you stood in the doorway between the bathroom and the bedroom, your figure wrapped in nothing but a towel. Your hair, once pinned carefully in its wedding-day perfection, had loosened into soft, wayward strands. There was no makeup on your face now, no jewelry glinting against your skin – only the shine of your engagement ring and the wedding band resting together on the finger of your right hand. His expression softened into a warm smile, the kind that always reached his eyes. He nodded once. “Then I’ll run us some warm water.”
You felt a rush of heat bloom in your cheeks, and before he could notice the full depth of your blush, you slipped back behind the corner of the door. Behind you, Dainsleif’s steady movements continued – his shirt falling away from his shoulders, his trousers folded neatly aside, the faint sound of socks and shoes being removed.
When he stepped into the bathroom, he was dressed only in his underwear. The room was already transformed by the gentle glow of vanilla-scented candles, their light dancing over the pale tiles. The air carried the sweet floral notes of bath foam, and the steam curling up from the water gave the space an almost dreamlike haze. Shadows lay soft on the walls, and everything seemed to slow, to quiet – except for the awareness that to him, the most beautiful thing in this room wasn’t the bath at all.
With an easy, confident gesture, you removed the towel from your body and placed it neatly on the rack beside the pristine white bathtub. The warmth of the water embraced you instantly as you stepped in, sinking slowly until it lapped over your shoulders. A deep breath escaped you without thought, your muscles uncoiling in relief. The gentle motion of the water caused your chest to rise and fall with a soft, rhythmic sway, and when you looked toward the blond man, you couldn’t hide the joy in your eyes as you invited him to join you.
This was your first bath together as husband and wife – of course you wanted to share it with him.
Dainsleif only shook his head lightly in amusement at your impatience, then removed the last barrier between you. You watched him, perhaps longer than you meant to – your gaze tracing every detail, from the lines of his shoulders to the faint play of muscle as he moved, down to the small, almost invisible hairs that caught the light against his skin. He was beautiful in a way that seemed both unshakable and unguarded, and you let yourself drink in the sight.
He gave a quiet, knowing cough at your lingering stare, which made you smile, before lowering himself into the water behind you. You leaned back instantly, your head finding its place against his chest. His arms rested loosely around you, and the warmth of the water became a shared blanket, binding you together beneath its surface.
“How do you feel?” His voice was low, almost a whisper, as his lips brushed the shell of your ear.
You raised your hand, letting the light catch on the ring that now sat beside the one he had placed there more than a year ago. The two pieces of gold matched perfectly in color and size, as if they had always been destined to rest together.
“… Tired.” You admitted with a soft sigh. “But so very happy. Today was truly wonderful.”
And it had been – an evening you knew would be etched in your memory for the rest of your life. Joy, love, and laughter had filled every corner of the day. Friends and family had gathered close, their smiles adding to the glow of the celebration, yet here and now you realized the heart of it all was this – the quiet, the intimacy, the certainty of his presence beside you.
You talked together, your voices blending with the sound of water shifting in the tub. Mostly, it was you who spoke – retelling little moments from the wedding, pointing out details you loved, weaving in thoughts about plans for the coming weeks. He listened with an easy patience, the way he always did, his fingers occasionally brushing along your arm or pressing a kiss into your hair.
It was perfect in its simplicity. Just you and him, and the gentle embrace of warm water. A scatter of kisses, some quick and playful, others slow and lingering. The occasional laugh at some small joke only the two of you would understand. The quiet, repeated promises – spoken as much in the spaces between words as in the words themselves – that you would stay together until the very end, and perhaps even longer.
And in that moment, wrapped in the dim light, the scent of vanilla and flowers, and the steady heartbeat beneath your ear, you knew with unshakable certainty – this was exactly where you were meant to be.
previous day ; sangonomiya kokomi ♡ next day ; xilonen and candace
synopsis: An innocent game of spin the bottle can so easily slip into a moment of weakness — especially when it sparks a connection between two beautiful women.
# tags: scenario; strangers to lovers?; romance; modern times; party!au; sloppy kisses and touching each other; bottle game; mention of alcohol; suggestive
includes: female reader ft. sangonomiya kokomi {genshin impact}
That evening, you had no appetite for the chaos of parties or the pounding of loud music. You had planned for quiet, for solitude, perhaps a book and the comfort of your own space. But Yae Miko – your closest friend, relentless in her persuasion – wove words and smiles around you until your resistance gave way. And so the two of you set off together, stepping into the warm summer night toward Tartaglia’s house, where the party awaited. Even from the street, you could feel it. The bass pulsed faintly through the walls, each beat like a distant heartbeat drawing you in. Laughter rang out, spilling from open windows, joined by shouts, fragments of song, and the muffled murmur of too many voices in one place.
There was no ceremony at the door. You didn’t knock – no one would have heard it anyway. You simply crossed the threshold, the scent of alcohol and perfume wrapping around you immediately. A few guests lingered in the hallway, and you exchanged polite greetings before the current of the evening swept you deeper inside. In the living room, bodies moved in rhythm to the music, while in the kitchen people leaned against counters with half-empty glasses, speaking in tones pitched just above the music. The air was thick with warmth, with possibility.
{ ･ﾟ✧ }
It was close to two in the morning when someone suggested games. The idea drifted around the room, tested by playful voices – Uno or Just Dance? But the choice settled, inevitably, on Spin the Bottle. A circle began to form, chairs pulled aside, cushions and blankets claimed. Laughter rose and fell as everyone found a place. In the center, a green beer bottle lay like an unspoken promise, its glass catching the light in a soft glimmer. The oldest among you reached forward, gave it a sharp twist, and the room seemed to lean in as it spun.
The first rounds were harmless, almost sweet: sing something, dance for ten seconds, tell us a joke, admit if someone here catches your eye, speak in another language for two rounds, share a ghost story. You felt the tension growing under the surface, each dare just a shade bolder than the last. And then a player told another to take off his shirt. The circle shifted. The laughter changed... Tell us about your first time. Have you touched yourself recently. What kind of adult films do you like. Lick the other player’s belly button. Share a filthy story. The air thickened. Glances lingered longer than before.
The bottle spun again and stopped on you. You chose dare, not knowing how much weight that choice would carry. Yae Miko’s eyes found yours, glinting with mischief. She smiled in a way you had seen only rarely – slow, deliberate, the smile of someone who knows exactly what they are doing.
“Kiss the most beautiful or the most handsome person in the circle.” Her voice was silk with an edge. She laughed under her breath.
You frowned, feeling every pair of eyes on you. There were many beautiful faces in the circle – smiles tempting you forward, voices that could pull you in with a single word, the lines of a jaw or curve of a shoulder calling quietly to your senses. But your gaze, unbidden, settled on the girl directly across from you.
Her dress was layered with soft ruffles, the hem brushing against her knees. Blue heels caught the light with every subtle movement. A bow rested in her hair, neat yet playful. You thought – no, you knew – she favored white gold and pearls. Her eyes met yours with an almost imperceptible spark. You tilted your head in a silent question. She giggled, nodded once. You moved slowly at first, the sound of cheers swelling around you. The circle seemed to fade, voices dimming until all that remained was the girl before you.
Her lips met yours softly, carrying the taste of blueberries. The scent of her perfume – a delicate sweetness – bloomed around you, mingling with something warmer, skin and heat and breath. Your first touch was hesitant, a whisper of what it could be, unsure if you should go further. But she didn’t leave the choice to you.
Her hand found your hip, fingers pressing just enough to draw you closer. The kiss deepened, her lips moving against yours with a confidence that sent heat curling low in your stomach. The rhythm grew faster, more insistent, until you could feel your lips swelling under the intensity. She was nothing like the demure figure she had seemed moments before. There was something fierce in her, and it broke through with every movement, every daring stroke of her tongue against yours. You felt yourself give in completely, the world reduced to the narrow space between your joined mouths.
A sudden chorus of voices broke through – Yae Miko’s among them – teasing that perhaps you should take this elsewhere. You pulled away then, both of you breathless, faces flushed with color, the taste of her still lingering on your lips.
“… By the way. I’m Kokomi.” Her voice was softer now, her smile somehow more intimate. You gave her your name in return, thumb brushing absently across your lower lip as though to be certain the moment had truly happened.
synopsis: Cooking dinner was something ordinary, a simple part of everyday life. But cooking together – that was one of the most precious and treasured experiences the two of you had ever shared, time and time again.
# tags: scenario; current relationship; slice of life; modern times; fluff; light romance; making dinner; sfw
includes: gender neutral reader ft. tighnari {genshin impact}
The delicious scent of a freshly baked cake, filled with your favourite fruits, drifted lazily through every corner of the apartment – mingling with the gentle hiss of rice sizzling with vegetables and spices, and the warm, nutty aroma of asparagus roasting with pine nuts. It was an ordinary evening – no anniversary marked in bold on the calendar, no birthday candles waiting to be lit. It wasn’t even a planned date, but rather a shared whim, a sweet decision born out of nothing more than the desire to clear the fridge and pantry of lingering ingredients. And so, with a soft smile curving your lips, you stood by the oven, waiting for the moment you could pull the cake out, while Tighnari stirred butter in a small saucepan, ready to drizzle it over the tender green asparagus. Everything about it was perfectly imperfect – and that was the very thing that made it matter.
When the cake was finally set aside to cool, you moved instinctively – laying out two plates, two pairs of cutlery, and a pair of glasses adorned with cheerful orange slices and daisies. Beside them, you placed napkins that didn’t match in the slightest – printed with tiny sailboats and curling ocean waves – and yet, somehow, they added their own charm to the evening.
Tighnari plated the asparagus, scattering the pine nuts across them like tiny pieces of gold, before pouring over the golden stream of browned butter. A pinch of fresh herbs crowned them, filling the air with one last burst of fragrance. Beside that, he set a mound of vegetable fried rice, its colours warm and inviting, topped with a perfectly cooked sunny-side-up egg. Next to it, he placed slices of crisp cucumber, sprinkled with white sesame seeds that gleamed like moonlight.
While he worked, you filled the glasses with a pale citrus lemonade – homemade, naturally – its surface dotted with fresh mint leaves and seeds of pomegranate that drifted lazily in the carafe, catching the light like tiny rubies. Just before you sat down to eat, you dimmed the lights, letting the warm flicker of a few candles take over the room, casting long shadows and making the air feel heavier with comfort. When your boyfriend took his place at the table, you reached over to switch on the speaker, and the familiar opening of the latest ‛Boruto’ episode filled the space between you.
“…We still have a few things to catch up on… Let’s watch ‛Dandadan’ after this!” You laughed softly to yourself, your voice light with excitement. He simply nodded, unable to hide the tenderness in his expression as he watched your bright eyes and unguarded smile.
The meal itself was simple – yet it fit the moment so perfectly it could not have been improved. Each bite was warm and familiar, as though it carried pieces of every other meal you’d shared, and yet it felt fresh, new, something to be savoured.
And waiting beyond it, like a promise you could almost taste, was dessert – a generous slice of cake, paired with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, draped in a ribbon of fresh fruit sauce and sprinkled with crumbled biscuits. You could already imagine the way the warm cake would melt the edges of the ice cream, the way the sauce would stain the pale cream with streaks of ruby and gold.
It was nothing grand, nothing extravagant – and yet, in this quiet evening of mismatched napkins, candlelight, and anime playing softly in the background, the happiness between you grew steadily, like the slow rise of something baking in the oven, filling the air until it could no longer be contained.
previous day ; freminet and escoffier ♡ next day ; sangonomiya kokomi
synopsis: You slightly misread Ferminet’s surprise, and his entire plan nearly turned into a complete disaster.
# tags: scenario; current relationship and friendship; drama; but also fluff; misunderstanding; surprise event; jealous!reader; sfw
includes: gender neutral reader ft. freminet & escoffier {genshin impact}
Today was meant to be your day – your great day. A long-awaited promotion at work, and with it, the start of a precious week-long holiday you had planned to savour to the fullest. You wanted to escape somewhere with your partner, if only for seven days, and forget – forget the sadness, the grudges, the daily struggles, and all the quiet angers that had taken root. Two days earlier, the bags had already been packed. The destination was set. The route agreed upon. You had even daydreamed about the first meal you’d share once you arrived.
By some stroke of luck, you managed to leave work early. That meant you could get home sooner – to the apartment where, in your mind, Freminet should already be waiting. And oh, if only you had known... you would never regret, and yet almost wish you had delayed your return. Because there, just outside the old building you called home, you saw him. Your partner. And beside him, a woman you had never seen before – a stranger, yet clearly not distant. They stood close, speaking with ease, sharing laughter that felt far too natural. And then you saw her hand something to him, leaning in with a warmth that stung, before they parted in an embrace – not long, but tender. She walked away down the street, and Freminet slipped inside the stairwell.
Your own hands were trembling so fiercely you had to wait before following. You told yourself to breathe, to hold your composure. Only when the shaking eased did you walk into the building, up the stairs, and unlock the door. The moment he saw you, he smiled – soft, open, unguarded. You, however, could only meet his eyes with a flat, unreadable stare.
“… Is something wrong?” His voice changed instantly, weighted with concern. You let out a short, sharp laugh beneath your breath.
“We’re not going anywhere. I’m going back to my parents’.” Your voice was almost a whisper, yet it cut through the air like glass. You moved to pass him, but his hand caught your wrist.
“What happened? Tell me what’s wrong.”
“What happened?” Your words rose, hot and fast. “I just saw you with some woman, laughing with her, hugging her like...” You pulled at his grip, wanting distance. “That’s what happened!” He shook his head, urgency flickering in his eyes.
“No. No, wait. What exactly did you see?”
“Enough.” You said. “Enough to know this is over.” Your throat tightened, your vision began to blur. And as you blinked through the haze, the expression on his face seemed only to crumble further.
“…Hold on. No, it’s not what you think!” He lifted his hands slightly, as if to ward off your spiralling thoughts. Then, with a quiet sigh. “Escoffier is a very close friend of mine… She was helping me choose something for you…” His voice faltered, and the air between you grew heavy. “I wanted to give it to you during our trip, but…” Before you could fully process his words, he dropped to one knee. Your brow furrowed, heart skipping in disbelief. “Let’s make this trip an engagement trip instead.” He said, his voice warm – almost trembling. “Y/N, my love, there’s no one else I see but you. Will you do me the honour… of marrying me?”
It hit you like a cold wave – shocking, bracing, clearing the fog of suspicion. You had been wrong. Terribly, painfully wrong. You had let your fear run ahead of the truth. The stranger was no threat, no rival – only the keeper of a secret meant to bring you joy. This was supposed to be a surprise. This was supposed to be a beautiful journey, filled with memories you would treasure forever. You swallowed hard, the guilt already prickling at your skin. And yet, despite the tears rising in your eyes, you found your voice.
“Y-Yes.” You breathed, your lips trembling into a smile. Yes, to the ring – delicate and gleaming, crowned with a jewel that caught the light like a drop of dawn. Yes, to him, still kneeling before you, gaze steady and unwavering. But the tears came anyway – spilling as you stammered your apology. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly enough to silence every leftover doubt. And so, the moment ended not in rupture, but in renewal.
What began with suspicion and hurt would become the start of something new – a trip to celebrate not just a promotion, not just a holiday, but the promise of a life together.
A week to mark the first days of your engagement. A week where the only thing you would pack more carefully than your luggage… was your shared future.
previous day ; xianyun and clorinde ♡ next day ; tighnari
synopsis: The season of exams and final grades was drawing near. Fortunately, studying in a group of four is always easier than studying alone — especially when the fourth member of the group is a bottle of wine.
# tags: scenario; friendship; fluff; comedy; kinda drama; modern college!au; exams time; swearing and joking; alcohol use; rather sfw
includes: female reader ft. xianyun & clorinde {genshin impact}
A moment of focus was once again shattered – this time by Clorinde’s carefree laughter and the soft sip of wine being poured into delicate glasses by your hand. Only Xianyun still clung to the illusion of composure, a picture of studious resolve, as if she had truly come to your apartment with the singular goal of studying and mastering the vast material before the looming exam. And yet, even she couldn’t resist the pull of the atmosphere – a giggle escaped her lips as she accepted her glass with quiet gratitude and chased the taste with a salty cracker.
Your field of study had always been... interesting. Whether one found it easy or impossibly difficult depended entirely on perspective — but what couldn’t be denied was the sheer mountain of work it demanded. Countless readings, never-ending projects, dense material that expanded tenfold every exam season. This was your final year – the very last stretch of this academic chapter – and yet, somehow, it felt just like the others. Another round of revision sessions, another evening of too many highlighters, coffee cups and inside jokes. It had become tradition – a rhythm etched into your lives.
Every six months, like clockwork, the three of you would gather. To study. To create. To drown in paper and survive on energy drinks and mutual panic. You checked out books from the library together, flipped through dusty journals no one else dared to open, sat shoulder to shoulder at cafés with laptops humming and pens tapping. You attended every class as a trio, shared notes and lectures – and often, sandwiches too. It was more than a habit. It was your era – your precious, fleeting time of student life, lived together.
And so, this final session held weight. Symbolic. Sacred. Saturated with more laughter, more wine, and far more sweet and salty snacks than any of you dared admit.
“...Do you girls remember our first exam with Professor Rosenthal?” You asked, your voice catching as a tear slipped from the corner of your eye – not from sorrow, but from laughing too hard at something your green-haired friend had just said.
“The old man with the long mustache and the shiny bald head? Of course I do... That was my first and only failed exam in the entire program!” Clorinde groaned, letting her head fall dramatically against a pillow like a defeated heroine in a tragic play. You and Xianyun couldn’t help yourselves – both of you burst into laughter, loud and unfiltered. Yes... it had been a ridiculous time. And yet, somehow, it was a golden memory now.
“That final was arguably even worse than Doctor Korolyova’s assignment...” Xianyun muttered, rolling her eyes as she flipped absently through her notes, which seemed less like academic material and more like chaotic runes scrawled during a nervous breakdown. You nodded in silent agreement, a shiver crawling up your spine at the memory – your muscles still remembered the anxiety that exam had induced.
As your gaze drifted across the room – to your smiling friends, to the half-empty bottle of wine tilting at a dangerous angle, to the floor littered with books, papers, notebooks, pens and sticky notes in every pastel color imaginable – something shifted in your chest. A strange, quiet ache bloomed. The kind that only comes when joy and nostalgia collide. You smiled, just a little, as you watched your two closest companions bicker over potential exam questions with the seriousness of generals preparing for war.
You knew the tears would come later – they always did. Not now, but perhaps in the quiet after all of this was over, when your apartment would be silent again. When the exams would be done, and the late-night study sessions would become memories instead of routine. You’d cry not out of sadness, but out of overwhelming gratitude – for these years, for the laughter, for the mess, and most of all, for the friendship that had taken root and bloomed in the midst of deadlines and chaos.
But that moment wasn’t now. Now, you had five days left.
Five days to hold onto this time, to cram as much knowledge as you could into your exhausted brain, to underline one last sentence, to drink one more cup of wine, to share one more half-hearted summary and another laugh. And so, you turned back to your notes – pen in hand, heart full – and let yourself return to the beautiful madness of it all.
previous day ; yumemizuki mizuki ♡ next day ; freminet and escoffier
synopsis: Mizuki had a power. No, it wasn’t fireballs or icy arrows. Not even reading minds or knowing the secrets of the world. Her power was quiet, gentle – she could calm someone after they woke trembling from a nightmare.
# tags: scenario; current relationship; angst; fluff at the end; nightmares; cuddling and comforting; sharing a bed; sfw
includes: gender neutral reader ft. yumemizuki mizuki {genshin impact}
The entire room was bathed in moonlight – a silvery glow that spilled through the curtains like a quiet tide – mingling gently with the soft flicker of a candle’s dying flame, lit hours ago in a moment of quiet intention. In that small sanctuary, two breaths filled the space: one calm, steady, and undisturbed – a lullaby of peace – while the other was uneven, caught between waking and sleep, like someone running toward something unseen or fleeing something they couldn’t quite name.
That second breath came with murmurs, muffled words whispered into the air like a language only dreams could speak. There were sighs too – not soft or relaxed, but uneven and sharp-edged, pierced with restlessness and the shadow of some unnamed dread. It was easy to guess: one of you was cradled in a light, gentle dream, while the other seemed to be slipping deeper and deeper into something darker – a nightmare beginning to bloom in silence.
Then, suddenly, a sharp inhale broke the room’s quiet rhythm – air rushing into lungs as if from underwater, followed by a trembling exhale that shuddered past parted lips. You awoke abruptly, drenched in sweat, your forehead burning and flushed, a low heat blooming across your face like fever. Your chest rose and fell too quickly, and your heart thudded like distant thunder, each beat echoing in your ears.
You looked around slowly – trying to anchor yourself in the familiar. Clothes draped across the chair. Slippers near the door. A dress hanging patiently by the mirror, waiting for tomorrow’s journey. Yet none of it calmed the unease winding tight within you.
Beside you, a small figure stirred. Her form was delicate, her movements quiet but purposeful. Mizuki sat up – her sleep still clinging faintly to her features – and when her eyes met yours, there was no confusion in them, only gentle understanding. She didn’t ask what had happened. She didn’t need to. One look at your trembling hand clenching the floral bedsheet told her enough.
“…Bad dream?” Her voice was low and warm, like a candle relighting itself in the dark, and it crept softly into your unsettled mind. You found just enough strength to nod – a small, broken movement that still carried the weight of nights gone wrong. Sleep had not been kind to you lately. It refused to come easily, and when it did, it was often stolen away by aching limbs, or strange, nonsensical dreams – like the one last week, where talking chicken eggs danced in circles, singing children's songs with haunting, empty eyes. There was no rest in such dreams – only confusion. Only exhaustion. “Do you want to talk about it?” Mizuki asked again, her voice now more alert, steadier – though still lined with care. You sighed and shook your head.
“No, it’s alright. Really. I’m sorry I woke you.” You turned your gaze away, shame prickling at the corners of your heart. You hated the thought that she might be tired tomorrow – might miss out on the joy of the trip, her smile dimmed by your sleeplessness.
“Don’t apologize. It’s alright. Come here...” She said softly, releasing your hand only to open her arms, wide and welcoming. The invitation was gentle but impossible to resist – not when warmth radiated from her like the first sunlight after a long storm. Not when love rested so easily between her open palms.
You shifted closer – hesitantly at first – and then let yourself melt into her, your cheek pressed against the quiet rise and fall of her chest. There, wrapped in her arms, the world began to slow. The jagged edges of your thoughts dulled. For a while, you spoke in murmurs – about the ordinary and the tender: your plans for tomorrow, the thought of food, and those little ducks with flowers balanced on their heads that had made you laugh during yesterday’s walk. Nothing important. Everything important.
And then, silence. Not the cold kind – not the absence of sound that leaves a void – but a silence that held you both in stillness, a peaceful hush filled with breath and presence. Mizuki’s heart beat softly beneath your ear, steady and strong, and her fingers began to trace lazy circles across the top of your head. The movement was gentle, hypnotic, like waves lapping at the shore.
Your eyelids fluttered closed without you even realizing, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, sleep didn’t come with claws. It arrived like a slow tide – cradling you. Mizuki stayed awake a little longer, just enough to make sure your body had gone limp with rest, and your brow no longer furrowed with worry.
Then, she let herself fall too – wrapped around you like a promise.
And truly, in that position, with her arms around you and the candle’s last breath flickering into darkness, you slept soundly for the rest of the night.
previous day ; arataki itto ♡ next day ; xianyun and clorinde
synopsis: After losing your beloved pet, you couldn’t find yourself again. No soft paws on the floor. No bowl to fill. Everything in the house whispered their name. Luckily, your partner stayed by your side and comforted you day and night so that you could finally get back on your feet.
# tags: scenario; current relationship; drama; angst; hurt/comfort; death mention; pet death; crying and mourning; rather sfw
includes: gender neutral reader ft. arataki itto {genshin impact}
You nestled deeper into the pillow – the one that, for the past several hours, had become your closest companion. Every memory, every breath, every subtle movement of your body reminded you that this morning, you had to say goodbye to your dearest friend – your beloved pet, who had shared with you so many beautiful and tender moments. A smile lingered on your lips, yet it was woven with pain and sorrow for the animal who had left this world, now resting beyond the rainbow bridge where other gentle souls reside.
A soft knock on the bedroom door pulled you from the trance – from thoughts that wandered restlessly through your mind, refusing to let you sleep or find peace. In the doorway stood Itto, your boyfriend, who understood – deeply – the gravity of the moment and the weight of your melancholy. He could not place himself in your shoes, it was true, but he longed to ease your pain, to bring even a flicker of comfort amidst the ache that clung to your chest.
He came to you bearing a cup of warm herbal tea – meant to soothe your thoughts – and a small plate on which lay a cupcake in your favorite flavor. At the sight of him, a faint smile touched your face.
“... How are you feeling, love?” He asked softly, sitting beside you. Then he placed the drink and the plate on the nightstand, and after a moment, his free hand found your head. He gently stroked your hair, and you shrugged your shoulders.
“I feel sad.” You whispered, your gaze drifting instinctively to the photo of your pet on the nightstand. “I miss them.”
“Y/N, it’s truly okay to feel like this. Is there anything else I can do for you? Would you like a warm bath, or maybe I could put on a movie for you?” His voice was filled with concern – with love. But you shook your head, thanking him quietly for all he had done. Then, you asked if he might lie beside you for a while. He didn’t refuse. Instead, he nodded and eased himself down behind you, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist.
The two of you lay there in silence for a long time, the quiet broken only by the soft songs of owls and the rustling of leaves beyond the window. The tea slowly cooled. The night deepened. And you didn’t even notice when your eyes closed for longer, granting you relief from the tears, the dull pounding in your head, and the heavy grief that coursed through your whole fragile body.
Itto stayed beside you until morning. He did not let go of you, not even for a moment, and with each steady breath you took, each gentle sign of relaxation, he exhaled a quiet breath of relief. He remained still, praying silently that you might truly rest. He knew you wouldn’t forget. This day would stay with you for a long time – but he also knew that with each new morning, the ache would grow just a little quieter. The stillness, a little less sharp. You would feel hollow, he knew, but he made a silent promise to himself: he would try to fill that emptiness, as much as one person could.
He would not replace your little friend – but he would become your guardian, your silent angel, chasing away the nightmares, the sorrow, and the storm.
previous day ; yelan and mavuika ♡ next day ; yumemizuki mizuki
synopsis: You loved them both. Their contrasts. Their different ways of loving you. Their raw honesty. Even when their jealousy towards each other made you laugh.
# tags: scenario; current poly relationship; mostly romance; bit of comedy; jealousy; touching and kissing you; teasing; writer and sub!reader; sfw
includes: female reader ft. yelan & mavuika {genshin impact}
You sat quietly in the wicker chair, your fingers moving in small, deliberate strokes as you filled the worn notebook with ideas for the next novel you wanted to bring to life in the coming year. Beside you, a porcelain teacup painted with tiny strawberries released a gentle wisp of steam – chamomile tea laced with just a touch of blackcurrant syrup. The room – the one you always called your sanctuary, your little office – carried more than the fragrance of fruit and herbs. There was the soft sweetness of your perfume lingering in the air, the subtle warmth of burning candles casting flickers of light over the walls. The evening promised quiet, and all you hoped for tonight was to finish sketching the inner worlds of a few characters and perhaps draft a rough map of the land they would walk upon – a map that would guide you later, as the story slowly took shape.
Your writing always gravitated toward crime and drama, the edges of human desperation, but you loved to slip threads of romance and tragedy into the weave, letting them pulse quietly beneath the surface. This upcoming novel felt different – not just another book, but a reflection of all your years writing, a way to say something lasting. A thank you. A love letter to the people who had kept you steady through every doubt: Yelan, who always found the time to read your drafts before they were ready for the world, her thoughtful notes like lanterns in the dark and Mauvika, whose stories had become sparks to your own, her words a fire that lit your hands when they wanted to still. Those two women were your anchor and your wings, especially on the nights you’d thrown your pen aside and whispered to the empty room that you weren’t meant for this, that you couldn’t write another word. But those had only been the cracks of exhaustion. The truth was simple – you were loved, not only by them, but by an entire community. The book signings where lines curled around the block, filled with bright-eyed girls, women who clasped your hands like you’d written pieces of their hearts, readers of every kind who called you theirs – those moments breathed life back into you. They made you want to keep going.
The soft knock at the office door tugged you gently from your trance. When it opened, Mauvika stepped inside, her red hair catching the candlelight. You smiled before you even realized you were doing it, and she mirrored the curve of your lips.
“Y/N, love, dinner’s ready.” She said warmly, her voice carrying that easy cheer that always made the air in the room feel lighter. Dinner. The word alone brought a small flutter of anticipation – your red-haired partner had a gift in the kitchen, a quiet alchemy that turned simple ingredients into something tender, something beautiful. You set the notebook down beside the teacup, now only half-full, and stood, your steps toward the door light and quick. Passing her in the hall, you pressed a grateful kiss to her cheek, a small thank-you carried on your lips.
By the time you reached the dining room, Yelan was already there, pouring drinks into the delicate glasses set neatly by the plates. The table was a small masterpiece – slices of garlic bread still warm from the oven, a dish of glistening seafood, crisp sautéed asparagus, golden tofu in a sweet-hot marinade, a salad of baby spinach and cherry tomatoes dressed in a cool swirl of yogurt. Everything looked perfect, glowing softly in the light. You took your usual seat, offering Yelan a murmured thanks as she slid the chair in for you, and then the three of you began.
“… Mm, Mauvi, this is divine.” You murmured between bites, the affectionate shortening of her name rolling off your tongue. She basked in it, as she always did, and shot a small, smug glance at Yelan. The blue-haired woman’s brow furrowed, though her lips twitched as if holding back a smile. “The way you’ve balanced the sweet and spice in this tofu… It’s brilliant!” You added, tearing another piece of garlic bread with your fingers, savoring it slowly.
“And what do you think of the juice?” Yelan’s voice came quieter, her tone softening as her gaze shifted to you. “I pressed it myself. Added a little honey to make it sweeter.” You looked up at her, the glass cool against your fingers as you lifted it again.
“It’s wonderful.” You said honestly, the warmth in your smile mirrored in her softened expression. “I’d love another glass.” This time it was Yelan who turned her eyes to Mauvika, her chin lifting ever so slightly in a silent victory.
“Of course, drinks are lovely...” Mauvika chimed in, her tone lilting as she scooped another helping of tofu onto your plate. “... But it’s the food that truly fills you, isn’t that right, Y/N, love?”
“Uh? I… suppose so...” You answered, blinking at her sudden intensity. She leaned back with a satisfied little hum – until you added: “Though a healthy, fresh juice like this is the perfect complement. This dinner wouldn’t be complete without both of your touches. Thank you. Truly – everything is delicious.”
The words hung in the air, soft but weighted, carrying a double meaning you might not have fully intended, or maybe you did. Both women glanced at each other, a quick flash of something unspoken passing between them before they turned back to you, their smiles a little too bright, their hands moving a little too carefully as they continued to serve you.
The rest of the meal was filled with gentle teasing and playful questions – what you’d like to eat tomorrow, what flavors you were craving, as if the answer itself mattered more than the food. And maybe it did. Maybe the three of you sitting at that table, hands brushing as you reached for dishes, laughter mixing with the scent of garlic and honey and herbs – maybe that was the story you’d been trying to write all along. Not a crime, not a tragedy, not even a romance in the traditional sense. Just this. Quiet love, woven into the everyday. And perhaps, without even realizing, you’d already begun the first chapter.
previous day ; neuvillette ♡ next day ; arataki itto
synopsis: You had a very bad day at work. But Neuvillette knew exactly how to take it apart, piece by piece – to wash the stress from your body like a tide pulling away from shore.
# tags: scenario; current engagement relationship; smut; kinda slice of life; modern days; the reader as the ceo of the huge company; nsfw
warnings: mention of sexual activities, oral sex (female recieves), fingering, biting, kissing boobies, pet names
includes: female reader ft. neuvillette {genshin impact}
The past few weeks had been relentless at work – endless meetings, business trips, staying late long after the office had gone dark, coordinating projects, supporting your team, answering what felt like hundreds of calls and emails. Today had been no different – from the early hours you’d been running up and down the building’s stairwells, juggling tenders, drafting schedules for the coming month, negotiating with potential clients and business partners. There hadn’t been a single moment to eat lunch or even sip a coffee. By the time you came home, you were worn thin – hungry, drowsy, aching for a hot bath and the comfort of your bed.
Neuvillette had been waiting, quiet and patient. He greeted you with a soft kiss before disappearing into the bedroom, no doubt to air out the space, letting it breathe before you both would sink into sleep.
That evening, the bath felt like salvation – a cloud of foam and the calming scents of lavender and chamomile. The warmth almost coaxed you into drifting off, but you shook the drowsiness away, stepping out of the water and wrapping your body in a soft towel. You slipped into one of your fiancé’s loose shirts – the fabric carrying his faint scent – and a pair of underwear. The last rituals of the day were gentle: brushing your teeth, combing out your hair, smoothing a layer of moisturizer over your face. Stress and sleepless nights had left your skin a little dull, but tomorrow was the weekend. Tomorrow you could sleep until noon if you wanted.
When you stepped into the bedroom, he was already there, his pale hair touched with the soft glow of two candles flickering on the nightstand. The sweet scent of cherry drifted through the room, and you couldn’t help the faint, tired smile that curved your lips as you looked at him.
“Thank you, honey.” You whispered, stepping closer until his arm slipped easily around your waist and his lips brushed the crown of your head.
“Don’t thank me yet, love.” He murmured with a quiet laugh – and then his hand slipped lower, a teasing movement that nudged the edge of your underwear. Your breath hitched as you tensed, words tumbling out, telling him you didn’t have the strength tonight to give him what he wanted. He only rolled his eyes, feigning offense, his voice low and amused. “Who said anything about you giving me pleasure? Tonight it’s about you, dove. Tonight, I give everything to you.” His kiss landed on your cheek – soft, brief, tender – before he sank to his knees before you. The slow glide of fabric leaving your skin made you shiver as he slid your panties down and set them carefully aside on the chair by your vanity, crowded with perfumes and half-open compacts.
Within moments, your body was sinking into the embrace of the bed, the sheets cool beneath you, a scatter of pillows cradling your head and shoulders. He didn’t strip you completely – the loose shirt of his you had stolen, with its faded print of a childhood cartoon, still clung to you. Instead, he pushed it gently up, baring your breasts to the soft light before lowering his lips to them. His tongue traced lazy circles, his hand kneading one curve while his mouth worshipped the other, teeth grazing gently, enough to make your breath catch without ever tipping into pain. There was a patience to his touch, a reverence that made your lashes flutter as your lips parted, small sounds escaping between them.
Then his kisses began to travel lower – a slow descent over your sternum, down your stomach, lingering at the hollow of your navel. Each brush of his mouth left your skin warmer, softer, until he reached the delicate line of your hips, the soft rise of your mound. He kissed you there too, a whisper of lips against sensitive skin, before parting you gently with his fingers, exposing the tender heart of you to his breath.
His broad shoulders fit snugly between your thighs as his lips found you fully, teasing, tasting, every flick of his tongue pulling a shudder from your core. His eyes never left yours, the faintest curve of a smile tugging at his lips when he caught you biting down hard on a moan, as if to keep it trapped. The tremors started in your toes and spread up through every nerve, until your fingers clenched the sheets, clutching at something to keep yourself grounded.
When his fingers joined his mouth – just one at first, stroking, exploring, pressing into the soft walls of you – you couldn’t hold back the broken sound that spilled from your lips. Then there was a second, a third, his pace deliberate and unhurried as he drew each reaction out of you like music. The shirt still clung to you, bunched beneath your breasts as your hands fisted the fabric, desperate for something to hold.
“N-Neuvillette…” His name left you in fractured whispers and sharp cries, your voice trembling with each wave of sensation. He stayed with you, unyielding, coaxing every drop of pleasure until you were arching into him, until the room felt hazy and soft around the edges.
And this – the warm, teasing glint in his eyes told you – this was only the beginning. He had every intention of giving you more. Of dragging you past every boundary you thought you had until the only thing left was his name on your lips and the sharp, aching bliss of the sweetest, longest release you could ever imagine.
previous day ; kamisato ayato and kamisato ayaka ♡ next day ; yelan and mavuika
synopsis: You were supposed to work on a university project with Ayaka. Who could have guessed that after it was over… you’d end up wanting to work with her brother too?
# tags: scenario; friendship and kinda strangers to lovers; modern days and college!au; student!reader & student!ayaka; crush at first sight; mostly fluff; slight romance; also comedy; ooc!ayato; sfw/suggestive
You and Ayaka had been sitting over your project for nearly two hours now – the program you had both chosen, the one that had brought you together in the first place, wasn’t exactly the easiest, though it never failed to be fascinating. Unfortunately, as always happened when exam season loomed near, the deadlines for every possible assignment were closing in – the solo ones and the group ones alike. Naturally, the two of you had paired up again, deciding to take on the challenge of creating something entirely from scratch together.
After hours of focused work, you both decided to call a short truce with the project and escape her bedroom, heading into the kitchen for a cold drink with plenty of ice and the illicit thrill of stealing a few cookies for the next round of studying.
“… Hm… My brother should be getting home from work any minute now.” Ayaka said suddenly, then added with a little smirk. “Luckily, he’s heading back out right after – he’s meeting some friends, so he won’t be around to bother us or get on my nerves.” Her voice carried a teasing lilt and you couldn’t help but mirror her smile.
“Is that because he’s younger than you and still likes to cause trouble?” You asked, tilting your head.
“On the contrary. He’s older and he’s an idiot, and he’s constantly irritating me…” She began, listing his faults with exaggerated exasperation, mimicking his tone and gestures – until both of you nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of a loud, masculine cough behind you.
You turned toward the doorway, and there he was. A tall, striking man who looked unmistakably like your friend – the resemblance was there in the lines of his face, softened only by the faint trace of amusement in his eyes. His hair was a little longer, tied back neatly into a low ponytail and he wore simple black slacks paired with a crisp white dress shirt, sleeves buttoned at the wrist. Leather shoes completed the look, and a silver watch gleamed faintly on his left hand as he leaned casually against the doorframe.
“You don’t have to insult me quite so loudly, little sis.” He said with a roll of his eyes before his gaze shifted to you. For a brief moment, he studied you – not rudely, not hurriedly, but with a kind of quiet curiosity. Then his lips curved into a polite smile as he spoke his name, extending his hand. His grip was warm and steady as he shook yours lightly. “Nice to meey you, Y/N. Please, take care of my little sister for me, I will be grateful.”
“... Alright, alright, you can go now. Didn’t you have plans with your friends or something?” Ayaka shot back, brows furrowing as she crossed her arms.
“I don’t know if you noticed, but it’s raining.” He yawned lazily as he strolled toward the fridge, sounding utterly unbothered. “So I’m staying in.” He rummaged for a drink, though every so often you caught him glancing in your direction again. “I’ll just watch some TV – promise I won’t get in your way.” He raised both hands in mock surrender, though his eyes found yours again, catching on the faint flush creeping across your cheeks. Something about the sight seemed to amuse him – or maybe he just found it endearing. “If it’s still storming by the time you’re ready to head home, and you don’t mind… I can drive you back.”
His smile was easy and genuine, and it made your heart stumble over itself for a beat.
“That would be… really nice. Thank you.” You managed to say, and you could feel the warmth in your face deepen into a more vivid shade of red. Ayaka noticed – of course she did – though she mercifully stayed quiet, only watching the exchange in contemplative silence.
And though she didn’t voice it, the thought that crossed her mind wasn’t entirely unkind. In fact, it carried the smallest spark of hope: maybe, just maybe, someone had finally shown up who could keep her brother Ayato in check – someone who could make him even the tiniest bit less infuriating than usual.
synopsis: It was fun at first. But then you felt overwhelmed with the fact that your partner in no way reacts to the words of fans about shipping them with another idol.
# tags: scenarios; current relationships; drama; kinda angst; also fluff at end; insecurity; crying!reader; human!sajas; shipping idols; reader as normal person; sfw
includes: gender neutral reader ft. jinu, mira, romance, zoey {kpdh}
— ZOEY (ft. Mystery)
You stared down at your phone, the pale glow of the screen painting your tired face as you scrolled through social media. You had opened TikTok with the innocent intention of finding a recipe – pistachio cream croissants, something warm and sweet to distract you. But as always, somewhere between one video and the next, you ended up with your head tucked against your knees, a quiet sniffle betraying the ache you tried to swallow. The soft, cheerful voice in the background kept looping, spilling through the speaker like salt in a wound – Zoey, radiant even in a grainy clip from what was probably a fan meeting or live interview:
‘... Yes, I really like Mystery! He’s totally my type!’
Your fingers trembled slightly as you locked the phone, silencing the sound with a small, defeated sigh. Anger prickled at yourself – at how childish it felt to let jealousy curl its claws around your ribs. But the longer the weeks bled into months, the more that ugly little thought lodged itself in your heart: maybe this relationship wasn’t built to last. Maybe an idol and an ordinary person could never truly fit together... You: a student juggling half-shifts in a flower shop, a person in love with mismatched mugs and classic novels. And Zoey: adored by millions, always on the move, always clutching her colorful notebook, always on stage under the endless lights. Your worlds were galaxies apart. Was it really so strange that she gravitated toward someone who understood that life better than you ever could?
You’d never felt jealousy toward Mira or Rumi. You’d met them, after all – they were warm, kind, genuinely supportive of what you and Zoey shared. You’d even conspired with them in secret for surprise parties and exchanged quiet words of encouragement before their comebacks and concerts. But this man – the one hidden behind stage curtains, the one Zoey spoke about with a softness you didn’t recognize – he was different. The way her voice changed when she mentioned him, the way fans behaved online, the way they moved together on stage, sharing smiles and small touches. All you could do was stand on the sidelines and watch as something inside you began to unravel.
At some point, without meaning to, you cried yourself into a fragile sleep, the tear-stains on your cheeks drying in the dim light. You didn’t hear the call that came through. You didn’t hear the knock on the door. You didn’t even hear when someone stepped quietly into your apartment.
{ ･ﾟ✧ }
Your nap was short, barely an hour, but when you woke, the air was different. It was soft and warm, carrying the familiar scent of your favorite spices and the faint floral notes of fresh-cut stems. Still groggy, you padded toward the kitchen and froze. There, standing in front of the oven, sleeves rolled to her elbows, was Zoey. Your Zoey.
The moment her eyes found yours, her entire face lit up with that smile – the one that felt like sunlight, the one you’d fallen in love with. But tonight, you couldn’t return it. The ghost of that TikTok clip still clung to your chest like a bruise.
“Y/N… Are you okay?” Her voice dipped gentle, laced with concern. You managed a shaky ‘Yeah’, blaming school and work for your bad day. But the lie was paper-thin, and in the next breath, it ripped open entirely. The words tumbled out, broken and wet with tears: that maybe this was pointless, that maybe for both your sakes, you should end it. For a heartbeat, she just stared, like her mind couldn’t process the syllables. Then, as if struck, she abandoned everything on the counter and rushed to you, hands reaching, eyes wide with panic.
“Y/N, what are you saying? Why would you even think that?”
You tried to explain through the sobs, wiping your cheeks with trembling fingers as you poured out every secret you’d buried for a year: every interview where she called Mystery ‘her type’, every stage where they moved together in sync, every laugh, every shared glance. Each word felt like ripping open a wound you’d kept stitched too long. You couldn’t even meet her eyes. And for the first time in a long time, Zoey felt like she had failed – not her fans, not her band or manager, not even herself, but you. The only person who truly mattered. She didn’t interrupt once, didn’t try to soothe you with hurried words. She listened, really listened, letting your pain pour into the quiet space between you both. And with every word, she felt it – the sharp edge of how much you loved her, how much it hurt.
By the time you whispered an apology – for the tears, for the jealousy, for being ‘too much’ – and her own cheeks were wet.
“…No, baby. I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.” Her voice cracked, fragile and raw. “All of this – this pain – you shouldn’t have carried it alone. I swear to you, Y/N, I’ll never let you feel this way again. Please… Please give me another chance.”
That night, you talked until words blurred into drowsy silences. You fell asleep curled together on the couch, the scent of unbaked cookies lingering in the kitchen.
By morning, the dough still sat untouched. And later, when you finally baked it into cookies, Zoey caught you mid-laugh, your back turned as you decorated the cooling pastries. She snapped a picture quietly, her heart swelling, and that evening, the photo appeared on her social media with a single caption written in soft, certain accent: “Mine ♡.”
— JINU (ft. Rumi)
Jinu and Rumi were in the middle of filming a song, more specifically, the music video for their finished track named Free. And honestly, it felt like the harshest punch you’d taken in weeks – the kind that hits you right in the chest and leaves you gasping. You knew Jinu was close with the leader of HUNTR/X. You knew they spent long hours together, saw how natural their connection was – something between siblings and best friends. You told yourself it was just that. But sometimes, in the quietest corners of your heart, you felt their bond stretched into something more than two idols recording a song.
He still talked to you. He still loved you – or at least, you wanted to believe that. But lately, every conversation seemed to orbit her name. Her song. Her rehearsals. Their performances. Their memories. Sometimes it felt like your boyfriend only came over to eat, crash on your couch, and tell you what Rumi had done that week. Piece by piece, there was less you and him in your relationship and more… her.
You told yourself you’d be strong enough to sit through the shoot. That you could handle it. But the moment you stepped into the dimly lit studio, you knew you were wrong. The song was a love ballad, the kind that wraps its fingers around your ribs and squeezes. Raw emotion, delicate trust, that aching kind of closeness – it was all woven into every lyric. And of course, the music video had to reflect that.
“Closer, you two! Don’t be shy!”
“Jinu, look her in the eyes! Stop being so stiff!”
“Rumi, I need love in your gaze... I can’t feel it yet!”
“For God’s sake, stop acting like kindergarteners and give me some emotion!”
Every command was a chisel against your ribs, carving out something you didn’t want to name. And then the director gave the last blow: the kiss. Jinu refused. Immediately. You saw the tension in his shoulders, the way he shook his head. But it didn’t matter. The damage had been done. It felt like a thousand pins driving straight through your heart. You slipped out of the studio unnoticed, sinking onto a worn couch in the hallway beside a vending machine that hummed too loud in the silence. You buried your face in your hands, tried to breathe through the burn in your throat. But the tears came anyway, hot and humiliating, painting your cheeks red.
At some point a weight settled on your shoulder. Your head jerked up to find Jinu crouched beside you, his warm eyes immediately clouded with worry at the sight of your face.
“Y/N? Hey… Hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” What could you even tell him? That his friendship felt like a blade at your throat? That you were losing him, piece by piece, to someone who wasn’t even trying to take him away? That you didn’t know if there was still room for you in his life? He sat beside you without waiting for an answer, gently pulling you into his arms. “…Please don’t cry.” His voice was soft, breaking slightly. “When we finish filming, I’ll take you out for bubble tea, okay?”
“… Jinu, this isn’t just about the filming...” Your words came out in a whisper. His brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. “I-it is all about those late-night c-calls. The endless messages. T-The video chats. J-Jinu… You even have Rumi’s favorite t-tea flavors saved in your phone…” Your voice cracked, each word quieter, more fragile than the last. His expression shifted slowly – softening, paling – until it finally hit him. The fear. The doubt. The way your love had been quietly bleeding out for weeks while he wasn’t looking. His arms tightened around you as the first apologies slipped out in a trembling rush.
“Y/N… It’s not like that. You know you’re the one I love most.”
“…I don’t know anymore, Jinu.” You shook your head, barely. And that hurt him worse than any shouted accusation ever could. Because you were right. Somewhere in the whirlwind of rehearsals and friendship, he’d lost sight of you. It wasn’t Rumi who cooked for him when he came home exhausted. It wasn’t Rumi who stayed up late just to hold him when his shoulders sagged under the weight of everything. It wasn’t Rumi who had been there every time he fell apart quietly in the dark. It was you. Always you. The realization hit him like cold water.
“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I swear to you, Rumi’s like a sister to me, nothing more. You’re first. Always first.” His voice was steady, but you could hear the panic threading through every syllable. You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to. But the ache was still there and it would take more than promises to wash it away.
He kept talking – pleading softly, explaining how often he talked about you to Rumi, how sometimes she rolled her eyes because she was tired of hearing your name. How she was the one who helped him pick out gifts, the one who took the photos he sent you from backstage. There was no lie in his tone. Only fear. Only love.
“... Maybe we could go get some ice cream?” His voice was small when he said it after a long pause. You blinked at him through wet lashes.
“What about your music video?”
“This can wait. You can’t.” He wiped your cheeks with his thumbs, noticed the chill in your skin and without hesitation, slid off his black zip-up hoodie to wrap you in its warmth. “I’m sorry, my love. Really sorry. Will you be able to forgive me for this?” He whispered again as he offered you his hand. You took it slowly, your fingers curling around his.
“… J-Just promise me this won’t happen again.” And for once, there wasn’t even a heartbeat of hesitation in his answer.
“Never again, baby. The only time I’ll make your eyes water from now on is when I make you laugh so hard you can’t breathe.”
— MIRA (ft. Abby)
It all began with that one, cursed fansign. At first, you laughed it off, teasing your girlfriend because you knew exactly how much she hated all that ‘idol shipping’ nonsense. She had a partner already – she didn’t need strangers pairing her up with someone else. Your relationship wasn’t a secret to the world, but far more people seemed to cheer for Mira and Abby than for Mira and you.
And while in the beginning it had been genuinely funny – as already mentioned – with every passing week the jokes dug deeper under your skin. Fans fueling the ‘ship’, managers not helping the situation, their friends playing along… even Mira herself leaning into it. You knew your relationship with her was strong, but a quiet, heavy fear had begun to bloom in the back of your mind. It cracked open the day Abby asked her to help him practice his dance routines.
{ ･ﾟ✧ }
Mira kissed you goodbye and darted off to yet another dance rehearsal that week. The soft click of the door turning into a loud slam in your chest. A sigh escaped you, long and heavy, and for the first time in so long you didn’t fight the wave breaking inside. It started small – a shaky breath, a wet sniff. Then a few stray tears rolled down. And finally, you slid to the floor, your quiet sobs dissolving into the stillness of the room – careful, even though there was no one around to hear you. You sat like that for what felt like hours until the sound of the door opening again made you jolt upright. Your legs stumbled over the edge of the rug as you scrambled to stand.
There she was, framed in the doorway.
“…Y/N, are you okay? Do you feel sick?” Her voice carried worry and her heart skipped a beat when her eyes landed on your blotchy face, your trembling hands. For a split second, she thought you might faint, that you were about to crumple to the floor. But then she saw it – it wasn’t low blood pressure or skipped meals. It was something deeper. Something that had made you cry. “Y/N… Hey, can you hear me?” Her training bag hit the floor with a soft thud as she reached for you, both her hands settling gently but firmly on your shoulders.
“I’m fine. You can… You can go to practice.” Your voice cracked, raw and hoarse from the tears, hiccups tripping over your words. You forced a smile, brittle and wavering, before you stepped back – away from her arms, away from Mira herself. “Abby’s waiting.” The words came out as barely a whisper as you brushed past her and headed for the kitchen to pour yourself some water.
“No. I want to know what happened. Please, tell me.” Her voice trembled now too, though not out of anger – there was none of that in her. It was laced with care, with worry so pure it almost hurt. She had never seen you like this; not even when you cried at tragic dramas, not when your favorite character died, not even when you had to say ‘Goodbye’ to the little otter at the zoo who had eaten fish straight from your hand. This was different. A different shade of sadness, grief.
“…It’s really fine, Mira. Just… go to practice.” The words were soft, fading into the space between you. You didn’t even look at her. That was the thing – the lack of eye contact. Something inside her clenched. In a single step, she closed the gap and wrapped her arms around you from behind. You let her. You let yourself melt into her warmth. And then, just like that, the tears came again – helpless and small, like a child’s.
“Please… Let’s talk. I’m really worried…” Her tone was gentle, tender, filled with nothing but love and the desperate need to understand. And you broke. Still pressed against her, you let it all spill – the quiet fear eating at you, the worry about what you two were becoming, the way Abby had been filling a space you thought belonged to you. How heavy the past few weeks had been. How much you loved her. How much you were terrified of losing what the two of you had built over the last two years.
She understood immediately. Her breath steadied, her arms tightened around you and then a calmness washed through her body, through yours.
“Y/N… I’m so sorry. I never wanted it to look like that. But you really don’t have to worry. Abby doesn’t like me like that. He… Actually likes boys.” A soft, breathy laugh escaped her. “He’s literally like a buddy to me.” Heat bloomed in your cheeks. You felt the tension bleed out of your fingertips, out of your ears, your hands, your legs – out of every corner of your body. You turned in her arms to face her, Mira still chuckling under her breath. “Hm… Do you maybe want to come to our practice? I feel kind of bad that I never asked before… Abby and I have been training together for almost a month now…” Her words were hesitant, hopeful. You nodded, and a tiny smile finally curved at the edges of your lips. Well… at least everything was finally out in the open.
Mira promised she would ease off on feeding the whole ‘ship’ with Abby, though now that you knew the truth, it somehow didn’t seem to sting quite as much anymore.
— ROMANCE (ft. Mira)
You couldn’t focus on the project no matter how hard you tried – your hands and your mind simply refused to cooperate, and every thought kept sliding back to your boyfriend, who was laughing and talking with his friend over the phone. Though, was a word ‘friend’ even the right word anymore? In the past few days Romance had been calling Mira more and more, filling his texts with inside jokes and late–night chatter – about food and clothes, about cosmetics and trips abroad, even about jewelry and lingerie. You started to feel like the proverbial fifth wheel whenever you slipped into their conversations, and what was worse – he had stopped asking you for advice and turned to her instead.
If it had been anyone else, maybe you wouldn’t feel that sharp twinge of sadness every time her name lit up his screen. But it was her – the one people shipped him with, the one fans whispered about in comments, the one everyone seemed to secretly root for. He spoke about her constantly, praised her like she hung the stars, urged you to come with him to their shows and to watch her music videos together. Sure, she was talented – a breathtaking dancer, a perfect visual with that kind of beauty that makes you hold your breath – but slowly, painfully, she began to feel less like a friend and more like a rival for his heart to you.
So you tried to drown out the thoughts boring holes in your chest and forced yourself back to studying. But then, after a few minutes, you heard Romance call out that he was going to meet his best friend for a bit – and in that exact moment, in that single second, your carefully–built armor shattered into a million glass splinters. Your notes blurred with tears, the pen slipped from your fingers and you just sat there staring blankly at the framed photo at the edge of your desk – you and Romance. Once it had been only the two of you. Now there were three.
{ ･ﾟ✧ }
You finished your notes on autopilot, sipped cold tea, nibbled a candy bar, then finally sank into the couch and switched on the evening news. The soft murmur of the anchor’s voice filled the apartment – the only sound besides your own breathing. Around 6:40 pm you heard the door unlock. Footsteps. The familiar shuffle of him kicking off his shoes. And then – the blare of a party horn, the sudden burst of a birthday song.
You looked up, startled. Of course. Your birthday. Somehow, with all the stress of exams and everything gnawing at your heart, it had completely slipped your mind. You stood slowly, almost dreamlike, and walked toward him.
“You… remembered?” You whispered, a little breathless, a little undone. In one hand he held a massive white teddy bear with a ribbon the same color as his eyes, and in the other – a small gift bag stamped with the logo of a well–known jewelry store. “I… Thank you.” A smile tugged at your lips, but it broke almost instantly – replaced by a sudden, aching flood of tears.
Romance’s eyes softened, and for a moment he thought it was just the emotion of the surprise, the joy of being seen.
“I searched everywhere for something perfect.” He said gently. “A bit guys helped me out, but mostly I asked Mira for advice. She knew how much I wanted to make you happy – she’s a great friend. I didn’t just want to celebrate another year of your life… I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you. How grateful I am that you’re mine. I’m sorry I’ve been so distant lately, spending all that time with her. I just… I wanted to make this perfect for you. I didn’t want to get in your way while you were studying, and I wanted to surprise you.” His voice was unshakably sincere – no edge of guilt, no hint of a lie. Just warmth, love, the kind of happiness that makes a chest feel too small to hold it.
“So she… She’s been helping you this whole time?” You asked quietly. He nodded.
“She helped me pick the restaurant for tonight. We’re going there right after this. And… there’s one more gift. This one’s from Mira.” He set the bear aside, gently pressed the little bag into your hands, the silver heart–shaped necklace inside catching the light as you opened it. Then he ducked back into the hall, returning with one last thing. “… I didn’t even know she could do this. But she said it was for you.” He turned the frame around in his hands.
Inside, in soft pencil strokes, was a drawing – you and Romance, smiling, in love, your faces turned toward each other like two halves of a whole. Tears slipped down your cheeks again, but this time they were warm – gentle – carrying not just gratitude, but a quiet, aching shame for having doubted her heart. She had never tried to take him from you. She had been rooting for you both all along.
“Thank you. Both of you.” You whispered, clutching him tight, letting the scent of him and the weight of his arms ground you. And in that moment you promised yourself – after the dinner, after the candles and laughter and clinking glasses – you would write to her a long massage. And you would tell Mira just how deeply, fiercely thankful you were.
synopsis: Jinu had Rumi. Mystery found Zoey. Romance and Abby have been around Mira since forever. Every member of the Saja Boys seemed to have found their match – a counterpart, a connection, a story fans could fall in love with. All except one. One member remained on the sidelines – always alone, always overlooked. No fanmade edits, no spicy theories, no imagined love stories. He was the quiet one, the background figure, which people admired from a distance but never quite embraced. He was never shipped with anyone. Until now.
# tags: scenario; strangers to friends to lovers?; shipping by friends and fans; fluff; light romance; kinda drama and angst too; human!sajas; soloist!reader; idol awards!au; sfw
includes: female reader ft. baby {kpdh}
author’s note: love him.
The preparations were still underway for the artists who had yet to step onto the stage, getting ready for their upcoming performances at the Idol Awards 2025 – in several large dressing rooms, makeup artists and hair stylists were busy painting faces and crafting elegant hairstyles, weaving their magic into both masculine and feminine features alike. There was no shortage of blush, glitter, or gloss; the effect was completed by perfectly tailored outfits, shoes that glimmered under the lights, and accessories – jewelry, headscarves, sunglasses, delicate gloves that added the finishing touch to every look. On the vast stadium stage, a few of the major and minor groups had already performed alongside soloists, including HUNTR/X, Twice and Stray Kids. In the second half of the program, the spotlight would shift to Saja Boys and Y/N Y/L/N – one of the most celebrated solo artists of recent years, who had broken into the mainstream with such force that she shattered records once held by IU and Taeyeon, both in views and in awards.
While you waited patiently for Riyeon to finish brushing the delicate shimmer over your décolletage, the men’s dressing room on the other side of the hall was crowded and buzzing with laughter and voices. It was there that the members of Saja Boys spent their final minutes before the show, their conversation dancing between tonight’s event and the women they shared the stage with.
“Rumi looked incredible tonight. The rest of the girls, too, of course… But Rumi...” The group’s leader began in an unhurried tone, and the three young men around him nodded enthusiastically in agreement.
“… Zoey’s pretty cute. I wonder if she’ll have time to grab coffee with me tomorrow. Eh.” Mystery sighed dramatically, resting his cheek on his hand, which dangled lazily from the armrest of the couch. The others immediately moved to comfort him, teasing and assuring him that she would definitely find the time and that he was being far too pessimistic. On the other side of the room, Abby and Romance exchanged knowing smiles, fully aware that as soon as the biggest gala of the year wrapped up, they’d be seeing Mira again to celebrate their dual victories – Best Male Group and Best Female Group. They had been planning for a week now, a half-date, half-celebration involving a gallery stroll, shared shopping bags, and smoky plates of Korean BBQ.
In the far corner sat the last member of the most popular boyband of the moment – Baby. Already dressed, already ready, his expression betrayed a quiet boredom with the antics of his friends. He scrolled silently through his social media feed, pretending to search for the evening’s setlist while his thumb paused over the endless stream of fan conspiracies: wild theories about his bandmates’ secret romances with the singers of HUNTR/X, fanart pairing Saja Boys with Korean female idols, clips replaying every fleeting glance and accidental touch between Jinu, Mystery, Romance, Abby and the girls from the other group. Everything, it seemed, revolved around their quartet; every whispered rumor, every fiery thread, every meticulously curated photo folder – all of it orbiting the seven of them like a private constellation. Baby was always somewhere in the background, the one who never made the center of any theory. The rapper let out a quiet sigh, locking his phone and setting it down on the small table beside him. With a soft motion, he rose and slipped out of the room, leaving behind the warm, excited chatter of his bandmates still debating which girl had stolen the evening.
The corridor felt like a momentary escape, and Baby allowed himself a small breath of solitude as he made his way toward the artists’ buffet – a cozy room lined with tables heavy with sweet and savory temptations prepared for the performers and their managers. He thought idly of a dessert, maybe a salted cracker or a perfectly sugared tart. The room was almost empty, humming softly with the scent of tea and cocoa, save for one figure standing near a tray of jewel-colored cookies in every imaginable flavor.
You.
You stood there with quiet concentration, caught between the choice of which cookie to take and whether the evening called more for tea, coffee, or perhaps a comforting cup of hot cocoa. He recognized you instantly – how could he not? You had been on stage long before his career had even begun. He bowed, instinctively respectful, and you mirrored the gesture, warmth touching your smile as you asked how he was feeling.
“O-Oh, thank you. I’m good. A little pre-performance jitters, as always – we’re debuting our new song tonight but other than that, really okay. What about you?” He scratched the back of his neck as he spoke, and though his voice was casual, his heart beat faster than usual. He had never spoken to you before, and the simple reality of standing here, with you, felt like a quiet honor. He admired your music, the way you poured yourself into your art – the soft edges between pop and R&B in your songs were a rare and magnetic combination.
“Years of work taught me that stress lives in your mind, not in your body. The best way is to treat a performance like a rehearsal – calmly, gently. Besides, the moment you see the fans, confidence finds you whether you invite it or not.” You smiled, and the softness of it etched itself into his memory. “And thank you for your kindness. I’m doing well. Hmm… Would you help me with something? I can’t decide which cupcake to pick.” You laughed under your breath, a sound that felt effortlessly charming to him, pointing playfully at the fruit-topped one and the one crowned with white chocolate.
“Well… Personally, I’m partial to the fruit ones.” His lips curled into a shy smile and you nodded thoughtfully.
“Alright then – what if I take half of the chocolate one, you take half of the fruit and then we trade so we both get to try the other?” you suggested, and Baby’s ears burned with sudden color. He had never shared cupcakes with an idol before, never even imagined the moment, but at last he nodded, surrendering to the idea with a quiet laugh. Together, you discovered that the fruit cupcake held a richer flavor and – to both your surprise – was far sweeter than the chocolate.
“… My turn’s coming up soon…” The singer began softly, his voice barely above the hum of the room as his eyes found yours. “Maybe it’s too much to ask, but… Would you cheer for me?” The question trembled between uncertainty and hope. He wanted – more than he realized – for this unexpected encounter to grow into something more than a fleeting moment. Maybe friendship. Maybe something beyond the stage lights and schedules.
“Of course. I’ll be watching you from backstage!” You said with a brightness that eased the tightness in his chest. You, too, carried the quiet ache of solitude – as a soloist, true friends in the industry were rare. The people from your label were polite and professional, but bonds never rooted deeply. It was unexpectedly warm, sharing sweets and words with someone who understood the same world you lived in. “… But one condition.” You added with a teasing glint. “You watch me as well. I’m on stage two performances after yours.”
The moment lingered between you, soft and gentle, before duty pulled you both apart. A few more exchanged words, a shared smile, and then you were gone – he, back into the charged air of his dressing room; you, back to the quiet hum of your own space, powdering your face one last time, wiping the sweetness of strawberries and gooseberries from your lips. The flavor stayed, faint and tender, like the beginning of a song that promised not to leave.
{ ･ﾟ✧ }
As you had promised, you watched the Saja Boys’ performance from the very first note to the final bow – though, if you were being honest, there wasn’t much you remembered apart from Baby’s part; the way his voice curled around the lyrics and the way he moved across the stage, smiling into the cameras as if he were letting the world in on a secret. He was, undeniably, a wonderful singer and a deft rapper. Yet you couldn’t help but notice – the sea of banners, the flutter of pastel fans, the shimmering LED lights that bloomed like stars – they all seemed to shine brighter for the other four than for him. You narrowed your eyes for a moment at the imbalance, but the thought dissolved as the performance came to its end and the boy you’d been watching stepped off the stage and into the dim light of the backstage corridor.
At first his shoulders were tight, his steps brisk – but the second his gaze found you, his entire body softened, and his smile bloomed so quickly, so honestly, you felt it land warm on your own skin. He didn’t hesitate; he slipped past his bandmates with the eagerness of someone following a pulse, closing the distance to you with a joy he couldn’t – and didn’t want to – disguise.
“Did you like it?” His voice was threaded with curiosity, tentative and hopeful all at once, and you felt your own grin stretch wider, spilling over.
“Yes!” You answered and it was as though the little girl inside you – the one who still believed music was a kind of magic – had taken the reins entirely. You praised his verse, the way his choreography stitched perfectly into the song’s emotion, your words tumbling out until you ended with a small burst of applause, clapping your hands together and bouncing lightly on your toes. He flushed at the sound, the color blooming soft on his cheeks. You laughed quietly, teasing that your own upcoming performance could never hold a candle to the Saja Boys – especially not to his verse. He shook his head immediately, almost vehemently, muttering that his experience would never match yours, that your artistry lived on a level he could only dream of reaching.
The playful argument wrapped itself around the two of you, a cocoon that shut out the rest of the world. Neither of you noticed when the host’s voice drifted over the speakers announcing short break in performances, nor when the cameras began their slow pilgrimage through the stadium, hunting for stars to interview. You didn’t even register the presence of the lens when it finally found you – two people leaning into each other’s words, oblivious to the fact that your small, private moment had been spilled across the stadium’s massive screen.
“... Is that Baby Saja and Y/N? That Y/N?!”
“They look so sweet together!”
“Wait... What’s the shipname for this two?!”
“Y/N just fits with him. It’s adorable how the more experienced one is helping Baby! Aww...”
Somewhere nearby, the Saja Boys had narrowed their eyes in unison, trading glances heavy with speculation before whipping out their phones, snapping pictures of their unsuspecting friend so they could tease him later until he begged for mercy.
But you and Baby remained untouched by all of it. You stayed inside your shared little orbit, talking as though the world had melted away, your words carrying you closer to the moment when you would step into the light and show him – prove to him – not just what kind of star you were on stage, but what kind of person you might be off it. And as your eyes kept finding his, as your fingers brushed his by accident and stayed just a breath too long, Baby felt something new unfurling slow and careful in his chest – a warmth that wasn’t born of the stage lights, but of you.
synopsis: An alternate ending in which no one expected that there was another death note owner who cooperated with Kira until the last moment, contributing to his big victory.
# tags: scenario; current relationship; drama; romance; blood and death mention; kira!wins; sloppy kisses; light as huge a simp for reader; mindblow; plot twist; suggestive
includes: female reader ft. light yagami and others {death note}
When X-Kira’s desperate attempt to write down the names ended in failure, everyone exhaled with a deep, almost tangible sigh of relief. In an instant, two men from the SPK seized the black-haired figure in a vice grip, handcuffing him and forcing him to the ground. There was no escape – and in the heat of fear and emotional breakdown, he couldn't utter a single word. He was defenseless, trembling – like a newborn torn from its mother right after birth.
Near asked for the notebook Mikami had used. And, of course – Light’s name was not inside. The pieces fell perfectly into place, and in eerie unison, the group passed judgment. After a short silence, Near elaborated – expanding on key threads of Kira’s sinister plan: from obtaining the notebook, to his secret conversations with Ryuk, to Mello’s death, and also what was to come next. But Light stood calm – so calm – as he listened to the monologue of his enemy, absorbing every word about switched notebooks and strategic deceit. Anyone watching might have assumed that Light Yagami – that Kira – had lost. But they all were wrong. Dead wrong.
It was all part of something much larger. And he was more than three steps ahead. Within seconds, the echo of a gunshot shattered the silence in the hangar. Shuichi Aizawa – without warning – shot Kanzo Mogi first, ending his life, then immediately turned the gun on himself and pulled the trigger. The bullet burst through his skull – his lifeless body hit the ground with a sickening thud. Everyone froze and looked at each other.
The air became heavy – almost suffocating. Blood spread across the dusty, sand-covered floor. Some shut their eyes. Others gagged. Shattered fragments of Aizawa’s skull flew across the room, staining the shoes of those nearest to the tragedy.
“W-Why?! Why?!” Touta Matsuda screamed, clutching his head, eyes wild as they darted between his fallen comrades and the ones still standing. “...It was you!” He shouted at Mikami, who simply shook his head, trembling violently, trying to hide his face behind cuffed hands. “Or you, you scumbag!” His gaze turned to Light, who met it with a chilling, merciless stare.
“I had nothing to do with this, Matsuda.” Light replied with calm breath – quiet, almost disappointed. But Matsuda didn’t hear him. Or didn’t want to. He raised his gun, rage tearing through him, swearing vengeance for Soichiro. Then – another gunshot.
No one had time to blink, let alone breathe. Matsuda shot Hideki Ide straight through the femoral artery – blood erupted like a geyser as Ide screamed in long and painful agony. A split second later, Matsuda fired again – hitting Halle Bullook directly in the heart. She immediately fell to the dark floor in post-mortem convulsions. The rest of SPK drew their weapons at once – guns aimed at Matsuda. But he didn’t flinch. Instead – he turned the gun on himself too. His lips trembled and tears spilled freely down his both cheeks. And then – he pulled the trigger.
Anthony Carter and Stephen Loud raised their weapons – letting go of X-Kira’s limp body. Stephen fired first – hitting Anthony in the left side of his abdomen, some of his ribs shattering from the force. Anthony returned the fire, hitting Stephen in the right shoulder. Moments later – the black-haired man died from internal bleeding. The other followed – collapsing slowly, choking on his own blood. He died shortly after. Nate River and Light Yagami exchanged a long, silent stare.
“There was... one more notebook.” The younger whispered, eyes clouded with doubt.
“Correction – there is one more notebook.” Light smirked a little. “You can come in now, darling. They’re all gone.” Both turned their heads toward the heavy door and in the glow beyond it, a female silhouette emerged. Your eyes sparkled with joy and lips curled into a smile wider than ever before. You stepped inside slowly, radiating elegance and eerie serenity. Light chuckled under his breath. You were perfect. Cream-colored heels, fitted jean, a loose white shirt and jewelry in your favorite hue. In your arms, pressed tightly to your chest – the death note.
“T-The Goddess!” Mikami gasped, clutching his chest with both hands. “So it’s true!” He choked, barely able to breathe. You had the same eyes as him – blood-red, glowing with sharpness and defiance. But your presence... it was much stronger. Colder. Calculating. Ruthless. You were Kira’s equal – made for this world of power and divine judgment. You looked down at him and he fell to his knees, groveling, begging, praising you as he crawled forward to kiss your feet.
“... Pathetic cockroach.” Without another glance, you walked past him – to the man you loved, clad in a perfectly tailored suit. You greeted him with a long, passionate kiss; your bodies pressed close, his hands gripping your hips as your fingers gently stroked his cheek. You laughed in mid-kiss. “Let’s save this for later, my love. Once we’ve taken care of the remaining vermin. Ah, hello, Ryuk. I don’t think we’ve ever had the opportunity to be friends before. Nice to meet you then.” You addressed the Shinigami casually – as if greeting an old friend. Ryuk laughed, amused – and then looked behind you... at her. Thyrel – the Shinigami who stood by your side; Ryuk claimed that she had a twisted sense of the world and an even more twisted morality.
“I’ve won, Near.” Light whispered – pulling you close to his own body.
“You’ve won, Light Yagami. Congratulations to you both.”
You didn’t want to steal that victory from him. You leaned in, whispering Nate River’s real name into your beloved’s ear. He smiled – took your own notebook – and wrote it down. Nothing more. He wanted him to die like the worst criminals – like the great L himself. The heart attack struck swiftly. Forty seconds later – Nate River dies. Kira had won... with you by his side. You, who had believed in him from the beginning. You, who remained hidden – unseen – unsuspected. No one had imagined you even existed – let alone capable of murder.
As you and Light left the hangar, accompanied by your Shinigami – you didn’t forget about Mikami. You stroked his hair tenderly... then, just before the doors closed behind you – wrote his name in your notebook. The doors shut and you took Light’s hand.
“...Let’s grab coffee, darling. Then we’ll take care of the rest of the cockroaches that no longer matter in your life.” You smiled brightly, stealing another kiss.
“... When everything goes quiet... I want you to be my wife.” He said, voice stripped of all pretense – sincere. And you nodded. Because unlike the others – you were his true love. Not because of your eyes. Not even because of your notebook. But because you shared his vision. You were calm and razor-sharp. You were on the same level as Kira himself – and he knew it. Cherished it. He wanted to spend eternity with you.
“...Oh, I wish I could see Misa Amane’s face when she finds it out.” You giggled darkly. “But by then – she’ll be dead. What a shame, oh.” Light joined in your laughter, kiss you one more time.
At last – he had become the God of the New World. And you – his precious Goddess – were the best thing that had ever happened to him. Without you – there would be nothing. And you both knew it.
request: i need and deserve a poseidon and female moon goddess!reader, tysm 🤪🤪 p.s. +3 points if she has super curly hair (another p.s. i like my poseidon’s EXTRA fluffy)
# tags: headcanon; strangers to lovers; throwbacks; light romance; mostly fluff; kind of comedy; ooc!poseidon; goddess!reader; suggestive
includes: female reader ft. poseidon {ror}
↘ I think you met at one of those grand balls Dionysus used to throw for all the major gods, nymphs and muses. You appeared there wearing a dress made of stardust and threads borrowed from the tails of comets. The look was completed by a shimmering moonlight shawl and high heels in a shade of black as deep as the void surrounding a black hole. You looked absolutely breathtaking and somehow, still innocent. You caught the attention of several duties – both men and women.
↘ Among those people was Poseidon – God of Earthly Waters and Patron of Fishermen. Your eyes met several times that evening and, intrigued by his presence, you were the first to approach and greet him. You had never had the chance to speak before – and yet, from that very first moment, you were both enchanted by one another. Though your emotions weren’t wildly on display, it was obvious to everyone that neither of you wanted to talk to anyone else that night. You drank more wine than ever before and, satisfied, you allowed that connection to continue for many years to come.
↘ Naturally, you entered a relationship – first as partners, then as husband and wife. And truly, you couldn’t have asked for a better lover than him.
↘ Poseidon possessed remarkable manners – he was chivalrous, attentive, helpful in everyday life, strong and undeniably masculine. And beyond all that, he loved bringing you joy – gifting you daily with little delights: a treat, a flower, chocolate, a new dress, or a surprise like a private concert by muses or a spontaneous getaway to secluded hot springs just for the two of you. He was head over heels in love with you and the entire Pantheon was in awe – the cold, family-averse, emotion-repellent Poseidon had become a devoted partner and passionate lover when it came to you.
↘ Poseidon loves complimenting you – he appreciates your beauty even when you haven’t particularly planned your appearance. He adores the feel of your skin, the strands of your hair between his fingers. He’s always amazed by how perfectly styled your hair looks – he thinks you look incredible in tight spiral curls, and he quite literally loses his mind when those bouncing locks fly around while you run to hug him or leap into the sky to pluck him a star.
↘ He doesn’t look it – but he’s ridiculously romantic. And trust me, I know what I’m talking about. He literally learned to cook just for you – to introduce you to the best delicacies from the seas, lakes, and rivers. He sought culinary advice from Hera, Demeter, Dionysus, and even Adefagia. He really puts in the effort – and honestly, he’s become a genuinely good cook!
↘ For you, he’s even started dressing with more elegance and intention than ever before. You never complained about his wardrobe – he’s always looked good – but ever since you’ve been together, you can tell his hair, skin, and nails are in much better shape, and his clothing colors are chosen to match not only the weather, but also your own dresses.
↘ Did I mention the surprises? Yes – he plans hundreds of them. Flowers scattered across your bed, candles lit in the bedroom, steamy baths, aphrodisiacs, custom-made outfits, ripe exotic fruit, the finest wines... He even gifted you a pet once – because when he travels the seas, he knows you feel lonely, and he wanted you to always have someone by your side.
↘ As for physical affection – something he once loathed – he’s become a different man with you. He used to dislike physical closeness altogether, even find it repulsive. But with you? He loves cuddling you to sleep. He melts when you two sit on the couch reading, and you rest your head on his shoulder. He deeply enjoys walking through gardens with you, your hands gently entwined in his.
↘ He’s definitely the “big spoon” – holding you tightly at night, as if afraid you might disappear into moonlight dust.
↘ Kissing is one of Poseidon’s absolute favorite things. He adores short kisses – on your neck, your nose, your forehead – to him, they’re a mark of care and reverence. But he’s also a huge fan of long, deep, passionate kisses on the lips. When he kisses you like that, he always holds your nape, cheek, or thigh – surrendering himself to you completely.
synopsis: You only wanted to enjoy the time with your loved ones – laugh a little, feel free, forget the weight of the week. But not everyone shared your intentions. The air changed, the looks lingered too long, the space grew smaller... colder. You didn’t know what was coming, not fully – but you felt it. And then she just showed up and saved you.
# tags: scenarios; strangers to friends or friendship; drama; alcohol consumption at rumi’s part; almost sexual assault at zoey’s part; creepy moments; party!au, karaoke!au or concert!au; sfw/suggestive
includes: female reader ft. rumi, mira, zoey {kpdh}
— RUMI
Together with a few close friends – Alex, Jihyo, Ryuki and Taebyeom – you went out to one of the nearby, yet very popular, nightclub spots. Everything seemed absolutely ideal: delicious drinks, music perfectly suited to the mood and occasion, the magic of a Friday night promising the start of a great weekend, and most importantly – fantastic people by your side. You all wanted to enjoy yourselves but also have a bit more privacy than the regular clubgoers, so Jihyo had reserved one of the VIP booths a week earlier for your group until 4 am. As a bonus, you received a bottle of quality champagne and a plate of nachos with cheese dip.
At first, you were having a great time; chatting with your friends, taking a few photos for memories to later post on Instagram and even hitting the dance floor with Jihyo and Alex for a few songs. Time flew by, and before you knew it, it was already 2 am – yet the fun showed no signs of slowing down.
“…Hey! I’m going back to the dance floor for a bit, and grabbing another drink! Anyone want something?” You shouted over the music to your friends, but they all shook their heads in “No” response. With a light step, you made your way back to the dance floor, dancing for a moment before heading to the bar to order what you knew would be your last drink of the night. You were well aware of your limits and had no intention of crossing them. You never needed a heavy dose of alcohol to enjoy yourself; you could have just as much fun as the people downing shot after shot. At the bar, you ordered your favorite cocktail along with a glass of ice water with lemon. Not wanting to return to the booth with both hands full, you stood at the bar, quietly sipping your drinks, dancing a little in the rhythm of the music, the scent of citrus and snack food was spinning in the air.
Then, you felt it – someone’s gaze. Not the kind of look that says “I admire you” or “Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?”. But the kind of stare that immediately puts you on edge, the kind you’d rather never experience.
A middle-aged man was watching you with an intensity that made you increasingly uncomfortable. He was at least fifteen years older than you and absolutely not your type in any way. You finished your drink and were just about to get up from the barstool when he called out to you.
“Hey sweetheart, want another drink? It’s on me!” You refused faster than you could even think and started to walk away. At that moment, the stranger grabbed your hand – and you, panicked, yanked it back. “Come here.”
None of your friends were nearby and no one around seemed to notice – or care – what might happen next. You closed your eyes for a second, silently praying for someone to intervene. And then, suddenly – someone did.
Your hand was released and next to you appeared a girl with her hair tied back in a precious braid. Her gaze was razor-sharp, her presence alert and confident. In one hand, she held a glass of orange juice.
“Get the hell out of here, or I’ll personally throw you out.” She said.
Her tone left no room for negotiation. It was the kind of voice that could stop anyone in their tracks. Unsurprisingly, the man left without even trying to argue. “Are you okay? Want me to walk you back to your friends or maybe even home?” She asked with concern You thanked her for the help and shyly asked for her name. “Rumi. Nice to meet you.” She replied, offering you a warm smile and her hand. You shook it, then asked if she wanted to join you and your friends. She hesitated for a moment, saying she was here with two of her own friends, but you quickly added that they could come too.
That night, you met an amazing woman – and two incredible friends of hers, thanks to one brave moment that changed the course of your evening.
— MIRA
Together with Zoey, Rumi and Mira, you went out for karaoke to celebrate a successful concert – and also the end of the tour. Bobby had booked a private room for you at a karaoke bar and once you arrived, the only things you ordered were a dozen or sweet and salty snacks along with some non-alcoholic drinks. It was shaping up to be a wonderful evening with even more wonderful people – you sang, you talked, shared secrets and plans for the coming days, and of course, touched on the topic of your current crushes.
There were even moments of friendly rivalry – solo performances, and duets in teams of two. In the second battle, you and the youngest lost… but of course, that wasn’t the end of the fight for you two. Biological matters, however, forced you to excuse yourself and head to the restroom out in the hallway. Afterward, you washed your hands at the sink and stepped back out. Immediately, a vending machine with coffee and other hot beverages caught your eye – you paused, weighing your options between hot chocolate, jasmine tea, or cappuccino. Eventually, you settled on your longtime favorite. While waiting for the drink to pour, you felt someone watching you.
You were sure it wasn’t any of the girls – you could still hear them singing inside, laughing and enjoying themselves. Your doubts were cleared just moments later. A young guy – around your age, maybe two or three years older at most – was standing nearby. He had dark eyes and hair, was dressed casually and held a paper cup of coffee from the same machine. You gave him a cautious smile and turned back to collect your steaming drink.
“... Are you HUNTR/X’s Y/N? Can I have your autograph?” You hesitated for a second, unsure how to respond – but for your own peace of mind, you agreed.
“Sure, for who should I sign it?” You asked as he handed you a pen.
“To your biggest fan… And future boyfriend… To Jungwook.” You kept the tone more neutral and polite, writing the message and then signing your name. You thanked him and handed the autograph back, ready to return to your karaoke room – then suddenly, the guy grabbed your wrist. “You didn’t hear what I said? It was supposed to be for your future boyfriend.”
‘Psycho.’ You thought, trying to pull your hand away. “I don’t sign like that.” You said quietly, nearly spilling your drink as your hand trembled. There was no one around. You felt exposed, unsafe.
Thankfully, your friends knew you well – you never disappear for long unless there’s a very good reason. Mira was the first to leave the karaoke room, looking for you to check if everything was alright. When she saw your distressed expression – and the guy invading your personal space – she stepped in without hesitation, positioning herself between two of you.
“Got a problem, brat? Need someone to teach you how to treat women – especially ones who clearly don’t want to get closer to you?” She didn’t hide her anger for even a second. The guy instantly backed off, muttered something under his breath, tore the autograph in half, and dropped the scraps of paper onto the floor. “... Don’t let it bother you, Y/N. Better to have no fans at all than someone like him supporting you.” Mira said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder with a comforting smile.
Despite her sharp tongue and her unique way of handling things, Mira was one of the most valuable people you had ever met. And nothing – absolutely nothing – could change your opinion of her.
— ZOEY
Together with your best friend, Lisa, you went to a HUNTR/X summer concert – it was a dream come true for both of you, something you had been saving up for from every paycheck and birthday gift just to afford the tickets closest to the stage, along with the post-concert Meet & Greet with the girls from the band. The concert itself was perfect – beautiful and graceful songs, three idols looking down at all of you with pure love, heartfelt choreographies, breathtaking special effects, united fans singing along to selected parts of the lyrics. It was the kind of day you knew you’d remember for the rest of your life. And you could’ve sworn that Zoey – your favorite – made eye contact with you more than once. But then, you convinced yourself it was just your imagination, that she was simply looking around to make every fan feel equally seen and cared for. Still… a tiny part of you hoped it was real.
After the performance, it was time for the in-person meeting and autographs. You felt amazing – excited, a little nervous – and you held Lisa’s hand tightly. Both of you were bubbling with anticipation. There were around 20 fans in front of you – mostly young women and teenage girls – and about 25 more behind. In total, 50 lucky fans had the privilege of meeting HUNTR/X after the show, getting to take a photo, exchange a few words and congratulate them on a stunning performance.
When only four people stood between you and the moment you’d been waiting for – meeting Rumi, Mira and Zoey – you suddenly felt a light smack on your butt. At first, you brushed it off – maybe someone had stumbled or moved closer, thinking their turn was coming up next. But then it happened again – this time slower, more deliberate. You flinched and slightly turned your head.
Behind you stood a guy, probably your age. You noticed the smug smile on his face and the two dimples that tried to soften something you instantly felt was wrong. You stepped forward, clutching Lisa’s hand even tighter. She assumed it was nerves, the anticipation of seeing your idol face-to-face. But nothing could’ve been further from the truth. The stranger moved closer again, leaning down toward your left ear.
“I like innocent girls like you. Wanna have some fun later?” His voice was low, deep, masculine – and without question the most repulsive sound you had ever heard. You shook your head, not even trusting your voice.
Your discomfort didn’t go unnoticed. Lisa, with her keen instincts, realized something was off – and so did the performers. Zoey furrowed her brows, watching closely. When she saw what was happening – when she witnessed the man touching you without your consent – she stood up immediately, anger flashing in her eyes. She rushed over to you without a second of hesitation.
“S-Someone get this man out of here!” She shouted, her voice sharp and commanding. In one swift movement, she positioned herself between you and him – like a fierce wolf guarding a small deer. Her presence was overwhelming in the best way. You blushed and thanked her, your voice quiet with emotion. Moments later, she turned to you gently. “... I’m really sorry about that, cutie. I don’t want this meeting to be something you associate with discomfort for the rest of your life… So, as a apology, I’d love to invite you and your friend to dinner. With Rumi and Mira of course. Would that be alright?”
It was more than alright. And Zoey? She had just confirmed what you already suspected – that she was an angel.
request ; @maoko290: how does meruem behave when someone or something hurts his beloved s/o
# tags: headcanon; current relationship; mostly drama; maybe angst; bruises, scratches and blood mention; kinda ooc!meruem; rather sfw
includes: gender neutral reader ft. maruem {hxh}
↘ It all depends on whether someone hurt you or you accidentally did something to yourself – for example: bruised your leg, cut your hand while slicing bread, hit the edge of a table or tripped over a folded carpet and fell to your knees.
↘ If it’s the latter – the definitely more favorable scenario for the rest of the world – he will hear your cry or whimper of pain even from afar. In a heartbeat, he’ll be right by your side, asking if you’re okay.
↘ If it’s a minor injury – a bruise, scrape, scratch or just a broken nail – he’ll pull you into a tight hug and assure you it’ll heal quickly. I’m certain he’ll treat you like a bit of a princess, easily offering you something sweet or cute to lift your mental humor. He might even take the time to learn how to wrap simple bandages, just to make sure you don’t get an infection or worsen your condition.
↘ But if it’s something more serious – if he sees blood, any signs of you feeling unwell, if you fall down the stairs or break bone – he’ll be deeply shaken at first, but he’ll show you only a calm and composed face, not wanting to stress you even more. He won’t allow anyone to look at you in such a vulnerable state – he doesn’t want you to feel exposed or judged.
↘ The only one allowed to approach you in that moment will be Neferpitou, whose abilities will quickly restore you to full health. Once you're healed, he’ll immediately command his servants to prepare a delicious meal or dessert to cheer you up. He may go a little overboard with worry, but you’ll deeply appreciate this hidden, tender side of him.
↘ However, if someone tries to hurt you – or worse – that will likely mark the end of humanity.
↘ First of all, Meruem would never let harm come to you. If he isn’t by your side at that moment, someone from the Royal Guard always will be. Still, most of the time, he remains just a few meters away from you anyway.
↘ But if that happens – if someone hurts you – there is a good chance they won't live to see the morning.
↘ If the harm was accidental – say, Youpi steps on your foot, or someone greets you a little too enthusiastically with a “high five” and causes you to fall on the ground – things will be okay. Though deep inside, Meruem trembles with rage and feels ready to erupt like a volcano, he won’t act if you step in and defend the person, promising your beloved it was truly an accident. Let’s just said that... Meruem’s glare will be enough to paralyze the offender – it will be a warning. There won’t be a second chance.
↘ But if someone deliberately hurts you – insults you, takes you hostage, makes you cry even a single tear or worse: physically injures you in any way, like dislocating a limb, breaking a bone or pulling even a single hair from your head – Meruem will first let someone from the Royal Guard “play” with them, then he’ll personally finish them off, not without putting them through further torture. He will show no mercy to anyone who brings you pain.
↘ Though to you he is perfect and endlessly protective, when it comes to your health, your happiness and your safety, he is ready to burn every bridge, kill every ruler and destroy any village that dares stand in his way.
