You Let Out An Audible Groan After You See Dan Heng Peel Another Orange For You, "dan Heng, Please. Please

When people first meet the twins, they think that Aether is the chaotic one and Lumine is the stotic one, until they realize their mistake when Lumine tries to stab whatever problems they have and Aether has to stop her.

FINGERS TWISTED BEHIND MY BACK (DON'T LET IT BE YOU I LACK) ── aventurine x gn!reader, 862

aventurine hates fighting with you.

he does not even remember it—not clearly, at least. through the memories mudded by the buzz of soulglad and whatever alcoholic beverages he'd guzzled down the night before, the exact expression of your face when he stumbled back into your hotel room is a blur (a pretty blur, he is quite sure, though no doubt a disappointed one) and the sentences you'd spat out at him were jumbled into words that grate in his eardrums when he tries to recall what exactly was said. aventurine tries to echo it to himself, but even the incoherence sounds bitter on his tongue, and all that comes out an indistinct, asthmatic gasp that he's quite sure is some sort of equivalent of his heart aching. or breaking. somewhere in between, perhaps.

he rolls over in your bed, damp from the shower and tears. aventurine is thankful veritas hasn't stormed in to nag at him; he would not be able to stomach being seen like this by anyone else but you: his sweet safe haven, his little eden. you've gone now, stormed off somewhere to cool off. aventurine leaves you be (even if he spent the first two hours alone relentlessly spamming your phone with messages, pleas to come back and return) but he is still alone.

the thought occurred to him somewhere between hour three and hour five, that you'd never come back. aventurine doesn't let it linger. his stomach roils, mouth tasting of bitter alcohol and sweet dreams where you are still there and he'd never upset you.

the hours he spends there without you are hellish, a parody of a bleak, grief-stricken painting of some woman whose husband has gone out to fight in an intergalactic war—draped over the bed, numb and miserable to everything but the thought of you he has to conjure every now and then to keep himself sane. the air is cold and never seems to adjust, even though the reverie's rooms are specifically designed to tailor to the guest's tastes. they clearly did not consider the factor that is a hopeless, lovesick man suffering from withdrawal.

the door creaks open.

aventurine darts up in his your bed, instantly whipping myself up into such a nervous, edgy frenzy that he almost forgets how to breathe. his lungs shudder, the cogs in his brain turning the wrong way, and nothing is working fast enough, right enough as he stumbles to his feet, nearly tripping over the carpet as he finds you toeing off your shoes at the door, so pretty it hurts.

"welcome home," aventurine manages to choke out, still tripped-out and dizzy, heart pounding loud in his fingertips and ears. he watches you glance up at him, your eyes meeting his own for the first time in hours that feel like centuries, and the burden on his lungs alleviates—just a little bit.

"…aventurine," you sigh in this throaty, broken voice that cuts right at his chest. he winces as if he's been struck, eyes flitting to the dizzying pattern of the carpet in effort to hide the glossiness of his irises.

he hears your feet padding across the room to him, the footfalls soft and slow and not at all violent, though he cannot help but fear. there can always be a finality to the softest, gentlest of mercies. not that aventurine has ever experienced it before, but he knows it is possible with you: you who holds his heart in your hands, and you may very well tear it apart if you so wished.

aventurine will let you, if that is what you want.

but instead he swallows, too loudly; finds his fingers instinctively twisting behind his back. "are you going?"

"i just arrived," you whisper, endlessly gentle, endlessly soft—forgiving.

"i know," his voice breaks, and you reach out to touch him—palm against cheek, thumb brushing over the slope of his cheekbone. something cold and damp trails over the flesh of his face, fair marble streaked with a single rivulet of a tear. he does not tell you why he wants to cry. you know anyway.

aventurine thinks pretending would be easier with you, but here in this room, at the end of the day when everyone else has escaped into their own dreamscape, he is tired of saccharine sweet lies, the twisting webs that he pulls around without even understanding the final result it will conjure. it is easier, he thinks, to let you keep his heart and do with it as you wish—and aventurine can only hope that you will be merciful.

are you going? the second set of three words, that single question that he truly wants to ask is caught in his throat, because you may hold aventurine's heart in your palms, but if you will not use your own bloody fingers to pry it open, he must do it for you—and he can't. not for this, at least.

but you know anyway. of course you do.

will you stay?

"i'm right here," you murmur, sweet and godly against his lips, swallowing the sob that he almost lets out. "i'm staying right here."

© trappolia 2024

Yes.

reblog if your blog is bisexual positive

WHERE CRIMSON MET IVORY.

a kaedehara kazuha x gn!reader oneshot.

SUMMARY    ▏he was crimson, you were ivory, and you never had looked good in red.

WARNINGS   ▏angst; major character death; mentions of violence; death; blood; swords / blades.

WORD COUNT   ▏1.8k words, 10.2k characters

AUTHOR’S NOTE   ▏introductory oneshot to tumblr!! how r we feeling >:D also it had to be angst, sorry i think. i specialise in this shit

Kaedehara Kazuha was no stranger to the colour red.

Red surfaced in the scarlet tint of his clothing, the soft blend of sunset and evening sky, the streak that shot through his hair. It reminded him of the bright glow of pyro visions, autumn leaves flitting about the wind, the dark passion that came to life in battle. Red was love; red was hate; red was something fierce and bold.

Red was the vividness of his eyes, red was the paleness of his lips, red was the flush to his skin. In a way, he was red as well, with his hair and eyes and clothing. You glance at him and your vision would flood with red. But there was something else, too—a kind of red embodied something both beautiful and gruesome. An elixir of life.

Crimson was also the colour of blood.

Blood, the essence of the living and the liquid of the dead. It flowed through the veins of humans, monsters, gods, and nearly every living being on Teyvat was powered by red.

And as Kazuha is to red, you were to ivory.

To you, ivory was fallen snow gracing the peaks of high mountains; it was the delicate petals of cecilias, where white descended into pale green before reaching the gentle, green stem. Ivory was the seafoam that washed ashore when cerulean waves would visit land, the shine of smooth marble, the quiet wishes whispered to the wind and lost to the loud whistling in your ears. You saw ivory in the sun, the moon, the stars; the clouds that drifted lazily along the high breezes.

Ivory was something born anew, a life blooming into existence. And you, with your tendency to be much too kind for your own good and an air of purity and kindness, were ivory.

And that was the thing. That was how it had always been. You had always been ivory; he had always been crimson. That was how it was meant to be.

So why were you choking on red?

Keep reading

Thinking about marrying Aventurine and his face when he sees you walking down the aisle.

He's always so cool and confident. Always has an answer, a plan, a way out. Nothing can crack his exterior cover. Except for you.

He's never in his life cried in front of others. But here he was, standing at the altar, tears threatening to blur his vision as he watched you walk towards him.

You looked ethereal. Your white dress trailed behind you and gently sparkled in the sunlight. Your makeup accentuated all the features he already loved about you, and your hair cascaded down your back and framed your perfect face. You looked like an angel. Like salvation.

He did his best to keep his tears from flowing, not wanting to miss a single second of your walk towards him. Towards the rest of your lives together.

As you approached, he held out his hand to help you up onto the altar.

His purple-blue eyes glistened as he gazed into your own. Into his future. A future he never expected to have, at least until you came into his life.

With you he saw a future he wanted to protect and cherish. There would be no more staking it on risky gambles. Not anymore.

Instead, as he placed your ring on your finger, he also placed his most valuable chip in your hands: his heart.

It was all or nothing. And he decided to give you it all. His future, his life, his heart, it was all yours now. You were the best gamble he ever took, he thought, as he said "I do."

xiangli yao — ‘ THE ULTIMATE TRUTH ’

goin home to be ugly in peace is one of my fav things to do

You and me. Us.

pairing. Aventurine x fem!reader cw/genre. angst, confused thoughts and feelings, insecurity. synopsis. You didn't feel right, so after keeping it to yourself, you decided to talk it over with him. masterlist

Despite him being a loving and attentive boyfriend, something was troubling him internally.

It could be his senses telling him that something "bad" was happening, like a premonition.

For your part, there was no change, you were still stuck to him, as always.

So after about 2 months, he decided to ignore that strange worried feeling inside him.

However, one night you saw him pacing back and forth, muttering some words under his breath.

When he seemed to notice you, he stopped what he was doing and approached you.

"I can't stop thinking about it.. something's going to go wrong, I just feel it. Maybe I'm being paranoid."

It was unlike you to see him with this sort of anxious energy.

You reached out to him, squeezing his hand gently. He looked up at you and gave a smile of appreciation, but the tension in his eyes persisted.

"You know it's normal to get tense, right?" You tried to make your words comforting and soft. "Everything is going to be okay, honey."

Despite not knowing his thoughts in detail or being able to put yourself in his place at that moment, you tried to comfort him.

He let out a sigh that seemed to expel all of his worries. His grip on your hand was tight enough for you to be able to sense his anxiety.

He pressed his forehead towards yours, his eyes closed tight.

You wondered what was going through his mind.

He couldn't bring himself to look at you during this moment.

His thumb gently brushed your hand, his eyes slightly clenched as he was about to tell you something, but hesitated.

It seems to be hard for him to get out what he was trying to say.

So he opted to squeeze your hand and bury his face into your chest.

You let a smile grace your face, despite his tense aura.

You understood him enough to know that whatever he was going through right now was something beyond your knowledge.

You comforted and supported him by wrapping your arms around him, kissing his head, and rubbing his back.

He looked grateful as your tender words of comfort helped him relax.

It was a nice moment of intimacy. It wasn't always a situation like this between the two of them, but there was never a problem comforting each other.

The affection and love that both had for each other was very enviable, they fit together so well in any situation.

Your fingers found their way onto his chin, gently lifting his head up so that he could meet your gaze.

His face was soft and expressive even when feeling down.

Even in the midst of trouble, he could always find a ray of hope with you.

He didn't say a word, but the feeling of your thumb rubbing his chin could be interpreted as "everything will be alright".

You both stayed close throughout the rest of the night.

It was an unproblematic night of rest for the both of you, he slept comfortably next to you, and you watched over him, feeling safe.

As the weeks went by, the one who started to feel bad was you.

Physically bad.

First came the nausea and dizziness, which you managed to hide perfectly from Aventurine.

At one point you thought you were sick and that these symptoms would eventually go away. However, that didn't happen, the symptoms remained, which worried you.

"…" From the way you felt, you suspected it from the first moment.

You sat on the bed, your legs a little weak from the shock, staring at the pregnancy test.

The minutes of waiting felt like hours. The intrigue was killing you.

Until finally you could see for yourself, your suspicions were right. You were pregnant.

You didn't know how to feel, you didn't know whether to be excited or worried.

However, a smile grew on your face, and you hugged the test closer to yourself.

So what if you weren't ready? For you this was something to be happy about.

But all you could think about was the moment you'd tell him.

He would be happy with this news, right?

Despite the pregnancy, life carried on, and so did you.

The symptoms you've been experiencing were unpleasant but tolerable. The nausea was still there, and you still felt dizzy, but you did your best to get through it.

As for the pregnancy, you tried to tell Aventurine once or twice. But you just… didn't feel ready yet. You wanted the perfect moment to drop that bomb on him, but that perfect moment felt like it never came.

You looked at Aventurine's sleeping form.

Should you tell him the news?

He looked so peaceful.

Perhaps you should wait for the right moment, the right time.

You laid there, not wanting to wake him, feeling a sense of anticipation inside. Even after the physical symptoms subsided slightly, your mind was full of worries.

"What if he doesn't want children now?"

"What if he thinks we're not ready?"

"He wouldn't leave me, would he?"

You wanted to push these worries aside and focus on the good things, but your mind wandered.

You didn't realise when it was that he had already woken up and was looking at you for a while.

You came out of your thoughts when you felt his hands caressing your face.

"Darling, what's wrong?" His voice was soft, not wanting to scare you.

For your part, you felt relaxed at his touch.

He continued to stroke your face, his hands eventually finding their way into your hair and gently combing it as he spoke,

"… Are you okay…?"

He sounded slightly worried.

"Mhm." After making a sound of affirmation, you clung to him, keeping your head buried to his chest.

"…" Once you were close to him, he continued to stroke your hair gently, not speaking, just wanting to listen to your breathing for a moment.

He rubbed your back in an attempt to soothe you, despite not knowing what was wrong. After a moment of silence, you broke it by speaking.

"I'm pregnant…" You blurted out. Your words were somewhat muffled by the fact that your face was in his chest.

His body tensed as soon as the words left your mouth.

"You're… pregnant?"

His hands stopped moving as an overwhelming sense of shock and fear came over him.

You thought he would be happy with that type of news but what you got was something different.

"…" Your boyfriend couldn't get his mind to respond, his face expressionless as he processed your words.

You let out a sigh as you waited for his words of response. He slowly pulled you away from his chest and stared straight into your eyes, almost as if studying your expression.

After another long pause, he spoke.

"You're… you're sure…?"

Your response was a confident nod.

He was quiet for a while.

"…" He could barely process what you'd just told him.

This was not the response you were expecting.

However, he still didn't move, not even a slight twitch of emotion on his face.

Silence.

His eyes wandered away from you, looking at the ceiling.

He was deep in internal crisis, feeling overwhelmed with all sorts of different thoughts.

At this moment, anxiety and nervousness flooded your system. The situation that had gone quiet too long was something that made you uncomfortable.

You waited.

He still wasn't speaking.

After another few minutes of staring at the ceiling, he finally opened his mouth.

"… I need time to think about this, dear" He said, his voice as serious as you had ever heard it before.

Before he got up, he ruffled your hair gently. Then he got out of the bed and went to the bathroom without another word or a glance thrown in your direction.

A feeling of rejection began to fill your heart as the bathroom door closed, leaving you all alone.

Your stomach dropped at the unexpected response. The fact that he requested time to digest what you had just told him made you increasingly anxious. Your fingers fiddled with the bedsheet, you were thinking too.

Is he angry with you for getting pregnant?

Is he just scared?

Why did he react like that instead of showing happiness like you thought he would?

The questions were countless, each one creating an increasing sense of insecurity within you.

But not only insecurity, but also sadness.

You couldn't help but think that this would be the breakup of your relationship, also due to the fact that you would have to raise your child alone.

It was a little too much for you to make those kinds of ideas and thoughts.

From one moment to the next you felt your cheeks wet. You didn't bother to dry them, you stayed leaning on the pillow, trying to disappear at that moment.

Your emotions were not very rational, being 4 months pregnant was hard.

On the other hand, Aventurine was locked in the bathroom.

He had a range of emotions inside of him.

Fear, anxiety, frustration, worry.

He took a deep breath and looked at himself in the mirror.

You were the love of his life, so he knew that there was no way he would leave you. But that didn't change the fact that he was terrified right now.

After a while of crying and waiting, you finally noticed the bathroom door slightly open.

Aventurine was still very far from calm. His face seemed still tense, but he was much more relaxed than before.

"Honey…" His voice was gentle, he came to sit next to you and started running his hand down your back again, trying to soothe you.

You were with your head buried in the pillow and with the blanket covering your entire body.

His touch gave you comfort, his presence reassured you.

"Please look at me, darling." he insisted, his thumb tracing the outline of your face.

You did as he said, you slowly turned your head and looked at him, he was smiling slightly, which surprised you.

"Come here." he took you in his arms, placing you on top of his lap.

Your eyes slowly closed, you let out a small sigh as you began to relax, and your mind started to settle.

While you sat on his lap, he brushed his hand through your hair, not speaking.

You buried your face into his shoulder and let him do his thing, it was calming.

"I'm sorry." His voice was soft as he continued to comb through your hair.

"It was stupid of me to react like that." He said, letting out a tired sigh.

His words soothed you.

You kept quiet for a moment, not knowing if you should answer him or not.

By the time you were going to answer him, Aventurine spoke again.

"I'm just…scared." As he spoke, his voice cut off at the end. His arms wrapped around you as if you were going to slip away from his grasp at that moment.

After a while, you broke away from his grip, you lifted your head off his shoulder and went to grab his face, placing it in your hands. You looked into his eyes and tried to get a glimpse of what was going on inside of him, but it was hard to read.

Your face was worried, no matter how much you tried to get an idea of what was going on in his head, you couldn't figure it out.

In his eyes there was a hint of tears beginning to fill little by little. Not to mention the expression he had on his face, it was something that surprised you, you had rarely seen him like that.

"Can I ask why, darling?" You tried to sound as cautious and gentle as possible, your thumbs caressing his cheeks.

His eyes closed as soon as you touched him.

When you asked your question, he was silent for a few seconds before speaking very softly.

It was like he was fighting to hold himself together to keep himself from breaking from the flood of emotions.

"You know what my childhood was like, how they killed all of my race, I—" He took some time to stop his voice from breaking up again.

You, with the greatest delicacy in the world, wiped away the fine tears that fell from his eyes. You didn't rush him to speak, you simply listened to him, letting him know you were there.

"I don't want this baby to suffer. Who knows what they life will be like when they grows up? We don't know if they could have the same luck that I had…" His voice faded into a silent murmur, unable to continue talking.

He was trembling slighty, his body seemed to be unable to hold all of the distress that was eating at his mind.

After he spoke, you held him close to you, your arms embraced him tightly, so he could cry, if he needed it, without feeling uncomfortable.

You rubbed his back gently to keep him calm, you knew that the moment that you were in was very delicate and that he needed your attention and support.

You let him get his thoughts out of his system.

His insecurities were very understandable.

It did not seem to be a problem of not wanting the baby, but rather a problem of fear and anxiety about what life the child might have.

You understood him perfectly, he had lived through a lot in his life and did not want to put that on his baby.

In front of you, you could see the man who was so confident, crumble into a pile of fears and insecurities. Insecurities that he don't let other people see.

"Mhm, you're right, my love. We don't know what will become of they future." Your voice was quiet, as if it were a lullaby to calm him down.

"I also know that that you are very afraid that they will go through the same thing as you. There, unfortunately you were alone…but now you have me." You could almost hear him holding back his sobs.

"The baby will have you and me. And I know we will make sure this child was the happiest and most protected by us."

With that, he stopped holding back his sobs, letting them out. As he clung to your chest, finding the comfort he longed for.

All he heard were your words, words that calmed him down like the sound of a song.

You held him close and comforted him, as if he was a child needing a gentle voice to help him fall asleep.

His head rested on your chest while your arms were wrapped around him.

"…" His breathing started to slow down, the tension was slowly being drained out of his body.

You could feel the softness of his body and his soft hiccups.

"Mhm.." He let out a sound, while with one of his hands, he wiped his wet cheeks.

You continued to stroke his hair and comfort him.

Love and affection.

"I love you." he spoke, his voice still trembling, but not with anxiety this time. "I love you so much."

The weight that seemed to be on his shoulders lifted, even if just a little, as the fear that had been tormenting him was starting to melt away.

He broke away from your grip a little and turned to face you, then he looked at you.

"I love you both." He said as he placed a hand on your belly.

The love he had in his gaze was undeniable. With his hand on your belly, the reality you were living felt much more real.

You smiled at him, and placed your hand over his, keeping it placed against your belly.

"We love you too, my dear."

©cherrylovelycherry do not repost, copy, translate, modify

love again

dan heng x gn reader 3.3k words , hurt comfort + second chance romance this was inspired by one of cardan's letters to jude (from the folk of the air series by holly black) but other that than i have no idea where this was going ++ dan heng might be ooc too but this was very fun to write :,)

the astral express used to be your home.

now, it is nothing more than a sore subject; a burden that presses on your being—a constant reminder that perhaps, there are some things you grow out of, but are forever unable to get rid of. it has taken far too much of your life for you to cast aside, and as much as you wish you could permanently erase it from memory, you aren’t sure if you even want to.

it’s a conflicting dilemma to be faced with. you’re constantly wedged in between two emotions: wanting to forget, and wishing you didn’t want to. there’s something so comforting about holding onto the remnants of the past. and yet, simultaneously, there is also something so devastating when faced with the realization that they belong only to the past; nothing more than a reflection of a bygone time.

still, you’d like to say that you’re faring pretty well. belobog has taken quite the space in your heart, and even though it might only be filling the hole that the express left you with, you’re more than content.

you’ve learned to adapt to the everwinter—the eternal freeze, as they’d call it. and even though it’s sweeping winds have proven to be quite bothersome at times, you don’t really mind. you’ve gotten used to enveloping yourself in a thick coat before exiting the house. and waking up a few minutes earlier than usual to warm yourself with a hot beverage isn’t so horrible.

but most importantly, you’ve begun looking forward to your days, as opposed to letting what happened a few months back tie you down.

it was a moment in time anyone would remember vividly had they experienced it—for a completely haunting reason. even after seven months of solitude; more specifically, seven months of self induced isolation, you can still easily step back into that day, as well as the ones that followed, though those are a bit more blurred in comparison.

when dan heng accused you of being a traitor, you knew there was no going back. in the blink of an eye, everyone on the astral express viewed you differently, and as much as they tried to believe otherwise, they couldn’t shake off the possibility of his words holding some ounce of truth to them; his status was that of a trusted guard, authority held in high esteem.

but he was also your lover.

dan heng was the embodiment of everything you’ve longed for; precious, beloved, sacred. only, that wasn’t enough to quell his misplaced anger towards you. instead, it fueled it even more, and with each day that followed, he made his distaste for you increasingly apparent.

you’ve tried to explain—persistently, and determined to dispel any suspicion he held towards you; desperate to make things right; to make him love you again. but every time you’d catch him alone and free from his duties, he’d glower at you before you could even reach him, and even as you trailed after him with a string of rushed explanations falling from your mouth, he wouldn’t listen. he didn’t want to. he didn’t need it.

he didn’t need you.

and who were you to ask for more? soon enough, even welt and himeko had little to no trust for you. they couldn’t even seem to tolerate you; always making excuses to avoid engaging in conversation, seemingly edging you out of their circle through subtle means.

it was exhausting, and also painful. incredibly so that one silent night, you hopped onto the train, dragging a suitcase from behind and begging pompom to take you somewhere else—anywhere else—and to keep quiet about your disappearance. not that you thought anyone would care, really, but still.

that’s how you ended up in belobog; with a broken heart you’ve tried piecing back together and an unspoken explanation festering in the back of your mind—that you weren’t siding with kafka, simply hoping to reach a compromise with her; a conversation caught and taken completely out of context.

but you’re faring pretty well. and time heals all wounds, apparently, so there’s an obstreperous hope rooted deep in your heart that makes you believe things might just really get better. each day that passes signifies another step inching you closer towards the line of recovery. and perhaps, knowing that one day you might cross it, was enough.

but belebog has been in some commotion lately.

for a reason completely unknown to you, the silvermane guards have been raising a ruckus by the streets every day. causing citizens, in return, to erupt into an uproar in absolute fear of what might follow.

and you’ve resigned yourself to that oblivion. ignorance is bliss, and you had no plan on disrupting the semblance of peace that’s been so graciously bestowed upon you. but the world has an incredibly humorous way of working, and somehow, it seemed hellbent on giving you the answer to a question you had no interest knowing.

“please wait.”

a firm hand encloses itself around your wrist, tightening its grip even further (though still gentle), upon noticing how you were trying to escape.

“y/n—” he tries once more.

“no,” you deny without any hesitation.

everything about this is wrong. the last thing you needed was for dan heng to appear right in front of you, and in belobog of all places. god, this was your home; your newfound sanctuary—did he have to ruin that too? how long until enough was enough?

you despise the way his touch sears into your skin, abhor the fact that even after months, he still manages to get a reaction out of you, and resent that your heart still races seeing the tender look on his face. that treacherous, good for nothing organ.

you level him with a glare before forcefully pulling your hand away from his; the loss of his warmth causes your heart to sink into your chest. “do not speak to me,” is all you say, and then pivot on your heel to walk towards the opposite direction—going to god knows where.

“this is where you’ve gone to?”

the question falls on deaf ears.

“you do not belong in belebog,” he says.

and you want to whirl around to ask him: where do i belong then? the astral express, where you have all cast me aside? but they remain lodged up in your throat, eventually dying when you realize how meaningless it would be trying to argue with someone who has never been willing to listen in the first place.

you continue walking, and each step you take is so heavy that they echo in his ears. dan heng is at a loss for what to do—has been for the couple of months, but he knows better than to let this opportunity slip through his grasp, so he follows, trailing behind you while keeping a distance.

he tries making small talk; starts talking about how he’s on a mission, accompanied with march and a newfound acquaintance who goes by the name trailblazer—claims that belobog is bound for conflict, and that he’s glad to see you, as if he wasn’t the one who pushed you away.

but you pay him no mind. there is no reason to show him any reaction. all you need to do is disregard him until he gives up.

“herta has been trying to contact you,” he suddenly announces. “she is worried; so are asta and arlan.”

“tell them there is no need. i’m alright.” you reply, voice rushed, wishing to get whatever this was over with.

what follows next are updates about everyone you’ve known on the express: himeko, welt, march, and even a couple of researchers have apparently been worried in regards to your disappearance; asking pompom about your whereabouts, and soon trying to find out the answer themselves. and while it washes away a bit of indignation, it holds little to no value to you now.

so what if they were troubled? for all you knew, they deserved it—they wanted you gone, and so you did them a favor by leaving, but now they want to pretend that they care? incredulous.

in a fit of frustration, you take a sudden halt in your steps, prompting him to take a pause as well; his feet rooted to the cobblestone pavement. when you turn to face dan heng, his shoulders straighten to correct his posture and his eyes search to meet yours, but you’re unhappy—displeased, and quite annoyed.

“leave. me.” you demand through gritted teeth, trying to prevent every other word threatening to escape by biting on your tongue.

but he cannot. because if you’ve been faring pretty well, then dan heng has been faring horribly, and if he made a mistake, then it was up to him to fix things.

“i have been looking for you,” he admits.

“you’ve found me, now leave.”

“my love—” he tries to begin, and it nearly kills you.

“do not!” you yell, every emotion you’ve been trying to keep at bay reaching its boiling point; eyes flaring with bitter anger at the term of endearment. “you have no right to call me that!”

you can’t do this anymore. for the sake of your own wellbeing; your pride and sanity, or whatever is left of them—and for every piece of yourself you’ve slowly been regaining. he is not allowed to strut out of your life and slam the door on you only to come back.

“you have no right to be here! leave!”

“come back to us.” to me, he wishes to say, though it remains in the back of his mind. “i am begging you.”

“i will never go back.”

“you do not belong in belobog.”

“i do not belong in the express either; you have made that very clear to me—all of you have.”

“i was mistaken in my judgment.” he tries to reason. and the turn of events is humorous, because this was exactly what you’ve been trying to do a few months back. and now, dan heng is completely aware of how desperate the feeling is. “but i have explained. they were not wrong to put their faith in me, but i was wrong to accuse you—i am sorry. the fault is on me, but please do not blame them for their suspicion.”

“i don’t care. you don’t get to do as you wish and expect me to follow through. i don’t belong here, yes, but whether you like it or not, this is my home now, and you have no right to take me away from here after tossing me aside.”

gesturing wildly with a hand, you continue. “i have been trying to navigate my way through the aftermath of what happened. and i have resigned myself to that loss—so leave me. you have no right to barge into my life and ask me to come back. you have no right to take advantage of my love after taking it for granted.”

the air stills around you then, temperature seemingly dropping a few more degrees, if that were even possible in this everwinter. helpless, you look at dan heng with quiet agony—defenseless and exposed, but most of all, ashamed.

dan heng stares at you in horror, and it makes you want to cry. you needed to get out of here; needed to lick at your wounds and stitch them back shut. god, where did your walls go?

“leave it. i—” you shake your head, unsure on what to say next. your hands fall to your sides, nails digging into the palms of your hands as they clench into fists.

“tell everyone on the astral express that i am fine. there is no need to worry about me.”

and he hates it; the way you speak of your home as if it’s no longer of that nature, but simply a place you once knew of. he hates how you’re right in front of him, within reach, but still out of grasp. and he hates that there is no one to blame for the consequence of his cruelty but himself.

red rimmed, exhausted, and on the precipice of surrender, dan heng’s eyes burn—perhaps he is being too selfish, but even then he doesn’t think he can stop.

“march has been wearing the clothes you’ve left at your station,” he says. and you have no idea where the direction of this conversation is heading, but something compels you to listen anyways. “himeko has been blaming herself for your departure. welt has been persistent in his demands for an answer from pompom. arlan and asta cannot go one day without mentioning your name.”

there’s a slight pause he takes before resuming.

“you have not left just because you did; you are part of the astral express. you will remain a piece of us forever, so please,” dan heng begs, swallowing against a scratchy throat. “come back to us.” and then corrects himself in a broken voice. “to them, at least.”

“enough!” you snap, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“please—”

“you are asking for too much.”

“i will take anything you give me,” he lets out, strained and miserable; unceasing in his pleads. “you can resent me for an eternity, shout at me all you want, curse me unto death, just come home.”

and it’s enough to reduce you into a foolish mess; the patent desperation of it all—longing in his voice, yearning in his eyes. you’ve always had a soft spot for him. it seems that some things never do change.

“you don’t need me,” you whisper, still in disbelief.

dan heng offers you a breathless laugh.

“i do,” he confesses, wearing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “more than anything else. and i have tried not to need you—not to even think about you, but it’s a losing game.”

he takes a hesitant step towards you, praying you don’t move backwards in response. and when you don’t, it only spurs him on to continue, so he does exactly that; slowly moves closer until you’re only a breath apart from one another.

“when i found out the truth, i have never been more in dispute with myself. it is humiliating being proven wrong, but rather than shame, i felt sorry for not believing you; for not even listening.”

you have no room to cut in. he speaks before you can let out a single word. “i don’t deserve forgiveness. i don’t deserve to even ask for it, or any of this, but i beg you, come home. i am sorry for hurting you—for driving you away, but i’ll be selfish once more and ask you to come home.” hate me at a nearer distance. just don’t be too far away from me.

and for once, you’re rendered speechless; completely overwhelmed. your cheeks flush with heat, and you feel so much that you begin to cry—pathetically sobbing as you fall into him and weakly punch at his chest, somehow still managing to feel your heart skip a beat at the contact.

“why are you here?” you cry, choking between words and hiccups. “you confuse me. i don’t know what any of this means.”

he pulls you in closer, placing your head on his shoulder with a careful hand, allowing your tears to stain the fabric. “i love you.”

“you don’t know anything about love.”

“i do. i know it because it’s you.”

you sob into his shoulder, shaking. “i hate you.”

“i know,” he says, rubbing small circles on your back to soothe you. “but i love you, forever and always. i don’t think i can stop. i have been too careless with you. if you’re willing to let me, i want to fix that.”

“you can’t. i’m a mess.”

so dan heng says, “i love you regardless. i’ll love you always,” but what he doesn’t tell you is i have been killing myself over your absence. you have the power to destroy me, and you don’t even know it—and i have no idea what to do with that revelation.

you could turn into a criminal and i would still fear losing you more than i would death. i would follow you anywhere, even if it meant i had to throw away all my morals—so long as i’m with you, i need nothing more.

though, he’s still quite relieved you aren’t actually evil.

“you won’t.”

“i will.”

“but you left me,” you murmur.

“and i’ll never do that again,” he promises, words dripping with so much honesty that you can’t refute them; sincerity practically emanating from his body.

your pulse quickens. already faltering in your resolve to push him aside, the lump in your throat expands to a quivering voice as you breathe out his name: dan heng.

the way it rolls off of your tongue enthralls him. it’s enough to send him into a spiral—it’s also enough for him to understand what you’re trying to convey.

he pulls you in even closer, eliminating any space between you two as he presses up against your form, relishing in the way you feel in his arms—something he was starting to doubt he’d ever feel again.

really, honest to god, he was definitely made for you.

"i'm sorry. i'm sorry. i'm so incredibly sorry," he apologizes repeatedly while holding onto you. and while his touch is foreign, it is also terribly familiar.

“dan heng,” you call out to him once more.

“yes?” he questions, uncertainty heavy in his tone.

“i cannot go back to the astral express,” you reveal, and he can practically hear how his heart instantly shatters at your words. “not immediately, at least. belobog is a lovely place. i want to stay here for a while.”

and then they piece themselves back whole. “it is nice,” he agrees, arms tightening around your torso like the prospect of letting you go would end him.

“how long until you leave?”

“i am not too sure anymore.”

you pull away slightly to give him a questioning look, and he smiles at your curiosity. “i’ve told you earlier that i have been looking for you. if you are here, then there is no reason for me to leave now.”

“then you’ll stay?” you ask.

“yes,” he tells you. “i will stay.”

“but you have nothing here.”

“i have you.” and that is more than enough for him.

“but the astral express is your home, even more so than it is mine.”

“no,” he corrects you. “the express is where i reside in at most, but my home is wherever you are. and if that’s in belobog, then so be it.”

“you’ll stay here with me? in this cold?”

“yes,” he assures you, lifting a hand to cup your face. as a thumb brushes across your cheek, he starts leaning in until his lips hover over yours. “i’d like to stay with you, and i’d like to keep it that way forever, if you would let me.”

you don’t say anything else, because truthfully, it’s unnecessary to speak in this moment. instead, you find another way to communicate with him by filling in the gap separating you two with a kiss.

dan heng makes a startled sound, shocked at your advances, especially with taking into consideration the circumstance prior to this. but then realization strikes through him, and soon, he’s kissing you back.

it’s slow at first; delicate, unsure if any of this was actually real, uncertain if he even deserved it. either way, he’s mapping every second of this moment onto his heart, eyes slipping shut as he wills himself to be patient with you. but then sweet longing pierces through him, and the kiss turns fervent, wholly desperate, because it has been far too long—and he realizes that he’s wasted too much time.

so he keeps kissing you, and you let him.

warmth floods from your face to your chest to your fingers, spreading like wildfire. belobog is a region of unparalleled coldness—it is always freezing here; the wind is biting, and there’s a permanent chill that creeps through the air. but right now, you are melting into a lovesick puddle as dan heng kisses you with an intensity you’ve never known before; transferring all the love—all the longing, he’s stored up for you through slightly chapped lips and careful touches.

you think of it all of a sudden; how dan heng told you that home is wherever you are—and in his arms, you realize just how true that statement is.

COULDA, WOULDA, SHOULDA, DIDN'T (ALTERNATE ENDING).

➳ synopsis: aventurine has never lost. that's what he tells people when he makes bets and in passing conversation about gambling. but every night when he lays in bed, he will always think about the day he almost lost you. angst version.

➳ character/s: aventurine

➳ warnings: 2.1 spoilers, aventurine backstory spoilers, aventurine real name spoilers, mentions of death, slavery (it's not romanticised, you're safe-), mentions of torture, blood, hurt/comfort, marriage, sleeping together (literally), reader described as beautiful

➳ word count: 0.7k

➳ notes: here's the happy version for those who were asking for it LMAO also i jumped on the bandwagon of fic writers inspired by aventurine official art-

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

aventurine will never forget the day he met you. he himself didn't know much better than you did as you ran for your lives as children, but he knew he never wanted to see you like that ever again. that night, he thinks he fell in love.

even with the heavy metal cuffs crushing your wrists, he thought you were beautiful. in the most horrible circumstances, you found solace in each other's arms. aventurine made it a habit to kiss your brand mark and then your forehead as he let you use his arm as a pillow. any screams of pain either of you made as you were roughly dragged from your cell to undergo 'disciplining' haunt your minds in the rare moments of emptiness.

the day aventurine was bought away by jade, he's never felt fear quite the same as looking back and seeing you be dragged away by your cuffs, calling out for him as he left while you were pulled further down the abyss of pain and agony.

"i'll come back for you, wait for me!" he yelled behind him. he was desperate, he didn't know if he would ever get to come back for you and ultimately, that scared him more. the idea that his last interaction with you was filled with despair only fueled his desire to rise to the top. he would free himself and ensure that when (if) he freed you, you would have everything you needed immediately.

aventurine remembers the day he came back for you. he'd beat up a lot of guards, and possibly killed a couple, only to find you unconscious and bleeding onto the cold concrete floor in your cell. scrambling to his knees, he held you in his arms and bolted out the door, desperately praying to whatever god would listen that you were alive.

he lived a nightmare as you recuperated in hospital, but nothing came close to making him cry since leaving you than holding your hand and kissing you all over again as if it was your first time. each night as he slept in the chair beside your hospital bed, he wondered what would've happened if he never got to you or was too late.

when he proposed to you, it felt like a fever dream. when he woke up the next morning to see you beside him, ring glinting in the morning sun and cheek pressed into a silk pillowcase rather than dusty concrete. he smiled in adoration, pulling you closer by the waist and chuckling at your sleepy whine of protest before burying your head into his chest and falling back asleep. taking your hand in his, he kissed the ring he'd given to you as a token of your engagement, resting his chin atop your head.

his phone rang and he sighed, blindly reaching behind him to check who was calling him. dr. ratio.

groggily, he answered. "you're calling early, don't you know i'm spending my paid leave with my wonderful fiance?"

aventurine could practically hear the eye roll from dr. ratio over the phone. "i am well aware, i just thought you would want to be informed that i have located your old master that was missing from the premises when you were searching for them," he said, probably polishing one of his marble busts to occupy himself.

"...keep an eye on him. i'll figure out what to do with him when i get more sleep." and with that, aventurine hung up the phone. he returned his attention to you and caressed his thumb over your hip as he pondered this newfound information.

he could've lost you if he didn't get there when he did. he's grateful for that, because he can have you by his side forever and a little bit more. he would've come looking for you to discover you'd died if he didn't push himself harder than recommended to rise to the top. he should've lost you, for that is what the sick gods on some alternate plane of reality deemed reasonable for his kind.

he didn't.