THOMAS THE TRAIN CANON IN TINY RAILS????
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presence // aventurine
he'll never outrightly ask you what it is, not at the outset.
he might find you curled on the couch, quiet, trying to breathe out the something in your chest that writhes and constricts, or in tears, but he won't ask, only sit quietly with you, lean against you, the weight of him enough to reassure you of his presence. maybe you reach for him, curl into the hollow of his body, and he'll let you, hold you until the tears stop, or you can feel your hands again, or you fall asleep, to the steady rhythm of his heart.
you'll wake, or look at him, and he'll speak, then, maybe look back at you with those iridescent eyes that you love, as he asks, softly, if you're feeling better, if you want to talk about it.
he'll keep you company, either way, listening. there is a steadiness in the weight of his arms around you, in the even beat of his heart against your back. you'll have to move, eventually, one of your legs falling asleep under you, and you'll both laugh, and shift. he gently disentangles himself from you, to get you something to drink. you settle back down, curled around each other, talk quietly until the sunlight changes.
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Apologies
Reader X Welt Yang
I want to preface this little story snippet by saying I don’t really plan on regularly writing for Honkai Star Rail (this may be the only thing I write for HSR tbh) and I’ve not gotten super far into it (I only just recently got to Luofo) but I love Welt Yang with all my little beating heart and I get sad that he doesn’t seem to be as popular as the other dudes when it comes to fic content, so I wrote him a little something. :3
I really want to try and push myself out of my comfort zone and get more acclimated with writing nice characters through the yandere/dark fic lens. Mr. Yang has become one of my guinea pigs so bless him.
WARNINGS: Possessive behavior, mentions of physical and mental abuse, yandere, dubcon kissing/touching.
Your first kiss with Welt was full of desperation.
His iron grip held you taut against his body, while ravenous lips pressed down firmly upon your own. It felt more like an attempt at suffocation than a kiss, and you couldn’t help but be taken aback by the ferocity at which he came for you. Was such unbridled desire always lying dormant in this reserved, kind, gentle man this whole time? The interaction happened so fast it was hard to process what was going on, let alone decipher the true intentions of the man who was perpetrating the act.
Discomfort bordering on pain-this was how you would remember his initial show of affection.
“I’m sorry.”
Those words followed his first tense love confession and succeeded each one thereafter. Every hold that lasted a beat too long, every kiss the was a tad too invasive, every moment he lost control of himself and ended up hurting you as a result of his unchecked passion, a fervent apology would follow shortly after. They would tumble from his lips in breathy whispers, spoken as if they were a prayer, peppered in with the delicate kisses he would litter over the wounds that he had inflicted upon you.
It didn’t matter how gingerly he’d treat you after, you’d wince at each unwanted kiss. The sear of his lips causing you more pain than any other touch ever could.
“I’m sorry.”
He said it so much it was becoming like a catch phrase. When he caught you crying alone in your room or when he felt you struggle against his overbearing affection, the words would spill from within him. His regrets would be relayed to you in hushed tones, mumbled against your skin, chanted to you over and over and over again, begging to be absolved of the sins he was committing against you.
“I’m sorry.”
Those words no longer held any meaning.
“I’m sorry.”
They were only spoken to make himself feel better.
“I’m sorry.”
He wasn’t apologizing. He was tricking himself into thinking he wasn’t hurting you, that by saying them he was making something right.
“I’m sorry.”
If he was really sorry, he wouldn’t be doing this in the first place.
“I’M SORRY!”
You were, too. Sorry that you believed he was a good man, sorry that you trusted him, and sorry that you were once naïve enough to ever have given your heart to him.
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it would completely destroy the plot of 2.1, but thinking about aventurine leaving his cornerstone with you, hiding it in plain sight. it’s hidden amongst all the jewels he dresses you in, tucked away under your clothes to rest against your heart. you’re his lucky charm, after all, it only makes sense you carry his trump card as well.
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