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lunargrapejuice · 1 year

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oh, how badly i need you

surprising the boys with kisses <3

diluc ragnvindr, kaeya alberich, kamisato ayato, alhaitham x reader

warnings: no pronouns used, some spicy kisses and making out but nothing explicit, mentions of reader being shorter than character, mentions of reader having pink cheeks in dilucs and alhaithams, previous sexual acitivies mentioned in kaeyas but again nothing explicit, my first time writing for ayato and i totally ran away with it klshsdjhljsv hopefully it is okay

diluc

it wasn’t unusual for his looks to get the better of you, to distract you from even breathing. diluc was a gorgeous man. after all, it wasn’t just his money or family name that had made him the most eligible bachelor in all of mond but you had happily taken away that title and gifted him with others that were much more to his liking; your beloved, your one and only, your husband.

no matter how long you’d been with him you were certain he would always take your breath away, would always have you so needy for him though he didn’t do either on purpose. you craved his touch and more so than just the hand holding you were doing now even though you loved the way his large hand felt in yours, warm and protective as his thumb ran over your knuckles. but you never wanted to make him uncomfortable, knowing that he preferred your affections in the privacy of your own home so you tried to be patient, tried to ignore the way your lips tingle at the memory of his own pressed against yours, slightly chapped and oh so warm as they claimed you, reminding you just how special you were to him.

you couldn’t get the thoughts out of your head nor could you stop looking up at him. you drank in his defined jawline and long lashes. the way the city lights caught in his eyes and made them sparkle like burning rubies. how the fading sun, the sky painted with yellows and oranges, made his hair look like ethereal fire.

how were you to resist?

it all happened so fast- the tug on his arm and the quick footsteps he took to keep up with your own as you darted into the dark alleyway with him tow, the cold brick of the building cooling the fabric of his coat and seeping into his vest, your hands finding purchase on his chest. though there wasn’t much force behind it, at least not enough that could truly hold him down, he didn’t fight it.

“what’s wro-” his words die down and turn into a passionate rumble within his chest as your lips meet his, soft and sweet and only for him.

he had briefly gotten a glimpse of your expression before his eyes fluttered closed under your affection, a flash of pink cheeks and a determined glint in your eyes. leading up to this, without knowing what was going on, all he could do was survey the area around you, the street still bustling with people, though in the alley their voices are quieter, much easier to forget because the moment your lips met his, his only thoughts were of you.

you lift on your toes to reach him, feeling the hard and skipping beats of his heart under your palm with each kiss you share and to provide you with better support, while also keeping you closely pressed against him, his hands resting on your hips, powerful fingers sinking into your soft skin.

truly insatiable is what you would have called yourself if you could speak as your tongue swiped across his bottom lip, begging for even more of him.

quiet and deep he whispers your name against your lips, the sound of it makes your entire being flush with heat, his grip on your growing more desperate as he keeps you pressed against him so there wasn’t a single inch between you. “not here,” and yet he kisses you again, unable to hold back from tasting you as his tongue slips past your lips. when he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting you still, he’s panting, those scarlet eyes dark and full of hunger. “not when i want you this badly.”

kaeya

it was his laugh echoing through the halls of knights of favonius library that broke your resolve to leave him be while he was catching up with the paperwork he had been putting off. you were always so weak for kaeya, he constantly had you as melting putty in his loving and calloused hands, but this morning you found it exceptionally hard to resist him and ever since you parted this morning you had thought of nothing but those star flecked eyes and his beckoning soft lips.

peeking from the bookcases you had been between for the last hour as you attempted, and failed thanks to your run away thoughts of a certain knight, to find the information you were looking for you can easily spot his sapphire hair and cape that flows behind him. you feel your heart begging to race as you hurry to catch up with him, not knowing what your plan really was, only knowing you couldn’t stand to be away from him for a moment longer.

of course he had heard you coming before you could even call his name, he was always one to be aware of what was going on around him - especially when it came to you, turning to meet you with an adorable smile on his face. archons, you are so in love with him. he doesn’t get a chance to say anything either before he’s being dragged by the grip you have on his hand down an aisle of books, to a place where it was only the two of you.

it happens quickly, the way you lead him and press him between the bookcase and your smaller body, but kaeya easily keeps up with your pace and movements, like this was a dance you had practiced time and time again even though this was bolder than you normally were with him.

“why hello there my snowflake,” he coos, teasing and light, gloved hands running up and down your sides. he relishes the way you grab onto him, your hand lost in the fir of his cape, the other pressing into the chest, your warmth seeping into the cotton and onto his skin. “what a su-”

it wouldn’t be the first nor the last time you stopped your beloveds words with a kiss but from the first moment your lips touched his kaeya could feel how these kisses were different from the others, needy and passionate; a kiss like you might never get the chance to do so again, though he would always be sure to shower you with love the moment you both returned home.

you stood on your tiptoes to reach him and when you wanted more of him still your hands found themselves lost in silken strands of blue hair to pull him deeper into your kisses. he hummed in pleasure and amusement at your advances, his skilled hands pressing into your plush skin, strong arms almost lifting you from the little ground you already stood on. easily he held most of your weight while keeping you pressed against his chest.

in sync heart beats permeate through the layers of clothes between you, echoing in the space around you, heaving chests so desperate for breath as you continue to share kiss after kiss, not wanting to pull away. even when you do, both of you fighting to catch your breath, he doesn’t let you pull away from him and his azure eyes sparkle in the light coming through the window above you as he catches butterflies inducing glances of glistening saliva on your lips.

“kaeya..”

fucking archons he loved the way you called his name like this, as if it was the only word you knew, breathless and full of adoration he hardly deserved. though he knows you think otherwise and he is beyond thankful for that.

“needy for me already doll? was last night not enough hm?” he teases, flashes of his chilled fingers running down your bare back last night flooding his mind. his grip on you tightens. “you know-”

using the support he gives you to lift on your toes to kiss him once more but this time light and chaste, sweet and smooth like honey. you drink in the way his messy locks look in the rays of sunlight, the way his dark lashes flutter close and a dark pink dusts his cheeks, the ever suave captain puddy in your loving hands. only you could do this to him.

“i could never get enough of you kae.”

ayato

ayato was on to your neediness the moment you grabbed his arm for your walk to the tea house to meet ayaka and thoma, your eyes practically full of hearts when you looked up at him and smiled, pressing his arm against your burning chest. and he certainly thought you looked adorable attempting to hold back while you were in public, even though the way your body reacted to him, the way you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him, gave you away.

of course he’d indulge you a bit, keeping close enough to feel your warmth - and he loved it too. but he also couldn’t help but tease you in the process. his lips ghosting against your ear as he leans in to speak lowly to you on your way to and during tea, the warmth of his breath on your neck. wrapping his arm around you to press you against him as he reaches for the sugar he could have easily asked you for, his pink lips only inches away from your blushing skin.

he keeps your proximity close even after tea but continues his act of innocence as you continue to walk through the city and seems as though he’s ignorant of the way your eyes continue to find their way to his lips. but every time you’ve looked up at him, every bite of your bottom lip and when you thought he looked partially kissable, every deep breath you took to steady your eager heart and run away thoughts did not go unnoticed by him and patiently he waited to see when you would break.

you had almost asked to skip tea in favor of spending time in his lap with your lips lost within each others but you knew how much it meant to ayato to get to spend time with all of his loved ones within the little free time he already had. so you didn’t ask and attempted to hold in just how desperate you were for more of him. he was of absolutely no help, almost as if he had wanted to see you break and lose yourself to your need for him. he probably did and something about that makes you think that maybe you should give in. what would be the worst thing to happen?

okay maybe thinking like that wasn’t going to give you the courage to do what you wanted. he was the commissioner and had a reputation to uphold and as his beloved you had the duty to also maintain it but surely one kiss wouldn’t be all that bad.. or maybe you could even get away with a few kisses stolen in secret.

without giving yourself much time to contemplate it, knowing you might talk yourself out of it if you did but also not wanting to wait a moment longer to indulge in him, the moment you spot a quiet place away from pry eyes you let your want for him take over and drive you to be a bit a daring.

almost too easily he follows your split moment choice to tighten your grip on his hand and lead him in between a building and a stack of tall crates. when you see the devilish smile on his lips as he presses you against the crates and towers over you, you knew he had known exactly what you were up to.

“quite eager today aren’t we darling?” he asks, the playful lilt in his tone and the scent of him, like cherry blossoms after the rain filling your nose making your knees feel weak as he cages you between his arms.

your cheeks burst with heat at the truth of his words and the vulnerable position you had found yourself in when you intended to be the one to get the upper hand and kiss him like you so desperately wanted. but when one of his hands finds your skin, a delicate touch under your chin as he lifts your eyes to his, you can’t bring yourself to care that you had been so obvious in your feelings for him the whole night.

you swear you could drown in the sea of violet that swirls with hidden need and you can hardly tear your gaze from his, even though it feels so intimidating at times, when he leans in close. close enough you can feel the radiating warmth of his lips near yours.

“it’s so impossible to resist you,” he whispers, low and husky before closing the little distance between your lips.

his own desperation shows through his kisses, deep and full of tongue that lingers with the taste of the tea you shared not long ago; devouring and full of pent of love that you couldn’t show each other till now. it shows through the way he cradles your head with his fingers lost in your hair and the way he presses against you, only allowing space between you while you lift to reach him better.

a whimper of his name escapes your lips when you finally part and he relishes in the way you continue to cling to him, your trembling fingers gripping tightly onto his lapel.

“you’ve been so good, y/n. be a little more patient for me, okay? i promise you can have me all to yourself soon enough.” but for now he’ll indulge you both in a few more kisses and the taste of your sweet lips.

alhaitham

it wasn’t all that unusual for your paths to cross without you realizing it; you running from place to place in the city and within the akademiya, all the while alhaitham stole admiring glances but you still hadn’t expected to run into him at port ormos while you were there for a commission. he was talking with someone you didn’t know and you didn’t want to disturb him but you still found yourself unable to look away from his handsome features.

your heart beats irregularly when you glance at his lips for far longer than you’d like to admit out loud, pressing your own together to relieve the pressure you are desperate to feel against them but it doesn’t do anything to even kind of replicate the feeling of his lips on yours. maybe you could find a moment to steal his time after he finishes..

before you know it, as your getting lost in your thoughts of how you could pull him from sight and share a kiss, all you can see is his back walking in the direction opposite of you, the stranger he was talking to before nowhere in sight.

even if you wanted to you couldn’t resist wanting to feel him, if only for a moment- for one kiss - and you let your eager feet carry you in his direction. his long legs take him farther and farther from you and as quickly as you can blink suddenly he is gone. a pout forms on your lips and your steps become more tentative as you search for him, not wanting to give up your sudden endeavor to be with him, just to suddenly jump at his voice calling your name from behind you.

your chest blooms with warmth seeing him leaning casually against a stack of crates, arms folded and a small smile on his face.

“following me now, hm?” his voice is as normal as ever but there's a playful teasing light behind the amber of his eyes.

“well, technically yes, but i have my reasons,” you give him an innocent smile as you close the distance between you, finding space between his legs for you to stand comfortably close.

“oh? what reasons would those be?” he asks but he already knows. the pink of your cheeks, the love in your eyes, the way you hold onto him. he knew and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same.

your movements are quick but meaningful, your hands gripping onto his folded arms for added support as you lift on your toes to reach him, pressing a sweet and slow kiss to the edge of his lips. it might have been enough to satiate you but the way the breath left his lungs and spilled past his lips, his arms unfolding to hold you closer to him, added fuel to the flickering flame of your desire for him.

“just wanted you, ‘haitham,” you whisper against his lips, honest and full of need that brewed within you.

he may have known what you wanted from him even before you started to follow him but he still found himself incredibly weak, his chest full of butterflies flapping their wings against his rib cage, when he heard you speak those words.

with one hand pressed to the small of your back, the other sprawling across your upper back before flexing and clinging onto your shirt ever so subtly, he held you impossibly close to him and didn’t hesitate to return to your kisses in kind. he was the first to deepen them, letting his tongue swipe against your bottom lip and press against your own tongue when your jaw slackened and allowed him to do as he pleased.

your hands on his chest feel the rumble of his groan when you bite his bottom lip and pull lightly, teasing and fleeting before you kiss him sweetly once more. your shared kisses grow chaster and gentler with each passing dancing of lips until only loving pecks between heaving breaths remain.

his eyes are soft, lips pink and glossy when you finally pull away, never getting too far with the way he keeps you pressed against him even after your feet find flat around once more. toned muscles of his chest press against you with every breath he takes, his palpitating heartbeat echoing in time with your own.

“with the way you were devouring me with your eyes before, it made it hard not to want you too, love,” he admits far too casually for your liking, the admission of his need for you too and the sweet pet name making you ever weaker, and a bit embarrassed that he caught you staring.

“you saw that?”

“heh. yeah, you weren't very subtle sweetheart.”

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

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atinylittlepain · 3 months

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Warm

college!steve harrington x f!oc

series masterlist

Steve gets flustered in an art museum. She kind of likes it.

18+ smut, normal hairy female bodies, steve is kind of a perv in the best way, smut duh, and verrryyyyyy sweet, also robin and eddie being good roommates

note: the painting that Andy and Steve look at is called l'origine du monde by Gustave Corbet and you can check it out here. This fic is for bush (not the president) and bush only, thanks.

.............................................................................

Steve is a good guy, right? Right. Respectful, respectable, two percent in his cheerios in the morning, light wash denim and clean sneakers, and he flosses two times a day, clean bill at every dentist appointment and he shows it, curls half a smile when he holds the door open for girls on campus, all ease, all-American and alright. Studying business, and of course he is, though his parents don’t know about the women’s studies minor he picked up all because of a flushed little crush on a professor that never amounted to anything, coupled with Robin strong-arming him into taking a few more classes with her. But that’s okay, he likes the classes, and he likes the classmates.

“Do you need a partner?”

“Hmm? Oh, I was just going to work alone actually.” Big scarf tucked up around her neck and a big coat wrapped up around her and she barely even glances at him down the slope of her nose, already refocusing on the painting in front of her. But he’s a good guy, right? Right. A real team player, tilting his head, and letting his hair fall into his face, a little shy, a little smile. She glances at him, unimpressed hook of her brow and her eyelashes lifting up over the rims of her glasses. Her name is Andy, he knows, though they haven’t spoken, at least not directly. She’s been known to correct him in class however, her hand raising after his, quick and cutting. He maybe, kinda, sorta likes that.

“I think we’re supposed to, you know, discuss what we’re looking at with each other for the VHS thing.”

“VTS.”

“What?”

“It’s called VTS. Visual thinking strategies. Are you sure you want to discuss this painting with me?”

“I’m game if you are.” She smiles, and he’s already thinking about which of her palms he’d like to write his number on. But when he finally looks at the painting, he finds himself to be a lot less concerned with his phone number.

“So, Steve, what’s the first thing you notice about this painting?”

“Um, well, I–”

“Is it too much for you?” Heat is prickling in a bloom up his neck, her smile sharp as her eyes flit between him and the painting, the painting that he really should have looked at before approaching her.

“No, no, it’s not too much. It’s– appreciation of the female form, right?” He’s not sure where to look any more, a strange kaleidoscope with how quickly his eyes are darting between scraps of the painting and her face. A freckle under her eye, and then swaths of cream and pink brush strokes and then the hitch in her cheek where her smile curves and then, and then.

“Hair.” His voice pitches and cracks somewhere in the word, turning one syllable into two like a hiccup. She laughs a clipped sound.

“Hair?”

“Around her– around her–”

“Around her cunt?” Something hot tightens in his chest, maybe shame, though shame doesn’t feel good like this does. He feels foolish, the quick whip of his head around like he’s worried they’re going to get caught, though for what he isn’t sure. Likewise, he has no clue what’s causing this devastating fluster, this feathering of heat. Whatever it is, it’s making it very hard to look at her, though the way his gaze has fixed on the painting doesn’t feel much better either. He’s never heard a woman use that word before. Actually, scratch that, he’s pretty sure he’s never heard anyone use that word before, not in Hawkins, at least, not corn fed and halfway bible bred, at least. It sets something slick shimmering inside of him, something warm that’s making it hard to think.

“Are you blushing?”

“I’m not, I’m just appreciating the work.”

“L’origine du monde.”

“What was that?”

“That’s the name of the painting. Origin of the world.”

“Well, that, uh, I guess that tracks.”

“It’s a shame, don’t you think?” When he does finally look at her again, she’s smiling, all ease, all cool, and him anything but, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm into his hip.

“What’s a shame?” She sighs, a long sound, letting her neck roll to the side so her cheek scrunches into the plush of her scarf, a wistful look.

“The current trends. Looking like prepubescent girls. No hips, bald vaginas, everything so… sterile.” She speaks with a bluntness that winds him, if he’s being honest, her expression schooled, and maybe a little disillusioned, brow pinched and mouth pulling down in a grimace.

“I guess I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Yeah, well, you have a cock. Makes things a little simpler, doesn’t it?”

“Jesus Christ, do you always talk like this?” He says it just a little too loud, a little too breathless, heads turning in the gallery around them, and he thinks he might regret even trying with this girl. Should’ve stuck with the tried and true, that blonde girl that wears sticky sweet lip gloss and smiles at him from across the room during lectures. But this girl, with her arched brow and her twitching smile and the dark flicker of nail polish when she smooths the throat of her scarf. This girl has his number, and not in the way he’d like her to.

“What do you prefer, Steve? Do you like a girl with a smooth shave?”

“Well I think that, um, a woman’s body is her own choice.” And it has to be the dumbest string of words he’s ever said, breathed out on two static exhales, a garbled parroting of what he’s learned in these classes, right? Well, sort of.

“How progressive of you.”

“But the painting is really, you know, it’s, um, it feels warm?” Not sure where that came from, another fresh flood of heat rising and buoying up into his cheeks. Though her expression seems to soften, her smirk falling into something lighter. Maybe, maybe, he got one right.

“Yeah, I think I get what you mean. There’s a softness to it that’s beautiful, don’t you think?”

“Mmhmm.”

“But also a strength, a frankness to it.”

“Yes, yeah.” That sick swirl of shame but not shame is receding, and only leaving a nice sort of haze in its place, his head lolling a little, eyes raking over the painting, the catch of light, the soft rounding of a body at rest, slumped and plush and kind of perfect, he thinks. Although he’s pretty sure Andy would correct him for perfect, perfect not being the point, because perfect is oppressive, right? Right. Fuck perfect, he thinks, this is something better than perfect. And maybe she is too.

“Steve?” Her hand on his arm, purple nail polish and a close-lipped smile snapping him back into his body, hmm? And her smile spreads, and the warmth does too, and she’s saying something about the prof calling them back together and he’s mmhmm-ing on the heels of her brown leather boots. And she sits next to him when they get back on the bus, Robin giving him a stink eye that breezes right over the top of his head as she passes down the aisle because he’s a little busy trying to take discreet inhales through his nose of whatever perfume Andy wears, spice and strong and warm, that same warm.

And it isn’t his number that gets jotted onto her palm, but her address that she scrawls onto the soft inside of his wrist, right over the catch and jump of his pulse, because she has invited him over for a drink tonight to continue our conversation from earlier.

Robin doesn’t even have a chance to snit at him for leaving her stranded to the back of the bus because he’s already shuffling her along by the crooked wing of his elbow, hands tucked down deep in his jacket pockets, snow starting to flit and fall from the gray hang of sky.

“I need your help.”

“You have a date.”

“I’m not sure.”

“It’s a date. She was like, rubbing your wrist. That’s a date.”

“I need your help.”

“Yeah, you do.”

Because Andy is not light washed denim and polo shirts and two percent milk. He’s seen her in the campus coffee shop, she takes soy, sometimes almond, for the record. So when they get back to their apartment, the smell of electric heat washing over them and curling in their lungs, they don’t go to Steve’s closet, they go to Robin’s.

Robin’s first pull is a turtleneck. He scoffs.

“What? Turtleneck dudes are definitely that chick’s type. Are you kidding me right now?” And when he assures her that he is, in fact, not kidding her right now, Robin starts to rummage again, eventually coming back out with a t-shirt for a band that Steve only knows because he has asked Robin to turn their music down on several occasions. And before he can say anything Robin is please hold-ing him and shouting down the hall for Eddie.

“What?”

“Steve has a date with a cool girl.”

“Cool girl, what cool girl?”

“Soc major, with the boots.”A little flurry of activity, socked feet slipping down the hall and Eddie hanging off the doorframe of his room, Steve not able to get a word in edgewise between their rapid fire volley.

“No, really? Little different for you, man, isn’t it?”

“I–”

“We need your closet, excuse us.” Robin on the warpath and Eddie grinning big, and Steve somewhere in the middle.

“How’d this happen?”

“She–”

“They were talking about art.” Robin reappearing with a long-sleeved thermal gripped in her other hand, eyebrows waggling.

“Steven? Our Steven? Talking about art? Well, well, well.” If he just had time he’d say something back to Eddie about how he got kicked out of the art museum last weekend for making quacking noises every time the security guard took a step, but Robin is already ushering him back down the hall, into his room this time, shoving the bundle of clothes into his chest and slamming the door shut on her way out.

Eddie is anemic and tends to eat breakfast when the sun is going down, and Robin is Robin, so it’s a tight fit getting the thermal on, followed by the t-shirt. But looking in the mirror, he thinks he likes it, gives an experimental and not at all vain flex of his arms that makes the sleeves of the tshirt roll back up toward the round of his shoulders and yeah, he likes that. And when he steps out of his room, Robin and Eddie already hovering and humming their approval, that warmth starts to build and bloom all over again.

And the rest is a little hazy from there. Robin offers him two refrigerator-chilled potstickers from last night’s dinner, something about fuel for your evening, Stevening, while Eddie pours himself a bowl of corn pops and prattles about something he learned in his music theory class, dissonance and skipped beats, and Steve can understand the feeling. And then they’re both kicking him out with an all too solemn godspeed, soldier. Eddie even salutes him.

Andy lives on the opposite side of campus in a cropping of apartments in a building that looks kind of like a castle, old brownstone and wrought iron. She buzzes him up, opens the door in a thin turtleneck and jeans, her head tilting and her lip pouting, just a little.

“Where’d the polo shirt go?”

“I changed.” Excellent, he thinks, how astute of him. She smiles.

“I can see. I wouldn’t have pegged you as a Bikini Kill fan though.” He’s trying to focus on her as she leads him deeper into her apartment, though his eyes still wander. Old wood flooring that’s barely visible underneath the thick swaths of patterned rugs. A crushed velvet, lime green sofa sitting in front of a fireplace that’s packed full with books. The kitchen is tucked into a corner, a little patch of black and white linoleum, old appliances. She’s pouring wine at the counter with her foot pressed into her other calf in a sort of shortened tree pose, and she’s asking him if he likes red, and he nods, all the while thinking to himself that he hasn’t consumed enough wine that doesn’t come in boxes to really care what color it is.

They sit down on the lime green sofa, her arm draped over the back of it, fingers tipped toward him. And he’s trying not to be such a dweeb about it, really, he’s not, but it only takes a few bashful glances to know that she very much is not wearing a bra. And he likes that, likes that a lot. Likes the soft curve and fold of her stomach with the way she’s turned toward him, the stretch of her jeans at her hips, her thighs, and his mouth goes dry around a gulp of wine when he starts to think about that painting again, and he starts to think about her, and he starts to think about her and the painting together. He starts to wonder, to wonder, to wonder what similarities he might find between the two.

There’s conversation, quiet and meandering and murmuring, their mouths staining dark and rosy from the wine, bodies turning warm and pliant and inching closer, closer, closer. And it all starts to melt, empty glasses set aside and her hand slipping into the back of his hair and she’s going to be the one in control, isn’t she? Fine by him, lax and languid in her hands, letting her tilt his face toward her. The first kiss is surprisingly sweet, just a peck to the corner of his mouth that makes him breathe hard through his nose in a petty huff of anticipation. She grins, lets the next one take its time, a little deeper, a little more heat, open mouth against open mouth, and he groans when her tongue slips behind his teeth.

This would be enough, he thinks. This time, at least. Her settling into his lap, little pants of breath between the wet snap of lips and spit and tongues. His hands squeeze at her thighs, coaxing a skittering sound from her throat when he reaches back and cups her ass, fingers splayed and pressing petulant. He’s going to feel her fingers in his scalp for a few days, the little hurts, little pulls. The next time she pulls away she presses her hand into his chest to keep him at bay, even as he tilts his chin up, feeling young in his eagerness as she smiles wide-eyed at him.

“Hi.”

“Hi.” Both of them whispering, and when they both realize they don’t know why they’re whispering, both of them giggling, getting away with something when she pulls him up off the couch and into her bedroom.

“Why is this shirt so tight?” She huffs it out with the tshirt halfway rucked up his torso, his hair falling in his face as he curls over trying to help her get it off, both of them breathing out a laugh when the fabric finally is up and over and off of him.

“Oh baby, your hair.” He likes baby, baby feels good, feels like another warm bloom in his chest, his smile turning sheepish when she reaches both hands into his hair, shaking it out at the roots before smoothing it back for him. He chases after her hand, manages to press a kiss to her palm before she’s reaching for the hem of his, Eddie’s, thermal. It comes off easier, quieter, her eyes softening as she takes in his bare chest, catching him off guard when she ducks her head down to press a kiss to the dip that connects the lines of his collar bone, there and gone, little sweetness, little warmth as she steps back and grins.

“Do you wanna lay down for me?” Not even a thought, just ligament and muscle moving, some sort of game dancing between their eyes as he settles back on his elbows against the dark fabric of her duvet. He watches the fine flicker of her fingers make deft work of the buttons of her jeans. An absent-minded thing, the heel of his palm pressed to the ache, to the heat. He’s already hard, already smearing warm against the front of his boxers watching her step out of her jeans.

“Oh fuck, honey.” A little pained, the sweet prickle of agony, of being right. A vision somewhere between obscenity and divinity, he thinks, though that would be playing into the madonna-whore complex their professor was lecturing about last week. He doesn’t care, doesn’t care about much of anything except continuing to look at Andy, the soft divot at her waist where her white cotton thong settles against the soft curve of skin, and the dark bloom of curls along the sides of the material where her thighs touch. He was right, and now he’s doomed.

She smiles, finger hooking in the hem of her shirt and pulling it up just a little, exposing the sweet dip and swell of her stomach, and suddenly he’s not so interested in just laying back any more. Greedy, he feels the slick, desperate curl of it in his gut. Greedy when he shuffles up onto his knees and crawls to the end of the bed. Greedy when his hands curl at the fat of her hips and he pulls her in closer so he can press the open heat of his mouth just above her navel, soft and warm and he wants more of it, of her. She sighs, a long, languid sound that he wants to hear more of, dipping his head down to mouth at the jut of her hip, dampening the fabric slung taut there.

Limbs tangled with limbs, some of it graceless, awkward, some of it perfect motion. She lays out like a painting, like the painting, for him, her turtleneck curled up around her sternum so he can palm a handful of her breast, settling down between her thighs and wasting no time in dragging his tongue through her cunt.

She wasn’t wrong about the trends. Hairless bodies, smooth bodies, flinchingly pristine bodies. And that’s fine, he thinks, been with plenty of bodies like that, made his body like that for a while too. But he likes this, likes her, the sense and sate of it, the scent of it, even if it makes him a pervert, lapping at her while he curls two fingers inside her. And somewhere in the simpering sear of it, his hips have started to jerk and stutter into the mattress beneath him, picking up a stilted speed when she starts to moan, clipped sounds and his name and he wants it and he wants it and he wants it so bad. She comes with a long sigh that cracks high into a whine, her thighs tensing and slackening around his face. And he feels a warmth of his own, relief of his own, though the reality of what he did turns him sheepish, pressing a bashful smile into the swell of her inner thigh.

“Did you?” Her words crackle breathless with her grin, peering down at him from behind her forearm and he can barely look at her, turning his face back into her skin, letting his teeth graze there a little mean.

“Maybe, shut up.” Her laugh bursts and bubbles up, her head tossed back, eyes crinkled shut as he crawls up and up and up, not evening minding the uncomfortable cooling in his jeans when he presses a sloppy kiss to her mouth, turning her laugh into a satisfied hum.

“Hmm, kinda feminist of you coming in your jeans just from eating me out.” Speechless, and he kind of likes it, huffing out a breathless laugh as he watches the cartoonish jump of her eyebrows. He presses a kiss between them, sweet and simple, warm all over when he pulls back to find her smiling at him.

“I like you, a lot.” That whispering thing again, a little shy, a little young, and a little uncertain. But there’s no need for it, not when she tilts her chin up and presses a kiss to his cheek, the round of it, the warmth of it.

“I like you too, Steve.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington ficlet #steve harrington au

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lullaebies · 9 months

Note

Can I request when Daeron either claim Tessarion/ or she is hatched? It will also be amazing if it's slapstick funny at the expense of either Aegon or Aemond. Because we know that Helaena is too smart to be caught up in shenanigans.

This was very fun to write! Ended up as a whole sibling set moment, hehe. I went the hatching route as I generally believe in it! Hope you'll enjoy <3 (also forgive me for any mistakes, I ended up writing this till 1am lol) -

“I told you it will hatch,” Aegon says, the cobalt dragon fighting against the folds of the bedsheets squeaking. Aemond looks at the little hatchling intensely, but only Helaena dares to sit on Daeron’s bed, overwatching the dragon clawing the furs as if they were bears or stags.

“Is Tessie!” the four-year-old Daeron proclaims aloud, gathering the face of the beast into his hands. The dragons squeaks in his hands, but those squeaks turn to croons when Daeron nuzzles against its face.

“You can’t call it Tessie,” Aemond says, appalled. “That’s a tavern girl’s name, not a dragon’s.”

“What tavern girls do you know already?” Aegon snorts at him, poking at his side.

“There’s one in that song…” Helaena supplies, which only adds to make Aemond red. She briskly moves away from the topic, however, waving her hand. “But Daeron had a maid named Tessie,” she moves closer to her youngest brother, pinching him at the round of his cheeks. “Didn’t you?”

Daeron reddens and moves away from her grip. The little dragon releases a puff of smoke in discontent, and Helaena slides away carefully back to the edge of the bed, staring down at it.

“You are going to make the hatchling burn up, Hel,” Aegon says, and promptly brings his own hand to Daeron’s hair, if only to indicate further he does not mean the blue beast in their midst. Said blue beast tries to lunge at Aegon’s hand while Daern’s ears turn redder, too. He yelps and snatches it away quick enough, however. “Are baby dragons supposed to act like scaled rodents?”

Certainly, the whole of them wouldn’t know; little Tessie is a first hatching for their family.

Daeron, mildly offended on his bonded dragon’s behalf, hugs the dragons close and yells at him. “It’s Tessie, not rodent!”

The dragon even manages a little, blue flame that escapes from its mouth, to further drive the point in.

Aegon takes a step back defensively and puts his hands up in defeat, a goofy expression on his commonly sullen face. “Bah. Fine, it’s not mousy, that’s for sure. But Tessie is too normal of a name though, Mond’s right.”

Daeron pouts at that. “But…”

“It can still be Tessie,” Helaena says from the side of the bed. “But it might be nice to make it a part of a grander sounding name, for when it’s going to be big and mighty?”

“Part of…?”

“There’s a family of bush crickets named Tettigoniidea, we can change the spelling some—”

“No.” Aegon promptly halts her, and looks back at his youngest brother, trying to think. “Tessiefyre…? Like our dragons..? ugh, doesn’t sounds right,” he complains to himself, and turns to mutter. “Though it could hardly compare to Sunfyre, anyway…”

Aemond seems to give it the most thought, of the three. “Tessa… Tessarys? Tessaerra? Tessarion?”

“Tessarion,” Daeron seems to brighten up at that. He says it a couple more times to make it slide clearly off of his tongue, and looks down at the dragon in his arms. “Tessarion?” he asks. The dragon croons and presses its head against his finger.

“A good name,” Helaena says, and then dares come closer again, brushing a finger against the dragon’s wing. Aemond dares to come by closer as well, after standing stoically for quite a while. He has always wanted to get close to a dragon, but could never. The dragon he helped name lets him touch its back, for a moment brief, under Daeron’s approving gaze. There’s some calmness in Aemond, then.

Aegon then comes by himself, trying to reach for Tessarion too, last of the three. An inch from the dragon, and she tries to bite again. He shrieks away and escapes behind his baby brother on the bed. “That’s a goddamn snark, not a dragon!” he proclaims, to the rest of the sibling’s laughter.

“That’s a Tessie,” Daeron laughs as he pats the dragon again, smile positively vibrant.

“Tessie, schmessie,” Aegon says, bringing his hands to Daeron’s hair. “I still have you to pet, squirt.”

#tessie is the new eggy #also i researched bugs for this lmao #helaena targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #daeron targaryen #tessarion #hotd #hotd fanfic #team green #daeron the daring #my fanfics #requests #answered

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gold-rhine · 6 months

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i'm playing aranara quests on my f2p account and

um venti, can you call me back when you have a moment, yeah i have a real quick question about WIND THAT DESTROYS MEMORIES??? thousand winds that return to one??? everlasting, devastating????

yeah lol i'm asking you bc you're god of wind, but also ugh there is like a THOUSAND WINDS TEMPLE IN MOND???

istaroth, goddess of time, is connected with venti thru it, and both of them are associated with memories. venti thru being a bard and collecting stories, and

Seeds of stories, brought by the wind and cultivated by time." Stories brought on the wind will bloom into legends in due time."

On the cliff facing the eastern sea, the ancestors worshipped the masters of Time and Anemo together. The two are intimately related, as expressed in the saying, "Anemo brings stories while Time nurtures them."

how come these two are known wind + stories, and then there is an eternal devastating wind that blows things to oblivion??? VENTI CALL ME BACK?????

#rhine talks

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sissa-arrows · 9 months

Text

Quick history lesson about how the very same police squads that are killing North African and Black men in France originate from a police squad meant against Algerians especially.

In 1923 an Algerian man is accused of killing two people. The medias make into a huge thing and claim that he did that because he is Algerian and that Algerians are dangerous. Because you know the countless white murderers were individuals but an Algerian alleged murderer has to represent ALL Algerians.

As an answer in 1925 the government decide to create the “BNA” la Brigade Nord-Africaine (The North African Squad) Their job is to control Algerians specifically (1), excessive identity check, excessive surveillance… they pressure employers into firing Algerian workers. Their goals is to make Algerians live Hell on earth and they their methods are illegal but they are left alone by the government. Almost all of the cops in said squad are white colonizers who used to work in the French police in Algeria to be sure they won’t see Algerians as humans.

WW2 starts and then the Nazis occupy France. This squad collaborate with the Nazis (2). WW2 ends and you know the fact that the squad collaborated with the Nazis added to white communists (white French communists used to be allies I know it’s crazy given how they behave nowadays) being like “you do realize that we just fought the Nazis we cannot have an anti Algerian police and pretend to be different from them” the BNA comes to an end in 1945. Algerians are still targeted by the police by there’s no squad dedicated to this.

1953 comes. On July 14th Algerians protest alongside white French communists. Asking for the independence. 6 Algerians and one communist are killed by the police. The government create the BAV “anti violence squad” their job is the same as the BNA but more violent and this time they pretend that their targets are not Algerians but all violent people and it’s not their fault if Algerians are violent. They target specifically Algerians who want the independence and equal rights. It’s dissolved in 1962 after the independence of Algeria (3).

1971. The prefect of Seine Saint Denis (the department with the most diversity in France and back then it was mostly Algerians) create the BAC “anti violence squad” to replace the BAV. The prefect is a senior official who did most of his work in the colonies and in 1967 he was responsible of the death of 100 people (majority of them Black) killed in Guadeloupe during a protest. At first the BAC only work in that department but then it extended to all of France or rather all of the neighborhoods with North African and Black people.

The BAC still exist and they are the one doing most of the killing and beating up against young men of color today.

The police is racist because of its history they were created to control colonial subjects and they see us as colonial subjects of the interior not as equal citizens. That’s why I talk about French colonialism because the current racism in France exist because they refuse to acknowledge what they did and they refuse to try and fix things.

One day I’ll talk about la Police Nationale and how it was created… spoiler alert it happened under Nazis occupations and French Nazis helped creating it.

If you want to read the notes they are under the cut.

(1) Despite its name the targets were not North Africans in general but Algerians specifically. There’s disgusting articles written before the independence and still available on Le Monde calling Algerians savages and dangerous. One of those articles regret the end of the BNA because “There’s a problem with North African violence” and say “When we say North African you have to understand Algerian. The Moroccan and the Tunisian stay in his country. He is a good established settled worker.” Before saying that the problem is that Algerians were given rights after WW2.

(2) For the record if you don’t know the history of the squad the name let people believe that it was a police squad with North African cops not that it was an anti North African squad. To these days some people say “the North African squad collaborated with Nazis” as a way to imply that Algerians were pro Nazis. Meanwhile historically the people who collaborated with the Nazis learned all they needed to know about oppressing a minority by doing it against Algerians. But we’re not supposed to talk about the overlap between white colonizers with leading position in Algeria and Nazis collaborators.

(3): They really think we are stupid they created it to replace the BNA after a protest for the independence of Algeria, dissolved it after the independence, but to these days they deny it was an anti Algerian police.

#france racism #french racism #colonialism #police violences #police brutality #Anti Algerian racism #police history

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miscreantroses · 8 months

Text

Not another heartbreak (Diluc x f!reader)

"You had enough of dating. Until he thaw your heart."

Genre: fluff??

A/N: Been a while since I made fanfics... here goes nothin.. enjoy haha

____

It's been over a year since you arrived at Mondstat. You left Fontaine when you found out that your ex was cheating on you. After that incident, you decided to come back. Start over.

But... no dating... its tiring

___

You just finished the day and decided to head over to Angel's share to have a drink. The commissions weren't that hard, it was just errands. And a bounty.

"Ah. Welcome y/n. Please have a seat." Charles waved and smiled as you sit in front of the counter. You missed this kind of atmosphere. And this time of day, the taverns are always full.

"I'll just have an Apple Cider." You smiled at Charles. And he quickly nodded. You took a quick scan in the room. And noticed....

It's full of girls???

"We're not doing an event. If you're starting to ask." Charles laughed as he handed down my drink. "They're just here for Diluc."

Ah. Diluc, the uncrowned kind of Mondstat. The owner of this very tavern. And a friend of yours. You started to became good friends after you recovered, from your collapse the moment you returned to the city. After settling down, and went back adventuring. You always visit the tavern for a drink. You always thought of him as a bit of a cold type of guy. But as time goes by, you started to talk about your days. He sometimes would scold you when he sees you covered in cuts and bruises. And just give you grape juice instead of wine.

"Okay. Weird. Why?" You tried to construct a question. Only to realize that the place if full of women. "This is... disturbing?" You glanced back at Charles only to chuckle at your facial expressions.

"Well... The people heard that the Master has taken a liking on someone. And she's currently living here at the city."

"Diluc? Liking someone. Huh. I never thought that I'd see the day." You smiled. "Who's the lucky gal?" Leaning on the counter. Thinking that he might know who she is.

"Actually we have no idea. No clues." He shrugged.

You pouted at his response. There goes a chance to tease the red head. You always sees him to be reserved with his feelings and kept his private affairs to be...private.

"Well... That's a bummer." You hummed and take a last sip of your drink. And decided to call it a day. You were going to head out early tomorrow since you had a commission at Liyue and will be gone for 2 weeks. You were asked to assist in a caravan and needed manpower. And for some reason you were enlisted.

You stood from your seat and paid for the drink. "Well, I'm calling it a day. I'll back in 2 weeks." You smiled at left the tavern.

"Huh... Never knew you had quite a fanclub." You hummed as you make your way to your house.

Little did you know... that certain redhead smiled as he watches you leave the tavern with a smile.

...and you were the woman that he likes

____

After two weeks, you finally came back from Liyue. The caravan went smoothly. No one was greatly harmed. It's just another day for you.

Until... you went back to your house and was full of flowers.

"How.?" You were completely dumbfounded to see the state of your house. It was completely covered by flora. It was something out of the story book. You were just standing in front of it, you dropped your bags and your mouth.

"Oh, y/n. You're finally back." You turned your head, to see Margaret. "Yeah we didn't know who did that. It started as a bouquet and one thing led to another. And we just noticed your house is completely covered by it." She chuckled as she noticed that you haven't said a word. Everyone in Mond knew that you weren't dating anyone. Let alone do something as grand to cover your house with flowers.

"Well, someone likes you and good luck with that." She patted my shoulder before walking back to the town's square. "If you ever found the culprit is, don't try to punch them."

"What am I gonna do with these flowers?" You fell to your knees and continued to stare for another hour or so.

____

"Kaeya..." Diluc summoned his brother at the winery. "You did what to her house?" He slammed his desk and gave a scornful look at his brother.

"Oh Diluc. You should be thankful. She'll love those." The Cavalry Captain laughed. "Besides women likes flowers. She should be happy."

"I've known her for quite sometime. And her initial reaction would be pure speechless."

"Because she'll love it." Kaeya cuts him off. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing."

"Y/N is still in the state of shock." One of the winery workers butted in to the brother's conversation.

"Oh come on, Diluc." Kaeya laughed. The room was getting a bit hot. Diluc has a pyro vision after all. "Let's just take a trip to the city. And see that I'm right."

"Ugh fine." Diluc scowled. You were back after a 2 week journey. It was best for him to not lose his cool. "But if she's... mad. You're banned from entering my tavern."

____

"Y/N, you sure you're just giving away these flowers?" Bennett asking for the nth time already. "They look pretty."

"For now, and will wilt after a couple of days." You sighed as you're removing the flora on your abode. "I think its better to give it away. Or replant them."

It took you a good hour to process everything that happened the moment you arrived back. Your house... was covered in flora while you're away. Cecilias, Lilies, Roses, and Windwheel Asters. Who in the world would do that? You’re never had been the attractive type. So, you only sighed as you continue to remove the flowers. Thinking its just another prank.

An hour passed and your house was back to normal. Exhausted, you entered your home and stared at a letter that was hiding among the flowers.

_____

The brothers were standing a few feet away from your house, you removed the flowers one by one, most of them were given away, the remaining ones were potted and placed at the front door.

Diluc turned away as you entered your house.

“That’s it. You’re banned.”

“Oi. She loves it.”

“She saw it as an eyesore.”

He walked away, thinking that you had no feelings for him.

___

You kept on staring at the letter. You were too shocked to process the contents of the letter. Someone likes you? Diluc likes you. You knew Diluc would not be so grand when it comes to confessing. You knew him. It was probably Kaeya’s idea to covered the whole place with flowers. And judging the letter, it should not be seen since it had a lot of scribbles. You only chuckled as you try to imagine Diluc writing this letter to you.

You shook your head. You don’t want to be so sure. You’ve been through many heartaches. You promised to yourself that you don’t want to love again.

“Maybe a good rest can help.” You sighed as you lay down on the couch.

But no, hours had passed and your were inching a confession from the Red Head. You were in denial for so long, you like Diluc. The whole reason you always go to Angel’s Share was to see him. At first, he gives you a cold shoulder. But overtime, he was the sweetest person you knew. The people of Mondstat saw how the both of you grew closer overtime. Even Donna, who adores Diluc even told you that the both like each other.

You went outside, and noticed it was nightfall. The streets of the city were barren. You enjoyed nights like this, and decided to take a walk to Windrise. If you’ll go to Angel’s Share, you might see Diluc behind the bar. He was the last person you need to see. Today was too much for you to process.

“Going somewhere, y/n?” Swan asked as you exited the city’s walls. “It’s a bit late for a night stroll.”

“Just need a breather.” You smiled. “Besides, if I get in trouble... I can fight.”

As you were approaching Windrise, you noticed someone standing in front of the tree. You weren’t sure who was that since they’ve cloaked themselves. You thought it was an enemy. So, you slowly crept behind them, as you went closer you slowly draw your sword.

“You're here? I was about to go to you.” Diluc turned around to face you. You noticed he was holding a bouquet of flowers. “I had something to say to you. I like -...”

“I know, Diluc.” You drew back your sword. “I’ve seen the letter.”

“What letter?”

“This letter.” You gave the letter to Diluc. “It was hiding amongst the flowers.”

“You weren’t supposed to see this!” Diluc covered his face in embarrassment. You could notice a faint tint of pink on his ears. “That damn brother of mine, he snooped around my office.”

“But at least, I like it.” You smiled. “Shocking, yet I like it.” You blushed.

“I also wanted to tell you that I like for a while now.” You stared at the ground. “I... I’ve just been through a lot of heart breaks. So, I put up my walls. But when I met you, I didn’t knew that I’ve fallen hard for you. I was always in denial with my feelings. I just decided to shut myself, taken on more commissions just not to see you even though it aches my heart. But I can’t go through another heartbreak.” Tears starts to well up, Diluc reached out his hand and lifted your chin. You were now staring at his eyes. His crimson eyes, that you fell for. “I...I don’t want to be hurt... again.”

“But I won’t hurt you.” He spoke softly. “Those bastards didn’t knew your worth. But I knew... I love every aspect of you, your bravery, humility, kindness... You never back down from a fight. You always try to find the good even though you were envelop in darkness. I saw you build yourself. You’re strong, y/n.”

He cupped your face and you finally let yourself cry. Those were the words that you were longing to hear from him. You were fighting your own demons, he saw your strength which made him fall hard for you. “I like... no... I love you, y/n.”

And to that, you hugged him. You let out an ugly cry, making clothes wet from your tears. He hugged back and kissed the top of your head. “I love you too...”

“You sure, you won’t...break me?”

“I promise.”

_____

“Diluc~” you shouted as you ran towards to your lover. You completed another commission from the guild. He embraced you as you landed on him. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, love.” He kissed you on the lips. “How’s your trip to Inazuma?”

“It was fun. There’ll be a festival by next month. So, I’ll be going there with some fellow adventurers. I’m glad the Sakuko Decree was abolished. It was a pain to venture around the country. You should come with me.”

“I’ll think about that.” He chuckled as you let go from the warm embrace.

The two of you had been dating over a year. And it was a complete bliss.

“Two hearts had been thawed.” Charles smiled at the distance as you continue to talk to Diluc about your adventures.

A/N: Okay... This had been in my drafts for so damn long. I've been writing fanfics for as long as I can remember, but I've stopped and decided to give it another shot. Don't know if I'll write another, but I'm currently working on a series lmao.

Okay see you around~

#genshin impact #fanfic #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #fluff

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idkfitememate · 5 months

Note

Fey wilds????

Do you play DND? :o

I'd love to hear more!

I do play D&D! I’m play a Half-Orc Bard Named Morc the Orc™️©️! (The trademark and copyright are on the birth certificate)

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊˚

Any since you asked for more here we go!:

The Fae Wilds are a domain connected to Mond filled with - you guessed it - Fae! Though they are… less than friendly.

I took a lot of inspiration from German folk tales and legends, as well as a few others from regions surrounding it! I didn’t directly copy any, as I wanted to create my own (though in the end I may end up keeping a few, or at least making nods to them)

The fae wilds aren’t fully developed but they are getting there!

A few of the legends are as follows:

“The Weeping Woman” : A tale of a woman who was engaged to the love of her life, her wedding day came round and her husband died of a mysterious illness. This left her to weep for days on end. She wandered the grassy landscape surrounding Mondstadt, calling out to her dead lover. One day, the pain and anguish became too great and as such, she there herself off the top of StarSnatch Cliff. They say that you can hear her sobs around the cliffs of the Fae Realm. Those who head her call are sent barreling down a cliff into rock waters below. For children, they may be snatched up a stolen away, forever bound to her by watery chains, to be the children she could never have with her fiancée.

The only way to dispel her is to show her your true love (she could never knowingly separate lovers), show her a picture of herself before she died (she will get distracted and begin fixing her appearance for her love), or a picture of her fiancée (she will be distracted and give you enough time to run)

“The Dancer”: A teen boy who adored dancing for the people of Mondstadt. He would dance day in and day out. That was, until his father told him that his dancing was lackluster at best. He forced himself to continue dancing, and dancing, and dancing until he fell dead in a useless attempt to gain his father’s love and respect. The Fae Wilds took him not long after. Now if you hear old Mondstadtian music flowing on the winds on a particularly cold night, you will be met by him. In which he will beg and plead for a dance. Should you dance with him, however, he will attempt to steal your legs in order to replace his own, so he may dance better to appease his father.

How to dispel his is to either introduce him to a new dance (he will grow obsessed with learning it, only downside is that when he does learn it, you can no longer use that dance as an excuse) or to quite simply tell him you can’t dance. He may be pushy, but if you continue to say you can’t, he will eventually leave you be.

“Army of Death”: A literal army of undead churls. Hili, mita and lawachurls who have been brought back via the wild magics of the Fae, filled with an unending need for bloodshed. They cannot die. They cannot rest. Should you head the battle horn of churl camp? Run.

There is no known way to dispel them. Best you can do is throw a few (or many) pieces of meat and prey.

“The Shop”: Just a little shop on the outskirts of the Wilds!~… Why is that bottle filled with the skin of my relatives :)?

Really nothing you can do. Either you buy something or get out! Of course, they sell anything your heart desires, from ores to fake visions! You can find it all in the shop!

The Fae Wilds are filled with legend after legend, most passed down through families. A few manage to slip through the border that is guarded by Detleif (centaur OC), and that’s why there are rules/quick fixes for meeting them! The duty of keeping the majority of the Fae in the wilds falls on the High Priest. He should spend the most of his week in the Wilds ensuring they don’t pass, keeping the more dangerous Fae in the wilds.

For context about the history really quick: The Wilds were once intertwined with Mondstadt, and there were a few human settlements inside its borders. Now, that doesn’t necessarily mean either we’re on good terms, but it was enough to not be constantly fighting. Eventually Celestia decided to be the bitch it is, and try to be rid of it, not seeing the purpose of its existence. Unfortunately, things didn’t go as planned and they only ended up corrupting the realm. Fae attacks weren’t that common before, but after that it was a daily occurrence. Nearly every hour really.

The unfortunate thing? Ludwig lived in one of these settlements, and his whole family ended up dying around him. This turned their angered souls into Fae, but now he spends his days killing his family over and over and over and over and over and over…

Beyond that, I don’t have too much else to add about the Fae Wilds. As I said, it’s still a bit underdeveloped, but I work on it daily!

☆૮꒰ˊᗜˋ* ꒱ა

Thank you for the ask! I love talking about my baby <3 ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა

#anon <3 #personal Genshin impact au #original character #oc #genshin impact au #૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა thank you!!

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serenity-ren-bliss · 1 year

Text

White day event submission

Title: You really thought I forgot

Prompt(s)/Premise: Venti, Kaeya, Kave + pretenhding to forget it's white day. + gn!reader

Notes: I'm really sorry this is late. Writer's block hit like a truck. I hope you like it @kaeyas-beloved.

TW: none

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was white day today. It's a lesser known follow up to valentine's where people would give back the valentines you received. You were excited to celebrate the day with your loving husband, but he seemed oddly unphased about it all. Did he forget...?

(Credit to @gintamaedits for this header)

You had made a list of what you needed to do a couple weeks ago. Venti was a very affectionate partner, so you had a lot to do. Your entire Valentines together was filled with poems, and songs, and sweet gifts.

First thing happened early in the morning. On Valentine's Day Venti surprised you with breakfast. It was a dish that his old friend invented called Mondstadt Apple-pancakes. So, you made him arepas for breakfast. They had similar elements to the apple-pancakes, but they were different. He had never tried them before, so it was a good chance to introduce it to him like how he introduced the apple-pancakes to you.

He woke up at around 10:00 as planned. You had the arepas sitting out on the table and he seemed surprised to see them. Usually, he'll have something quick like an apple for breakfast. You two talked as you ate.

"Thank you for the delicious arepas, Windblume, but I must be off now." He smiled as he slipped on his cape. You were a little sad to see him leave. You had spent the entire Valentine's Day together, after all. "Really? You can't stay for a little more?"

"Sorry, love, but I have a performance at the chapel in a few minutes and I really must go."

You sighed "ok, love, I understand."

While you were doing your commissions, you made sure to pick up some flowers for Venti. He had braided them into your hair on Valentine's Day and you had made him a flower crown.

You sighed as you put the sweetflowers into your bag. That should be enough, right? Some of them had been burned due to the pyro mage's attacks, but you were able to salvage some of them.

Finally, you picked up a gift from Margerie's to give to him. A simple brooch with a Cecilia on it. He had given you a matching one while you were out together. You gave him a necklace you made.

You pocketed the brooch and went down to the center of Mond to sit. You had barely seen Venti all day, it was like he forgot about the white day. Sighing, you leaned against the headrest and stared at the fountain in front of you. "Something the matter, big-sibling Y/N?" Klee approached, a worried expression replacing her usual smile. "It's nothing, Klee" You responded, giving her a little pat on the head, "Just a little tired." "Well," she smiled, "Big-brother Kaeya said the weather outside is really nice! Maybe, you should go to Windrise to get some fresh air." You nodded. "Thanks, Klee." "No problem!!" She saluted before walking away with the usual pep in her step.

You walked slowly, admiring the area around you. It was just about to be sunset. That's when you felt something under your foot. Looking down, you saw a pretty Cecillia. You picked it up, admiring the petals. Then you noticed another flower a little forward; a sweetflower. Then another. More and more flowers formed a path to Vanessa's tree. Finally, you made it to the end and was delighted with what you saw. Venti sat on a cute picnic blanket, a basket and a few plates of food set out on it. You smiled, running over to hug him. "Happy white day, my love." You teared up a bit as you hugged him. "Thank you, hon." You pulled away to look at him. He smiled at you before picking up a bite of your favorite food and holding it up. You quietly opened your mouth, letting him feed you the food. Then he turned around and pulled out a headrest of flowers. "Here." He put it on your head. You walked slowly, admiring the area around you. It was just about to be sunrise. That's when you felt something under your foot. Looking down, you saw a pretty Cecillia. You picked it up, admiring the petals. Then you noticed another flower a little forward; a sweetflower. Then another. More and more flowers formed a path to Vanessa's tree. Finally, you made it to the end and was delighted with what you saw. Venti sat on a cute picnic blanket, a basket and a few plates of food set out on it. You smiled, running over to hug him. "Happy white day, my love." You teared up a bit as you hugged him. "Thank you, hon." You pulled away to look at him. He smiled at you before picking up a bite of your favorite food and holding it up. You quietly opened your mouth, letting him feed you the food. Then he turned around and pulled out a headrest of flowers. "Here." He put it on your head.

Your Valentine’s Day with Kaeya was simple but sweet. Nothing too fancy, just spending the day together. Because of this, you didn’t have much to work with for White Day. But you still got to work.

Every day, without fail, you wake up to him already awake yet still in bed cuddling you. And every day, when you wake up, he says "Good morning" followed by a different pet name every morning. Have they repeated? Yes. Do you care? No.

You groggily opened your eyes, feeling your partner's arms wrapped around you. "Good morning, dearest." You heard his ever-familiar voice. "Mornin', Kea." You mumbled groggily. He pecked your forehead, snuggling into your neck. After a few minutes, he sat up to get out of bed. "You leaving?" You snuggled into him tighter, keeping him trapped into his arms. He chuckled. "I have work today, dear." "But I wanna spend time with you todayyyy." He sighed. "5 more minutes, then."

You made pancakes together on Valentine's. You wanted to make breakfast again with him today. Maybe waffles this time? He cooked lunch for you that day, his specialty.

When Kaeya decided to get up to actually go to work, you got up with him, hoping to cook together. "Sorry love, but I'm in a rush. Jean won't be very happy if I'm late to this meeting." You nodded in understanding. "Ok but take this lunch I made with you." You pulled the nicely packaged meal from the fridge. Passing it to him. He smiled at it. "Of course, I will, thank you, dove." He gave you one last kiss before leaving.

You had wanted to stop by his office during lunch time, but the other knights told you he was busy. You thought that was odd since he didn't mention any meetings outside of a small one in the morning. You instead decided to go shopping, hoping to make him some dinner when he got back. That was when you were surprisingly approached by his good friend and co-worker Albedo.

"Hello, Y/n" Albedo greeted you. "Oh, hi Albedo." You look up at him, your tone slightly gloomy." He reached into his bag and pulled out an envelope. Confused, you took it and opened it. Inside was a note you began reading.

"Meet me at the Angel's share tavern for a surprise. - K.A."

Kaeya's initials... You closed the envelope, putting it in your pocket and moved on. You rushed to Angel's share, curious thoughts racing in your mind. 'What could he have planned?'

Upon entering the tavern, you immediately noticed the place seemed awfully empty. As you were looking around, you were approached by a familiar red head. "Hello, Y/n" You turned to face him, surprised but also happy to see him. "Hello Diluc!" He offered his hand to you and you took it as he led you upstairs. He brought you into a room you immediately recognized. "This is where..." "We spent our first Valentine's Day." You instantly perked up at the sound of your partner's voice. Looking over in his direction, you were immediately awestruck. The room had been decorated with some of your favorite flowers and f/c ribbons. Kaeya himself sat at the table dressed in a handsome suit, his eyes were trained on you, filled with love and adoration as always. He smiled at you, gesturing you closer. You obliged walking over to sit beside him. Ever the gentle man, he stood up to greet you, bowing and kissing your hand before pulling your seat for you. "Happy white day, my love."

Kaveh was always a very affectionate lover. Day after day he showered you with love and praise, always going the extra mile on days like Valentine's. It started in the morning when he woke you up so you two could have breakfast in bed together. You decided to do the same for him. Eggs, bacon, and toast with some ice water.

"Mornin' Kaveh!" You brought the tray of food in. "Good morning, baby." He mumbled, rubbing his eyes." You brought the tray over to put it on your bedside table. "Oh, thank you Love!" He smiled at you. The two of you cuddled and talk as you ate. The atmosphere was sweet and cozy. When he was done, Kaveh sat up. "Thank you for breakfast babe, but I have to get work on my newest project." He gave you a quick kiss. You heart sank and you pouted, "You can't cuddle some more?" "No, I'm sorry dearest." "Five more minutes?" "Ok, five more minutes."

He ended up staying for 30 before he finally insisted on getting up.

Sad, but not completely crushed, you got changed and left the house to pick up some gifts from the bazaar. Kaveh had insisted on going shopping with you, buying you everything you wanted. You bought him some sweets, flowers, and prepared the ingredients to make his favorite food. While you were browsing a bakery for some pastries, you bumped into a...familiar face.

"Y/n" You turned to face the source of the voice. "Hello, Alhaitham, good to see you." You smiled at him. He had his usual grumpy look on his face. "Kaveh needs you home." That honestly surprised you. While Kaveh being clingy wasn't an unusual thing, when working on projects, especially new ones, he often get's so focused his entire surroundings disappear.

You nodded and returned home.

Upon arrival, you were met with a sweet suprise.

"Happy white day, my love!" Every inch of the house was decorated too perfection. The dining table was filled with your favorite food. You smiled, running to give Kaveh the tightest hug. "Happy white day, Honey"

Like everyone else on this list Ajax was a very affectionate lover. While pretending to forget this day wasn't easy, he wase still able to pack a lot of special plans. Starting with good morning cuddles.

"Good morning my prince/princess/liege." You snuggled deeper into his chest to ignore the light from the sun. He chuckled, reaching his hand to your cheek. He left little pecks all over your face. You laughed.

Next thing was breakfast. Ajax insisted he be the one to cook that morning, making some of the best French toast you've ever eaten.

"MM!" You smiled as the sweet, buttery taste hit your tounge. "I'm guessing that's a hit?" You nodded; mouth still full of delicious goodness.

Next on the agenda was shopping. You guys visited every store that caught your eye. Nothing was too pricy; Ajax was filthy rich and he spoiled you rotten.

"What do you think of this outfit?" "It looks beautiful, dearest." "So should I get this one or the first one?" "Both."

Finally, and most important, you spent dinner with his family.

#venti x reader #kaeya x reader

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theretirementstory · 2 months

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Bonjour tout le monde it’s 5c at the moment brrr! Hopefully it will warm up by this afternoon.

Do you ever get to Sunday and wonder where the week has gone and more importantly what you have done with the week? This is one of the reasons why I do this blog, it’s because I often think I have done nothing but when I look back I realise that you may have done a great deal.

I was happy to receive my “convocation” for my appointment with the oncologist, it is for Friday 23rd. Although I am pleased to have the appointment it coincides with my knitting group which is a little sad. I have my taxi booked and fingers crossed I am not there for hours and hours.

Yet another little “hitch” with regard to water and this time it wasn’t just hot water it was a lack of any water! Anyway I asked the plumber to call and it was found that the tap was full of limescale. We got it all sorted, a new tap and waste for the bathroom and I am a happy bunny again.

It’s coming around to the renewal of my house insurance, which is currently held with a company in Poitou-Charentes. I have been very happy with the insurer I chose in town for my other policies so I have asked them to give me a quote. It was promptly done and so I should soon be insured in a “one stop shop” in town.

My American friend rang me from the states, where she is currently having treatment. She asked if I could go to her home and photograph her garden. Imagine my surprise when there were two men at her home (one a workman) they said come in and look at the rear garden too. Then the workman took me round the ground floor asking me to take photos of the work he is doing in the kitchen. What a pleasant surprise that was not only for me but also for my friend.

Yesterday, a friend in the UK messaged to tell me that her grandson had put in an appearance early that morning. He was not full term, actually only 26 weeks, so here is hoping that his mum and him get through these days and weeks. Quite a surprise and a worry I would imagine too.

Let’s have a look at my choice of songs for this week. They go quite a way back, the first song taken from an album which my sister had long before we even had our first Dansette record player. It’s music I remember hearing, even though my age hadn’t attained double figures, I still love the tracks today as much as at that time. So taken from the album “Aftermath” by the Rolling Stones released in 1966 is the track “Under My Thumb”.

The second song is from 1971, the first single for this band. The band featured the super talented Roy Wood, along with Jeff Lynne and Bev Bevan who had been part of the group “The Move”. The song was so totally different to anything else at that time it was “10538 Overture”. Both groups have had some amazing songs and it can be hard to choose a favourite but these songs have always had a place in my heart.

I sometimes feel I am a little boring about my garden, ok so it’s not everyone’s idea of a beautiful place but believe me I do the best I can do to have some colour out there. Two years ago I planted up a planter and I loved that so much. I decided to change the compost, remove any dead plants and replant any others. I had bought a pack which turned out to be 10 primulas not 8 as I first thought. They had been in the supermarket too long, were dry as a bone and a lot of them looked dead! However, looks can be deceptive and a quick “snip” to remove brown and broken leaves found that they were pot bound and in need of a very big drink. I rejuvenated the planter and put the remaining primulas into the “potager” hoping to help them improve. I want to lay cardboard in the rear garden and “re-home” the primulas and the violas that self seeded last year. This morning I was so upset as I saw that “something”, possibly a cat, had dug up three of the primulas in order to use the potager as a toilet. It has also been using the high planter as a toilet, last year I grew beetroot, lettuce, radish and spring onions in that planter. It’s very disappointing and I even felt “what is the point” in growing stuff if some animal is going to keep messing in the earth. However, it does give me a lot of pleasure seeing my plants growing so should I fight back?

I really must send another email to my friends in Bristol. I haven’t heard from them since the beginning of the year and it’s not like them to be in touch.

Monique is still not well and will be seeing the oncologist on Monday 26th. It’s a couple of weeks since I have seen Anie too, time flies!

“The Photographer” had a weeks holiday from work last week as it was his daughters “half term” from school. On Monday he took his two children (aged 5.5 and 2.5 years) on the train to London. He stayed with his Aunt and Uncle and had planned visits with the children to the zoo and the Natural History Museum. The children had a wonderful time, so did “The Photographer” but he was exhausted by the time he got home on Thursday. The children returned to their Mum on Friday and we excited about going, obviously they had a lot to tell her. Yesterday, he was at Scarborough AFC taking photos of their game.

“The Trainee Solicitor” and “Ex-Graduate” have finished work now for a well earned week of rest and relaxation. They are heading to the Yorkshire Dales for some good country air, a little walking and perhaps a lot of reading!

Sorry just had a little break, it was time for tea and cornflakes 😉.

Yes the cat has been back and turned the earth in the potager, so I have put more pepper down, plus today, I will put stakes into the earth and let’s see it try to “squat” there!

I tell myself every morning that I will have a walk and do I? Not everyday and actually the days I do go out for that walk are getting fewer and fewer. I had a good walk one day and was spurred on for more of the same but after a shorter walk the following day it has tailed off again! I really must “programme” myself to a walk.

So now I am going to send a message or two to friends, read my book for a short time. Do the normal household jobs, bed making, washing up etc. Start the “walking programme” and generally find something to tell you about next week 😂.

Bon dimanche!

#barsuraube #nature #trees #photography #60’s music #70’s music #mygarden #family #friends #holidays

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kaeyachi · 1 year

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stance on master diluc

Thank you for asking!

I like him well enough! He's definitely in my top 10. He's so chaotic, and I love chaotic characters (Kaeya and Diluc being the most chaotic characters BY CHOICE lmao). Anyone who would choose the wildest, most crazy action earns a star in my books. Being smart and choosing the most chaotic solutions are top-tier formulas to me as well.

He's one of those characters that would say "I don't like *insert cute being here*" and he would have a train of *insert same cute being* following him.

He's also a big softie. A grumpy softie. He is this one octopus plush:

If there's one thing I do not like about him, it's whenever he is very quick to decide on things (and Kaeya knew of this tendency and used it that one time oop-). Not necessarily quick to anger though, just quick to bring upon his judgement.

I guess that came with the upbringing where his words are of value nearly everywhere? (becoming the youngest cavalry captain, him being expected to inherit Dawn Winery, being called the uncrowned king of Mond)

So far, there haven't been any visible dangerous kickbacks to it (unless we count how distant he and Kaeya are now, though this one is a two-way street so I wont discuss more), but I worry that his actions might bite him back in the ass someday

anyway my favorite diluc ship is diluc x consequences lmao

#kaeyachi asks #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #i love him a normal amount i swear!#he does judge quickly tho #seemingly short temperament as well #kaeya did say he expected diluc to attack him so tbh it implies that diluc does act asap #im sure he mellowed out as he aged... i think #did he? i sure hope he did-#anyone from snezhnaya wanna start a revenge plot against him or something?

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random-blep · 1 year

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Modern human au

I'm sleepy so let's hope I write quick

But in this dainslief works as like a teacher and translator and mostly works with refugee kids and families.

When the Ragnvindrs brought Kaeya in they had a language barrier and there was a lot of issues with him adjusting to life. So they had done some research and had requested for a translator who was Khaenri'ahn in origin, who had been fluent in the langue, and was experienced working with children especially refugee ones. And the agency they had been working with contacted and sent Dainslief to them. The blonde man came to Mond and started to help the family. He would translate everything for Kaeya to understand and would translate everything Kaeya said to the family. Dainslief also basically stayed in Mond , taking a few other jobs in the area , but he basically taught Kaeya common and taught the Ragnvinders Khaenri'ahn so both sides were learning to communicate. Dain also told Crepus about Khaenri'ahn traditions and foods and all sorts of things to help Kaeya feel at home with them. While Dain was meant to leave after he was done teaching them the languages and helping Kaeya adjust. The real problem was they all kinda really took to eachother. Kaeya loved Dain like a second father and was really close with him cause the blonde was from his home and he connected to him in a way that he missed since coming to Mond. Kaeya didn't want Dain to go. Diluc also saw Dain as a second dad and was so happy he was around cause he helped his baby brother become so happy and at home with them. And Crepus and Dain had become good friends over the time. Dain sadly still had to go but he promised to stay in contact with the family. The boys are unsure how Crepus managed but their father had somehow made sure Dain would always come by for special occasions.

Some cute stuff that's happened is while Crepus was both of the boys father. Dain became a second father figure to them.

One time when the boys were both young they saw Crepus and Dain talking and Diluc piped up first going "Are you two gonna get married?" And at this Kaeya perked up and smiled , "A second daddy?" And the two men thought this was so endearing but they had to let them down going "no we aren't getting married" to which Crepus teased and went "but I'm sure Dainslief wouldn't mind if you called him papa too" and kids being kids they took it literally

Diluc and Kaeya have mostly grown out of calling Dain dad over time. Diluc feels a bit embarrassed about the memory but Kaeya still comes home sometimes after a bad day and if Dain is there he will go "Dad?" And immediately the blonde knows Kaeyas had a rough day.

As Kaeya grows up he switches in and out between common and Khaenri'ahn often. Sometimes he'll switch without even knowing until one of his family members start speaking in his native tongue. Hearing the people he cares for most speaking his native language makes him beyond happy. Diluc is much more fluent in the language than Crepus because children pick up languages quicker. So Kaeya loves teasing Crepus when he missays something or says the wrong word.

Kaeya got nightmares a lot as a kid and they were horrible to try and calm down when they still had the language barrier between them. The one thing that had always helped though, even when they struggled to understand eachother was singing. Crepus singing with his nice deep voice calmed Kaeya down so much. When Diluc tried to sing it took a little longer, but Kaeya still clung to him the entire time. Music sung by any of the Ragnvindrs helped calm Kaeya down so much.

It took some time to figure out what made Kaeyas nightmares worse. Sleeping alone, stressful situations, bad days, having sweets before bed, rain or thunder storms, loud wind, even being a bit sick would make him more likely to have a bad dream. So Crepus moved Kaeya into Dilucs room. Originally the boy had his own room for privacy and such but he found Kaeya enjoyed sharing a room much more. The two boys had separate beds, but they would always crawl into eachothers beds. Kaeya would crawl into Dilucs to wake his brother when he woke up and needed the company. Diluc would wake Kaeya from bad dreams and just stayed there . It was really sweet how they had loved eachother so much.

Every time Kaeya found something new to learn about his eyes would widen and sparkle with curiosity. When he explored the new thing enough he would go to retrieve Diluc, Crepus, or even Dain to show them the new thing excitedly. They all would just listen to him and act so interested even if it was something so common to them because it was new to Kaeya and he was always so happy showing off new things and talking about them and asking so so many questions.

Despite how Kaeya tries to present himself as he gets older he is still very shy and gets embarrassed easily. Diluc, Jean, and Lisa all tease him for it. Like one time Kaeya was at school and had to do a presentation and he couldn't remember a word in common and described it terribly to Diluc so his brother would tell him the word. Diluc was struggling to the rest of class to not burst out laughing. The word was business and he had said "the thing where men uh get together and sell themselves for mora. You know, what dad does". He was also very embarrassed when Diluc told Jean and Lisa and they laughed at the "sell themselves" part in which Kaeya was blissfully unaware until then that that insinuated something else.

#genshin impact #modern human au #genshin modern human au #kaeya alberich #diluc ragnvindr #crepus ragnvindr #dainslief #i just thought these eere were cute and silly and heartwarming #just what i need #there is dtill tragedy but this is all before Crepus' death cause i wanna think about the nice stuff while in sleepy brain #no i will not be fixing spelling mistakes cause i am sleepy

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galactia · 9 months

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@electric-ecclectic | plotted ask! | always accepting

Testing allegiances wasn't an unexpected tactic used by the Abyss, but it wasn't one Signe had expected to be caught in the middle of. When she first heard rumors among library-goers that someone suspicious had snuck off with a book from the forbidden section of the Knights' collection, Signe knew very well she'd have to retrieve it somehow. She thought she was prepared enough -- she carried a small bag of supplies filled with notes of domains frequented by Abyss mages and a few important potions to last her throughout the trip. Apparently, she wasn't very well-hidden during her previous intrusion of an Abyss stronghold, because they were waiting for her within the domain. The only sign of her disappearance was a suspicious-looking note left on the Cavalry Captain's desk. 'The Abyss welcomes the descendent of the Alberich Clan with open arms, but there are rumors he may not be committed to our cause,' it reads, faint traces of Electro radiating along the surface. 'Let's see where your loyalties really lie.' (;D ur welcome)

Kaeya did not touch the letter. It wreaked of Abyssal energy, and was evidence, in its own right. He had been aware he tread a tight rope of allegiance, at least in the eyes of the Abyssal creatures that called themselves the legacy of Khaenri'ah, but there was something else here - the vague traces of static electricity that sent a chill down his spine. Signe had been out, on what was assumed to be a research trip, for what was going on twenty-four hours. He had been inclined to worry yesterday, come evening, when she hadn't left word she'd not meant to come home 'til the morrow. Reason had won out though, and he'd arrived at the Ordo early, only to discover the library empty and this note.

The Captain's jaw tightened.

What this letter didn't admit in so many words was that it was a threat, and there would be no real compunction for him to come to their summons unless....

Unless they had taken measures to guarantee it.

Kaeya swept out of his office, striding back toward the library. Lisa may still not be in. She might actually be out, inquiring about Signe. It would be like her.

He wrote out a letter, quick, clear, concise and left it on her desk,

Lisa,

I have reason to believe Signe may by in danger, and at the hands of the Abyss. I'm unfortunately not privy to the specifics, as of yet, but the summons was personal, and I have no time to explain. I give you my word to find her and protect her. On my life she will be back, safe and sound. There is a hidden domain near the ancient ruins of old Mondstadt that would be the best place to start a search if you do not hear from me. I have enclosed a rough map to its location. I am also leaving word with Grand Master Jean and Diluc as to the same.

-Kaeya

He drafted two more copies, with slight variation, and left the second under Jean's door. The third he had to roust the Ordo's fancier for, who scowled at him for waking them ten minutes before wake-up call. The third letter went on its way to the Winery, secure on a pigeon's leg.

Certain in the knowledge there would be others looking for Signe, and on guard for her return, the Cavalry Captain left Mond's stables at a canter, atop Ru.

Kaeya's boots crunched against old stone and dust in ruins that stretched for miles in a labyrinth traversed by few except the most foolish or the most brave. The air was thick, oppressive; hundreds of years stale, and permeated with Aybssal energy. He trailed along behind the leading Abyss Mage, taking in each corner or turn, laying out the path as well as he could in his mind. They'd been smarter now, than before. It was obvious they did not intend him to treat with a simple mage, who could be dazzled by functional Khaenri'an from the lips of a blooded descendent.

In his experience, though not unintelligent, the Abyss' fanaticism made for easier manipulation... arrogant tongues, saturated in religion, tended to be loose ones.

The mage before him was no more than a messenger. Expendable, if necessary.

The place they came to was cavernous, bordered by an ancient balcony's edge that dropped steeply off into a void of murky black. The light that illuminated the dark came from braziers of blue fire, and an unsettling glow from the cave's ceiling high above their heads. He canted his head to catch a glimpse of it, but there was no immediate source, and he had more immediate concerns -

A Lector drifted from the dark, its towering, hooded figure peering down at him.

"Welcome, Alberich Descendent. How wise, to grace us with your presence."

Kaeya observed it, eye narrowing into an icy assessment. "Let's not waste our time on platitudes, shall we? The art of subtlety utterly escapes you, so let us dispense with it. Where is Lady Signe?"

There was a low chuckle from the Lector, and it swept its arm - a signal. Kaeya felt a measure of tension coil up his spine.

"Straight to the point, I see." Its pitched tone was amused, "You see, Alberich, though your blood sings with that of our forefathers, there have always been wolves in sheep's clothing. Surely, you would not threaten the flock."

Kaeya's lip nearly curled, but his brow drifted instead, gaze cutting aside as a Herald emerged, with someone else in tow,

Signe.

"You see, your allegiance seems to be- eh, well-" The Lector hummed, "divided."

"Merely my attention. You are abominably long-winded." Kaeya retorted, eye rolling back to the Lector, but not before he had met Signe's eye, passing an Are you all right? to her in those few seconds exchanged.

"Involving Mond's assistant librarian was enormously foolish. She will be missed, and we could have just as easily had our discussion in private, without the need for childish threats." The game had begun, and Kaeya's stance was that of readiness, gestures exaggerated, smile saccharine. "Really, you ought to think a little more. It'd do wonders for you."

As it stood, a herald, a lector, and a mage were not favorable odds. The mage he could leave to Signe, but the combined forces of the others might prove to be... overwhelming. They were deep in the ruins here, far from the door he had been brought through. Playing their game for Signe's release was the safest of options, for her. He just had to measure, carefully, how deep he went.

"Lady Signe." Kaeya addressed her openly, seeking to throw off the Abyss' assumptions. They did not need to know just how right they were about how much he cared for Signe. "Are you unharmed? I'm afraid there's been a rather dreadful mistake."

#electricecclectic #answered//electricecclectic #[ no need to match length!!#I just had some setting up writing to do. ;D #Plus. Kae will always get me with how much he is both careful and also reckless.#*rubs my hands together*#here we go- ]

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sturmhondsdemjin · 8 months

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Seven part one

He discovers Henry sleeps curled up on his side, his spine poking out in little sharp points that are actually soft if you reach out and touch them, very carefully so as not to wake him because he’s actually sleeping for once. In the morning, room service brings up crusty baguettes and sticky tarts filled with fat apricots and a copy of Le Monde that Alex makes Henry translate out loud.

He knows, objectively, he should pace himself. It’s only physical. But Perfect Stoic Prince Charming laughs when he comes, and texts Alex at weird hours of the night: You’re a mad, spiteful, unmitigated demon, and I’m going to kiss you until you forget how to talk. And Alex is kind of obsessed with it.

[...] and Alex is drunk and fucking transported, feeling every moment of twenty-two years and not a single day older, some kind of hedonistic youth of history.

There are a lot of days when Henry is happy to hear from him and quick to respond, a fast, cutting sense of humor, hungry for Alex’s company and the tangle of thoughts in Alex’s head. But sometimes, he’s taken over by a dark mood, an unusually acerbic wit, strange and vitrified. He’ll withdraw for hours or days, and Alex comes to understand this as grief time, little bouts of depression, or times of “too much.” Henry hates those days completely. Alex wishes he could help, but he doesn’t particularly mind. He’s just as attracted to Henry’s cloudy tempers, the way he comes back from them, and the millions of shades in between.

He’s also learned that Henry’s placid demeanor is shattered with the right poking.

It’s another thing Henry does—whipping out these analyses of what he reads or watches or listens to that confronts Alex with the fact that he has both a degree in English literature and a vested interest in the gay history of his family’s country. Alex has always known his gay American history—after all, his parents’ politics have been part of it—but it wasn’t until he figured himself out that he started to engage with it like Henry.

He’s starting to understand what swelled in his chest the first time he read about Stonewall, why he ached over the SCOTUS decision in 2015. He starts catching up voraciously in his spare time: Walt Whitman, the Laws of Illinois 1961, The White Night Riot, Paris Is Burning. He’s pinned a photo over his desk at work, a man at a rally in the ’80s in a jacket that says across the back: IF I DIE OF AIDS—FORGET BURIAL—JUST DROP MY BODY ON THE STEPS OF THE F.D.A.

It’s weird that the thing with Henry could make him understand this huge part of himself, but it does. When he sinks into thoughts of Henry’s hands, square knuckles and elegant fingers, he wonders how he never realized it before. When he sees Henry next at a gala in Berlin, and he feels that gravitational pull, chases it down in the back of a limo, and binds Henry’s wrists to a hotel bedpost with his own necktie, he knows himself better.

“Call it historical curiosity.” Except the truth is closer to the slight drag in Henry’s voice and the half step of hesitation before he speaks that’s been there all week.

“See, there’s a thing,” Alex points out. “You just told me that. You can tell me other stuff.”

“It’s hardly the same.”

He rolls over onto his stomach, considers, and very deliberately says, “Baby.”

It’s become a thing: baby. He knows it’s become a thing. He’s slipped up and accidentally said it a few times, and each time, Henry positively melts and Alex pretends not to notice, but he’s not above playing dirty here.

“Anyway, I don’t think I’ve ever said this many words out loud in a row in my entire life, so please feel free to put me out of my misery any time now.”

“No, no,” Alex says, stumbling over his own tongue in a rush. “I’m glad you told me. Does it feel better at all to have said it?”

Henry goes silent, and Alex wants so badly to see the shadows of expressions moving across his face, to be able to touch them with his fingertips. Alex hears a swallow across the line, and Henry says, “I suppose so. Thank you. For listening.”

“Yeah, of course,” Alex tells him. “I mean, it’s good to have times when it’s not all about me, as tedious and exhausting as it may be.”

That earns him a groan, and he bites back a smile when Henry says, “You are a wanker.”

#sturmhond reads #red white and royal blue #history huh? bet we could make some (book)#cornbread knows what i have done (book)

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unhinged-summer-fun · 2 years

Text

triptych

The Thief x Marcus Pike x F!Reader (22+)

chapter 9: the hanged man

series masterlist | previous chapter | epilogue

Summary: A thief, an artist, and the head of the Art Crimes program in the FBI all share a soul-bond. What could go wrong?

Series tags/warnings: Sexual content, art crime, light angst, art history and criticism, soulmate-identifying marks, slow burn, f!reader, a reader who doesn’t always do the right thing.

A/N: art is tagged inline for the story. epilogue to follow immediately.

Things were tense after lunch.

Any further discussion of Marcus leaving the FBI had been tabled indefinitely, or at least until you got back to the States. It had left a sour taste in your mouth, an aftereffect of possibly your first ever fight with him. He refused to acknowledge anything of the sort, and Solas made things worse by retreating to his office to work on what he called extremely illegal things, if that matters.

So things were tense.

To clear your head, you wandered the halls again and again, round and round until a thought dared to make itself clear to you.

The windows all remained covered.

Every single one had been covered by thick drapes and curtains, each one opaque and heavy. Pulling one back, you were able to see artwork all the way up to the ceiling, the flash of two Charing Cross Bridges greeting the light for just a moment before Solas rounded a corner, out of breath.

You froze, dropping the drape back in place. The sudden darkness after the light blinded you to his approach, nothing but the soft noise of his house shoes against the floor alerting you to his path. “What are you doing?” he asked, smoothing his hair back before he adjusted the drapes more firmly against the windows.

“Why?” you asked instead, trying to get to the bottom of this particular quirk of Solas’s Palacio.

“Why what?” he asked, steering you gently away from the walls and back down the corridor.

“Don’t play coy, it doesn’t suit you,” you said, breaking free and reaching for another curtain. Quick as a flash, he snatched your hand away before you could even brush the lush velvet.

“Everything suits me. Why are you opening curtains?”

“Why are you keeping them closed?” you countered.

“I asked you first.”

“I’m an artist, I’m allowed to like natural light. Why don’t you like it?”

“It…” he made a frustrated noise, a pained expression shadowing his eyes even more than the darkness did. “It’s for security. I don’t know who may be hiding in the distance, taking pictures through the windows.”

“Oh, horseshit,” you scoffed. “You have a ginormous duck in your swimming pool. No one is going to recognize Pissarro from two miles away.”

“You were looking at Monet.”

“You put Monet and Pissarro on the same wall.”

“You did what?” Marcus said, adding more tension to the already-tense conversation.

“This isn’t a curating question, this is a why are you so concerned with hiding question.” Your words did a short lap around the hall, echoing back in just the same bluntness with which they’d been spoken. Solas stood still as a statue, just as tensed and lifelike. He looked a million things at once: angry, sorrowful, frustrated, challenged. His eyes held a vulnerability to them that he did not know how to share. “You can talk to us, mein Mond. Please.”

The tableau broke with Solas closing his eyes and sighing. “The little boy who watched sunlight sparkle through water and wine, the one who loved that dream of light, his parents were not wealthy. The shining things the boy saw were limited to shopfronts he could not enter, and the imagined ring on his mother’s finger. He first stole when he was seven years old. It was a cake, for his father’s birthday.” His eyes were full of pain when he opened them again. “Fourteen years ago, I did something reckless, and it was by the devil’s luck that I was able to keep the blame from getting back to them.”

“But the devil’s luck is—”

“Gone if I slip up even once,” he said, giving a smile that didn’t come to his eyes even a little. “I have not been back to Ireland in fourteen years, to protect them. I have not been caught even once in fourteen years. I do this by staying a world away from them. I do this by keeping the curtains drawn. I do this by being the best, and never letting anything change any of that.”

He was shaking, breathing hard. You and Marcus took a few steps closer to him, wrapped in the net of his heartache. You hadn’t known Solas’s loyalties ran so deeply to his family. You suspected that his parents must have known something to be kept so in the dark otherwise, but never anything like this.

“Solas,” you said softly, approaching him like one would approach a spooked horse. You didn’t know what else to say, so you wrapped him in your arms. He stood stiff as a board for all of three seconds before he buried his face in your neck, curling around you like you could shield him from all the pain he was feeling. You felt his tears falling on your neck and shoulder, and you could feel Marcus approach, pulling the two of you into his arms as well.

You would weather this storm.

You had to.

The maelstrom brewing in your mind began to stretch outward, manifesting in reality and rooting your feet in place before the magnificent Christ in the Storm on the Sea of Galilee. You stared over the frightened faces of the men in the boat, relating much harder than you’d ever done before. This wasn’t the first time you’d seen the painting, but it was the first time you were able to see it in this deeply personal light.

Would you make it through this storm? Would you trust your faith to brave what lay ahead? Oil paint and canvas held no answers you could see, and all you could find were more images of storms.

Aivazovsky’s Tempest, brilliantly violent and contrasting. A burning ship, a black storm, the shrouded sunlight. It filled you with unease that even the retreating lifeboat couldn’t fix. You moved on, finding a cache of more Aivazovsky, marine paintings depicting fire on the water, exploding ships and battles caught in oil. You reached a hand out to trace over the demolished masthead on one, frowning as you worked out how Ivan must have done it.

You found Marcus at one of the few windows that were open to the outside. He stood leaning with one foot raised on a low bench, the hand on the same side tucked away in his pocket. He wasn’t looking out at the horizon, the fog rolling in along with the choppy waves off of the coast. He was instead looking at the grounds, taking in the landscape and scenery Solas had carefully planned and executed.

He knew you were there, and spoke without turning. “Do you like it here?” he asked, one hand tracing along the bottom of a pristine windowsill.

“I do,” you said, surprised at your sudden conviction. You were a traveler, a free spirit with no roots to hold you down. The prospect of living out the rest of your days here in Chile with Solas and Marcus didn’t bring with it the usual itchy hives that ‘settling down’ normally did. Perhaps home was people all along. “I’d stay.”

It was then that he looked at you, brown eyes dulled a little by the passing of a cloud over the sun. “I’d stay.”

“I know.”

“Why are you worried about me leaving the FBI?” he asked, non-accusatory, simply curious. “I thought you’d be jumping for joy.”

“It’s…” you didn’t want to say it’s who you are but for so long, it was. You couldn’t deny that. “You’ve been very solid since I met you. An anchoring point for most people in your life. Reliable and sure. Not boring, not predictable, but… consistent. Hearing you want to uproot everything and take your place here, in a country you’ve never been in, with a man you’ve never met… it worries me.”

“But he’s my soulmate. He’s your soulmate too. People have done crazier things just for that reason.” You had to think about your mother. That curling iron, the pain that love brought. “I’ve always wanted to find them. Always. I haven’t… stopped my life for that, but I’ve wanted this for my entire life. There’s a reason we should be together, some universally-important reason. If it’s a struggle, then it’s a struggle. But at least I’ll be where I’m meant to be.”

You could do nothing else but agree with him, joining him where he stood, a wanderer above a sea of fog.

Solas really did love El Palacio.

The mansion had come to him in a laughably legal way, an inheritance from Solas’s old mentor who had died some years before. Then, the place had been shrouded in soapbark and coquito trees, the old stone and metal roof having been left to oxidize a deep brown and green. It was like the house hardly existed at the end of the long drive. Solas had truly turned it into something remarkable, a palace in its own right. The grounds themselves were intimate and gorgeous, full of both local flora and exotic flowers carefully cultivated by the groundskeepers.

He’d explained it all to you the first time, and again on a tour of the gardens with Marcus, but his soulmates only really remembered the parts where Solas had gotten excited, the elaborate feeding areas for local birds to come and rest near the top floor. His eyes had lit up when one had come to rest on your hand, expecting some kind of treat.

Solas liked to speak about his adoration of pretty things, things that shone and sparkled in the light, but he also held a close affection for things that fly. Birds, mainly, but also simple paper airplanes and frisbees, kites and dandelion seeds. You had a feeling his taste in gifts for others lay in the exquisite and luxurious, but the things he kept for himself were simple at the end of the day. The confession about his childhood had only made that clearer.

He had a bit of a vision with the mansion, but he mostly cared to concentrate on the grounds. The inside was finely-furnished, of course, but it was difficult to call it stylish. Marcus had been quite quick to point out where it needed improvement.

“I see you’ve kept all of the Gardner pieces together, but remember that they were in three rooms across an entire museum. Honestly, you should just give them back if you’re not going to even display them right.” Marcus was in a playful mood, well into a bottle of wine and near-floating around the different galleries. You and Solas followed like usual, amused and rather smitten.

“Whatever you say, solacchiotto,” Solas said with a smile.

“And the Aivazovskys.”

“What about them?” Solas pouted.

“They are marinas, they should be somewhere with a view of the ocean.”

“As you wish, amore.” Something about his tone made you look over at him curiously. He was smiling in a way where you could see him thinking, gears turning in his mind just beyond the Kahlo-black of his eyes. “Out of curiosity, what would you replace the Gardner pieces with? We certainly cannot leave the walls bare.”

“A Rothko,” Marcus hummed. “Rust and Blue.”

“Number 61,” you provided. “It’s in the Chapel.”

“Yes. That one. Wouldn’t it look incredible here, among the other pieces with fine drapery and this-this wallpaper—” Marcus made a pleased noise as he stroked his hand over the wall, fingers tracing the lines of crushed velvet. “It’d pull some abstract indulgence in.”

“I’ll see what I can do. I can’t promise it will be a quick switch, but it will be done.”

“I think something from the other room could get moved in here. Cafe Terrace at Night. It’s colorful and bright, like nighttime should be.” You liked to tease Solas about his career, now that he was opening up about it. “You wouldn’t happen to know the location of the Parsonage Garden at Nuenen, would you?”

“You’d think it’d be in Nuenen,” Marcus mumbled to himself, frowning tremendously into his glass.

“I… am actually not sure. It may be hard to believe, but thieves don’t often brag to one another about their lifts. Too tempting. I certainly never made that mistake twice,” he smirked.

“What was that?”

His grin glinted in the moonlight. “Stealing from a thief.”

“You’re sexy when you talk like that,” Marcus said after a moment, no filter. It drew a surprised laugh from you, and a blush from Solas. He still wasn’t quite used to being so boldly complimented.

“Have I shown you the menagerie?” Solas said rather awkwardly. For a man so suave, able to sweet-talk his way past doors and guards and all other kinds of people, he was still getting the hang of talking to his soulmates.

He wasn’t kidding.

The “menagerie”, he called it, was a small hall off of the treasure room filled floor-to-ceiling with the most incredible array of animal paintings you’d ever seen. On first glance, you could see pink flamingos, a lone zebra, a concert of birds, and a verdant impression of a riverside lined with curious geese.

You stood in awe. “There’s so many. Have you ever counted them all?”

“If I stopped to do that, I would hardly have time to collect more, wouldn’t I?” Solas said.

“Collect,” Marcus muttered to himself, reaching out to gently touch the texture on a goose. “This is a collection, isn’t it?” he said, and you got the feeling he was talking more to himself.

“Yes…” Solas said, following his curiosity.

“And it’s a mess.”

“...yes…” Solas sounded less pleased at this agreement.

“Would you consider a curator?”

It took a few moments for Solas to catch his meaning. “You wish to curate… my stolen artwork?” he said. You watched the exchange with interest. Marcus had always loved the idea of curating his own gallery. He’d been partially responsible for the layout of your own showing a month back in Washington.

“I think that would be a wonderful idea,” you said, when the silence started to grow anxious.

“Then I have some calls to make in the morning. A Rothko, you say?” Excitement and precipice flooded the air, and you stood relieved in the face of what could have been disaster.

“Perhaps Flaming June as well, for the bathroom.”

“How classic.”

“Now I have to curate a bathroom…” Marcus laughed, before reaching out and grabbing your hands, bringing your palm and Solas’s over his heart, over his soul-mark. “I can’t wait.”

It seemed everyone had things figured out but you. You could still make art, yes, and take commissions, but in the light of your recent decision to move to a new country with two men you loved and hardly really knew, you felt a bit unmoored. You looked at Florentijn and sighed.

“You know what that’s like, I guess.”

“I’ve been wondering since the showing—”

“Jesus, Solas!” You yelped, hands flying up to your mouth. He had the most incredible way of sneaking up on you. “Where did you come from?”

“Just around the corner,” he said, reveling in the fact he could pull a fast one on you. You scowled. “But yes, I was wondering. Were any of those paintings truly in your personal art style, or were they catered to me down to the last?”

You considered not telling him, in a fit of pettiness, but instead you shook your head. “I had a large portfolio of the things you had stolen, certainly not exhaustive in any way but enough to see where your specific tastes lay. It was a challenge to execute.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question. Were—”

“Yes. Just… just the one of Marcus. And the one of you, with the gold.”

He considered this new information carefully, joining you in looking up at the great rubber duck he had such a fondness for. “Why?” he asked, a million questions in one.

“Some artists have personal style, and public subjects. You can see it in Warhol, in Rockwell and other contemporaries. Other artists have private styles, that they hide to better fit the aesthetic of the day, and keep their subjects private.”

“A muse,” Solas inferred.

“A muse. I’ve had a few here and there - music pieces, scenery, very rarely is it a person. I thought my attachment to you had come from just our ten days together in the winter, but… it had started long before then. It started the day Marcus came over and asked me to make you art.”

He was struck by the simplicity of your answer. “Je sens qu’il n’y a rien de plus réellement artistique que d’aimer les gens.”

“Vincent,” you said with a smile. “Over a hundred years on, and he’s still right.”

“I have the letter inside. The quote… it stays with me like a ghost. Of course you would know it.”

“I believe in soulmates more every day,” you shrugged.

Solas wrapped his arm around your shoulders and turned you away, looking out at where Marcus was approaching. “Would you show me your true self someday? Your art?”

It took a minute to mean it, and by the time you spoke, Marcus had arrived. You looked up and kissed Solas on the cheek. “Someday. Someday soon.”

#triptych #marcus pike x reader #f!reader #the thief x reader #marcus pike x the thief x reader #marcus pike x the thief #marcus pike/reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the thief/reader #unhingery

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