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#bc it’s supposed to be Important but I have NO idea how to set it up

dahldahlbills · 6 months

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nano day 15

total word count: 582 😬

my main priority was finishing scene 9. which I did! I’m a bit clueless as to how scene 10 is gonna go, and I’m too tired to think abt it rn so that’s tomorrow’s problem lol

Officially halfway through nano!! Total word count is 21174, leaving me ~4k short from the goal. I’m hoping I can pick up the pace a bit next week. I keep telling myself that it’s fine if I don’t hit the 50k and I know it’s fine if I don’t. But being short 4k kinda stings lol. Like it’s right there. ah well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ we still have 15 days who knows what’ll happen

thank you to everyone who’s cheered me on so far!! The encouragement is extremely appreciated :’)

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azullumi · 10 months

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“heart to heart” ; ayato, cyno, diluc

summary — he could only watch as you die ; alternatively, he’s there to comfort and hold you as you take your last breath.

characters — ayato, cyno, and diluc (w/ gender-neutral reader)

tags — angst but not that heavy but not that light also, grammatical errors bcs i don’t like to proofread, established relationship ; scenario/one-shot

words — 1460

note — this is part 1 out of 2 !! here’s the next part with a different set of characters <33

;; AYATO

“—and i want a garden full of tulips.” you declared, a smile creasing the line of your lips, and he admires you ever so lovingly while listening to each one of your words. “why a garden only? we could have a mansion overlooking the sea.”

a hum escapes your lips as you think of his answer, “but mansions are huge and often lonely. i want a home, a warm one, big enough for us and our children and i want a garden where they can play.”

he smiles, gently, eyes gazing at you as if you’re the most lovely thing he has seen and you really are—the moonlight dances and rests on your skin, emitting a soft glow on your features, and you look much more breathtaking than ever. “we can be the ones to plant the tulips,” he elicits a light laughter from you, “mhm, we definitely should.”

it is late now, the both of you are a little bit tired resting underneath the sky peckered with stars. and right now, in the past, and future, he loves you, he loves you, he loves you, he—

“i love you, ayato.”

his breath hitched, like his heart has crumbled at his hands, you were there bloody and withering away on his hands, like a flower that had cut off its stem. and just like how quickly the world can be created out of three words, it shattered right at his hold.

“please don’t say that.” his voice breaks, faltering, compared to the tight hold he has on you as he desperately wishes that this warm embrace can help you even for a little bit. “why?”

not like this, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. you aren’t supposed to die like this, you weren’t supposed to leave him, not right now, not ever—not when he still hasn't accomplished all of the things you two have talked about underneath the night sky.

“you’re saying that as if you’re going to die.”

you chuckle, “because i am.”

“this isn’t the time to be joking around.” but he knows the reality of it, he just refuses to accept it. “what about our plans?” he knows it from the way you struggle to find the words in your tongue, from the way you smile at him as you listen to his voice coming apart, “what about the tulips? the garden? you promised me,” from the way your breathing slows down and eventually—

“i… i’m sorry.”

—it stills.

a brief moment of silence and a broken sob came, “you promised me…” that you’ll be there, that you’ll plant the tulips with him. “i love you,” that’s why he mourns for you and the promises you made.

;; CYNO

“i think that’s all of them?” you walk over to his side, feeling the soreness of your body hit you. bodies were found laying all around you but they weren’t dead, just knocked out as if they still have to be taken in for questioning.

“yes but nevermind that, are you hurt?” he asks him in a flat tone, despite the nature of his words, worry didn’t lace his tone. “it’s not that bad,” you say but half of your body feels numb, your side is damp, aching as it continues to bleed—it’s just a small wound.

you weren’t going to die even if your line of work requires you to be put in danger at times, you will never die for anyone, you’ve sworn that to yourself. it may be a selfish idea but you had promised yourself that you will always choose yourself because no one can be more than you. your existence is way too important for someone else’s to have it for their own—nobody can and nobody will.

but not the general mahamatra, not your love, not him as you willingly took a hit for him which left you at this state but he doesn’t know the severity of your situation as you chose to hide it. you didn’t want the man to worry—you were selfish not until it came to him.

your vision blurs and you feel your head spin.

“cyno—“

it happened so fast. you, suddenly collapsing to the ground and him, calling out to you as he towards your direction to catch your collapsing figure before it hits the cold floor.

he cursed underneath his breath, panic washing over him as he noticed your wounded side, covered with blood and it was then that the realization had dawned upon him—you were severely hurt since earlier and he just wants to berate himself, not you, for being so careless and ignorant.

“no matter what happens, don’t you ever dare risk your life for me.”

he trembles, recalling those words in his mind. it was you who had told him that and yet, you’re here, “keep your eyes open.” he pleads in a broken tone.

“i’m sorry…” you try to fight off the growing feeling of your eyes becoming heavy and your slow breathing, fighting off the ominous being cloaked in black standing at your foot. you weren’t going to die, you promised yourself.

you were getting weaker so is the sound of your voice, your vision seems to blur and darken in each moment that passes by and oh god, how much you fear not being able to see his face, not being able to see him completely in your last moments with him—thoughts came drifting in and out of you, asking what kind of expression does he have at this moment. does he still have that same calm expression you adored?

you coughed once more, fading eyes looking for the warmth of his own, “i love you, cyno, from the first time we met until forever. remember— remember that.”

“s-stay with me.” a command, but his breaking voice fails the firmness of his words, his tone could only be so soft as he spoke. “don’t you—don’t you dare close your eyes, that is an order.”

but the light of your eyes had already disappeared and at that moment, not only you had died but also him as you breathed out your last—even in death you still held his heart.

;; DILUC

“a hug, please?” you beckon with your arms wide open for him as you sit on the edge of the bed, your bed and his. the red-headed man only smiled before

“why do you need a hug all of a sudden?”

you hum, “nothing, i just want to feel you.” and in which, he huffs out a chuckle, “you can feel me as much as you want, my love.”

he could spend his life just with you in his embrace alone. oh, how he would choose to be alive by your side over anything, over everything. nothing could beat the solace of your hands on his own, of your lips in a kiss, of your skin at his touch.

but fate could be so cruel.

“do you remember the first time we met? i was also in your arms, you caught me when i was about to fall.” your tone was soft, fragile, as if anytime soon you’ll break and give in. “please—stop talking, save your strength, please. my love, you cannot leave me, you are not going to leave me.”

he spent so much of him guarding and driving danger away from the beloved city of freedom only for him

to not be able to protect you against those, it was injudicious on his part for not thinking that those very perditions that he fights were lurking at the comfort of his home. cruel, cruel, cruel, how could fate be so cruel? how could people be so selfish?

a dry chuckle and a weak response, “we know much better than that, ‘luc.”

how could you still look breathtaking even at the hands of death? how is it that you still manage to enamour him with blood staining your lips?

“i know that i’ve always belonged in your arms, even in death.”

he’s as warm as you remember him and you are cold despite his embrace, you remember—or perhaps, know—the expression on his face as you took your last, remembered the way he feels on you, remembered the way he speaks to you so lovingly, remembered everything about him and burned it your memory in hopes that you’ll know him in your next life, if there is one.

“i love you.” he mumbles as he brings you closer to him, tears that he had been holding back had now came pouring out of his eyes, the words he had told you were laced with warmth and affection—with hurt and poison.

but you are still cold and now, lifeless as you lay in his arms. beautiful, captivating, darling—dead.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #genshin angst #genshin ayato #ayato x reader #cyno x reader #genshin cyno #diluc x reader #genshin diluc #genshin x you #genshin #genshin fanfic #ayato x you #cyno x you #diluc x you #azul.writes

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okkotsuus · 1 year

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mi hermosa (sae i.) !

features: sae i.

contents: suggestive. sae is kinda ooc. reader is a model. hickies/neck kissing. sae feels you up kinda. gender-neautral reader. filming. sae is himself. vivid descriptions. insinuation at the end. 4.2k words.

notes: self-indulgent. my very very bad spanish. partial google translate bc i forgot most of my lessons. i just think not being able to understand what someone's saying but knowing what it means by how they say it is really hot. telenovelas are making me delulu. i luv sae.

heavily inspired by this edit from my queen koca ( @daiseukiis )

as you study your reflection in the glimmering surface of the bathroom mirror, you can't help but feel your own chest puff in pride. like a bird after hours of preening, even you were forced to acknowledge that you looked stunning at this moment.

maybe it was what felt like the endless hours you were forced to sit still while the makeup artists touched up every single pore and freckle on your face, or maybe it was just how they were able to bring out the untouchable features that were already there. either way, you felt as if you were on top of the world at this moment. you felt untouchable, unattainable.

the ringing of the bell signaling the end of the crew's lunch break drew you back into reality as you messed with the flyaway that had begun to escape what felt like a helmet of hairspray.

your shoes clicked against the tiled floor as you hurried on set. when you made it there, you saw the crew scrambling around as they finished the last props and lighting adjustments. they called every cue in a practice run and tested cgi with extras before taking the first shot.

you smoothed the clothes that hugged just right over your body. the material under your fingers felt expensive, smooth and soft. they were luxury for the brand that you were shooting and commercials for. along with other high dollar items, all to impose the idea of regality.

it was a perfume and cologne commercial. so it was guaranteed to be eccentric.

truth be told, you didn't even know what the shoot had in mind. you weren't part of the original cast, as you were still an up-and-coming model. but you were the only model who would agree to shoot on such a short notice.

your co-star, whom you had yet to even see, apparently had some sort of falling out with the person who was supposed to be in your spot. the crew had quietly pulled you to the side and told you that the moment he laid eyes on them, he immediately demanded for someone else, or he would quit. it made you so very anxious for him to see you, much less to co-star with him.

the thrumming of your heart pounded in your ears as your eyes flit to every corner of the room, trying to guess who you were going to be on screen with. if it went well, you would be able to get some connections out of this, right?

maybe a bit too optimistic for a guy who just looked at a model much more famous than you and threw a hissy-fit...

you saw the director approaching and quickly you attempt to compose yourself, not wanting your nervous sweat to make the mua's hard work run. you put on a wobbly smile as he greets you.

"y/n, great to see you, sorry again for the short notice! so, as you were told, today we are shooting a luxury l'eau de parfum commercial." you nod along, watching as he tells a personal assistant to go get a 'mr. itoshi.' you have no clue who that is, but he seems important given the way the pa broke into a cold perspiration at his name. maybe it was your tyrant of a co-star?

the director continues his rundown of the shoot, going over the details that normally would have been told before you would have signed the contract. "so, today you will be in very close proximity with your co-star. intimate touching, scantily clothed, innuendos, is that okay?"

you hesitate for a moment, since you were new: you had never done anything like this before. truth be told, you were feeling a little shy. until you saw him.

those half-lidded uncaring eyes of turquoise that had your heart racing from more than just the anxiety of it all. his hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his tight-fitting, black, suit pants. his white button-up is tucked in and only half buttoned, leaving a tempting portion of his toned chest teasingly exposed. a silver chain drums against his collarbones with every step he takes, darkened-blush hair ruffling with movement. god, he is stunning. just the sight of him had you nodding absent-mindedly to everything the director was saying. you didn't care about your doubts, as long as you were doing the intimate touching and scantily clothed-ness with him (for the commercial of course, nothing else...). you don't care how embarrassing it is.

he came to a stop an arms-length away from you, staring down at you under his nose. you can’t help but anxiously fidget; the confidence from earlier disappearing as you suddenly felt like the side character who’s screen time just ended, your presence completely being devoured by the main character that just entered the room under his scrutinizing gaze.

he huffs, clearing his throat before turning away from you. you wince, ready to be dismissed and humiliated, yet it never came.

"acceptable."

with that, he was gone. you were left gawking. all that pride you had lost was restored in an instant. he didn't instantly hate you? it was somehow the biggest ego boost you had been given in a long time.

the crew member who you had somehow become friends with starts squealing and bouncing up and down while you raise a shaky hand to feel the heat burning at your cheeks. is this real?

the final run of all the technical components finished and you went to join mr. itoshi on the set. unlike him, you weren’t aware of what was going on each scene, hence why the producer had to stage things more carefully. they weren't annoyed at all, instead thankful that she could find someone so last minute, even if it meant the shoot taking longer. it just wasn't worth the pay cut it would have taken to recast.

as the lights dim slightly, you turn your attention to the producer: sitting in her chair with the script.

"first of all, big thanks to y/n for making it on such short notice—” scattered claps from around the room all in your favor, “without them, we could never shoot this commercial! okay so, the first scene is going to be sae and y/n just sort of holding each other. it's intimate and coy, going to help us lead up to the bigger things going on later in the shoot. break a leg everyone!"

you felt your cheeks lightly warm at the description of the scene, clearing your throat before turning to sae, who was adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves and his open collar. you copy his professionalism and smooth out the wrinkles on your own luxury clothing items.

he takes a step closer to you and plants one hand on your hip, his fingers slightly digging into the plush of your skin as his other arm winds around your back loosely. sae’s breath fans over your face as he gently huffs through his nose. lashes fluttering as those aquamarine hues zero in on you, with his plush, pink lips parting slightly.

all of it is head-spinning, mind-boggling, he is so captivating. but you force yourself to remember this is a job. so you rest one of your hands over his muscular bicep, the other fisting the collar of his half undone shirt. your head tilts to the side to allow yourself to inch closer to him. the world goes silent and the two of you just stare at each other.

it was a moment frozen in time, both of your lashes flutter as you maintain that heavy stare. breath fanning in the small yet far too large gap between the two of you. your back is subtly arching as you press yourself further into him.

"cut!"

yes, all for the shoot, of course...nothing else, no other reason.

sae steps back from you, your arms stay up for a moment before falling limply to your side. you clear your throat and turn to the producer, desperately hoping that it didn't need another take, you weren't sure if your heart could take it.

"amazing job, that was a flawless take! y/n, you should really consider becoming an actor, the chemistry you created with sae was palpable. great work, take five while we get ready for the next scene, you two!"

you breathlessly thank her and scramble offstage, returning to hair and makeup to see if anything needed to be retouched. while the artist was touching up your lips and powdering your nose, you couldn't get sae's touch out of your mind. it lingered on your skin like a brand, hot and heavy.

your next costume was to change into a button-up just like the one sae was wearing, it was left even more unbuttoned. you were given a pair of white safety shorts to wear under it, a very obvious illusionary tactic of being pantless. you couldn't help but feel shy.

it was call time so you returned to the set, eyes locking on sae who abandoned the white shirt he was in and instead just wearing those fitted, black pants. he still had the necklace on; on that tempting delicacy of a body he has. you force yourself to focus on that. lest your vision slip to his sculpted torso, again.

when your eyes meet his after he catches you desperately trying not to stare, he had this cocky light to him. this time he isn’t looking down at you, more like looking through his lashes. it’s entrancing. he makes you want to curl up in a ball and disappear. he makes your stomach twist and heart race.

the producer came in and sat down, delivering the brief of the scene. "okay, so this scene is pretty tame as well, just the costume change makes it more risque. so basically sae is standing in the bathroom and y/n comes up behind him as rests their chin on his shoulder. with how things are going, it should likely be done in one take. break a leg!"

sae stood at the counter, hands on the counter and he leaned down and leered into the mirror at his own reflection. his eyes lidded as he licked his lips and tugged on his bottom one with his teeth.

you took a deep breath and approached him when the clapperboard slammed shut. your steps are soft as you pad against the faux tile, rising to your tippy-toes to hook your chin at the junction of his neck and shoulder. your arms wrap around him and rested atop his hands on the counter. smelling something almost intoxicating you sniffed at his neck, it was a cologne: hints of musk and teak-wood. it was the kind of scent that had your eyes rolling back into your head, which you were able to refrain from, luckily.

your touch lingered as they announced the end of the scene, dragging your fingers lightly against his skin. his eyes caught you as he raised a questioning brow, leaning back against the bathroom counter. your eyes traced every rise and fall of his abs before you turned and left in a flustered huff, not noticing the quirk of his lips in the slightest smirk.

as you snuck away, regretting it immediately, he caught you. slightly off to the side and away from peering eyes, sae itoshi looms over you with that intense stare you figured was just for the cameras. his lips rested against the shell of your ear as he breathed out a whisper. "ten cuidado, cosita hermosa...*"

you can’t help the shiver that runs up your spine as a whine is pulled out from your chest. you desperately hope he hasn’t heard it, but he very clearly did when that smug look came in view. his hands gripped your hips as he said one last thing before departing. "no empieces cosas que no puedas terminar.**" again, he was gone.

you felt your back meet the wall behind you as you covered your mouth, trying to stabilize your racing heart. you have not a single clue what he said, but you just couldn't help but feel the effects of its trance regardless.

it took a long time for you to drag yourself back to hair and makeup, they had to powder your entire face pretty much. your now ruffled hair took a little fixing due to that…moment. luckily, you didn't need a costume change. all costumes did was spray something, likely the perfume you're advertising, onto the insides of your wrists and neck.

you spaced out during the producers instructions, leaning against the counter-top. your attention being forced back onto the shoot when all of the sudden sae is caging you against the counter. one hand pinned yours atop the porcelain where it had rested, the other gripping your wrist and brought it to his face, where he pressed a searing kiss to it.

he sniffed at it and a cheshire grin split his face, "y'know this one's my favorite baby. makes me want you..." he groans the ending, leaning closer and pressing his lips to your neck. you couldn't remember if this was a scripted line or not, but you couldn't bring yourself to care; you'd savor it the same either way.

you lean your head back and rest your unrestrained hand on the back of his head, fingers threading in light mahogany tresses. he kisses up the column of your neck, nose digging against the exact places where the stylists had sprayed the perfume. you can’t help the whimper that slips from your lips at the subtle nips he makes at your skin. they're light enough not to turn red and leave marks that makeup would have to cover, but you can feel them. you can feel every drag of his tongue and every mold of his lips against your searing skin.

his head lifted from his torturous kisses as his eyes bore into yours, you feel so small under his gaze, like you were pressed under his thumb. he leans in and your eyes squeeze shut as his lips ghost over yours. your grip on his hair tightens as your back arched to press your chest against his.

everything just felt so real.

maybe that's why the producer yelled another enthusiastic "cut!" it you jumping and startled. your eyes met sae's taunting gaze as he pulls away, leaving you limp and boneless against the counter as you reeled from all that.

"wonderful work guys, we're making up for all the time we had lost with sae's... fit—” to which he rolled his eyes, remembering that event and sae’s glaring hues, “keep it up! gosh this is wonderful acting, i really need this kind of stuff from my cast on the film we're shooting tomorrow... next one is the last scene we'll need you two together on set for."

your heart aches a little at that, but at the same time it has you puffing a sigh of relief. you couldn't handle this any longer, he was just so... so? intense, alluring, intoxicating? nothing seemed right, these words were all too mild to encompass what sae itoshi was.

your hands reached up to cup your cheeks, feeling their burning intensity on your palms. you shook your head and mentally give yourself a pep talk before going over to get your final touch-ups and clothing adjustments.

your shirt was pulled down to expose your shoulders, the open buttons drawled down to just above your stomach. hair and make-up left you alone, saying that it would be better for them to be slightly messed up anyways. that made you slightly realize what this scene was going to be showing.

you can’t help but feel hot under the collar, or well; lack of a collar, now. you couldn't look sae in the eyes when you saw the set: a bed with slightly ruffled white sheets. what you were able to notice was that he had lost the belt on his pants, which were now unbuttoned and unzipped. they sag down lower on his hips, revealing the line of muscles that ended when the branded band of his boxers peeked out just below a slight trail of hair on his lower stomach.

you gulp, eyes finding every single thing you could fixate on except sae. the changing lights, the rush yet control of the crew as they all got ready for the camera to roll, the producer talking. oh wait the producer is talking.

"—or this scene, we're going to have both of you on the bed. sae will be on top of y/n, face in their neck. y/n will have their legs slightly around him, and i trust you to know where your hands need to go. oh, and you're going to be looking into a camera above you. you both have been doing so well, i've never had a shoot with two actors who have never met, much less ones who have gone this well. let's finish it up people!"

you sort of just stood there, stunned. you’re pulled over to the bed by sae, who has that slight wolfish grin playing on his lips. he puts his hands on your shoulders, leaning into be closer to your face. to the outside eye, it looked like he was giving a co-star a pep talk, how sweet.

but you knew different, you saw the grin and narrowing of his turquoise eyes, the way his fingers dig into your skin. you knew this was anything but a friendly chat. "wouldn't it be such a shame if they all found out that you weren't acting, that you were really just this desperate for me, hermosa?***" his breath was hot and his voice rasped, it was so addicting, you couldn't help the shudder that wracked up your spine as you dumbly nodded.

sae looks you over, head to toe, one last time before pulling away as his expression returns to neutral. you let out a shaky sigh and sat back on the bed, scooting to be further in the center. you sit there for a moment before laying down.

you can’t help the nervous feeling in your stomach that swirls as sae slowly stalks towards you; he was the predator locking on to his prey. there was a hunger in his eyes that was just too intense.

languidly, he crawls along the bed to you. he stops, hovering over you and looking at you with that same unruly need. he leans ever so closer, close enough to feel his breath fanning over your lips.

his eyes study you, taking in every single reaction you make. you feel his analytical gaze run over every curve and dip of your body, soaking you in and engraving it into his mind. his hands plant themselves on your hips, effectively pinning them to the mattress as he puts some of his weight on them. he slots one of his knees between your own, which you had so pathetically clamped shut.

you lift the leg that wasn't between his up to loosely rest over his lower back, hooking and keeping him there. you brought one of your hands to splay over the wide span of his back, between his shoulder blades. the other was placed at the nape of his neck, fisting and grabbing at the strands of hair that fell a little longer than the rest. his head was pulled down to bury his face in the crook of your neck, breath puffing over spots that had you shuddering in place.

"ayyy... mi hermosa es una gran 'actriz', ¿no?****" his words were hot against the side of your neck, feathering over your skin. you couldn't help the twisting and curling of your stomach at his words, which you didn't understand a lick of. it was just the way he rasped and twined every syllable that had you quivering under his voice, under his touch, under him.

you heard the snap of the clapperboard, but it was all muted. everything sounded faint. your senses were too focused on the calculated squeezes that sae gave on the width of your hips, roiling and kneading flesh under deft, lithe fingers. you too were focusing on the open-mouthed kisses he was trailing along the junction of your neck and shoulder, the column of your throat, your jawline. every drag of his lips, every swipe of his tongue, it had you shaking like a leaf in the wind.

the expression you sent to the camera hanging above you was nowhere near acting. it was the kind of raw desire that actors wished they could emanate. you tug at his hair, trying to pull him a little further back; to spare yourself from this torment. he only lets a rumble escape his chest, nipping along your heated skin, which had become slightly sheened from an ever-so-thin layer of sweat.

the way your back arches off the plush mattress, leg that wasn't wound around him kicking pitifully at the sheets, it was downright sinful. it made you feel pathetic, falling so pliably into the hands of a man you haven't even known for three hours. so desperately begging him for more with unspoken mannerisms and looks. it was like public humiliation; the way he had you under his control to the very point of your toes curling against the pure white sheets that crumpled around you.

you stare at yourself in the reflective lens of the camera that stares down at you, forever capturing this moment; before it is broadcasted to millions, if not billions of people. it caught every facet, every single little tick until you had exploded. it caught your widened eyes, which screw themselves shut. it caught your hands gripping and pulling at locks of blush hair. it caught your agape mouth, lips glossy with your own spit; and it caught you sinking your teeth into the pillowy flesh of your bottom lip to silence yourself. it caught every ministration sae subjected you to, and every little receptive reaction you gave him in return.

that red blinking light in it died, but you couldn't bring yourself to tap out. drunk on the feeling you pulled him closer, stretching to hook your chin over his shoulder: burying yourself in his scent, in him.

"...ut! guys, that's cut!" gods, it was so hard to snap yourself back to reality. your eyes flicker over to the producer, who was staring so closely at the two of you. in a hushed whisper you shook sae, telling him to get off of you. to which he answered, "don't care, let 'em watch."

you pushed him up with your palms butting against the front of his shoulders, ignoring the pointed glare he gives you. "well i do, so off." with that, you slipped away from him. you sat against the front of the stage, waiting for feedback. the air of the fans made the spit on your neck from sae's searing kisses feel cold, sending a shiver racking up your spine.

the man stands behind you, shadow looming over and consuming your own. your shoulders rounded as you huddled in on yourself from his all-consuming presence, trying to hide the fluttery feeling in your stomach.

"great work, that'll be all we need you two together for, and all we'll need y/n for. thank you for the great work!" the crew clapped and you felt a smile stretch your cheeks. even if it wasn't all acting, you couldn't help the pride that swelled in your chest at their praise.

you gather up your things, not seeing sae again. bidding farewell to everyone: the producer, the director, and every crew member who worked specifically with you, not hearing a word from sae. as you walk out of the door, you saw a familiar figure leaning against the metal-sheeted wall, sae.

turquoise eyes glanced over at you, not nearly as cold as they were the first time they had. if anything, the hues that cast an ever so dark spell on you and your beating heart. he raises himself from the wall, walking towards your figure. hands in the pockets of a pair of grey sweatpants, a black compression shirt stretching over his broad chest. fuck, what was he doing to you?

his hand tucks a strand of hair away from your face, fingers sliding from where he had left it behind your ear along your jaw. he holds your chin between his fingertips, gentle but steadily raising your head to look up to his eyes. his other hand starts to creep under the hem of your shirt, drawing circles so faint they give you goosebumps along the soft flesh of your tummy.

"what'd ya say we pick up where we left off back at my place, mi hermosa?*****"

* = "be careful, pretty thing..."

** = "don't start things you can't finish."

*** = "...beautiful?"

**** = "ayyy... my beautiful is a great 'actor', no?"

***** = "... my love"

okkotsuus 23

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk #bllk x reader #bllk x you #sae #sae x reader #sae x you #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x you #bllk sae #blue lock sae #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae x you

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antiquitiesandlabyrinths · 2 months

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. . .Osiris

Osiris (Great and Beautiful is He) is the God of the Underworld; its King and Pharaoh ruling over the Duat. He is pictured here on the far left, His skin green and His body in mummiform. This is commonly how He is depicted; as a green-skinned, mummified man.

Son of Nut, the Sky Goddess, and Geb, the Earth God, Osiris was the first King of Egypt in accordance with Kemetic mythology, although there are stories that recount Geb, His father, being King before Him. There are a great deal of myths and stories that surround and involve Osiris, and I suppose it is important to at least skim over them before discussing hard facts about Him, as it gives some reference as to who He is and what the culture surrounding Him is like.

Osiris Myth

After the world was created, the Demiurge (who changes according to myth, and can be Neith, Ra, Amun, Ptah, or others) produces children; in the most popular form of this creation story, it is usually Ra who births the first Gods. They are Shu and Tefnut, Air and Moisture. Shu and Tefnut then form a union and birth two children of Their own: Nut and Geb, Sky and Earth. Nut and Geb were very much in love and refused to separate from each other, which, of course, caused a problem, because if the sky and the earth are eternally in contact, there is no space for anything to live and walk upon the earth. Ra made it so Nut and Geb were forever separated, by having Shu, air, stand atop Geb and hold Nut up as the sky. But Nut was already pregnant. When Ra discovered this, He was enraged, and forbade Nut from ever giving birth on any day of the year.

Nut cried to Djehuty (Thoth), and Thoth devised a plan. He went to Khonsu, God of the Moon, and set up a gamble, saying that every round of the game Senet Khonsu lost, He would have to give Nut some of His moonlight. Khonsu ended up losing so many times that Nut had enough moonlight for five days––five days that weren't in the calendar. This allowed Her to give birth on those five days, and on each day She had a different child; Ausir (Osiris), Wr-Heru (Horus the Elder), Sutekh (Set, Seth), Auset (Isis), and Nebet-Het (Nephthys). Nut and Geb were still forever separated by atmosphere (Shu), but the five Gods were birthed, and Osiris, as the eldest son, became King of the Living World.

As a side note, all Gods do have ancient Egyptian names which are different from Their Greek and now modern names. For convenience's sake, and to avoid confusion, I will use the names They are most known by; Their Greek/modern names. And as another side note, there are a lot of variations on this story. I will be piecing together a lot of different ideas but I will be leaving some things out for the sake of cohesion.

When Osiris came to Egypt, He found the people there to be chaotic and lawless. As King, He instituted laws and spread ma'at, which is truth, justice, harmony, and order. Egypt flourished under His rule and the people were incredibly happy, as all were equal, and with the fertility of the God-King, the crops were always bountiful and food was plenty. He brought not only law and prosperity, but also the right way to worship, and the teachings of agriculture.

Set, God of chaos, confusion, the desert, and of foreigners, and the youngest brother of the Ennead, grew to be quite jealous of His older brother. There are many variations and the most popular variation of this story comes from the end of the New Kingdom (1550-1070 BC), where Set fashions a fabulous coffin in the perfect measurements of Osiris, throws a party, and tells the party-goers that whomever the coffin fits may have the coffin as a gift. When Osiris fits perfectly, Set quickly shuts and bolts the coffin and throws it in the Nile (this version of the myth gives an origin to the idea that people who drowned in the Nile were holy). His coffin drifts downstream and into the Mediterranean, where it washes ashore in Phoenicia, in Byblos. The coffin wedges itself into a growing tamarisk tree, a tree which envelops the coffin. Eventually the tree is cut down and used as a pillar in the palace in Byblos.

Isis, Osiris' wife and sister, searched far and wide for Her husband, and did eventually find Herself in Byblos. The story is quite long and complicated, but in the end She convinced the King to give Her the pillar, and when she returned to Egypt, She hid Osiris in a swampy area of the Nile delta, and bade Her sister, Nephthys, to watch over Him while She went in search of healing herbs. But Seth heard that Osiris was back, and so after interrogating His sister-wife, Nephthys, He found Osiris, cut His body into pieces, and threw them into the Nile.

Isis was horrified at what transpired in Her absence, but She immediately set to work on finding the many pieces of Her husband with the help of Her sister, Nephthys. They managed to find every piece of His body except His phallus, which had been eaten by an oxyrhyncus fish, a fish that was thus forbidden to eat.

With the pieces of Osiris reassembled, and the healing powers of Isis in full power, Osiris was brought back to life, but incomplete. Isis assumed the form of a kite, and from above drew out the seed of Osiris, impregnating Herself with Their child: Horus the Younger. But Osiris, still incomplete, could not properly rule over the land of the living any longer.

This is why He is the ruler of the dead––He was once the king of the living, was killed, and was resurrected, and this is what every ancient Egyptian expected and hoped would happen to them: that they would die and be resurrected. In tombs and mortuary temples you will always see Pharaohs associating themselves with Osiris.

But this long myth I have just told you is not the only version of the story, and in my opinion, it is definitely the longest version of the story. Back in the Old Kingdom and Middle Kingdom there were several different versions; for example, Set's motive is different, ranging from revenge for Osiris kicking him, to revenge for Nephthys (Seth's sister-wife) sleeping with Osiris (which eventually births Anubis). Some texts claim that Seth took on the form of a wild animal, such as a crocodile or a hippopotamus, and killed Osiris that way. In others, Osiris is drowned. In some, the steps surrounding the coffin are skipped, and Osiris is simply cut up, and His pieces scattered around Egypt; a version which explains the many cult centers of Osiris claiming to be a place where Osiris is buried. Osiris' resurrection is also often helped along by other Gods such as Thoth (God of wisdom) and Anubis (God of embalming). In some versions, Set is killed for His actions. In most He is simply defeated and driven from the land, as chaos is necessary for balance and harmony, and thus cannot be killed. And the story that I have told is from the Late Period, recorded by Plutarch, and does not really go along with many Egyptian accounts, which often find Osiris' penis intact.

So that is the Osiris myth with all of its' intricacies and changing rhythms over the course of 4,000 years of Egyptian history. It embodies a huge amount of cultural practices and religious ideas within ancient Egypt, including the idea of truth, harmony, and justice, as well as resurrection, the afterlife, healing, and the workings of the cosmos. I've decided to leave out the later parts involving Osiris' son, Horus, and His fight with Set, for now because this does not directly involve Osiris, and that is our topic for this post.

Tradition, History, and Culture

Worship of Osiris dates back to the Old Kingdom, but the idea of Osiris is likely older than this. Before Osiris was actually Khentiamenti, an agricultural God centered in Abydos, a city which would later become the cult center of Osiris. Khentiamenti means 'Foremost of the Westerners', a title for the ruler of the dead, as the dead resided in the west, where the sun set each day. But Osiris Himself is not found mentioned in any texts or carvings until the 5th Dynasty, where He is depicted as a man wearing a divine wig. Later on He would take on the form we know Him best in––wrapped in a white mummy shroud, wearing an atef crown with ostrich plumes on the sides.

The mummy shroud He is depicted in forever associates Him with death and with the essential story behind Him, which is why I found it so important to start off with the Osiris Myth. This myth is also why He consumed and took the place of Khentiamenti; the name Khentiamenti, Foremost of the Westerners, instead became a title for Osiris as the King of the blessed dead. Another common epithet/name of Osiris is Wennefer (Omnophris), meaning 'The Beautiful One', 'The Beneficent One', and more archaically, 'One Whose Body Did Not Decay'. Among these names He was also called 'The Lord of Love', 'The King of Living', and 'The Eternal Lord'. From the Early Dynastic Period up until the end of the Ptolemaic Dynasty, when Rome conquered Egypt, Osiris was one of the most highly worshipped and revered Gods of Egypt.

Osiris was associated with the Nile river, with its' renewal and life-giving abilities, as one of Osiris' domains and powers was fertility, as well as rebirth. Another of His duties, evidence of which originates in the New Kingdom, was to act as judge of the dead; being King, He sat on the tribunal with the 42 Judges in the famous Weighing of the Heart ceremony. In this ceremony, which took place in the afterlife, the deceased would have to stand before the court and place their soul up for judgement. If it weighed lighter than the feather of Ma'at, representing all justice, truth, and harmony, then the heart acted well in life and would be allowed eternal happiness in the Field of Reeds. If not, the heart, and thus the person, would be consumed by Ammit and committed to nothingness. So Osiris would sit in on this tribunal and judge who entered His kingdom, as it was His domain. In this role, and in His role as King of the Living, as well, He was the embodiment of harmony, law, and justice.

"Most of his appeal was based on his embodiment of the cosmic harmony. The rising Nile was his insignia, and the moon’s constant state of renewal symbolized his bestowal of eternal happiness in the lands beyond the grave. In this capacity he also became the model of human endeavors and virtues..." (The Complete Gods And Goddesses Of Ancient Egypt, p.307)

As I mentioned earlier, Abydos became His cult center, as it was the cult center of the God who came before Him, whose traits He subsumed. It became a very popular burial site, as legends would say that Abydos was where Osiris was truly buried, and the people wanted to be buried as close as possible to Osiris. At one point they believed an ancient tomb there––which was actually the tomb of an Early Dynastic King––to be the tomb of Osiris, which they much revered, and left so many offerings in clay pots that Arabs would later call the site 'Umm el Qa'ab'; Mother of Pots. But this was not the only burial site of Osiris; since many variations of the myth include Set chopping up and dismembering Osiris into many parts, ranging from 14 to 42 different parts. These parts were scattered across Egypt, so many cities and nomes could claim that they had a part of Osiris buried in their domain. For example, far in the south, the island of Bigah claimed to be the burial site of Osiris' left leg, and thus the source for the yearly Nile inundation.

Going back to the Osiris Myth, after Osiris died and became the ruler of the dead, His son took His place as King of the Living: the falcon God, Horus (Heru the Younger). After the brief bout of chaos brought about under Set's rule, Horus took over (after much deliberation from the Gods) and order was restored. Because of this story, Pharaohs would not only associate themselves with Osiris in death, but with Horus in life. Each Pharaoh, as they came to the throne, would become the living embodiment of Horus on earth, the son of Osiris. In this way, Isis was also the mother of every Pharaoh, and their protector. And, to added extent, each Pharaoh would have a personal name, and then a Horus name granted to them when they ascended to the throne.

"It is for this reason that Osiris is so often depicted as a mummified pharaoh; because pharaohs were mummified to resemble Osiris. The image of the great mummified god preceeded the practice of preparing the royal body to look like Osiris... The king's appearance as modeled after Osiris' extended throughout his reign; the famous flail and shepherd's staff, synonymous with Egyptian pharaohs, were first Osiris' symbols as the flail represented the fertility of his land while the crook symbolized the authority of his rule." (Osiris, World History Encyclopedia, Joshua J. Mark)

Osiris can also be represented by a number of physical symbols, such as the crook and flail that He carries in almost all representations of His earthly form. The crook, which is the striped hook He carries, represents power/authority, and is a symbol of the Pharaoh. The flail, which is the instrument in His other hand, represents the fertility of the Nile, and as an extension, the fertility of Osiris Himself. But the crook and flail, though both seen typically as symbols of Pharaonic power, are actually the tools of a shepherd. There is reasonable evidence, thusly, to suggest that the physical origins of the idea of Osiris may not be that of a great King, but of a ruler of a shepherd tribe in the Nile Delta, whose rule was so beneficent that it led to him being worshipped as a God. For Egyptologists, this theory comes from His association with Andjety, a predynastic God-King worshipped in the Delta who also bore the crook and flail as His symbols. This, however, has not and likely cannot be fully proven. But the postulation is still interesting nonetheless!

Osiris' ba soul had its' own culture of worship, a practice of soul-worship that is prevalent in the cults of several other Gods, such as Hathor (HwtHer). In this form, Osiris was known as Banebdjedet, meaning 'The Ba of the Lord of the Djed,' which in English terms means 'The Soul of the Lord of the Pillar of Continuity', as ba means soul, and djed is the symbol for a pillar, which represented the backbone of Osiris. Interestingly, the name Banebdjedet is feminine, as the letter t denotes a feminine word or name in ancient Egyptian; although there are also variations on this name that exclude the t in favour of the alternative, Banebdjed. Banebdjedet, Osiris' ba soul, was worshipped mainly in Mendes, a city in Lower Egypt, in the Delta.

This leads to an interesting point concerning the androgyny of Osiris, a subject I found while researching for this post. Osiris' fertility comes from His castration and then being healed by the mother Goddess, Isis. Not only that, but both men and women identified themselves with Osiris in death. Then the name for His ba personified as another God is feminine, although representations of Banebdjedet are overwhelmingly male. Before anyone attacks me, I am not claiming that Osiris is a genderless God or King––just that He has some traits of androgyny, which I find interesting and love to study in ancient cultures, and I thought it would be good to mention for anyone else similarly interested.

Worship, Festivals, and Cult Activities

When it comes to the practices surrounding Osiris' cult, we actually know a good deal of information regarding the activities of worshippers and priests. Osiris' cult and worship was so widespread and lasted long enough that it could be recorded by the earliest Greek historians, and remained carved in temple walls for thousands of years. Among the most well-known cultic tradition is the Osiris Bed.

The Osiris Bed is rather well documented, as it was an object placed in tombs. It was not a bed for the deceased to lie in, but instead a box made of wood or clay, moulded into the shape of Osiris, in which the fertile Nile soil was placed and seeds were planted. These boxes were then wrapped in white mummy linens, and the seeds sprouted through, representing the resurrection and fertility of Osiris, and the crops that grew each year in cycles. One of the most famous of these beds was found in King Djer's tomb, a King from the Early Dynastic Period; the 2nd King ever of the unified Egypt. Coincidentally (or, perhaps, not so coincidentally) King Djer's tomb was the tomb which pilgrims believed to be Osiris' burial site.

While the Osiris Bed is far from the only practice and tradition of the Osiris cult, it does show the rich cultural practices and symbolism present in His worship. Let's look at some other examples of the practices of Osiris' cult.

Similar to the Osiris bed were Osiris gardens, which were essentially the same concept; fertile soil was planted inside a vessel shaped into the form of Osiris, and seeds were settled within to grow. These beds were tended to during festivals instead of being buried in a tomb.

There were a great many festivals, and each of them quite popular according to their time period, dedicated to the story and symbolism of Osiris. Some festivals started with recounting the mournings of Isis and Nephthys, Osiris' sister-wife and sister, in the form of a drama acted out in a call-and-response format. Another drama acted out for the glory of Osiris was more in the form of an actual fight that anyone could participate in; it was modelled after The Contendings of Horus and Set, which I briefly mentioned as a long and drawn-out argument between Horus and Set over who deserved Osiris' vacant throne after He had died. On this occasion, people would battle out and reenact the events of the story until the side of Horus finally won and victory was achieved. Afterwards, the celebrations commenced in honoring the restoration of order, and the gold-encased shAwyt-nTr (the Holy Statue) of Osiris would be taken out and lavished with offerings. Osiris, in the form of this statue, would be paraded throughout the city of Abydos before being placed in a shrine outside, where He could participate fully in the festivities, and be admired by the commoners who would usually never behold the face of Osiris. This emergence of Osiris from the dark temple's inner sanctuary to the light of the city resembled and represented His resurrection from death into life again. Although this particular festival was celebrated mainly in Osiris cult center of Abydos, it was also celebrated in other cities such as Bubastis in the Delta, Busiris, Memphis, and Thebes, in Upper Egypt.

The Mysteries of Osiris was a series of plays performed annually, and in dramatic, passionate form. It was one of the most popular observances of worshippers, and it told the story that I first told to you––of Osiris' life, His death at the hands of His brother, His resurrection at the hands of His sister-wife, and His ascension into the role we now know Him for. The roles in this reenactments were often taken up by high-ranking officials, and afterwards, the Contendings of Horus and Set would take place, which I just mentioned. These plays would take place over several days.

One festival was called The Fall of the Nile. During this time, the waters of the Nile would recede, and the worshippers of Osiris would go into mourning. One of Osiris' representation on earth was the Nile, and the Nile represented His fertility and life.

Another festival was celebrated on the 19th day of Pakhons, one of the months in the Egyptian calendar, which is roughly equivalent to May in our Gregorian calendar. On this day, the followers of Osiris would go to the river with shrines containing vessels of gold and metal, and would pour water into the Nile, exclaiming, "Osiris is found!" Mud and spices were mixed and moulded into the shape of Osiris, as well, to celebrate His return. Another festival similar to this one was called The Night of the Tear, and took place during modern-day June.

The last festival pertaining to Osiris that I will mention is the Djed pillar festival, held in modern-day January. The Pharaonic court and family would participate, raising djed pillars to welcome Osiris and the harvests that coincided with His return.

One last and interesting tradition that may seem familiar to Christians, at least in a small way, was the baking of bread in the shape of Osiris; bread as the flesh of the God, a sort of predecessor of communion wafers. But in reality the traditions of the Osiris cakes are completely different, and there were several different ways of going about it, depending on which nome you were from. In Dendera, wheat-paste models were made in the shape of each of the 16 dismembered parts of Osirs, and each model was sent out to the town where each respective part of Osiris was found by Isis. In Mendes, figures of Osiris were made of wheat and paste. On the day of the murder, they were placed in a trough, followed by water being added each day for several days. Afterwards, this mixture was kneaded into a dough, put into a mold of Osiris, and buried on the temple grounds.

Conclusion

This has been a somewhat brief glimpse into the cult, history, and traditions surrounding the Great God, The Beautiful Lord Osiris. If I can clarify anything please let me know and I will do my best!

#Osiris #ancient egypt #egyptian mythology #egyptian gods #Kemetic #ancient history #egyptology #Kemeticism

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thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 7 months

Text

Mosaic

kaeya/gn!reader

genre: hurt/comfort, teensy angst, fluff

warning(s)!!!: hydro-vision/polearm-user reader (bc i said so), kaeya word vomits all over the place, kaeya also becomes self-aware of feelings and Dislikes that, kaeya also makes some poor choices in leu of those feelings, all is well in the end tho! he learns (and cries) (tayls is pushing the pathetic crybaby kaeya agenda and cannot be stopped)

w.count: 8.7k

synopsis: kaeya is none the wiser to the people around him and what it is they think about him- he didn't get his title of 'top candidate for grandson in law' for nothing. however, he never thought he'd get so swept up in his own feelings that when he does, he decides he has to put a stop to them no matter the cost. but can he really follow through with that?

a/n: i love when tumblr nerfs my banner quality but it's whatever. have some kaeya nonsense (fr take this away from me)

“A mosaic.”

That was your answer to a question Paimon and the Traveler asks while you were meandering around the Favonius Library looking for a book you needed for some personal research. They had run into you there and a conversation about what some citizens of the City of Freedom embody had sprung up somehow. For example, Paimon was very set on saying that Master Diluc was a rock- set in his ways and tough to budge- and so on from there. The ideas and objects tossed around were anywhere between insightful and downright silly.

So, it was inevitable that eventually the trio would cycle around to the Knights. Jean was dubbed a Dandelion according to the Traveler and Lisa was crowned as an elegant bookmark that was so sharp it would cause terrible papercuts. Of course, Lisa’s object was picked ever so gracefully by Paimon even if it didn’t make much sense she was set on her answer, and nothing would change her mind. Then, when the personification of one Kaeya Alberich came around, admittingly the two Outlanders were stumped.

Kaeya would always peruse around with such an air of mystery. Keeping important aspects of himself tucked so far away that very few people knew of his secrets- and they were tight lipped for their own reasons. His smooth tongue aided him greatly whenever someone would ask about himself personally- spinning tales and weaving verses that got him out of any sort of personal interrogation.

The trio knew if they asked Diluc, he’d give a short and possibly crude answer. Jean would probably give him some illusion of not being sorted into such games and Lisa would just think you three were adorable and not give her two cents at all. You, however, thought on it for a bit longer and finally had an answer.

“A mosaic?” Paimon mimicked, making sure her voice was kept down in the sanctuary of books. “Like the artwork?”

“He is good looking,” Traveler pitched and it was true. Even people with aged or poor working eyes could see Kaeya was far from being an ugly man.

“I don't see how him being a little ‘good looking’ is deserving of the title of being a piece art!” You chuckle at Paimon’s small fit of confusion.

��Well, ignoring his looks, a mosaic is a piece of work that is made of small pieces right? It isn’t whole until it’s all put together. Just like a puzzle.”

“So, he’s a glorified puzzle?”

“That isn’t what I meant,” you shake your head in a small chuckle. You take a small trip to another corner of the library and run your fingers along the spines of different books before you grab one and easily slide it out of its spot on the shelf.

It’s a book on different types of art. Flipping the pages you find a page with a drawn on copy of a mosaic from another country. You lay it down on a nearby table and tap the drawing with your fingertip.

“What I meant was the process of becoming a mosaic- how it’s created.” you trace the empty spaces of white on the page where the piece of the drawn on piece were supposed to connect to create a bigger piece. “Various pieces of work all put together to make one big picture. A series of events leading to a grand conclusion of hardwork and patience. Maybe it took a lot of time and work. Sometimes creating such a piece was so frustrating at times you wanted to give up, or maybe sometimes nothing looked right. But, by the end of it all- it couldn’t be anything but a wonderful representation of all those struggles.”

Paimon floated in awe at your explanation and the Travelers playfully placed their hands on their hips as they looked at you.

“You sure think highly of Kaeya, don’t you?”

“It’s that noticeable, huh?” You chuckle a tad embarrassed. Your long-standing puppy-crush on Kaeya you’ve had since you met him wasn’t always the best hidden secret. In fact, you were almost positive that the Cavalry Captain himself knew you had a thing for him, but you were happy he never cornered you about it.

“You’re a love-struck citizen alright,” Paimon rushed to the Traveler’s side in making slight jests at you. You shut the book you had used to try and explain your choice of object and rubbed the back of your neck as you ignore the warmth in your face.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” You turn on your heel and walk back to the shelf to replace the book. Paimon had cupped a small hand around her chin before she was floating over to your side and asking you another question.

“So, if Kaeya is a mosaic, then who’s his artist?” You look at her and blink a few times, processing what she was asking. You didn’t expect a question like that. You cup your own chin in thought and after a moment, you laugh at being caught off guard.

“I hadn’t thought of that. I guess maybe Mondstadt itself? It is where all his friends and family are after all. Oh, and his job of course.”

“That makes sense,” Paimon muses, seemingly satisfied with your answer. The conversation had moved from the shelves to the open space of the library and soon out the doors. As the three of you left, the topic of objects to people shifted to one of getting some food into Paimon’s ever empty stomach.

The book you had previously replaced back on the shelf was easily slid back out by a hand adorning open finger gloves. Taking a relaxed seat at a nearby table, he flipped to the very page you had been on before and looked at the image himself with a small huff that twisted into a quirk of his lips.

“How interesting,” he muses before reading the whole installment about that specific piece of art. After all, how could he not?

The next morning was quick to roll around. After a hearty meal at the Good Hunter and pleasant good nights exchanged with the Traveler and Paimon, you were more than ready to head back home to rest. After a swift debrief on the commissions set aside for you today, you move out of the way and off to the side so you could flip through the four pages of individual commission information.

A typical site clearing of hilicurls, a balloon transport, and two other sites said to be infested with abyss mages and mitacurls. Taking a deep breath and letting it out in the form of a heavy sigh, you roll your neck and shoulders. It looked to be a very physical day, considering the commissions alone were already enough, they were hardly close in range to each other.

“My, what does this sunny morning lack that is making your shoulder’s slack so much,” the familiar voice of the ever lingering person on your mind spoke. Lowering your commissions and offering him a greeting smile, you watch as Kaeya marches his way down the stone steps of Mondstadt to you.

“The weather has nothing to do with it, I'll have you know.” When he finally gets to your sides, he silently offers his hand out for your daily commission sheets. You hand them over and resume your small effort of stretching. His eyes quickly scan sheet after sheet before he’s clicking his teeth and shaking his head.

“Having your run all the way to Stormbearer, to Windrise, down to Springvale and then back up to Wolvendom is just cruel.” The way his voice has that familiar lithe to it, you knew he only half meant what he said.

“Maybe I’ll get lucky and run into the Traveler who can do me a favor by hitching me a ride on a Waypoint.” You quickly take your commissions back and fold them down twice before storing them away in your pack. Watching the sun’s orange morning hue fade into its daylight yellow was tell enough that you had to get moving or else you’d be rushing to get your work done. Kaeya walked you to the city gate and even across the bridge before you were ready to set off.

This is practically routine. You weren’t sure when it started, but at some point, Kaeya had started meeting you at the Adventurer’s Guild after receiving your daily commissions and would insist on escorting you out of the city. He claimed it was on the way of his morning walk to stretch his legs, but you weren’t sure how much you believed him. You allowed him to do it anyway since it always set up a good start to your day.

Getting a small amount of Kaeya’s time was something you would relish since you never wanted to impede on his busy schedule with the Knights. It was the small selfish part of you that wanted to capitalize on this so-called ‘alone’ time that lasted only a small piece of the day.

“Be careful,” Kaeya always tell you and you always nod back to him a simple ‘I will’ before he would watch you disappear down the worn, dirt paths. Your first destination would be Stormbearer Mountain it appears.

Most of Kaeya’s morning consisted of going over documents shoved on him courtesy of his position as one of the ten Captains within the knight’s ranks. With sighs echoing in his private workspace every few minutes and multiple tempting ideas of sneaking out without even processing the paperwork, he finally finished and approved the last document before placing it in a file on his desk that Jean would surely come and snag from him later.

Leaning back in his chair that would soon need the cushions replaced, he craned his neck to gaze out the tall window in his office. The sun was much higher in the sky than it was when he had arrived earlier that morning. His thoughts easily drifted to you and a frown found its way onto his lips.

“Are you doing alright?” Kaeya delicately asked to the air of solitude around him. You were more than capable to handle yourself. In truth, if you weren’t already associated with the Guild and kept so busy by them, Jean probably would’ve scouted you for the Knights instead. ‘Your skills are impressive, and the others could learn a lot from you’, that’s probably what Jean’s pitch would be. All true of course, sometimes the job of trying to train the lower ranking knights was more of a chore than a duty, once Kaeya would often get stuck with.

He'd be more than happy to spar with you instead any day.

Steering his gaze away from the window and moving it towards the ceiling, he traced the wooden beams above him with his single visible eye. He sighed again- this time not because of his now finished paperwork.

“Surely, they’d be in Windrise by now… right?” His fingers drummed against the arm of his chair before he was bringing his chin back down to lock onto his office door. His paperwork was done, so maybe…

Two knocks rapped against the thick door and Kaeya’s posture straightened out of habit. A muffled ‘Captain?’ heard behind it. He let his head sink as a small, defeated breath left his open mouth before correcting himself again.

“You can come in,” he answered. Guess his plans to sneak away were once again foiled.

By the time Kaeya made it out of HQ it was already late into the afternoon. Stretching after stepping foot out of the large entrance, he stepped down the short set of stone steps before making his way towards the front of the city. You must be back now, or close to the city at the very least. It had been almost the whole day, if you weren’t back yet he’d simply go on an unprompted adventure to ‘bump into you’. Luckily, there you were; standing in front of the Guild and talking to Katheryne once again. Although, the look of you was less than encouraging.

While you yourself seemed more or less fine, just from the distance between the top set of steps by Good Hunter to you at the Adventurer's Guild Reception, he could tell your commissions had worn you out today. It was no wonder considering the distance between them. Your clothes had clearly been fixed prior to you reentering the city since the dirt and stains on them were a clear indicator that you had your fair share of roughing up.

Kaeya can, and did mostly, dismiss this all, however. It was the serious look on Katheryne’s face and the way yours didn't show relief after a hard day's work like it normally would be. He started making his way towards you and started catching bits of the conversion you both were having.

“I deeply apologize, y/n, but it’s an Emergency Commission we just received.” The way Katheryne’s voice was coated in tension made Kaeya’s pace harden. When he had arrived at your side, his hand came up to rest on your back without his notice as he looked at the way you held your head in your hand like you were preventing an oncoming headache.

“What’s the problem?” Kaeya made it a point to look at you- directing the question at you and not Katheryne. Your hand dropped and you sighed with a shake of your head before looking at him.

“It’s nothing, just a last-minute Commission.”

“What? You just got back from your commissions, didn’t you?”

“It’s an Emergency. I can’t just brush it off.”

“Make someone else take it then.”

“No one else is available.”

“y/n.”

“Kaeya.”

The small verbal battle you both engaged in was empty and Kaeya knew he was playing a losing game. He let out a sigh before he finally turned to look at Katheryne who must have all the patience in the world for standing by and letting you both bicker until she was needed for something.

“What is the commission exactly?”

“Apparently, a Ruin Guard has been spotted near Springvale after a passing Adventurer accidentally triggered its detection sensors. The nearby residents are frightened it could march into someone’s territory and wreak havoc there.”

Kaeya pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand- the other still mindlessly resting on your back- as he sighed. This is indeed something that couldn’t be pushed off for someone else to take. When it comes to those old machines, who knows what could happen if they aren’t swiftly deactivated. The Captain was at an impasse; letting you go after already being exhausted from running around all day or tying you to one of the Guild’s posts and keeping you there until someone else passed by that Katheryne could snag instead.

“Fine,” Kaeya relented. His hand finally dropped from your back and crossed with his other arm over his chest. “I shall accompany you then.” He saw you open your mouth- probably to protest- but he didn’t let you. “Ah-ah,” he tutted at you, “no arguments. Let’s get moving.” He uncrosses his arms to grab your shoulders, spin you around and lightly push you to get your legs moving.

Luckily, Kaeya’s vision was extra compatible with your own. While your fight styles were different, the fact you had a hydro vision was very much a blessing. It was quiet easy work taking down a Ruin Guard that had been drenched in water then subsequently frozen. After picking up a few dropped items from the timeless machine, Kaeya had stood up and placed his hands on his hips as if proud of himself.

“Aren’t you happy I decided to tag along now? We made quick work of that Ruin Guard.”

You can only roll your eyes at the smoothtalker. Still, you quietly laugh at his antics all the same. Finally calling it a day in the middle of the field you had previously battled in with him, you lay down on the grass. You were already covered in sweat, dirt and other stains from your earlier commissions, so getting a little more on your clothes wasn’t a concern. You shut your eyes and took in the breeze you silently thanked Lord Barbatos for as you took in a deep breath, letting yourself decompress.

Kaeya stood over you, moving so his boots were on either side of your head and he was looking down at your relaxing face. With your eyes closed, you didn’t get to see the smile that was only ever present when you weren’t looking. The moment your eyes would open, you would only see his normal everyday grin. And open your eye did and oh how lovely they were. The evening glow did wonders for their color.

Evening. Yes, it is getting rather late now.

“Are you ready to head back now?” He asked and you nod. Sitting up, Kaeya offers to carry you back to the city on his back- which you decline. That didn’t stop the fact that you reentered Mondstadt securely resting on Kaeya’s back as he held you up with a slight bend to his posture and firm grip on your legs.

This routine would continue for as long as Kaeya’s luck would allow. He’d be the first to see you in the mornings before being the one to walk you out of the city and if he was lucky, he’d be the first to greet you back (not including Katheryn).

If Kaeya was lucky he would greet you back into the city and spend more time at your side. Reporting in with you to the Guild. Running a few errands like stopping by to purchase things from Blanche or getting your polearm enhanced or repaired at the smith.

If Kaeya was lucky, he would persuade you into getting dinner with him or dropping by the Cat’s Tail for some casual TCG matches when he was off duty.

If Kaeya was lucky, the conversation between you both would be flowing well enough that even if there was nothing left to do, he’d be privileged enough to walk you home or come inside to continue occupying your time until you fall asleep or push him out the door saying that he had to get up for work in the morning.

Today was not Kaeya’s lucky day. When he got up this morning, his routine to finding you was practically ingrained in his muscles and when he didn’t see you at the stone steps, city gates or the Guild’s reception, confusion crossed his brows. He casually took a seat on one of the nearby outside stools by the Cat’s Tail and waited until the time to clock in at HQ was growing closer. With hesitation, he got up and looked around for you once more just to see if maybe he could at least catch a glimpse of you rushing around to get a (rather late) start to the day.

He was antsy all day and he was astonished to find out that throwing a wrench in his morning threw off his day so much. Kaeya knew that seeing you first thing in the morning was quite a lovely way to start his day, but he didn’t know the extent in which it could affect the rest of it. Not exchanging a good morning with you or even saying his usual ‘be safe’ message at the edge of Mondstadt nagged at him.

Currently, he was sitting in a remote corner of the Favonious library, legs crossed as his rear was sat towards the front of the seat to make up for the fact his back was bent over the back of it. He rests a flimsy, paperback book over his face, the pages scent of old paper and ink invaded his nose and the feeling of them rubbed against his cheeks. One of his hands held it open with his thumb and pinky and the other arm was hanging uselessly at his side, his wrist bouncing against his vision from time to time just for something to interact with.

Underneath the book, his eye was closed. He had tried reading the passages in this particular book at least four times now, but the words just weren’t registering in his mind, so he had given up. He was left listless; certain he could easily fall asleep in this very position at any given time. Of course, it wasn’t often that Captain Kaeya would get much quiet time to himself anyways.

“Uh, what are you doing?” The voice of Paimon made Kaeya’s eye open under the book before he was pulling it down his face enough to only reveal that one eye. Seeing Paimon floating at the Traveler’s side made him slip the book off his face completely and shut it before setting it on the table in front of him. His posture was corrected as he sat up straighter and rolled his neck.

“Couldn't you tell? I was reading.”

“Paimon think’s you were slacking off.”

“Is that what it looked like?” He jokes as he pushes his chair back and stands up properly before placing one of his hands on his hips. “I would never be caught slacking off, you wound me.”

“We’ve heard that before,” Paimon sighs with a shake of her head. In the moment, Kaeya is reminded of the conversation he overheard before between you and the other two. The same time of day, the same location, the same two participants of that conversation.

“Say,” he says to gain both of their attention, “what do you think it is?” Kaeya’s exceptionally broad and unprecedented question left the two Outlanders confused. The way the Captain could almost see materialized question marks float around their heads was comical before he elaborated. “I’m asking about my artist, of course. Surely you must have your own idea, no?”

Both Traveler and Paimon’s mouth opened in shock.

“You were listening?!” Paimon shrieks before she is shushed by other people in the library for her volume.

“It’s rude to eavesdrop, Kaeya,” Traveler tells him as they cross their arms over their chest. Kaeya fakes a gasp before shaking his head and shrugging with his arms up.

“Eavesdropping? Why, I’d never.” He dropped his arms back to his sides. “I was simply in the area and didn’t want to interrupt such a compelling conversation topic. That would’ve been quite rude of me, wouldn’t you agree?” The looks he received were easily brushed off. “Anyway, you didn’t answer my question.”

“Well,” Paimon started, “didn’t y/n say it would be Mondstadt?”

“And? Do you agree with them?”

“Paimon doesn’t see a reason why not,” she shrugs in the air.

“I see,” Kaeya’s arm crosses over his chest before he’s resting his opposite elbow on it to cup his chin. His gaze shifts downward before he's blinking slowly, meaningfully. “I suppose I could give you half marks.”

“Half marks?!” Paimon whispers.

“What about ‘the people of Mondstadt?’” The Traveler interjects. Kaeya’s eye shoots back to them and his hand drops from his chin to resume a casual stance.

“That assumption is largely correct as well.” The smile he gives the two gives nothing away. It wasn’t clear if he was sincere about what he said or if he was just saying it to hear himself talk. “A mosaic is usually a large piece, yes? It would make sense for there to be multiple people taking part in such a project at some point I suppose.”

“You suppose? You’re just running us in circles here!”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Kaeya deflects with a lighthearted tone and short laugh.

“Fine! We get it!” Paimon huffs before the conversation devolves into little to nothing until he is parting ways with the two, leaving the library and ready to end the day that seemed to have lasted longer than usual. Despite having a rather lax day, he felt lethargic.

Yet, despite his lethargy, when he finally made it out of his day clothes and into his bed, all he could do was lay on top of his covers and stare at the ceiling. His eyepatch had been removed- just as always when he was in the confines of his home- and his long bangs covered the eye that was always so accustomed to the darkness. One of his legs was propped up on the mattress with the other stretched out and his arms were folded behind his head.

His mind was curious about a number of things all the time- so his racing thoughts weren’t unknown to him. Still, the nagging feeling in the back of his mind didn’t let up. Was not seeing you at all really that much of a clog in his daily life? It made him feel so off-set and that alone was enough to plant a seed of anxiety in his chest.

Kaeya sighs to himself and his ceiling before rolling to his side and letting his bangs slip across his face and reveal his always concealed eye between the blue strands. He closes his eyes and wills his mind to stop dwelling on menial things.

Heart and mind are difficult things to cooperate with one another though.

Kaeya Alberich couldn’t risk getting mixed up in too many personal things- it made his future even more murky and daunting than it already was.

After that one day of missing seeing you out before your commission, Kaeya tried to do it less on purpose. Maybe that was a message from the gods themselves that he needed to take a step back. If your very presence could affect his day to day life like it had, he needed to back off for his sake and yours. And while he didn’t see you off, he still would welcome you back any chance he saw you return to the city with a raised hand he would immediately tuck away again.

“I didn’t do anything to make you upset, did I?” Of course, you had noticed his sudden shift in nature.

“Of course not,” he tells you as sincerely as he could. His smile was strained on his lips and his nose felt like twitching from the sheer effort it took just to pull them up. From the unamused look you gave him at his answer, he knew you knew he wasn’t being completely truthful. Still, you just looked away from him and sighed. Kaeya was grateful you didn’t push the issue because a part of him was sure if you had, he would’ve spilled his guts about things he wasn’t sure of himself just yet.

The process of slowly taking steps away from you wasn’t pleasant for either party. Kaeya’s days had devolved into nothing but more boring paperwork and patrols he could do with his eye closed, and that would mean seeing nothing at all. The dull lag of the daytime was boring to him with nothing to do between his job and downtime he suddenly had. The Angels Share's atmosphere was a welcome comfort to his new, unpleasant routine- though, he could do without the looks from Diluc.

Meanwhile, you had felt the sting of dejection in your chest. You had come to the assumption that maybe Kaeya had finally taken action on your unspoken feelings for him and was politely telling you to take a hike. It was logical to you; a common everyday Adventurer probably couldn’t make it work out with one of the Knights’ Captains. His previous time spent with you was probably just a hindrance, a distraction from his real work, so this was good. He could focus on what was important, protecting Mondstadt.

Though, that mental pep talk didn’t make it hurt any less.

Just like Kaeya, you decided to bury yourself in your work. Taking commissions on top of any other field requests. Clearing hilicurl camps wasn’t something difficult and while the occasional Abyss Mage was a pain, it was all manageable. So, when your back to back jobs kept you out of the city for days at a time, that slowly became the norm for the citizens of Mondstadt.

It was only natural for no one to notice.

“Has it really been that long?!” Kaeya had been passing through the central square of Mondstadt when he heard the familiar shrill of Paimon. His interest took little to be piqued and he easily strut his way over. “And no one has tried looking for them yet?” Paimon and the Traveler were stuck in a conversation with Katheryne as is the norm for them nowadays when their travels bring them back to the City of Freedom. “Oohhh,” Paimon worries, “Paimon’s worried.”

“What’s the problem,” Kaeya interjects into the conversation. All eyes shift to him, his easy strides coming to a stop when he fully joins the group with his arms crossing over his chest. “My, what’s with all the long faces?”

“Kaeya!” Paimon screeches. “Oh, maybe you’ll know! Have you seen y/n around?” Kaeya’s chest tightens.

“Y/n? I’m afraid we’ve both been too wrapped up in our own duties recently. Sorry to disappoint.” The slight light of hope Paimon dawned dimmed and worry once again took over her features. The tension in his chest felt tighter, like a white-hot coil was entangling itself around his insides and replacing his ribcage. “Has something happened?” He asks slowly, making quite sure his voice doesn’t crack or waver. All his hard work to distance himself from you can’t unravel now; not when you aren’t even here.

“We aren’t sure,” Katheryne fills in. All eyes look to her as she repeats what she had just told the duo before Kaeya arrived. “Y/n had taken a rather dangerous commission the other day. It was a job that required them to explore and investigate some ruins that had been discovered behind a wall of rocks on Stormbearer. The commission should’ve well run its course by now, but we haven’t heard back from either the client or y/n, so some of us are beginning to worry.”

Kaeya’s fists clenched, but no one took notice of them under his cross-armed stance. He made sure to keep his face from giving himself away.

“Have you made the issue known to the Acting Grand Master?” He questions. Katheryne shakes her head.

“No, we haven’t. We had had planned on bringing it to her attention if y/n still doesn’t get in touch with us by this evening.”

“We should let Jean know right now!” Paimon insists and the Traveler easily nods in agreement. “What if they’re stuck in the ruins. Or- or hurt or something!” Paimon’s worry bleeds easily into her words like a fresh wound into water.

“The last thing we should do is panic,” Kaeya said hypocritically. His gut felt like a boiling cauldron with panic as the main ingredient. Still, his many years of being persuasive and aloof didn’t let any of that show.

Though, the off hand look the Traveler shot him made him doubt himself; they’ve been awfully diligent when it comes to reading him ever since his wild goose chase he sent them on not long after they arrived in Mondstadt. Or maybe it was just because they had more experience than he initially thought. Still, it almost made him squirm.

“Well, we’re going to go tell Jean!” Paimon declared, her small hands on her hips as she bobbed up and down in the air. Kaeya just shrugs indifferently, surely not making any moves to oppose them. With a small huff, Paimon and the Traveler take off towards the Knights Headquarters. When they were well out of earshot and sight, Kaeya’s cross arms drop and his gaze moves to the ever-open gate that showed the wilds outside of Mondstadt.

“Katheryne,” he almost whispers. “You said Stormbearer?”

Your vision was blurred when you opened your eyes from your, albeit useless, slumber. You had long since tucked yourself between a small alcove of debris and rock in the ruins you had agreed to investigate. Had you known the person who had commissioned this job was some ruin machine-obsessed loon, you wouldn’t had agreed so easily. A couple ruin guards aren’t a big deal, but adding their mechanical brethren- so to speak- on top of a nut job maintaining them the moment you have to step away to recoup, that's when things get tricky.

Your body had long since grown exhausted from using your Vision by excessively trying not to get killed. Luckily, the mad man only had his madness going for him, so hiding from his view was easy. Staying hidden from the machine’s censors was what worried you, but you had succeeded so far. Because of that very fact, however; you were reluctant to move. Beyond your weary body, hunger and thirst were starting to eat away at you too.

Having been in hiding with no ample moment to even try fleeing back to the city for additional aid, you had run through what little rations you had. Your gut ached with hunger pains and your throat had never felt dryer, still you weren’t backed up against the preverbal wall so much you threw all caution to the wind.

Your polearm had remained materialized as you kept it rested against your shoulder for ease of quick use should you require it. Your vision had never felt heavier from its placement on your person and your hands cramped from how tightly you had gripped your weapon’s staff. You let your head fall back into the rock behind you and let out a silent sigh.

In truth, you felt more foolish than injured or exhausted. You knew this commission sounded… odd, but you took it anyway. Anything to help distract your mind from the ever cloudy presence of Kaeya- or lack thereof.

Your small sliver of respite you found in your cove of rock and debris was beginning to quake and crumble… literally. Your eyes you hadn’t realized had dropped back down shoot open and between the crumbling dust that threatened to get into them, you could hear the engines of machines whirring above you. You scramble to get out into the open before your previously, temporary safety could crush you. Though, coming out meant that you would be more vulnerable than you’d prefer.

The moment your gaze lands on that familiar warm glow of the back of a Ruin Guard, you throw your polearm into its core, coating the blade with water from your Vision without much thought. The guard crackled with electricity as it malfunctioned and was brought to its metallic knees. Sprinting to its back to quickly retrieve your polearm, you made sure to use your Vision to drench its legs and feet just in case it got back up again. Perhaps the moisture would cause it to comically slip and buy you just a bit more time and maybe a chuckle or two.

It was odd though, aside from the now jagged whirring of the jittering machine in front of you- there was nothing else. No crazed man trying to jump you or sick another random machine of his on you for whatever cause. It was in fact quiet, and that quiet put you on edge. Your brain knew you needed to stay on guard, but the silence was starting to lull your body into a false sense of security you couldn’t trust.

Still, your mind that had been in fight mode for what should have been days now, had no chance against your weary body. Your grip on your polearm slips and the weapon clatters to the ground just before your knees did and your body slumped rather pathetically afterwards.

‘If you fall unconscious, you’ll die’, you mentally scold yourself. Trying to bully yourself into getting back up, keeping your eyes open, keeping your guard up. Still, your mind was beginning to feel as weak as your body. Thoughts swirled together into a mess of intangible words stuck in your mind and your sight was no better. Perhaps it was your delirium and exhaustion, but your body suddenly grew cold and you vaguely felt goosebumps raise on your skin like winter itself had bloomed in these ruins with you. Among the changes you felt externally, you swore you heard a muffled voice too.

Perhaps it was the mad man, the one who got you suckered into this stupid job. If it was, he could make quick work of you now since the last of your fight had disappeared taking out that Ruin Ruard core. The warmth you felt on your neck and cheek was the final thing you could mentally register before your body succumbed to its burdens.

‘Odd’, was the first thing that crossed your mind when you found yourself staring blankly up at a well maintained ceiling. You were sure that if you woke up again, and not gotten yourself killed or crushed, you’d be waking up to jagged rocks and mossy walls. So, the well furnished room you now occupied threw you for a loop- which your pounding head didn’t exactly take well.

The room you were in was familiar, and you were sure you’ve been here before, but your foggy mind couldn’t process where you were. The bed you were tucked into was soft and comforting, and with a wince the mattress gave when you push yourself to sit up. You were alone in the room and without much thought, you shuffle your legs out from under the blankets thrown over you to place your feet onto the floor and wobble up to your legs with the help of the bedside table acting as a- albeit less than desirable- crutch.

The door creaking open was almost mistaken by you for the sound of your sore joints straightening out, as humorous as that was to you since you let a brief, lighthearted laugh escape you in a huff. Then, with your sights on the ground, you noticed a shadow casted by light you don't remember being in the room with you before.

You follow the shadow along the hard floor covered with a single, purple rug until your eyes found a pair of all too familiar boots. Your aching body starts to feel anxious- a small wave of gooseflesh running across your exposed skin at the idea of Kaeya being in your proximity for the first time in a while. Still, regardless of how you hadn’t been able to squash your silly crush on him or properly prepare yourself for a possible rejection without even confessing- you were no coward.

With both hands tense on the bedside table, you raise your head to look at the blue haired man who had removed the fur, half-cape from his shoulder. It was strange seeing how empty his shoulder was without the extra fluff the fur provided. Still, it was nice to see him in his entirety again since it had been a while. The blacklight of the space behind him made it difficult to see his expression since the lights in the room you had woken up in had been turned off presumably for your ease of comfort.

“It’s been a while,” was the lamest thing that’s come out of your mouth in a while.

Of course it had been, you were both actively avoiding each other and practically the whole of Mondstadt picked up on it. Looking behind his shoulder you could only barely see corners of art pieces on the walls behind him and another rug that ran down the hall behind his heels. “Kaeya, am I at your house?” You ask, finally realizing where you recognized your surroundings from.

You’d been in his living room plenty of times visiting, but you had hardly been back in his room unless you were the one tasked with dragging him home from Angels Share and were generous enough to lug his body weight back to his bed. It was a rare occurrence since you were normally one to just dump him on the couch with a blanket and glass of water for his possible next morning hangover.

Kaeya never graced you with an answer before he was marching into the room. His bootsteps seem louder than usual on his hardwood floors of his enclosed room, but maybe that was just the headache. His hands shoot out to grab your shoulders and turn you towards him, your hands that had been on the wooden night table were effectively removed from its surface and now Kaeya’s grip was the only crutch you had for balance before your brain could full calibrate standing without swaying again.

“What on Teyvat were you thinking?!” He raised his voice and even in the dimly lit room with only light from the hall flooding in, you could easily see his expressions now. His brow was turned in a frown and his eye clouded with something you couldn’t pinpoint. It was a far cry from his normally suave and dismissive behavior. “Taking an obviously suspicious commission in ruins that hadn’t been officially investigated by the Knights? Seriously, you thought that was smart?!”

His temper only made your headache worse and in turn soured your already not-so-great mood. Reaching up to grab his arms like a hook for support, you verbally push back.

“I think I'm capable of handling things myself, you know? The Guild doesn’t need the Knights’ to babysit them for every little thing, and as a member of the Guild that applies to me too!”

“Oh yes, so capable you spontaneously disappear for days? Does that sound capable to you?”

“It does actually because I was handling things just fine by myself, not that it makes a difference to you.”

“You collapsed next to a Ruin Guard, y/n! What would you have done if it had restarted or if something else would have happened? Magically wake up and jump into battle again, because I have my doubts about that!”

“What is your problem, Kayea?!”

“You! You are my problem!”

Astonished, you scoff before rolling your eyes. It had been so long since you hashed it out like this with anyone, let alone Kaeya. It didn’t feel good, it made you feel sick to your stomach. Not hearing any retaliations from you, Kaeya guides you by the shoulders back against the edge of the mattress and pushes you to sit down again. You didn’t let yourself release the sigh of relief that you felt now that the weight of your own limbs was lifted- you wouldn’t give the Captain that satisfaction.

You expected him to let go of you, release your shoulders and march out of the room and maybe slam the door for good measure. Or maybe pace around the room before ordering you good enough to argue, so you would be good enough to get out of his hair. Out of the possibilities, the only thing that you predicted right was him releasing your shoulders.

Kaeya's hands left your shoulders before sliding down your arms and dropping to the mattress edge on either side of you. You were stunned when he dropped to his knees in front of you and the pressure of his forehead resting on your knee felt heavier than anything. Caging you with his arms and using his head as an anchor on your legs he had effectively trapped you. You kept your hands tucked into each other by your stomach, making sure your knuckles wouldn’t brush even a strand of his hair and you could feel the thin strap of his eyepatch leaving an intent on your skin.

“Kaeya,” you sighed heavily, his name leaving your lips like a weight.

“I tried,” his muffled voice sounds weak that your gaze softens at the abrupt tone change. “I did. I tried to fix it, but my problem is still you and I can’t do anything about it.”

“I have no idea what you’re-”

“Tell me what to do.” His words that interrupt yours cause you to furrow in confusion.

“What?”

“Tell me what to do,” he repeats with a strained voice. “I have so many things I need to do, choices but I- I don't want to. So, do it for me.”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about. What does all that even mean?”

“Make me choose you,” he sighs heavily before the hands of his that were placed on the mattress beside you move to lightly grab at your shirt like he was scared to touch you further. As if you’d push him away, scorn him for his actions and inactions alike. “Because I will. I just- I need someone- you, you need to-” His sentences never finish as his breaths become uneven. The hands that grip your shirt tighten to ball the fabric in his fists now. “I’m sorry.”

Never had you seen Kaeya, the ever debonair Calvary Captain who kept all his secrets stored into his chest, kneel and subsequently crumble like this to anyone- much less to you. Perhaps in the past he never talks about, Diluc had seen him so weak, but that would be where the witness list ends. You lift your hands from your lap and hover them over his hunched body that clung to you like a child; you were unsure if touching him would set him off or if he would recoil from you. Your silence only made his hands that ensnared your shirt tug on the fabric like an anchor keeping a ship from sailing away.

One of your hands reach to his head and your fingertips breach the blue tresses of his hair. His shoulders tensed and you almost snatched your hand away.

“Don’t,” he mumbled into your leg. You weren’t sure if he was saying not to touch him or not to pull away. So, you kept your hand half in his hair and unmoving.

You yelp when the tugging on your shirt flew into a harsh yank. The back of your knees that had previously been resting snug against the edge of the mattress were now well away with the back of your thighs replacing their spot. Closer to sliding right off the bed than comfortably sitting on it, Kaeya’s arms moved to wind around your waist and his face found a new home in your stomach as your arms hovered in the arm like a puppet's dangling from unused strings.

You could feel the weight of his words fall onto your legs by way of the tears leaving his eyes. You could feel it in the way his shoulders shake and the uneven breaths that warms your lap through his mouth.

“Kaeya,” you softly start, “what has gotten into you? I've never seen you act like this before.” You slowly lower your arms and place your palms on his shoulders gently so as to not startle him; you weren’t going to keep them in the air forever, they’re sore.

“I’m from Khaenri’ah, you know?” His voice strains as he lets out a pathetic laugh that’s damp with a web forming in his throat. He feels your hands on his shoulders twitch and his grip around you tightens so you have no chance of running from him.

“Kaeya, what-”

“My father abandoned me here with the intention of using me as a spy. I’ve only ever told Diluc, but when I did a lot happened and he left, abandoning me too. I don’t care about Khaenri’ah- not anymore- Mondstadt is my home. It’s where my friends are, my brother- even if he will never accept that role again. I can’t leave Mondstadt behind.”

“I’m sure Diluc doesn’t hate you, not like you think. He just- he’s set in his stubborn ways and isn’t good at communicating.” You decide to speak only on his mention of Diluc, since the new information of the land in which he supposedly hails was still processing in your mind.

Your previous comparison of Diluc to a rock briefly comes to mind at the mention of his stubbornnes. You nearly laugh at the thought, but now is definitely not the time.

“Please, please, make me choose you. Tell me to, order it of me, I don’t care. Just- don’t make me live without my artist. I can’t risk that again; I can’t take being abandoned again.”

“Artist? Kaeya, what are you talking about?” You felt like you didn’t understand the words coming out of his mouth.

There was a bout of silence after your question and the air felt heavy. You know Kaeya heard you, but he was reluctant to answer. Odd, considering the word vomit he had already coughed up in the last several minutes since he came into the room. Your hands start to move and lightly rub his shoulders over onto his neck, silently trying to coax him into talking more.

“I heard what you said to the Traveler.” You almost roll your eyes because that could be literally anything. Does he know how often you get the chance to actually run into them and Paimon? He is just trying to dodge the question and by habit you lightly swat at his head. A silent, ‘okay smartass’ to keep him going in the right direction. He almost scoffs into your lap for that one. “You called me a mosaic.” Oh. “You told the Traveler that ‘Mondstadt’ is my artist; they said the ‘People of Mondstadt’, but only I know who my artist truly is.” His arms around you twitch and you could almost feel a stitch of pain in your side from how long he's been effectively squeezing you. “My artist is you. It’s just you.”

The room is engulfed in a silence that feels heavy, yet... somehow also relieving. So much time recently had been the both of you dancing around the issues neither of you wanted to confront and all it took was you getting yourself into potentially mortal danger for days on end for the truth to come out. Kaeya knew you were someone important, but he didn’t realize just how heavy your permanent absence would be to him. Just the thought of possibly finding you in those ruins dead made his throat burn and ache like swallowing a ball of thorns.

“Kaeya.”

“I’m not lying,” his voice was strained, filled with fear of being labeled someone worthy of nothing.

“I wasn’t going to say you are,” the hand that had previously tapped his head now rested on his nest of blue hair. The gentle strokes of your palm against his scalp were soothing as he felt your breath move your stomach against his head. “I don't see why you would lie to me right now.” There was no doubt in your mind that everything that came out of his mouth was the unadulterated truth. You’ve never seen the suave captain bleed such vulnerability before.

You didn’t say anything else to him after that. You move your hands to his arms, unwinding yourself from them before pulling him pathetically up onto his own bed. Not even bothering to fix your position, you fall back onto the mattress with your feet hanging off the edge and he easily follows you. From the lighting provided from the hall, you notice his eyepatch string had loosened from all his face hiding and you take it upon yourself to tighten it- securing it back where it belongs. Your fingertips linger around its material for but a moment before sliding down to his cheek.

His eye is brimmed with tears that had stained his skin with tracks and swelling. He also wouldn’t make eye contact with you, and you roll your eyes endearingly at his childish whims. With you both laying sideways on the bed, feet and legs hanging and not even a blanket to cover up with, your thumb run over his skin. Kaeya is quick to reach for and latch his grip delicately onto your wrist to keep it there.

“‘M sorry,” he mutters again, sounding much more shy than he did before now that his face was in view of your gaze. You smile at him, knowing there was a long and meaningful talk in the near future.

“I know. Go to sleep.”

“But I-”

“Artists' orders,'' you chortle. He just scoffs and offers his own eye roll, but his cheek warms under your palm. His eye closes and he let out a deep breath before taking one back in and repeating.

“Stay until I open my eyes again.”

“I will.”

And you did.

#kaeya x reader #kaeya angst #kaeya fluff #kaeya hurt/comfort #kaeya x y/n #kaeya alberich #genshin impact #genshin impact kaeya #kaeya comfort #kaeya fic #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact fic

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highwayorgantrade · 1 year

Text

Baptized By Fire (I)

Pairing: Ghost x (F)Reader

Request: Nope :)

Story Summary: Reader loses themselves to the mission - Ghost brings them back.

Chapter Summary: On your first specialized mission with Ghost and Soap, you were praying for everything to go right. Whether the idea was a sick joke or naivety, you did what you had to do to survive. Unfortunately, all actions have consequences.

Word Count: 2.8k

Song/Playlist:

Author's Note: Reader's callsign is Corpse! I got the idea for this fic by some ad I saw with these really cool titanium fangs, so I saw that and I was like yo lemme steal that rq so yeah I imagine reader having those but I don't really think it's necessary to the story! This is gonna be my first multi-chapter thing so I hope I can get everyone hooked bc LORRRDDDD the amount of stuff I have planned for this!

"When did intel say this guy was going to show up?" Soap grunted next to you, his rough voice teetering on the edge of being whiny. You knew the answer, everyone did. Three hours ago, a truck loaded with international weapons smugglers should have pulled outside of the house that you were sheltered in. The town had seen its last inhabitant months ago, right when this group began using it as a trading post. You were supposed to be in exfil by... Now, actually.

Ghost had parked himself in a barely-lit corner of the room, leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed. You wondered, every so often, if he was actually asleep, but when he ran through the motions of checking his gun, you were reminded of exactly who he was. Ghost would never fall asleep on a mission, no matter how late it was running.

"I'm going up to the second floor." You finally sighed. "Gonna see if I can scope anything out." You used to opportunity to stretch your legs - you had stayed crouched for so long, and the cold simply was not helping. And the longer you were in the presence of Ghost, the more your mind ran wild, and the overwhelming desire to impress him got worse and worse as time went on. Soap said nothing, and Ghost simply nodded at you.

Well, good enough.

The stairs were old, and it felt like they were screaming your presence when they creaked under your footsteps. As you walked past, the memories that this house once held were clear at every footstep. Picture frames of the family, forgotten behind, had dust collecting on the frames, and various pieces of artwork littered the walls, varying from classic Kahlo to children's messy fingerpainting. You pushed the door to each room open, trying to buy time by yourself. Each room was more or less the same - dresser, bed, window. Maybe a tapestry here and there.

You kneeled in front of a large, busted out window at the end of the hall, pulling binoculars out of your bag, and settling in. You held the binoculars up and sighed. Still the same landscape you've been staring at for the past three hours. The same faded market signs, dead outdoor plants and... Different SUV. You don't remember that being there, parked in an alleyway between two businesses. The windows were tinted dark, almost completely blacked out, so the hope of seeing anything inside was dashed.

The low, hushed voices of Soap and Ghost downstairs met your ears. You should tell them about the car. See something, say something, right? Part of you slightly resented the connection they had, but they've been working together for years. Countless missions and days together. These were your early days in Task Force 141, and this was your third mission with them. First mission using a specialized group like this, which is exactly why is was extra important that you didn't fuck up.

An uneasy feeling locked in your chest, and you stood, electing to rejoin the two of them. You shouldn't be alone, especially if a fight was about to break out.

"Contact!" Ghost's rough voice cut through the quiet, and almost as if on cue, a pair of gloved hands wrapped around your mouth and torso, setting off every single danger alarm your body had. Your vision darkened from the panic, and your desperate attempt to free yourself was going mostly unnoticed. The small point of pressure in your back told you that the barrel of a gun was pressed into your spine.

"Stop fucking fighting. They're not coming for you." A low, vaguely Eastern European voice growled into your ear before pulling you back into a random room. It was familiar, one of the parent's rooms, you'd assumed.

How did they get in? How the fuck did they get in without you noticing?

The window. The busted out windows in every room of the house. They came around the back entrance, and Ghost and Soap are about to be ambushed. Your eyes widened at the realization, and the man in front you smiled. Your target. This was him. Along with three other men, your outlook did not look good.

Panic clawed its way into your throat, but nonetheless, you made an effort to keep your face as stoic as possible. Your target leaned against the now-shut door of the room, and the sound of gunshots was echoing throughout the house.

"You are the one they call Corpse?" He looked you up and down, and gestured to one of his men. "Take her gun. And the knife. Scream, and I'll kill you and your friends." They followed his direction immediately, and the hand that was once around your mouth was removed. "Do you understand the situation you're in?" He was speaking to you like you were a child, and anger licked at your chest. Yes, obviously you understood the situation. You were trapped, with no chance of fighting, no weapons, and no way to communicate. You felt like a cornered dog, surrounded by people you know would kill you in a heartbeat.

You simply nodded, your teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek so hard, the metallic taste of blood was leaking into your throat.

Your target walked around the room, almost casually, and he smiled at the floor.

"There is a way for you to walk out of this alive, you know." He stopped, his back to the window. "Your force is rather... Mysterious. You come with us, and answer my questions. Any question I have, willingly. You'll be answering either way. The only question is how I'll be able to get you there." He smiled at you, like you two were having a pleasant conversation about world affairs.

The memory of Ghost's voice echoed in your head. "Don't let anyone take you to a second location. No matter what they are promising, they will kill you."

They will kill you. They want to kill you. They will hurt you. They will hurt Ghost and Soap, and who knows who else. You felt like a cornered animal, and all you could hear were gunshots and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You spoke for the first time in a while, and your own voice was unrecognizable to you.

"Fine."

And with that, your vision went black.

"See any more?" Soap's ragged breathing cut through his words, and Ghost's eyes were still trained on the street. Enemy bodies littered the world outside, and his vision was still adjusting to the world outside the scope of his rifle.

"No movement." Ghost finally put his weapon down, slightly grateful that the mission was over so they could all finally go back to base.

"Would've been easier with some fuckin' help." Soap grumbled, and cast a glance up at the stairs where he last saw your retreating back. Ghost didn't take a second thought about you going to scope out the landscape, he knew you were nervous around him, and in his chest, he felt a pang of regret. He could've been nicer to you, talked to you a little bit more, but he simply had no idea how to navigate his feelings around you. You simply showed up to base one day, and that was that for him. At first, he thought you were... Slightly aggravating. How easily you became friends with the Task Force, the sunshine that radiated out of you... He figured that you must not have seen that much war if you were still that damn happy.

It was difficult for Ghost to accept that he was wrong about your skills. At the firing range, in hand to hand combat, in everything, you were just ever-so-slightly better than him, and he tried to let some of his feelings known through the small things, like allowing you to enter a room before him, or simply sitting next to you during debriefings.

A resounding thud pulled him out of his thoughts, and immediately, his head whipped toward the direction, his heart sinking in his chest.

"Corpse, status!" Soap shouted, and his command was only met with silence. Before Ghost could think, he was on his feet and creeping up the stairs silently, his weapon at the ready. Soap followed closely behind, knowing that if Ghost was doing this, it was for damn good reason. A noise echoed through the house, and out onto the street, and both men stopped dead in their tracks. A scream, so guttural, animalistic, and angry pierced the air, and it chilled Ghost to the bone. He had heard a lot of noises during war, but none he heard were like this.

Of all the doors in that hallway, only one was closed, and Ghost nodded toward it. Soap and him stood on opposite sides of the door, and Ghost's heartbeat was racing as he thought about what could be on the other side of this door. You could be injured, dead, or worst of all, gone altogether. The door creaked open, and the sight that lay in front of them caused Soap and Ghost to freeze.

You were standing over four dead bodies, carnage spread around the room. Your uniform was covered in blood, and your hands and face had the same fate. Blood dripped from your chin, and your teeth were bared, a low noise emitting from your mouth as your chest rose and fell rapidly. The one fact they couldn't ignore: Every single body in that room had their throats shredded into oblivion.

"Corpse?" Soap spoke softly, the horror in his voice being poorly masked, but Ghost couldn't take his eyes off you. You were shaking, and the usual light that was in your eyes was gone, replaced by brutality and viciousness. Ghost handed his gun to Soap, wanting it clear out of the way if you decided to attack him as well. He stepped forward, the bottom of his boots leaving bloody footprints on the way to you. His grip on your chin forced you to look at him.

"Corpse, snap to. Come back, soldier."

"Corpse, snap to. Come back, soldier." Ghost's voice was the only clear thing in your mind, and you felt like you had just woken up from a very long nap. Your mind was hazy, and you focused on Ghost's eyes searching yours for any hint of remaining humanity. The last thing you remember: The target advancing toward you with a knife. That was it.

"Ghost, I- The target-" Your voice shook, and you finally took note of your surroundings. The target in question was long dead, sat against his wall, and his neck- "Oh, my God." As soon as your eyes set on the carnage in the room, Ghost wrapped his hand around your arm and began pulling you.

"No, don't look. Don't look." His hand came around your eyes, so the only think you could see was a slight hint of the blood-stained floor. Soap said nothing as Ghost led you out of the room, down the stairs, and into the freezing air. When you were outside, Ghost unclipped your helmet, and Soap rounded the corner.

"What the fuck was that massacre, Corpse?"

You wracked your brain for a good explanation, a hint of any memory that would allow you to explain something that you simply cannot remember, and you came up dead empty.

"I- I don't know, I can't remember." Your voice was small, almost lost to the wind blowing through the town. You had never seen Soap upset, and his response certainly wasn't helping your confusion.

"You don't know?" He looked at you incredulously. "You don't know how you... You tore open their throats?"

"No! I don't know! I can't remember!" You wished you could lie to him. You wished you could remember any minor detail of what happened, but after the target came at you, the only thing you remember is Ghost bringing you back.

The bright headlights of a familiar van approached, and you jumped at the sudden brightness.

"Soap, that's exfil. Get in the car and tell them to wait." Ghost's low tone was commanding, and Soap could only sigh and place himself in the passenger seat, undoubtedly already coming up with a mission report.

"Corpse, focus on me." Your eyes left the van, and Ghost had placed himself directly in front of you, so there was nowhere to look but in his eyes. "Do you or do you not remember what happened?" The intensity at which he spoke made you want to cry, the fear of disappointing him feeling real.

"No, I- I don't remember anything. All I can remember is him coming at me with a knife, and the other three guys, they said they would hurt you and Soap, and they wanted to take me somewhere else, but you told me to never go to a second location, and I just... I don't know."

"Hush, love, I believe ya. Did they hurt you?" His hand moved to grasp your bicep, and you looked down at the ground.

"No, I don't think so. I'm not sure."

Ghost sighed, and looked back at the vehicle.

"Right, then. We'll get ya checked out, just in case, okay? Come on." He began walking, but stopped when he realized you weren't following him.

"Ghost, did I-" You took a shaky breath, your question stuck in your throat. "Did I fuck up? Am I going to be kicked out?" Ghost stared at you, your question hanging in the air, until he took a step toward you.

"Corpse, you killed our target. And then some. You won't be kicked out for completing a mission. Price might tell you have to see some kind of psychiatrist or therapist, but that's it. That's all, I promise. Now, you're going to get in the van, we're going to go back to base, and you're gonna shower. Get to."

There was no arguing with Ghost, you knew that. You knew he was right, but that still didn't stop the little fire of annoyance lighting in your chest, and it was made worse that you didn't know what you were annoyed more by - The fact that he was so confident about the hypothetical outcome, or the thought of having to re-explain the situation to your Captain. You sighed as you wrenched open the back door of the car, the copper scent of your actions filling the enclosed space.

The ride back to base was quiet, the radio occasionally tuning in to a random station, speaking in a language you had no hope of understanding. The sun had begun to rise on the horizon, an orange glow cast on the landscape, and you sighed at the sun hitting your face, the feeling unmatched after being submerged in darkness for what felt like forever.

A few hours had passed, and Soap's snoring in the front seat was almost peaceful. You hadn't dared sneak a look at your Lieutenant - you weren't sure what curdled your heart more, the thought of him staring at you in disgust or disappointment, or worse, not at all. When the car passed through the security checkpoint for the base you called home, you couldn't seem to focus on one problem or thought at a time. Finally, the car stopped, and the growling engine cut off. Ghost gave Soap a rough shove to his shoulder, startling the man awake.

"Soap. Go." Ghost's voice seemed almost impossibly rougher after staying silent for hours. Soap cast you a remorseful look before exiting the vehicle, along with the driver. Anxiety held its place in the base of your throat, the scent of blood suddenly was drowning you, and your hands shook as you began to fidget with the seatbelt latch. "Corpse. Captain wants to speak with you."

Ha. You're fired. You're so fired. Your one passion, the one thing you know you were born to do-. "You're not in trouble. He just wants to know what happened." Ghost sighed, and pressed his thumb into the latch, releasing your seatbelt. "Damn it, soldier, fuckin' look at me when I talk to you." His voice immediately took on a harsher infliction, and you stared up at him, reminded of what exactly your relationship is to him - he is a Lieutenant, you are a Sergeant. Nothing more. "Obviously..." Ghost's eyes looked you up and down. "Get showered first." Your voice was barely above a whisper when you spoke.

"Yes, sir." When your boots made contact with the ground, it felt like the weight of... Everything collapsed on your shoulders. The sun felt too bright, your gear heavy and sticky, and Ghost's eyes boring holes into the back of your head all combined into the worst storm possible. You shook your head, your own eyes trained on the ground in front of you as you walked to your barracks. Just keep it together until you're alone. All you have to do is make it to your room. That's all. Don't fall apart until you're there.

Do not fall apart until you're there.

#ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #ghost fanfiction #modern warfare fanfiction

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foreststranger · 10 months

Text

VARIOUS - FORESTSTRANGER TRAIL MIX: I

ꜱᴛᴀʀʀɪɴɢ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ 『honkai: star rail』blade, jing yuan, gepard, luocha, sampo x gn!reader (seperate)

ᴘʀᴏᴍᴘᴛ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ how various HSR men feel/react being away from you for long periods of time.

𑁍 ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 0.7k

ɴᴏᴛᴇ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

↳ I DIDNT KNOW WHAT TO WRITE FOR SAMPO BC I DONT KNOW HOW TO WRITE HIM BUT I WANTED TO WRITE HIM 💔

ALSO, the texting part in this fic (sampo’s section) might be messed up on different screens (I know it works on an ipad bc that’s what i typed this on but i’m not sure about phones or browser/desktop)

ʙʟᴀᴅᴇ

𑁍 away a lot for Stellaron Hunter missions.

𑁍 he won’t call or text most of the time but will constantly have you on his mind.

𑁍 sometimes, he’ll just zone out while doing something because he’s thinking about you

↳ “Bladie? Are you in there?” Kafka snaps her fingers in front of his face, startling him slightly.

“What?” Blade’s eyes narrow at her. As if she’s woken him from a blissful dream.

“You were thinking about someone, weren’t you?” A knowing grin crosses her face.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ ALSO

𑁍 in my (correct) opinion, Blade has a super low social battery and as much as he likes being around you and how you make him feel, it just becomes too much for him sometimes (not projecting at all).

𑁍 you just won’t see or have any contact with him for a week or so sometimes and then he’ll pop up again.

𑁍 he usually just wanders around the Luofu when he wants to be alone.

𑁍 comes up with ideas for what he might do to make it up to you for disappearing again when he’s ready to talk to you.

↳ “Blade, you know you don’t have to do that for me! I get that you just want to be alone. You dont have to ‘make it up to me’ or anything. Maybe tell me next time, though, please?”

“…I understand.” He nods with his eyes shut.

ᴊɪɴɢ ʏᴜᴀɴ

𑁍 off doing General things because he’s the General (surprise).

𑁍 texts you almost every day to check up on you and sometimes invites you into the Seat of Divine Foresight just to hang out (“hang out” as in you sit on his lap while he blankly stares at scrolls on his table).

𑁍 literally only wants to be with you all the time (“be with you all the time” as in napping and snuggling with you when he’s supposed to be working) but you tell him that he has to do his work because it’s important and people depend on him and blah blah.

𑁍 but almost every time, you can’t resist when he begs you to stay with him in his office for just a little longer.

↳ “Jing Yuan, I should really get going. You have stuff to do and-“

“[name], please, humour me. Would you stay for just another minute?” He pouts slightly, looking at you with pleading eyes just as you were about to head to the door. The look he gives… how could you say no? You wouldn’t be there for long, anyway. Just another minute, he said.

“…Fine.”

ɢᴇᴘᴀʀᴅ

𑁍 the Captain of the Silvermane Guards is a busy man but he always makes time for you.

𑁍 will come find you on his lunch breaks so he can take you out to eat.

𑁍 if he’s been away for especially long, he often can’t focus on his work because of how much he wants to see you again.

𑁍 he knows that as the captain, he should be setting a good example to his subordinates, but he can’t help but always think of you. it’s getting to the point where it’s embarrassing.

↳ “Captain! You’re here!” At the sound of Dunn’s voice, Gepard quickly jumps up from his seat, his face completely red as if caught doing something he shouldn’t be (daydreaming about you).

“Uh… Captain? Are you okay?” Dunn approaches, worried that something’s wrong.

“Y-yeah. Yes, yes, I’m fine. What’s the issue?” Gepard’s voice is shaky as he tries to get ahold of himself.

ʟᴜᴏᴄʜᴀ

𑁍 definitely sends you letters while away on business. he finds them more heartfelt than a text message and you find them endearing.

𑁍 he collects trinkets/things he’ll think you like and give them to you when he comes back (akduanaisuahka I love him).

↳ “To my dear [name],

I hope you’re doing well. Work has been difficult and I miss you so much.

Don’t worry though. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Yesterday, I found a collection of books I thought you’d like on sale. I cannot wait to give them to you when I return.

I’ll write again soon, [name]. I love you.

𝐿𝓊𝑜𝒸𝒽𝒶”

ꜱᴀᴍᴘᴏ

𑁍 spam texts you like a hundred times a day just for the sake of interacting with you.

𑁍 accidentally sends you “business offers” instead of sending them to his clients lmaoo.

𑁍 never tells you when he’ll be back so he can surprise you.

↳

Sampo: Heyyyy fam

I was wondering

Do you wanna make an investment?

No?? :You

Sampo: ???

sorry

wrong person

Ignore what I said

Why? :You

Wait!!!!

What if I want to make the investment?

Sampo has gone offline

ask before translating, taking inspo from (not copy), reposting, etc. my work. remember to credit me and if you’re taking inspo from it, please @ me as I’d like to see what you do with my ideas!

#honkai: star rail #honkai star rail #blade x reader #sampo x reader #gepard x reader #jing yuan x reader #luocha x reader #.forestfics ☆

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cherriteaa · 4 months

Text

kazutora x his gorgeous gf ⭒˚｡⋆✩₊˚.

Kazutora x Black fem reader

for my 🦌anon ♡

Contents: Fluff!

(not proofread)

Kazutora is a roses man. I think he's grateful every day that he has you. He's infatuated with you (which may be issues sometimes), and will try every romantic trick in the book to woo you. He's afraid of you losing interest, or becoming unhappy with him. He knows it's wrong to 'buy' love, but he doesn't see it that way. He will try all types of handmade gifts, dates, and just visiting you. It stems from his parental issues. Just be patient and be sure to communicate with him. Kindly. It'll take loads of stress off of him. He's quite possessive and likes for you to wear his stuff (his other matching earring), shirts, and even getting your hair done in colors like him. He likes for others to know that you're his.

He loves to take care of you, even at the expense of himself. If he skips buying lunch for 2 days, can he pay for you to get your nails done? Matter of fact, can he learn how to do your nails? He can spend way more time with you that way. There's an expensive necklace you saw on tiktok and he's immediately trying to figure out how to get it for you, even at the expense of scamming people or stealing. A talk or two with him about it will set him straight though. If his lover doesn't want him to steal, he will not. Makes sure you eat at least once a day. He worries about you and your wellbeing a lot. Even just around him. He tries to be overly gentle. He knows what he's capable of, and he's secretly terrified of hurting you. He doesn’t want to be like his father. And he stresses that point. You are the MOST important thing to him. In fact, the best thing to ever happen to him. In his mind, it's like putting a rabid stray dog in charge of carefully handling a glass flower.

He's both super affectionate and super unsure of himself. He's a little nervous of coming off as annoying to you? Sometimes he just wants to reach over and cup your face, or wrap his arms around you but he's somewhat hesitant. While he likes the idea of romance with you, he's also spent so much time despising people who have good connections. It's like an out of body experience when he first got with you and tried to be gentle, since he's unused to it. If you pay attention to him, his body will almost stutter as he tries to figure out what to do. A little guidance will do him good. However, he's addicted to your touch. It's been such a long time since he's had tender innocent love that when he first gets it, he's skeptical. But from them on, he's hooked.

LECTURE HIM BEFORE YOU BRING HIM HOME TO YOUR PARENTS AND FAMILY GOOD GOD. TELL HIM TO BEHAVE. TELL HIM TELL HIM TELL HIM. I will leave it at that.

He likes to just...watch you sometimes. You can never tell what's going in his head, but when you're doing simple domestic things, it's not odd for him to just watch you for a bit before getting up to give you kisses. Especially doing hair. He’s not super skilled at it, but if you guide him, he’s willing to help. He’s just afraid of hurting you.

He hates and I mean hates to see you hurt. It’s something about injuries on someone he loves so much that makes him cave in on himself. He will tend to your wounds and then spoil you a little more than normal after. He’s very invested in whatever you’re into at the time. If you like superhero stuff, he’s watching movies with you, listening to you rant, ect ect. The same with anything, even if its a very uncommon interest. He’s not really the type to judge

He’s the type that leaves a million reels in your fucking instagram dms. His sleep schedule is really weird, and he takes a lot of naps. Often, he likes to ft you when he naps or meet you irl for a nap date.

A/N: I was supposed to post this yesterday…..Oops. Anyways, Kazutora hc’s for my lovely 🦌anon. I tried to tap in to some issues he might have bc of the not too good backstory he has w his parents, and the way their relationship affected him. I think some gentle love and hella communication will get him right tho. Also I typed this on my Ipad so I hope the formatting isn’t too weird?

Reblogs, Requests and Comments are appreciated!

My requests are : Open!

#🍒writes #kazutora hanemiya #kazutora x reader #kazutora x black reader #kazutora fluff #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x black reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x reader #kazutora x you #tr x reader #tr x black reader

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cupid-styles · 6 months

Note

omg ok so blurb idea for ginger ale bc u said u needed inspo

i know u kinda already touched up on this in the main story but what if mias like completely drained from school like its exam season and she has to study but shes also somehow failing classes even tho she studied and is swamped with work but cant get up to do anything bc shes panicking and stuff and idk maybe she pushes him away bc shes freaked out and hes like huh bc she never snaps at him like that bla bla and then some angst and fluff and comfort 😭

im so sorry this wasnt supposed to be that long but inspiration struck😭💀obviously u dont have to write it jus a suggestion

omg LOVE THIS!!!!! here's a little something for you :))

word count: 1.7k

content warnings: angst (all is solved in the end), harry being a dummy, age gap romance (8 years)

based on this one-shot!

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

Harry has never seen Mia so exhausted before.

Granted, they've only been officially dating for a few months, but she's typically a relatively organized student. It's something that he's always admired about her — he can think back to his days in university and immediately remembers scattered deadlines and far too many hungover mornings, resulting in constantly missing classes.

Then again, he's never seen her during finals season, and it's apparent that she's feeling the impact of papers, exams, and one too many late nights spent studying.

Because of the nature of their lives, finding time to spend with one another without work or school is often difficult. It's important to Harry that they actively set aside an evening or two each week that's just for them. No discussion of board meetings, lectures, or any stressors — he likes to keep it simple with a delicious and filling meal, a movie on the TV (whether or not they watch it is a separate factor), and his girl nestled into his side.

But for the first time ever, Mia's texting him to cancel.

Under any other ordinary circumstance, he'd be more understanding. Truly. But it's been almost a week since he's seen her, and he's feeling... well, needy. He misses her! And he knows that distance is good, blah blah blah, but this is their time — and it feels like she's just brushing him off, as if he barely matters.

It's why he ends up calling her on his way home from work with Reese driving smoothly and calmly up in the front. Harry drums his fingers against his knee as he listens to the dial tone, a frown on his lips as he waits for her to answer.

"Hello?"

Relief washes over his chest despite her anxiety-ridden tone. "Hey, I'm heading home from work. Do you want me to have Reese come pick you up?"

She sighs frustratedly, "Harry, I just texted you that I can't come over tonight. I have to study."

"You can't give up a few hours to spend with your boyfriend?" he fires back, an accusatory edge to his voice, "I've barely seen you lately."

"You've been in school before, H, you know how stressful exams season is. I need to do well."

"Mi, you're the smartest person I know, you'll be fine if you take some time away from—"

"I won't be, actually," she suddenly snaps. "I'm already failing one of my most important classes and if I don't get at least a B+ on the final, I'll have to retake it next semester. So no, I can't just slack off for a few hours, I need to study, Harry."

Immediately, he pauses. Mia has never gotten angry with him before, vice versa. And he doesn't think he's being particularly unreasonable — if anything, he feels she is — but he's mature enough to know that nothing's getting solved in this conversation. Not when she's clearly tired and stressed. Instead, he opts for the more caring-boyfriend-approach.

"I didn't know you were failing a course. Why didn't you ask for help?"

"Because you can't solve everything!" Mia exclaims, sending a pang of hurt rattling through his chest. "I need to go, alright? I'll see you soon."

With that, the line goes dead.

. . .

Even when Mia falls asleep on her couch, textbook in her lap and a highlighter between her fingers, she can't believe Harry.

The next morning, when she has a persistent ache in her neck and her back feels like it's broken in two, she knows school isn't the only stressful thing her body's responding to.

She thinks dating an older guy is great. Dating Harry is great. Until moments like this, when he somehow forgets that people — including his girlfriend — need to work to get certain things in life, and that they won't just be given an entire company a month after graduation. She doesn't doubt that he understands that on some level, but from the perspective of a partner — well, she thinks he's being pretty insensitive.

Her fingers twitch at her sides in class as she tries her best to pay attention, wanting nothing more to grab her phone from her bag to see if he's texted her. Midway through the day, though, there's still nothing. She can't believe he still hasn't apologized for how he acted the previous night, and it only makes anger fester in her chest even more.

Finally, by the time she trudges home in the cold (December is nearing, and with that comes miserable gusts of wind and flurries of snow), she's had it with his silent treatment. She's barely through the door when she decides that she'll be the one to break the tension — only, when she kicks her shoes off at the door, she notices that her kitchen and living room lights are on, and she surely turned them off before heading out this morning.

Gripping her phone in her hand, she quietly tip-toes out of the entryway, nervous that there's some sort of... homely intruder eating her snacks or watching TV. Instead, she gasps out in shock, clutching her chest when her eyes fall on none other than Harry.

"What the fuck?!" Mia exclaims, her heart thumping quickly with anxiety. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you."

She squints her eyes, feeling her eyebrows nearly shoot up to her forehead. "So you call. Or text. Not break into my house!"

"You gave me a spare key, Mia—"

"That's for emergencies!" she shouts, suddenly feeling like the living room is slowly getting smaller and closing in on her.

"But you never would've let me come over—"

"Harry, I was literally about to call you when I walked in the door. I'm still mad at you for last night! And you're only making me angrier by being here!"

Tears well up in her eyes as she spits the words out at him. She never thought she'd be in this position with him — it hurts her to even verbalize her anger.

"Wait," Harry stands from the couch, a furrow in his brows as he crosses his arms over the button-up he likely wore to work today, "You're mad at me?"

Mia stares back at him like he has two heads.

"Yes," she slowly replies. "Do not tell me you're mad at me."

His throat bobs. "Yeah. I am."

"For what?!" her anger festers in her chest all over again, exploding like an overflowing pot of boiling water.

"You— you haven't been around lately. You haven't been spending time with me or treating me like a priority."

She squints her eyes, her fingertips finding her temples as an ache begins to settle at the sides of her head. With a shake of her head, she turns around, stomping back towards the entryway of her apartment.

"You need to go," she decides, not even bothering to shed her jacket off yet, "I can't talk to you right now. You're being incredibly unreasonable."

"So you just want to walk away, then? We're not gonna solve anything, we're just gonna keep ignoring each other?"

"I was never ignoring you! I was waiting for you to apologize to me, only to find out that you think I'm in the wrong!"

Harry scoffs as he follows her down the hallway. "Well, I'm not leaving. I want to fix things. And I'm not going until we do."

"Is your approach to annoy me into apologizing?" Mia snaps.

"No," he mutters with a roll of his eyes, "Maybe we're both just being emotional."

She shrugs her shoulders.

"Do you still want me to go?"

Mia shifts her stance from foot to foot. With a noisy sigh, she shakes her head before mumbling out, "No. Let's just... talk about it."

He nods. There's a silence lulling between them as she stands with her back pressed against the wall, stubbornness apparent as she crosses her arms over her chest. He swallows and rolls his lips into a thin line.

"I'm sorry for coming over unannounced. That was very immature of me and crossing a boundary. I wasn't thinking, I just wanted to see you."

She keeps her eyes on the floor. "I just wish you'd texted or called instead. I waited all day to hear from you."

"I'm sorry," Harry repeats, his sock-clad feet taking a hesitant step closer to her, "It makes me feel stupid, how needy I can get. I know we're both busy with our own lives but I adore you, Mi. And I hate being away from you."

"I hate it, too," she mumbles, her bottom lip slightly pouted. "And you're not stupid for being needy... I just need you to understand that I'm working hard trying to get my education, and I need you to respect when I'm stressed or busy."

"I will. I'll do better."

She glances up to look at him. He looks tired, his eyes sad. With a quiet sigh, she lifts her hand to press her palm against his warm cheek. The prickles of his facial hair serve as a harsh juxtaposition from the soft skin beneath.

"I'm sorry, too. I never want you to feel like I don't care or I don't want to be with you. I just get so overwhelmed."

"I understand," Harry coos, wrapping a hand around her wrist to bring it to his mouth. He presses light kisses into her palm. "I know you care. I have to work on being more secure in our relationship."

Mia hums at his kisses, his gentle nature a welcomed change from their arguing.

"You know, you could always move closer," she murmurs with a smirk. He chuckles.

"Yeah. Or you could always just move in."

She rolls her eyes, "Then I'd really never get any work done."

"Mm, but think about how nice it'd be," he mumbles, slipping an arm around her waist to pull her closer. "I'd cook you dinner all the time, bring you snacks and tea while you study... you'd have your own office, of course. We could get a dog or a cat, too. Share a bed every night... you wouldn't have to use travel sizes of all your skincare stuff either, because everything would be there already."

She smiles to herself as she leans her head on his shoulder. The thought is nice. So nice. But they both know it's too early in their relationship, regardless of how deeply they feel for one another. Maybe it's a dream to work up to — a sweet, domestic life together.

"And you know what would be the best part?" she asks, brushing her lips up against the shell of his ear.

"Hm?"

"I'd get to use your heated bathroom floors every day."

#bestie asks #this took FOREVER #sorrrryyyy hehe #sugar daddy h #writing

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hvllowheart · 6 months

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hi! regarding your last post about abandoning projects, do you have any advice for overcoming that?

I do!

1. Write something you're passionate about.

Now, I get that everyone constantly says that, and you'll think, "that tells me absolutely nothing" bc passion can only get you so far and usually fluctuates a lot. It's something I've started to realize happens to me. One day I wake up and have a new idea I love and think "wow this is gonna be a piece of cake to finish" despite me knowing it's going to entail a lot of planning and once I get the inital idea out of the way and get to that planning stage my attention for the project... dies.

What I mean with that is to write something you're passionate about is that you shouldn't write something into the project you feel like others will like. Or if it's a project with tropes in it, that you have to follow those to the T.

If an idea is boring, don't write it.

If you have a cool idea that might not fit the vibe entirely, write it down. Keep it in mind for later when it could fit the vibe better.

Incorporate as many things you love as you like and then worry about how the broader plot can shape around them.

2. Don't write in order of what's supposed to happen.

I know it'll make you feel better to feel like you have a clear point A to B but truth is, some parts are going to be extremely boring to write. You won't want to write all about the logistics of a scene happening right that moment or the spicy dialogue that carries the scene bc you're way more focused on another detail that drew you to write a particular scene.

In those cases, I usually just put whatever is supposed to happen in brackets [insert car chase here] and move on the bits I'm excited to get to. You might wake up a couple of days later thinking you want to revisit that car chase scene and write it all in one go now that you've stopped obsessing over a different scene you cared for before.

3. Make the experience more fun for yourself.

If you feel like you're burning out and losing steam from writing and planning the project, take a step back and do something else.

If I still feel like doing something with the project that isn't necessarily write it, I tend to end up making edits or a playlist or looking for inspiration pictures that might give me an idea of a new setting or what a character will look like. And that's what usually keeps my brain working and thinking about the plot.

As soon as another idea pops into my head bc of the space I took not writing the projects itself, I write it down and get reinspired to work on it.

4. Look for inspiration.

As mentioned in 3., I can't recommend enough to look for inspiration in pictures or boards on pinterest or a song or a quote you really love. Trust me, seeing a cool picture or reading a quote that immediately makes you think of a specific character makes you itch to get back to writing.

It also allows your writing to grow when you take the time to look for inspiration. Writing everything in one go might make you feel productive but the quality could potentially decline the longer you're at it and when you come back to it you'll ask yourself what the hell you were on writing some of the stuff. So taking that time, finding new locations/side characters/some dialogue snippets you could incorporate, will make you feel excited to actually see those ideas and inspirations become part of your project.

5. Take breaks.

This is another one of those things you always hear and think, "that's what leads me to abandon it in the first place??" and while I agree (been there) It's also important not to get burned out by the project.

The breaks shouldn't span entire weeks, of course, but don't beat yourself up when you can't get to the project for a couple of days bc of life happening or something else being more interesting.

Taking those breaks ensures you not only build anticipation, but it also let's the project breathe and allows you the space, to again, think of the broader plot or a specific scene that could be cool to incorporate.

6. Find someone to talk about the project with.

In our day and age, we're lucky to have such big writer communities. Chances are, someone out there will get aboslute brain rot from the project you're working on. Talking to people like that will not only allow you to have someone to bounce ideas off of, but it'll also keep you focused and in a way, hold you accountable to actually see it get to a point you can and want to share more.

Starting up a WIP blog, like the one I and many others have, or a writerblr blog will attract people to the idea and have them reach out to ask questions that again keep you thinking about fun parts of the project and develope the idea.

I have a friend I constantly talk to about every idea he and I get. Not all of them ever see the light of day, but we talk about them, send ideas we think could be cool, and write small snippets of scenes bc we are excited about the project. That not only gets you to a starting point, but also makes the planning way smoother and means you're getting instant feedback.

And that's what usually gets you to write more instead of watching your project collect dust in the drafts.

7. Write every single idea down.

This is also something everyone says, but it's true. Chances are, you forget the idea and kick yourself for it later or you think it won't be as good as you imagine it and then you have a missing scene you don't know what to do with where that idea could have fit.

Sometimes, usually just before bed for me, I get ideas, and since I have my phone close by, I just open the notes app, write down the snippet of a conversation I just thought of or a cool detail I'll add when I get back to the file and BOOM I have the next plot point figured out without actively forcing myself to sit in front of the computer and thinking "what is supposed to happen now??"

Even if the idea is silly or seems wack, I can't recommend writing it down enough. You'll thank yourself for it and in a way train yourself into passively thinking about what could happen next.

I have a dedicated page in my files just for random ideas I got in the middle of the night and while some will not make it into the draft itself, it's still fun to think about them or even write a short scene involving the idea just to see where it goes. Maybe it'll inspire you to take your project into a new exciting direction, too!

8. Don't obsess over word counts/progress made.

It's a recent shift I've noticed, where people obsessively focus on how long a scene/chapter is. Like one being 5k long means it's somehow better than a scene that's only a couple hundred words long, but concise and has the kind of structure that keeps you engaged.

If you feel like a scene is done and you're happy with it, even if it's short, leave it. Maybe you'll come back to it and add more, but maybe you'll realize it's perfect the way it is and doesn't need unnecessary details added.

9. Don't get lost in the details.

This is something I've neen prone to do. Obsessing over a single detail or scene to the point that working on it becomes exhausting because I couldn't move on.

It's what kills your drive to write on the project fairly quickly and relates to the point I made to just put whatever is supposed to happen in brackets to revisit later.

The details are usually what make the story feel personalized, but it's also so easy to get lost in them. Writing the broader scene down and revisiting it sometime later to add those details is going to keep you writing and engaged with what you want to make the project into.

10. It's YOUR project, don't forget that.

Sometimes I've started things I thought were fics or stories I'd love to explore only to realize I'm not the best writer for those or that the writing part just isn't as fun as I hoped it could be.

You need to be aware of when to cut your losses. If the project starts to feel more like a drag than what you initially started with, scrap it OR, and this is something I've started to seriously do, is to rewrite/re-plot it from the beginning.

It is time-consuming, but you'll feel better for it in the long run if you take the bits you like and forget the ones you don't and build the project anew. It's tedious but really rewarding once you manage to get to the parts that were there before discouraging you from finishing the project in the first place. And the most important thing is that you're happy with your project.

♡

Of course, what works for me might not work for others, but those are some of the broader things I can recommend you try :) I hope I was able to help a little!

#asks #writing advice #kind of??#this is so long help #long post

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atthebell · 5 months

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what happened w bolas today i was busy touching grass

tldr cellbit and baghs were hunkered down underground after the nuke went off and the watcher tasked them with fucking with the purgatory 2 participants-- it gave them op gear and set them loose on everyone and they ran around trying to (and occasionally succeeding at) killing people

important roleplay moments:

they said they'd been relying on each other to cope with the loss of the eggs & their loved ones (they both believe all the eggs died in the earthquake/because of the nuke and got mad at bad for trying to tell them otherwise)

they're somewhat listless and, in OG bolas fashion, set in the idea that this is the only option, so they want to follow whatever actions the eye/watcher gives them, as it's kept them alive and gives them things to do and they desperately need direction.

baghera killed brunim for having phil's face but not actually being him (iconic)

cellbit had several fun fuga throwback moments with pac and jvnq, and he got into it with natalan who claimed he'd been married to roier before (somewhat true in chafa lore (they were married for about five seconds and natalan Did Not Reciprocate roier's feelings) but not accurate to his own actual interest in the relationship, clearly said to piss cellbit off, we'll see if it comes up with qroier and whether he considers chafa canon to his character or not)

baghera's chainsaw wants to eat people tbh baghera popped off as she always does with the craziness fr pls watch her pov the way she killed bagi was so fucking funny

at the end they were led to a different place with a sharestone that had an error, and found the camp where richas and pomme had been staying when they were on egg island. they read a bunch of their signs, checked out their little house, and talked about missing their kids and how they wish they could've saved them (again, in rp they both believe the eggs are dead, and when seeing evidence to the contrary seemed confused. i think this was partly them genuinely believing the kids are dead and also bc they dont want to use their meta-knowledge that the eggs ARE alive when they're not supposed to know that).

they decided to go to bed, but the watcher told them they had one last mission-- to kill all the sinners. and then it gave them a sharestone back to the bolas bunker. they decided to go to bed anyway and ignored the mission. the watcher may have wanted them to kill each other, unclear exactly what the deal was

not clear if they're going to be back later this week to fuck with participants again or not-- i got the vibe of not really, but we'll see. they might return but do something different, cellbit said something about wondering if their gear was too op or not, but i don't know if he meant they'll be back and he wants to make sure they talk to admins about nerfing them a bit or if he just was chatting about it a little bit

also cellbit went live on his alt and talked a bit of meta, and said they sent some ideas to the admins and then were told they'd work something up but wanted to surprise them on the specifics. he talked about it being more rp than lore, and that purgatory 2 doesnt have to be entirely canon if people don't want it to be.

#asks #quackitytheduck #you can go through my clips tag to see some of these #or just the qpurg tag generally although i know i rb shit like a crazy person #bolas is back

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merakiui · 1 year

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what if darling randomly choses floyd at those husband selections bc they think ‘eh, he cant be that bad’ (he is very bad)

(cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, female reader, apocalypse logic, mentions of pregnancy/breeding, misogyny)

Floyd is an interesting case because whether or not he’ll agree to being chosen is solely mood dependent. If he’s not feeling it, he’ll just shrug you off and that’ll be that. But you’re the first bride to have enough courage to choose him, so either you’re fearless or you just like to toe the line of danger. Or you have no idea what he’s like.

He’s carefree about the entire selection, even though it’s supposed to be this really important thing, his thumbs hooked in his pockets when you point at him and say that he’s the one you want. “‘Kay,” he’ll agree without much hesitation, shrugging nonchalantly. Azul has told him that he ought to be a little more conscious about selections and what they mean, but Floyd doesn’t care. So what if the population’s on the decline? What’s that got to do with him?

The walk through the compound back to his lodging is when Floyd begins his curious, unfiltered questionnaire. He may be disinterested in the process, but that doesn’t mean he’s disinterested in you. No one ever picks him—not that he’s saddened by that. He could care less, but you’re interesting and he wants to know more.

“What do ya get out of pickin’ me, shrimpy? Can’t just be because it’s me.”

You blink at him. Wasn’t he the one who should already be well aware of that? You broach the subject as simply as you can, not because you’re awkward about it but because you genuinely have no idea how to tell him that the entire purpose of selections is to pair two individuals together for the sake of breeding. He’s nodding as you speak, looking you over more closely while he walks, mismatched eyes searching for something.

“So ya wanna be fucked full, yeah?”

Well, at least he catches on quick. Floyd’s rather vulgar about the entire thing, but that’s always been his normal. He doesn’t blush or get flustered by things like sex or nudity. Why should he? That’s just a part of life. You think he might be easier to deal with, blunt honesty and all, and that you might be able to get this over with sooner than expected. But to your surprise he tells you that he’s not really feeling it and that he’d rather just go back to sleep instead. You have no idea what’s up with the sudden shift in tone. He was disinterested before, but now he’s gone apathetic, yawning not-so-subtly and going on about how it’s so lame Jade woke him up early for this.

You follow him all the way back to his bedroom because you have nowhere else to go, and when you tell him that you’re meant to stay with him he just shrugs and opens his door for you. His room is a mess, dirty clothes lying discarded in piles, snacks both opened and unopened scattered throughout, and his bed is an entanglement of sheets and blankets. Maybe you really should go back to the bride dormitory; you suspect anything would be better than this. But Floyd’s already flopped onto his bed, slipping into slumber rather quickly, and now you’re left alone in an unfamiliar, filthy space. For a while you just pace to and fro, reviewing the pros and cons of this arrangement. But then pacing becomes boring and so you busy yourself with looking around at your messy surroundings. You’re not sure what compels you to start gathering dirty laundry, but once you’ve set yourself into cleaning mode you can’t stop.

Floyd wakes to watch you do this, lying propped on his elbow as his eyes follow you. “Shrimpy likes clean stuff, huh?”

“Well, I don’t like unclean stuff,” you reply, a basket already filled with clothes that need washing.

Floyd giggles like it’s a funny retort, his eyes crinkling with mirth. “Guess not.”

And that’s how your bond starts, with you acting as Floyd’s little maid and he acting as…Floyd. He never complains about it. He never objects when you ask him to get up so you can strip the bed, but he does make it very difficult for you, sometimes intent on remaining in bed just to see what you’ll do. He’s always smiling, whether in amusement or something else you can’t quite say. He seems to enjoy teasing you, sometimes knocking something onto the floor so that you can pick it up or clean. He’ll stare at the way you’re bent down and, weeks into a very strange relationship, he finally realizes he could just make you his personal stress relief. Teasing you was relief enough, but it’s always boring relieving himself in other ways, where he just has his hand to rely on.

Floyd doesn’t tiptoe around what he wants. He’ll look at you with lidded eyes, a smirk sprawling across his lips, while he tells you there’s another spot you’ve yet to clean. Obviously he means his dick; you’ll have no choice but to agree to get on your knees for him. That’s basically what you’re meant to do, right? You’re just a hole for him to use whenever he wants. And though it’s demeaning to hear such things, it’s the unfortunate truth.

What’s strange about Floyd is that he knows what’s meant to come out of this partnership, but he never really considers much about your futures. Instead, he’ll use you for his own enjoyment. You essentially become his sex toy. For a while that’s all he treats you as. He’s always feeling you up, always wanting to bite and mark you. He has lots of fun with this newfound relationship. Between lots of sex (he’s oddly good at pulling out right before he cums), there are a few moments where he’s tender. He cooks most of his meals himself, using the kitchen that he and Jade share in their lodging, and he’s brought you a tray of breakfast one morning when you were too exhausted and sore to get up. He even feeds you; how sweet. Floyd’s hard to read sometimes. When he isn’t muttering filth while he fucks you into the mattress or against the wall or in the bath, he’s fawning over his shrimpy. He’s getting attached in more ways than one, and now it’s getting harder for him to really look at you as he has before.

Floyd is possessive. He’ll mark you in bruises and bites so that everyone will know you have a husband who fucks you better than anyone else in this compound possibly can. If anyone stares too long at you, he’ll grip your chin and yank you into a heated kiss of teeth and tongue to show the poor soul that you’re off the market. And if anyone thinks to touch you… Floyd’s beaten people bloody for saying vulgar things about you, for trying to touch you, for looking at you wrongfully. He can’t explain it, but it really frustrates him when people do this. You’re his shrimpy. You’re his bride. You’re all his and no one else’s, so everyone who tries to get between the two of you can get lost.

Floyd tends to fidget when you aren’t with him. He’s bored easily and very restless. He hates when you have those usual health check-ups and he’s not permitted to accompany you, and he hates when the doctors imply that it’s surprising you haven’t gotten pregnant yet. He’ll fuck a baby into you when he wants; everyone needs to lay off. Can’t he just fuck you for the fun of it? Apparently not because you’re one of the rare instances where you’re not immediately knocked up after a selection. Somehow that makes Floyd smug. Those doctors can keep hounding him all they want. It’ll just make him not want to do it even more.

But then he truly thinks about it in the days following that check-up. You’d look so soft and cute if your belly was all stuffed and rounded, and he’d get to cook so much for you. Floyd considers it when he’s doing his usual rounds for Azul and you’re not there to entertain him. Even thinking about it has him hard and aching. He wonders if you’d let him fuck you while you were a few months along. Maybe you’d let him do anything if you were needy enough. And if you were pregnant, you’d really become his.

The next time you’re under Floyd he looks at you differently. It’s difficult to place an emotion to his stare because he looks so focused when his eyes rove over your chest and he leans down to bite along your collarbone and shoulder. “I’m gonna breed ya good,” he’s mumbling into your skin as though it’s a prayer. “Gonna make ya a mommy.”

You don’t have much of a say in that matter, but when you’re too sex-brained to think of anything else pregnancy seems like less of an obligation and more like a dream come true.

#twisted chit chat #yandere twst #twst apocalypse au #tw: pregnancy #tw: breeding #tw: misogyny #n/sfw

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zhouxiangs · 2 months

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i saw that you're currently reading my stand-in novel but you're not really spoiling anything. how are you finding it so far if i may ask? is it as angsty as people say it is?

(i waited until the end of the day to answer this because as i thought i've already finished the novel, so much for self-restraint lol also sorry this got a bit long... oops?)

i enjoyed it a lot! and it made me get over my reading slump, so i will even excuse it getting into some tropes i'm not particularly fond of at the end. it got cheesy…er, and not even in a way i like. amazingly, that didn't make me like it any less.

from the synopsis of the series and the tags in novel updates (and i only skimmed those because i didn't want to get spoiled) i had a pretty good idea of what the novel was going to be like, which is why i decided not to really liveblog since, transmigration aside, i'd say it's a pretty straightforward story. i could be persuaded to make a recap if there's interest though, since there's still over three weeks left until the series starts airing and i'm probably going to go over everything again and take notes anyway...

and oh, is it angsty! the whole thing hinges on zhou xiang (joe) being a sweet angel baby and yan mingxiu (ming) being a fucking idiot, and it's pretty much what you can expect from any dogblood/makjang with the scum ml, misunderstandings, heartbreak, regrets, etc. i have to say i'm not usually a fan of the misunderstanding trope bc i tend to find it annoying, but as with most tropes i don't particularly enjoy it's because of the way i often see it done. here it was painful for everyone involved, so i really liked it. also, please keep in mind that i'm a huge fan of big character development and characters redeeming themselves, so. there's that. wink wonk. (i've been reading some reviews and think for some people it may be best to know what kind of story this is before going in, other than because of triggers–which, very important if you need them, at least in the novel–because of the whole. scum ml more than anything lol even though yan mingxiu is not that scummy really!)

i love my stories character-driven, so having them being this well fleshed out and compelling was a joy, and being able to see so clearly what both zhou xiang and yan mingxiu were thinking and feeling, sometimes a lot earlier than they themselves could (please bl gods keep at least some of the internal monologue in the series, i am begging), was soooooo ugh. you're supposed to hate yan mingxiu allegedly but i just couldn't, not even in his scum era, because he was so obvious and so oblivious and so set in his own ideas he kept gaslighting himself into not noticing things. this could have gotten frustrating pretty easily, but again, everything feed into the delicious, delicious suffering. that being said, and because it doesn't seem to be a popular opinion... i think it's important to empathise with both of them, or at least sympathise, for maximum enjoyment of all that angst. you cannot cry over yan mingxiu's pain if you want him to get hit by a bus.

oh and the relationships (not only the cp's, though their progression is really good) are very important in this story, which is something i hope we get to see more of in the series because i ended up missing certain side characters in the later chapters. not tan yin though, i hope that fuck ass didn't make it into the series. how is a character so annoying while being in maybe six scenes total.

i can't say if it's good or not but it was extremely enjoyable, zhou xiang is my sweet darling angel baby, yan mingxiu is okay too (if you see me in the trenches defending him in about a month…), and i can't believe i am now, somehow, even more excited for my stand-in.

#professional body double #my stand in #my stand in the series #asks #anon #didn't get into any specifics bc everything i would have said is a spoiler yippee #so yeah i didn't want to spoil anything so this is kinda . but feel free to ask anything!#my fav character is zhou xiang my fav character development is also zhou xiang's #again not to spoil but: aaaa #tan yin can come if he gets reworked to hell and back and kisses lan xirong btw #i have a weirdly specific wishlist for him now #and by 'him' i mean lan xirong

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ovaruling · 4 months

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You made a post earlier about how you are feeding stray cats. Since it seems like you're very concerned about the environment I wonder why you are doing this. Aren't stray/outdoor cats horrible for the environment? Mostly because they kill animals that are actually important for nature like birds and rodents. Not trying to be rude just wondering why you think feeding them is a good idea, because it's basically helping a population that has no place in nature and does nothing but harm.

look, i’m not without my weaknesses—i can’t look at a starving stray cat and not feed it. maybe others can, but i can’t. i never claimed to be a paragon.

however, i must clarify something and also point out that i think im doing my part more than your average stray-feeder—i spend 1-2 hours each day trying to trap the cats. every day, from 4-5pm and sometimes later. i drop what im doing to spend time on it.

i have a folding chair to sit on and stake them out, a new implement of a bathroom mirror from a construction site that i set up next to the feeding station (to see the cats without startling them), and a large dog crate in which i put the food.

i recently caught 2 of the said stray cats last week and had them fixed and they will no longer be contributing to the environmental decline, nor will they ever produce litters. i’m working on a third.

i feed on my own property and i have caught and fixed and thus removed from the environment approximately 20 or more cats since i was like, i can’t remember—10, 11, 12. somewhere around there—i was in some degree of childhood when i started. i still use the same large dog crates i had back then to catch them. it takes weeks, sometimes months. sometimes a year or more in the case of my toughest one, an aggressive feral male who was causing issues in the neighborhood and who is now my housecat and best friend and wreaks no more havoc. i didn’t give up on him and it ended up being for the better bc no one else was going to give enough of a shit to spend the time it was going to take to catch him. (i’ve said this before but, i had to go on 3 rounds of antibiotics bc he kept biting me horribly every time i tried to catch him)

all this to say: my success in catching stray cats is owed largely to my patience and my willingness to spend hours gaining their trust by feeding them and having them associate my presence with food and fresh water.

so i know it’s not without criticism to feed them, but i do put in hours and hours each week feeding these strays specifically to try to catch them—and i often succeed. (edit: i don’t always. there are a few cats i don’t know if i’ll ever be able to catch, but i won’t stop trying.)

this is what ive been doing my whole life and i will continue to try to make an impact on my local environment in this unique way. i don’t expect others to understand my methods and the specific way that i do things (it’s different for each cat depending on how i assess their personality and needs and habits etc etc), but the fact that i’ve removed 20 or more strays from my neighborhood over the last decade or so is an impact that matters, i think.

especially since i pay out of my own pocket to take them to the vet, to fix them, vaccinate them, and treat them for any and all ailments, and i also have housed them myself or rehomed them. it’s a huge drain on my resources but it’s one i am happy to do for the rest of my life. not least bc no one else in my area is bothering to do anything about them.

so—take that for what you will. that’s my contribution and it’s not perfect but i think i do a good job at reducing the number of stray cats in my local ecosystem and i have to conclude that because of that i MUST have reduced a lot of the environmental destruction that they would’ve otherwise done. much better than anyone else who lives around here, that’s for sure.

tl;dr—i am basically doing the job my local animal care & control is supposed to be doing about stray cats, for free, by myself, at my own expense and on my own time—and i 100% cannot do that job without feeding them

edit: i didn’t mean for this to sound as defensive and doth protesting as it did—i realize i’ve never quite explained exactly What it is i do with regard to stray and feral cats, and of course i can’t expect others to read my mind or know my life and motivations just from scattered posts i make lol. i hope i answered your question somewhat, and im happy to answer any more that you have.

#v #vp

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niki-phoria · 1 year

Text

pairing: chishiya x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff ?? hurt comfort ?? word count: 1.6k

a/n: this was just supposed to be fluff with chishiya and kuina on the beach bc we were ROBBED of chishiya and kuina interactions in s2 but it turned into this

warnings: s1 spoilers, probably inaccurate descriptions of the shibuya subway system/the subway lines, semi canon (??)

“how is your hair so soft?” you ask, pulling chishiya’s hair back and tying it into a small ponytail. he simply hums, flipping the piece of paper to look at it from another angle. next to you, kuina chuckles.

“do you have a secret conditioner stash we don’t know about?”

“maybe it’s a wig,” you tease. you can barely hear chishiya’s scoff over kuina’s laugh, bringing a hand up to gesture for you to sit down next to him. he flips the slip of paper again, trying to make sense of it. a circle drawn in black pen with lines around and through it. they almost look like scribbles. you sigh, sitting down next to him and leaning over his shoulder to see it better. “you got this from a game, right?”

“during tag. it was on one of the tagger’s bodies.”

“did you find out who the taggers were?”

“no, i only saw one. she was another player with one of those exploding collars on.”

“so if the taggers were also players, then why did she have the paper?”

“what are you thinking, y/n?” kuina asks, leaning closer.

“what if she got it from the creators? why else would she have a random piece of paper inside of a suit?”

chishiya nods. “it was in one of the pockets. it’s possible she didn’t know about it at all and it was placed there by the creators.”

“but that still goes back to the same question we had before. if it was from the creators, what does it mean?” kuina sighs dramatically, laying her head down on her crossed arms.

“they have to have some way of watching us. otherwise they wouldn’t know who cleared the games and when.”

“that means they know we have this,” chishiya lifts the paper, holding it closer to the light. “it has to be important, or they wouldn’t have left it in the tagger’s suit.”

“they must not be worried about us having it, or they would’ve killed you after you took it.”

chishiya hums again, setting the paper down on the table. music rages outside despite the late hour. you yawn, leaning your head against chishiya’s shoulder. he grunts, but doesn’t move away from you. “it’s late. we should get some rest.”

“ah,” kuina sighs, rubbing her eyes. “that’s a good idea. sleep is good.” chishiya refolds the paper, shoving it into his pocket. he wraps an arm around your waist, urging you to stand up.

“come on, let’s go to bed.” you lazily nod, grabbing onto his arm and following him to your shared room.

it’s dusk out as you walk through the empty tokyo streets.your shoulder barely brushes against chishiya’s. the night is oddly serene, wind chilling your bones. you shiver, wrapping your arms around yourself, silently cursing the beach for making you wear swim trunks everywhere you go. your knees beg you to sit down somewhere and take a break, still covered in bruises from your spades game earlier. the silence is welcome as you pass into shibuya. nostalgia plagues you as you continue.

the subway is eerie at night, opening to a dark abyss. “there might be something down there,” you say, gesturing to the opening. chishiya simply hums, leaning back against the railing. you retreat back up the steps, deciding to explore it when you can actually see where you’re going, joining him. the details of the map are barely visible next to the stairs but you study it anyway. “you know, i used to take this subway everyday,” you murmur.

“yeah?” chishiya watches as you lean closer to the map, tracing your finger along one of the lines.

“yeah. rode on the yamanote line into work.” silence envelops the both of you for a few seconds until you cock your head, leaning even closer. “do you have a flashlight or a lighter or anything?”

“here,” chishiya hands a flashlight out for you to take.

“thanks.” now with light illuminating the sign, chishiya steps closer to stand beside you. he lets his arm rest comfortably around your waist, watching you.

“do you see something?”

“can i have the paper with the circle?” he pulls it out of his pocket, handing it to you. you press it against the sign, moving it on the map so it’s next to the circle indicating the shibuya station. next to each other, the lines align to show the station surrounded by nearby streets. “huh.”

“there must be something inside,” chishiya whispers.

“let’s come back tomorrow with kuina.” he nods, pulling you away from the subway opening.

“we should get back to the beach before people start asking questions.”

the city doesn’t look that much different in the daylight. grass has begun to grow along the buildings at a rapid pace, though you pay it no mind. the sun beams down on you as you make your way back to shibuya in search of the subway.

“you’re sure about this?” kuina turns to ask you.

“the lines look the same,” you shrug. “it’s worth checking out, at least.” she gives you an uneasy look before nodding, following after chishiya.

the subway is still dark once you arrive. chishiya hands you a flashlight before you hesitantly begin to make your way down the stairs. the station is empty inside. light from your flashlight bounces along the walls as you search for anything. chishiya nudges you gently, pointing his light towards something to your right. “there’s a door over there.”

“i guess it doesn’t hurt to look,” kuina shrugs. you jump down onto the tracks, following them to the door.

“it says it’s for maintenance,” you say, gently pushing it open. “woah.”

“what is it?” kuina asks, following you in.

inside is a group of desks and chairs. the walls are circular, covered in monitors from top to bottom. you shine your light along them, taking it in. chishiya closes the door behind you, searching through the files and paperwork on the tables.

“there could be something here,” he says. you nod, breaking your attention away from the monitors to search through the cabinets.

“it looks like they have files on all of the players,” kuina says, thumbing through a variety of manilla folders. “there have to be hundreds of these.”

“they must be keeping track of everyone.” you pull one of them out, skimming through the information. kato suzuko. female. 34 years old. 15 days in the borderland. deceased - one week. “these files are new. this woman died last week.”

“we should go.” you help kuina shove the files back into their place, quickly shutting the door behind you and rushing out of the station. a familiar feeling of dead settles itself into the bottom of your stomach as you grab onto chishiya’s hand, walking back to the beach.

you anxiously crack your knuckles as chishiya fiddles with an empty soda container, creating another bomb. he glances up at you for a second before sighing, setting the mess of wires aside and walking over to you. he grabs your hand before sitting next to you. “what’s wrong?”

you sigh, turning to face him and pulling your knees up to your chest. “those files… there were so many of them. how many people have died here? how many more will die here?”

chishiya intertwines your fingers together, stroking his thumb against your skin. your hand feels cold in his. “you didn’t choose to come here. you had no way of preventing those deaths.”

“but what about the people here now? people have died so i could live. it feels like…” you look down, desperately trying to blink away the tears in your eyes. you’re sure you look weak, crying about people you never knew. never will know. “it feels like i killed them.”

chishiya pauses, lifting your head so you’re looking up at him. he silently moves his hand to your cheek, wiping away stray tears. chishiya has never been the best at comforting people, especially with words. but he’s also never felt like this for someone before. he wants to take you back to the old world, where you don’t have to worry about death games and gun-wielding maniacs and untrustworthy people and all of the other cruel things he knows exist all around you. he wants to protect you from everyone who wants to hurt you. he wants to know exactly what to say to make you feel better. he wants to be able to tell you things the way you’re able to talk to him.

but he doesn’t know how to do any of that. so instead he pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you as you cry. he presses a kiss to your forehead, rubbing a hand against your back. “none of this is your fault,” he whispers. “we’ll be okay. i promise.”

chishiya holds you until you stop crying, clinging to him as if he’ll disappear. he lets you push him down so he’s laying on his back with your head leaning against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. he runs a hand against your back, bomb long forgotten on the table. “i love you,” he whispers.

you bring his other hand up to your lips, pressing a kiss against his knuckles. “i love you too.”

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