#??? kafka? who the hell were you to us??

[chocomarbless]

WHAT DID WE DO

WHAT DID WE DO BEFORE THE EXPRESS

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr spoilers #i’m ngl i’m getting a little worried about whoever we were ‘before’ #??? kafka? who the hell were you to us?? #WHO ARE WE #also game don’t think i didn’t notice how kafka’s voice got noticeably softer once blade came back to his senses

[impactedfates]

Detective Oblivious - Various HSR Characters x GN! Reader

★ Summary: You’re best friend lately has been acting strange. Could they have a crush on someone?! You have to get to the bottom of it…though perhaps you can start by noticing how they look at you

☆ Characters Included (Separate): Gepard, Luocha, Welt, Luka, March, Kafka

★ Genre/Trope: Romantic + Fluff + Maybe a bit of Crack

☆ Warnings: None

★ Extra: Genshin Ver Here // Semi-Proof Read

You knew Gepard since the both of you were young. You weren't a Silverman Guard yourself but you definitely supported your best friend when he became one. And was so proud when he later became a captain.

Lately though, he seems to be tripping over his words when he's trying to instruct some new members, and you witness all of it. It's strange though. You knew Gepard was a great teacher and mentor yet when you decide to visit you see him stumble on his words and even get strange looks from the trainees.

You were talking to Serval who simply laughed and said.

"He's distracted by a certain someone~"

But who could be occupying his mind!? You could see Serval gave you a deadpan look when she realized you were actually thinking of who could be on her brother's mind. She wanted to smack you silly but at the same time. If her lil Geppie wasn't ready to confess she can't do it for him.

You stopped visiting Gepard whilst he was training trainees or anyone in fact. And he did just fine! That's what you heard anyways when Lynx nudged you smiling knowingly. You grumbled a bit as you haven't gotten one bit closer to finding out who your friend had a crush on.

In truth, you also didn't want to know. You had feelings for the guard, but at the same time you'd be able to know if whoever took his heart was a good fit for him. Though...eventually your frustrations got the better of you, and one day. When he was free and so were you...

"WHO THE HELL DO YOU LIKE!?"

You watched as a blush crept on his face and looked at you. It seems as though his sisters have told him about how dense you were to who he liked. He took a small breath before answering you.

"O-oh...it's um...it's actually...you"

When Luocha realises he has feelings for you and they are genuine. Like, he wants to spend all his life with you. He seeks you out. He starts by gathering various things you like and asked to hang out with you. Like a date in his mind but in yours it was just what you two usually did.

You didn't even realise he was trying to be more romantic to get the mood set for when he confesses...and he could see that. He found it both annoying yet amusing with how you seemed to play off everything he did as purely platonic.

He opened a door for you when you went into a restaurant.

He pulled a chair out for you.

He even paid for your whole meal, held your hand as you walked out and even gave you a kiss. Now the good news is that at the end of the day, when he brought you home. You realised he was acting strange! The bad news is...

"Do you like the waitress that was serving us or something? You were acting so differently and we always have that waitress when we go eat at that place. So you have to like her right?"

You state, almost proudly. Luocha could only sigh and pat your head before leaving a small kiss on your cheek.

"I think I prefer the person in front of me"

When you saw that the usually calm and collected Welt seemed to be acting differently. As well as Himeko and the other trailblazers (minus Dan Heng) giggling when he was talking to you. You knew something was up, but he always told you everything?

You consulted everyone on the Express who each gave you a vague answer about how "he's just nervous" and "you'll know when he's ready" until you asked March 7th. She excitedly explained that he finally liked someone before the Trailblazer covered her mouth and scolded her for revealing his secrets.

Lucky for them though, you had no idea you were the one he developed feelings for. They weren't sure if they should be relieved you were dense to his feelings or mildly concerned.

In the following days you've compiled a lot of people you knew Welt knows. This was quite the long list considering the people he's met and you spent hours crossing out names, adding names back in and considering if he liked them or not. You were almost tempted to check his phone to see if you can spot a difference in behaviour there.

Welt eventually found the notebook you were using as your "Detective Journal" and raised it above your head as you tried to retrieve it, simply stating you were wrong with each name listed.

"Huh!? Then who do you like?"

"Simple, the one person you didn't add to the list. Yourself"

How could you not notice the way Luka always tries extra hard in whatever he's doing when he finds out you're there? He begged a bunch of his friends and such not to tell you as he wants to make it special. Wants to "mega impress you so you'll go on a date with him" (his words not mine)

This was all fine...if it weren't for the fact that to everyone else. He was being so obvious he liked you.

Anytime he wins a match he specifically looks for you to see your reaction.

Anytime you compliment something of his, perhaps his hair style or the clothes he was wearing. He always wears his hair that way more often and buys more clothes of similar styles.

He's always so attentive to you, not that he isn't to anyone else when you're all hanging out. But it's clear he's listening to whatever you say with direct care as if the words you speak will run away if he doesn't.

It's gone to the point where Seele begins ranting to Bronya about it. Crying over the fact that you can't see the tell tale signs. It all broke for her when you tell her that you think Luka likes someone but you can't figure out who. And even though she said she wouldn't tell, she ends up clutching onto your shoulders and shaking you.

"HE LIKES YOU DUMBASS"

March 7th honestly acts similar to how she always does. Just a bit more energetic when you're around. But you knew she was still acting differently, I mean she's your best friend. Surely you'd know when she's different, even just a bit.

And you attempted to figure out why she's acting differently. Finally settling on having a crush. But who could she like? She's complimented many people on their appearance before but you knew she didn't like them in a romantic sense.

You began thinking to see if she did actually like anyone in a different way and you just weren't there to see it. Then again, you and her always stuck together. You knew everyone she knew, so there wasn't any point in thinking if she met someone else.

One day when you were in her room, she went out to grab something and you noticed a book poking out from under her bed. Pulling it out you looked at the cover

"The Best Person Ever < 3”

was written. So this is it! You'll finally find out who she liked. But at the same time...you didn't want to break her trust by looking through it. You silently put the book down and slide it back under the bed, but not in time for her to walk in and see the book in hand. She quickly ran over with a blush and asked if you saw anything, to which you shook her head and said no.

She breathed a sigh of relief...until you both noticed one of the pictures fell out and oh? It's you with a heart drawn around you...that's not how she wanted to confess...

Kafka finds out rather quickly that you're trying to figure out who she likes. Who she's developed feelings for. She knew that you knew that her behaviour has changed up a bit, especially with you. How you didn't connect the dots when she out right told you she did in fact like someone is beyond everyone.

But oh she loves watching you from a distance try to find out just who got her attention. Who the lucky one is to be the item of her affection.

She messes with you, she gives you hints on who she likes but keeps them as vague as possible so that she can just watch you pout in frustration every time she says you guessed incorrectly. She just loves watching how much you try to figure it out.

But as much as she loves that, as time goes on. She does get slightly annoyed that you've guessed everyone, even twice. But never guessed yourself. So one day she tells you that she'll reveal her crush. And simply raised a mirror to your face with a smile.

"Aren't they just the cutest?~"

Anyone else find it hard to know when someone likes them? Cuz I do, hence this idea sprang forth. Not all the characters included are ones I simp for but I thought it would be interesting to add them (I literally only simp for Luocha out of the characters included tbh nsoaorgr)

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr imagines #Gepard x Reader #Gepard x You #Luocha x Reader #Luocha x You #Welt x Reader #Welt x You #Luka x Reader #Luka x You #March 7th x Reader #March 7th x You #Kafka x Reader #Kafka x You #🎭 masked fools

[toruskiii]

I got you.

Synopsis: reluctantly going to a party, you're offered a drink by a persistent creep despite your refusal. But no worries, your best friend is there to help.

Genre: fluff (modern au!)

Character: Best friend!Blade x gn!reader

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, tension between you and Blade, partying, all characters mentioned here are as of age. Blade takes a hit (drink) for you lol. Reader wears heels.

Both you and Blade were not ones to attend parties regularly. Instead, both of you often preferred the tranquility of your own dorm or the serene sounds of nature and music, rather than the cacophony of loud, unpleasant remixes of popular songs or the aroma of cigarettes and alcohol.

Despite the constant pleas from both Kafka and Silver Wolf for you and Blade to "live a little" and "socialize," the two of you reluctantly agreed. As soon as you both stepped foot into the party, the overpowering smell of alcohol and the unmistakable odor of someone's vomit assaulted your senses, causing you to cringe slightly.

"Oh god, this smells awful," you muttered to Blade, who nodded with a furrowed brow in agreement.

"Can we leave?" He glanced at the plastic red cups littering the floor, expressing his dissatisfaction with a grunt when someone accidentally bumped into him while walking past.

"We did promise Kafka and Silver Wolf we'd come. We can't back out now," you shrugged, feeling uncomfortable amid the overcrowded gathering.

"I'm gonna go and look for Kafka," you sighed, giving Blade's shoulder a gentle nudge. "Care to join?"

"I'll just stand in a corner," he replied, his expression deadpan as he surveyed the scene of inebriated youths. His hands instinctively delved into his pockets, retrieving his phone. "I'd rather not hunt them down either, or they'll rope me into playing pool or some other nonsense."

With a pout, you rolled your eyes and ventured into the sea of people. Navigating through, you murmured small apologies each time you bumped into someone.

The shitty TikTok blue lights only made it worse, casting an eerie glow and making it harder to avoid the random liquids (that you really hoped weren't more vomit or some other disgusting shit) on the floor.

"Where the hell are they?" you muttered to yourself, feeling increasingly lost in the chaotic party scene. Somehow, you stumbled your way into the host's kitchen, hoping for a moment of respite.

As you pondered your next move, someone tapped your shoulder, jolting you out of your thoughts. "Huh— Kafka— oh," you began, turning around to find yourself face to face with a stranger you've never encountered before. Arching an eyebrow, you tilted your head inquisitively. "Can I...help you?"

"Oh, my apologies. I didn't mean to startle you," the guy offered a small smile, shaking his head in understanding. You took note of his wavy brown locks and the plain button-up he wore, but your focus remained on finding your friends rather than anything else. "Are you looking for something? You seem lost."

Feeling a tad embarrassed, you chuckled nervously. "Oh, uh... I'm just trying to find my friends. Um... Kafka and Silver Wolf, you know them?"

"Ah, those two. I think I saw them at the ping pong table in the backyard," he replied.

"Thanks," you nodded dryly, averting your gaze. Just as you were about to leave, he spoke once again.

"Drink?" he smirked, holding out a cup of what you assumed was beer or something.

"I don't drink," you waved him off, feeling a little uncomfortable now as he pushed the cup towards you. "I'm not into alcohol, dude."

"That's a shame. It tastes good," he remarked, letting out a huff as he continued to hold out the drink to you. "It's actually a good thing to be able to tolerate alcohol, you know? It's useful for business parties and making friends."

You frowned, staring at him skeptically and then at the cup with uncertainty. Were you easily persuaded? No. But the way he was yapping right now made you feel the urge to just drink it and get it over with. However, you weren't foolish enough to do something so reckless. "I never said I had a bad tolerance, I just said I'm not into alcohol."

"Just a sip wouldn't hurt—" the man persisted, but before he could finish his sentence, a low voice interrupted.

"Thanks for the drink."

A chill ran down your spine as a hand appeared behind you, swiftly grabbing the drink from your shoulder. It then looped around your neck, pulling you into a loose chokehold. Your eyes widened in recognition and apprehension as you realized who it was.

"Blade—?" you gasped, feeling a mixture of surprise and annoyance as he continued to hold you in his grasp. His red eyes narrowed into a menacing glare, causing the other man to back off with a mumbled excuse as he hastily left the kitchen, leaving you and Blade alone.

"What the hell are you doing here? I thought you said you were gonna stand in a corner," you whined, lightly tapping Blade's arm to prompt him to release you. He simply shrugged, rolling his eyes before letting go and raising the cup to his lips.

"I was trying to find the toilet until I saw a shit-stained towel in the tub and lipstick smudges on the damn toilet lid. Lost my urge to pee," he grunted, taking a sip from the cup.

"Wait, don't drink that—" you nagged, suddenly worried that the drink might contain something harmful. But before you could finish, Blade turned around and spat out the drink into the sink, coughing in disgust. "Oh my god."

"Did he fucking pour apple cider vinegar in here? This tastes like shit!" Blade groaned, clicking his tongue in annoyance as he hurled the cup into the sink. "He sucks at hooking up ladies if he hands out godforsaken drinks like these."

"Stupid," you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration as you rummaged through the kitchen, searching for a glass of water for Blade. "I thought you hated drinking. Why on earth did you do that?"

Blade wiped his mouth, turning on the tap to rinse his mouth with water. "Figured that if the drink did contain drugs, I'd be the best subject to test it on," he muttered, offering you a silent thanks as you handed him the glass of water.

"That's dangerous," you frowned, crossing your arms and watching him run a hand through his hair as he drank the water.

"I didn't want to risk you getting drugged either," he added quietly.

A moment of silence enveloped the kitchen, interrupted only by the corny music blaring in the background as the lights gradually faded to a deep red hue.

The two of you stood in the kitchen, with Blade hovering over the sink and you leaning against the counter, savoring the rare moments of tranquility.

Lost in your own thoughts, you zoned out, gazing downward and fixating on nothing in particular, longing for nothing more than to be back home.

Meanwhile, Blade stole glances at you from the corner of his eyes, his expression unreadable amidst the dimly lit ambiance.

"Let's just go home," he suddenly blurted out, swiftly washing the cup and stowing it away. "Screw those two."

You lifted your head to look at him, uncrossing your arms in agreement. "Yeah," you mumbled, feeling a wave of relief wash over you at the suggestion.

He noticed your discomfort, his gaze drifting down to the outfit you wore and the heels on your feet. "They hurt?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the blaring speakers.

Confusion clouded your expression as you struggled to hear him amidst the loud music. He sighed, gesturing towards your heels. "Your heels. Are they hurting your feet?" he repeated, more insistently this time. When you still didn't catch on, he groaned and suddenly dropped to his knees, his hands gently brushing against your calves as he lifted one foot.

"What the fuck—" you began, startled by his sudden action, your eyes widening in disbelief. "Blade!"

"Take 'em off," he mumbled, his voice softer now as he noticed a small bruise on the back of your ankle, evidence of the discomfort caused by your tight shoes.

"Dumbass! I'm not stepping out of here barefoot with all that disgusting shit on the floor!" you yelled, feeling your cheeks flush with embarrassment at the sight of him down on his knees for you. Your hands tightened their grip on the counter as you watched him slide off your heels.

"I'll carry you then," he retorted, his tone determined as he lifted you by the hips, effortlessly settling you on the counter so your feet wouldn't touch the grimy floor.

"You—" you began to retaliate, but your words fell silent as you were rendered speechless by his offer. "You..."

"C'mon," he urged, pursing his lips as he turned around, positioning himself for you to piggyback him. "You better get on before I change my mind. You know I don't do favors like this," he sneered, his tone teasing yet firm.

You gulped, feeling a mixture of nerves and gratitude as your hands trembled while gripping onto his shoulders. With shaky breaths, you wrapped your legs around his waist as you felt his hands slide under your thighs to support you, letting out a grunt of effort.

"...am I not heavy?" you whispered, your breath grazing the shell of his ear.

He shook his head, standing up straight now. The scent of his cologne somehow managed to calm your nerves as you rested your head against his shoulder, finding comfort in his embrace.

"No. I literally bench double your weight," he reassured you.

"No need to flex."

He piggybacked you through the crowd, disregarding the stares directed at him, while you felt awkward and embarrassed under the attention. He couldn't care less, knowing that most of the crowd was either too drunk to remember or too preoccupied with their own activities.

"Next time, just stay by my side," he whispered, finally stepping outside of the party.

"Mm...yeah, yeah," you yawned, your voice muffled by the softness of his jacket. "Thanks."

"And don't chug down the drinks next time."

"Yeah, yeah."

#honkai star rail #hsr fluff #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #blade x reader #hsr blade #blade x you #blade x gender neutral reader #hsr x gender neutral reader

[imastrangeone98]

Enough

(A/N: yes to blade, yes to everything about him 🩵)

WARNING: extremely ooc!blade cuz stoic men are hard to write, fem!reader, smut smut, minors get the hell out of here or I'll smack u to Heaven and back; more plot than there should be tbh; also y/n lowkey being the stellaron hunters' favorite member XD

Being alone with Blade in the hideout is not how you wanted to spend your day, yet here you are.

Agonizing over the lack of Kafka and Silver Wolf (your two greatest- and only- friends in the Stellaron Hunters) helps distract you as you sweep the floor of the Hunters' newly occupied hideout.

It also helps keep your mind off your unexpected companion... the man you've been trying to avoid for the past few weeks.

It's not that you didn't like him- quite the opposite, in fact. Your feelings for the broody swordsman were... complicated. Of course he was visibly attractive, as well as emotionally volatile; you'd be blind to not notice it.

But you grew to enjoy seeing his reactions to the smallest of things- from his disgust at the tomatoes in his sandwich, to the smallest curl of his lip at the sight of a whetstone for his sword, to the faintest glimpse of peace in his eyes when he watches the sunset.

You grew to love him. How could you not fall for the sensitive soul who secretly fed the stray kittens near the base, who joined Silver Wolf on the couch to watch her play games, who quietly thanked you every time you patched up the wounds his healing factor could not, even though it was your job?

Your heart blooms when you're near him. But you know better than to think he feels the same way.

Kafka had told you of his reasons for joining the Hunters: a thirst for revenge against all who wronged him, and the undying desire for eternal sleep. His path of vengeance meant no room for any unnecessary things, you included.

You will never be a part of Blade's world.

So you keep your feelings under lock and key, choosing to ignore the fluttering of your heart whenever he helps you with the dishes, when he silently joins you on your trips to the market for groceries, even when he hands you a small souvenir from whatever planet his mission was in.

"Bladie certainly likes to give you special treatment," Kafka had teased you once as she helped blow dry your hair. "Any more of his flirting, and I might just have to fight him for attention~"

"Oh please, be serious, Kaf." You rolled your eyes at the thought. "Blade would never be interested in romance, especially with a dime-a-dozen medic like me. Besides, have you seen the way he looks at that bracer?"

"Well, if he doesn't want you, I don't mind picking up the slack~"

You smacked her for that. But even though she hadn't used her Spirit Whisper on you that day, her words stayed in your mind long after the conversation was over.

Her voice echoed in the back of your mind after that night, when you had encountered him broken and lost in the middle of the night, aching from pains you could not understand. You had taken him in your arms, unable to watch him suffer, and sung him to slumber, watching as his eyes slowly drifted closed as he relaxed in your hold.

Putting him to bed was no easy task, but it was when you were about to pull away that your problem truly began.

"Stay," Blade whispered, soft and drowsy- a sound you didn't think him capable of. It left you speechless, even as he pawed at you to pull you closer to him. "Stay here tonight."

The warning to stay away should have rung in your mind. But when he gazed at you with wide, almost desperate eyes, you could not say no. And so you stayed that night, his head resting on your chest, falling asleep to the sound of your racing heartbeat.

You shouldn't have. Because now you're stuck in this situation, trapped in a corner, with the man haunting your thoughts hovering above you, a dangerous gleam in his eye that sends a shiver down your spine.

"C- can I help you?" you squeak out, a bead of sweat on your forehead. "I'll get started on dinner pretty soon-"

"You are very difficult to get a hold of." Blade cuts you off, leaning closer to you, nose brushing against yours. "Now you have nowhere to go... and no one to hide you."

You gulp. Aeons, you wish Kafka and Silver Wolf were here right now.

"You've been avoiding me. Why?"

Your cheeks feel hot at his question. Is he really that daft? (No, he isn't. He just likes seeing you flustered; but you don't have to know that just yet.)

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you splutter. He stares at you, exasperated. "I'm treating you just as I always do!"

"...You're terrible at lying." He sighs and finally leans away from you; you hadn't realized you were holding your breath. But you're still not off the hook, because he slides a finger under your chin and tilts your head to maintain your gaze on him. "Since you're not willing to be honest, I will. You disappearing in the morning wasn't particularly... enjoyable for me. And here I thought we were getting close."

Blade lightly scratches your chin, and aeons, if your face wasn't hot before, it's burning now.

"If you didn't like me, you could have just said so. I thought-" He stops himself, but his wide eyes speak the words he cannot vocalize.

Your heart threatens to burst. You have tell yourself it's not real. There's no way this is real. Blade does not like you. Blade is not capable of love. He desires only revenge against the many who wronged him, against the one who holds the other half of his bracer, the key to his heart.

Blade does not love you. He loves only what you briefly gave him because he lacked so much of it in his mysterious past that he instinctively reached out to the first person who gave him scraps of what he deserved.

And that knowledge breaks your heart.

"...You don't know what you're saying," you say stiffly, your grip on the broom tightening. "You must be confused. When Kafka returns, I'll ask her to use her Spirit-"

"Stop," he growls, pressing against you once more. He's so heavy he nearly squeezes the air from your lungs. "I don't know what you're thinking, but that's enough."

Aeons, you're insufferable. Yet he can't stay mad at you, not when your expressions are so cute. He gently cradles your face, fingers lightly tracing your cheeks, the corners of your eyes, your soft lips.

He wants to kiss you. He wants to know if you taste as sweet as you look. If your voice is just as sweet singing his name as you sing your songs that soothe his soul, his mara, better than any of your healing balms or even Kafka's Spirit Whisper.

"Why won't you let me in, you stubborn woman?" Blade whispers, eyeing your confusion, your hurt that he doesn't understand. "What pains you so, that you won't even look at me?"

You grit your teeth. How can you tell him that what pains you is the very thing that brings his immortal life meaning? That you're just trying to make his life easier by not interfering with his plans with your own, temporary issues?

But nothing comes out except a half-hearted, "Nothing you need to concern yourself with."

"Bullshit," he hisses. "Everything you do concerns me. Your existence concerns me."

Your hands squeeze into fists. "And why's that? Am I that much of an inconvenience to you?!"

His lips curl into a pained smile. "Like you wouldn't imagine. You make me think of things that I don't need..." He glances down at his feet for a brief, long second, then looks back at you. His eyes are aglow with something you can't describe. "That I don't deserve to think of."

For as much as you want to harden your heart, Blade's words make your attempts meaningless. It's so full of fear and longing that you want to reach out and touch him, hold him close to your heart and never let him go.

You swallow, somehow feeling more nervous than before at what you're about to ask. But you want to know. You need to know, for your poor heart. "...And what is it that you think you don't deserve?"

His gaze softens. Blade leans down once more, and you feel his breath on your lips. He smells nice, you think hazily. Suddenly, you feel overwhelmed, too hyper aware of everything- his scent, the gentle brush of his fingers on your chin, the flecks of gold in his eyes.

"You," he whispers, and softly presses his lips to yours.

He's warm against you. His arms are strong as they wrap around you, pulling you into his firm chest. Before you're fully swept into the storm that is Blade, a funny thought flits through your mind: for a man with such a sharp name, he feels so warm in your arms.

He groans against your mouth, hands moving to your cheeks, coaxing your lips open to slide his tongue inside, feeling every part of you. You're so soft, so sweet, so perfect- he swears that you must have been crafted by the aeons themselves to fit his taste, to his hold. He has to fight against every cell in his body to not rip your clothes off and take you against the filthy walls. As badly as he wants to taste you properly, he needs to move this elsewhere. You deserve better than the cold corner he trapped you in. (And if Kafka shows up early, he doesn't want her to witness the filthy things he wants to do to you. But the marks he'll leave... That's fair game.)

When he finally pulls away, you're left breathless, chest heaving, and your lips tingle with the heat of his own. Blade nuzzles against your neck, and leaves kisses down your throat.

"Come on," he whispers against your skin, and tugs at your sleeve. "Stay with me tonight."

It feels too good to be true. You should be more suspicious. Blade does not love. Blade does not care for love. He does not love you.

He doesn't...

But he smiles at you- a soft, innocent smile that tugs at the corners of his eyes- and you fall into him, helpless.

When he offers you his hand, you don't hesitate to take it.

Maybe you're too hypnotized by him, but time melts into one hazy fog of memories. He's gentle- leading you to his room, lying you down on his bed, peeling off your clothes, piece by piece, until you're left bare and wanting. He stares at you hungrily, but he makes no move to devour you just yet.

He's slow, too. Watching him remove his garments- untying his belts and vest, sliding off his glove, unwrapping his bandages- it was torture. You huff, displeased, and reach out to him to lend a hand, but he lightly smacks it away, a playful smirk on his face.

"Patience," he teases, "and I'll give you what you want... and more."

To drive his words home, he moves even slower. By the time he's kicked off his shoes and pants, you've given up on being patient and paw at his boxers, much to his amusement. His cock finally springs free, and you gulp- it's big. Thick at the base, you wonder how it'll fit you. But you can't resist the temptation to lean forward and lick the tip. He groans above you, hands resting on the back of your head to push you further against his groin.

You're so cute. He watches you, hearts in his eyes, slurping away at his cock, clumsy hands rubbing at the parts you can't fit. You reek of inexperience, but it's okay. He has more than enough time to teach you, and he'll enjoy every second of it.

But for now, he lets himself relax and enjoy the warmth of your throat. The urge to cum rises its head, but he pushes it back. Not yet. Not until he feels you properly. (But he can't deny the mental image of his seed dripping from your mouth is incredibly arousing.)

It's when you begin to choke on his length that Blade pulls himself out of his pleasure-induced stupor, and he pulls you off of him to lay down on his bed. He follows you, resting on one arm above your head while his other hand trails down your neck, to your breasts (sparing a few seconds to fondle and squeeze each one), down your belly to your thighs, lightly tapping your wet mound.

"I'm gonna stretch you out now," he says, making sure you're paying attention to him. "Or it'll hurt when I go in."

It hits you: he's done this before. The bracer flashes in your mind. For a brief moment, you think to pull away and return to your room alone, to lick at the wounds to your sensitive pride.

But you hear him call to you, soft kisses being pressed onto your cheeks, and you are pulled away from the storm into his solid embrace.

"You're thinking again," he sighs, and he moves to kiss the corner of your mouth. "Whatever it is, think of it tomorrow. Just let me in; look at me."

Blade rubs his cheek against yours, giving you a reassuring look, then you feel his fingers, long and calloused, brush against your sensitive hole. You gasp at the unfamiliar feeling and squirm, but he keeps you firm, kissing you deeply to distract you from the way they slowly press inside you.

Your walls are tight. Blade wants so badly to pull his fingers out and devour you from the source, slurp up every last drop of your essence. But he grasps hold on the last few strings of his unraveling patience, not giving in to his desires just yet. He needs to do this, lest you cry in pain when he finally pushes inside you. So he finds solace in your softness, in the rhythmic squeezing of your silky cunt, carefully stretching you out.

A tear slips out of your eyes at the painful pleasure, and he kisses it away. "There we go. You're ready," he murmurs, pulling his fingers out, your whines at the emptiness music to his ears. He brings them to his mouth, sucking off your juices and moaning at the taste.

"Don't... don't do that," you whimper beneath him. You stare at him so innocently, he wants to ruin you. "It's yucky..."

"It's you," he corrects you, and he adjusts himself so he's between your legs. He smooths his hands down your thighs and positions his cock right at your entrance. When the tip catches onto your hole, you both sigh in pleasure. "Nothing about you is 'yucky.'"

With that, he finally- finally thrusts inside you. You yelp at the intrusion- he stretched you out, but aeons, it's still painful... and he's still not fully inside you. Whimpering, you claw at his scarred shoulders, nails raking down his back. He groans at the sting, leaning down to kiss you, unable to escape your addicting lips.

He can't move. He's trapped by the tightness of your pussy, your wet warmth distracting him from the main course. But your cries of his name pull him out of that haze, reminding him of what he needs to do.

"You're okay," he manages to heave out, cupping your cheek before pressing his chest to yours, mouth smushed against your ear. "I'm here. I'm gonna move."

You whine a weak "Blade..." but he shushes you.

"Ren."

"...What?" you ask hesitantly.

"My name. My real name. Ren."

"...Ren."

Oh, aeons. Your voice is so beautiful saying his long-forgotten name, he nearly came inside you. But he works up the strength to push his cock deeper, until his hips meet yours with a wet slap.

You wail, chanting his name- his true name- as he builds up a semi-steady rhythm. And he makes love to you, for aeons knows how long, hypnotized by your sounds, your smell, your touches on his body as you scratch at him and bite his neck, as if leaving your mark on him. (He wishes he didn't have his healing factor. He wants your scratches to last. He wants to look at them in the morning.)

You manage to cradle his face in your palm and turn him towards you. You take the time to admire him- his gorgeous red eyes, his bare chest gleaming with sweat, his long hair forming a curtain around you, narrowing your sight to him, and only him. So it's just Blade.

No... Ren.

Your heart clenches at his amorous gaze, as if showing his devotion to you, and only you. You do not know if he loves you... if he is capable of loving you. You do not know if he will come to regret this come morning. But you will embrace him, and smile at him, like you do now.

Because you love him. You cannot deny it anymore. You love Ren.

"Ren..." you call out once more.

And he answers you. "Yes." His voice is breathy, and his touch gentle, for he cups your cheek in his hand and rubs soft circles into your sensitive skin.

He may not love you, but you love him. And that is all you need. And you let your love consume you.

"Ren."

"Yes."

You say his name so much you lose count. And he responds every time, sometimes with words, sometimes with his lips. Until he grabs your thighs and folds you nearly in half, hips now slamming into yours as he buries his length inside you even deeper than you thought possible. Your eyes cross and you howl at how impossibly deep he feels, pressing buttons you never knew existed.

Blade moans, drunk on his pleasure, on your sweet, sweet pussy. He feels that unfamiliar tightness in his loins, his balls aching for release. But he needs you there with him, standing at the edge of that cliff right by his side.

"'M close," he whispers hoarsely. His hand flies to your hidden pearl, rubbing at your clit through your folds. You whine pitifully, but this time, he pays no heed. "I need you, come on, I need you-!"

The burning warmth in your gut spreads faster at his rough administrations. You squeal at how sensitive you feel, but you can't outrun it. The heat reaches to your limbs, your eyesight is hazy, and all you see, feel, smell, know is Ren.

Ren, who grasps hold of your hand, urging you to jump off with him. And aeons, he looks so beautiful doing it.

You can't help the words that slip past your mouth: "I love you."

And you jump. You plummet into the canyon, hands intertwined, and you're swept under the waves of indescribable ecstasy that makes you see galaxies. You feel warm, much like the ropes of warm seed that fill you.

Your mind is foggy, but Blade's sighs of pleasure are clear and bright. You feel him thrust inside you, once, twice, four times, before collapsing on top of you. He nuzzles into your neck, taking in lungfuls of your scent, committing it to his memory so he can never part from it.

With shaking arms, you manage to run your hands through his hair, massaging his scalp and untangling the soft strands, trying to shake your sudden nerves as you realize what you just said in the throes of your first orgasm.

I love you.

But if he noticed, then he hasn't spoken up about it. Instead, he shudders at your touch, pushing his head further into your hands, a silent urge to continue. So you do, until your eyes can no longer stay open, and your hands fall limp in his hair.

He pushes himself up and gathers you in his arms, pressing you to his chest, close to his pounding heart. And he takes the time to admire your drowsy form, so vulnerable and soft, so trusting.

"You terrify me," is all he can whisper before he joins you into slumber.

Because you make him not want to seek death. But he knows he must search for it, now more fervently than before. So that when your time inevitably comes...

...He will be able to follow you.

[...]

"It seems like you and Bladie have been rather close these days~ Have you two finally fucked and made up?"

You blush at Kafka's stupidly accurate teasing. "Don't say it like that! We just... had a talk, that's all."

Your friend eyes the hickies on your neck with amusement. "Sure... a talk with teeth~"

"Kafka-"

"When's dinner? Are you gonna make pasta?" Silver Wolf pops up out of nowhere, eyes fixed on her game.

"Do you want pasta?" you ask her with a laugh. She can be so childish sometimes, but you love her nonetheless.

"Yeah. I like your pasta." The gamer moves to sit next to you, but her chosen spot is suddenly occupied as Blade slides in beside you. He gives you a knowing look, before sending a cocky smirk at Silver Wolf, who pouts and complains to Kafka.

You cackle at the sight before you, and slowly rest your head on his shoulder. Blade says nothing, but the way he shifts his body for your comfort and wraps an arm around you tells you everything. You close your eyes in bliss, ignoring the chatter between your two friends as Silver Wolf decides to make a spot on your lap.

Blade is warm beside you. That is enough.

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

A/N: this b*tch took all my wishes but it's ok I love him. I'll hopefully be able to save enough for Dan heng's dragon form *wink wonk* also I'm reassuring myself that no matter how bad this is, hbo's the idol is far far worse 😃

#honkai star rail #hsr blade #blade x reader #hsr smut #hsr x reader

[dumplingsfordays]

30 strales

blade x florist!gn!reader

genre - fluff

summary - after you fall down into some metal buckets in your flower shop, a certain raven-haired customer happens to be walking by and helps you clean up.

cw!: swearing, blade kinda wants to murder you but ends up changing his mind because he likes uuu <3

note - i hc that blade smells like citrus. no, you're not getting an explanation, sorry lol.

and as always, thank you for reading!

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

When you got your job as a florist at Petals and Pollen, you didn't expect this many people to talk to you - you were just there to make bouquets, but most of the time when someone came up to you to ask for a recommendation or advice on what flowers to give someone, your conversations would end in 'hey, are you free this week? I know a great coffee shop that you'd like' or 'there's this cute bookstore a few blocks away, wanna go there together sometime?' or just straight-up 'do you want to go on a date?'. Of course, you weren't angry or anything, but a part of you felt annoyed. Did these people come up to you only because they thought that you look nice, or did they actually want to get a bouquet and they picked up on your personality midway?

Either way, you always declined. You weren't really interested right now, and besides, you had stuff to do. Planning dates wasn't exactly part of your job description anyway.

But one cold autumn afternoon during a thunderstorm, a rather peculiar man entered the shop - his expression wasn't one of boredom or neutrality like most other patrons, it was one of rigid, almost angry determination. He stomped up to the counter with quick steps, long navy hair flowing behind him as he stopped suddenly in front of the counter.

"How do I say 'fuck you' in flower?" he growls. "Use any flowers you need. I have the money."

You blink a couple of times in surprise at the taller man, processing his request. You knew flower language, it's just that you were wondering who it could possibly be for - a nasty coworker? A disrespectful teacher or boss?

Deciding not to dwell on it, you nod and get to arranging the bouquet. From some nearby stands, you pick out some geraniums, foxglove, meadowsweet, and orange lilies, cradling the flowers in the inside nook of your elbow. You place them in a clear glass vase and tie them together with a sunset-red silk ribbon. You feel the man's eyes linger on your fingers as they knot the ribbon in a bow, and finally, you finish the bouquet and hand it to the man.

"120 strales, please," you say, pressing a few buttons on the cash register. The man quirks an eyebrow.

"No dahlias?"

"Dahlias? Why would you need dahlias?"

"Ka- I mean, I read that they meant disappointment."

You sigh. "Well, that book must've been wrong. Dahlias are a symbol of commitment, not disappointment. I think the author must've meant to write "yellow carnations", but I don't know how you would mix it up that bad. Should I add them?"

"No, that's fine." The man slides you the payment and, grabbing the bouquet, storms out the glass door to the shop.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

"Fuck!" he mutters under his breath as he speedwalks angrily through the crowded streets of Xianzhou, his delicate bouquet gently cradled in his arms. What the hell was Kafka thinking? He was going to bring this to the General as quote unquote "thanks", and she tricked him? Oh, he was going to kill her when he came back.

But this florist was rather... different than others he'd been to in search of a "fuck you" bouquet. They had a special sort of air about them, an air that he couldn't quite pinpoint but knew that it was addicting. Well, maybe not addicting - he just wanted to see them again, that's all.

Wait, see them again? No, he didn't do that sort of thing, he never wanted to up and start conversation with some random stranger that he saw once while buying flowers. He didn't spontaneously show up at their doorstep and ask what their name was - he only did that to his victims, and in this case, this person wasn't a victim. He barely even knew who they were (with the exception of the obvious title of "florist".)

What if they would become his victim, then? He would have a chance to talk to them without feeling guilty of doing so, and maybe murder them at the end. That's what happens to everyone anyways, how was one less person in the world going to impact him?

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The next day, a few hours after opening time, you see him again. He's calmer than yesterday, opening the door to your shop with a small squeak and taking his time to look around at the flowers you have on display. He pauses next to a small tin pail of yellow pansies.

"Those are pansies," you note. He turns his head sharply to meet your gaze with those blood-red eyes and turns back to the flowers.

"They're pretty," he says under his breath, lifting one out of the pail and examining its petals. "What do they mean?"

You can't read his expression at all - it's just neutral, with a small hint of fascination that immediately vanishes when he puts it back.

"They mean 'I'm thinking of you'," you reply as you pull some leaves off the stem of a tulip and throw them into a paper bag. He blinks in response and continues examining the various flowers, finally coming over to your counter a couple minutes later.

"I'd like some daffodils, please." He slides over 230 strales.

"The largest bouquet costs 200, you can keep the extra 30."

He stares at the currency in silence as you pick out the freshest daffodils and bind them together with a pale yellow ribbon, adding some white lace frills into the midst. You hand him the bouquet and he looks up at the nametag pinned to your left.

"y/n," you say. "Nice to meet you too, um..."

"Blade."

"Blade, okay."

You give a small, awkward smile. He takes the rather large bouquet from your hands and leaves the extra 30 strales, which you grab and run after him with as he leaves the shop.

"Blade! Blade!" you yell as you run after him. "You forgot your-"

He's gone, blended in with the crowd, probably, but you daren't go look - you have a business to run, and you already see some potential customers approaching the establishment. You decide to wait for him - if he comes back tomorrow, you'll give him the strales back.

As you're making a rose bouquet for a middle-aged man in a grey suit and tie, Blade pops into your mind again. His eyes were... eerily captivating, like bloodied dark iron magnets that pulled your gaze toward him. Combined with the fact that he was hard to read, and that you've never seen him before in your life, made him the most mysterious person that you'd ever interacted with. But a part of you wanted to see him again, to talk to him, to find out who he really was and what he was doing in your shop in the first place. Guess you'd have to see tomorrow.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Tomorrow was a mess.

You estimated that about 200 customers came in, most leaving with flowers in hand, and to your disappointment, none of them were the dark-haired, red-eyed, "fuck you"-bouquet-ordering man who somehow forgot that he'd left 30 strales lying on your counter before yesterday. By the time you had shut your doors, the floor was completely littered with little pieces of leaves and small, multicolored petals. Guess you had to stay after to clean up.

You pulled out your best weapon, a wide mop, from the cleaning closet in the corner and got to work. Pulling it along the tiled floor, you decided that it was rather boring to mop in silence, and pulled out another one of your favorite items - a pair of headphones, which you promptly connected to your phone and resumed mopping, now with a spring in your step. This spring turned into occasional hopping, which then turned into full-on dancing as you got caught up in the music.

Blade was watching all this unfold outside your shop, standing in the darkness and staring dumbfoundedly through the glass window. He was planning on murdering you tonight - it was horrifying that you were dancing so carefreely, without even noticing his piercing gaze on your moving form.

Abandoning the mop, you grabbed onto a column and twirled around it several times in musical glee before tragedy struck and you fell into a shelf of those goddamn tin buckets. Luckily they didn't have flowers in them, but they still hurt like a bitch - you tried pulling yourself up, only to fall down again and wince in pain as the metal edges of the buckets dug into your skin. Your legs are probably going to be covered in bruises the next morning.

You hear the door open with its signature squeak and a sinking feeling of embarrassment flooded your system.

"Need help?" the navy-haired man standing in the doorway askes, stone-faced. He stared at your trapped form blankly as you gaped at him.

"It's nine, no- ten in the evening," you stammer out, "how are you here?"

"Passing by." He feels a strange pang of guilt when lying to you. "You didn't answer my question."

You swallow and look around helplessly before replying reluctantly. "Yes, please."

Blade walks into the shop and grabs you by your hands, hoisting you up with ease onto your legs for a second before catching you when your knees buckle almost instantaneously. He sighs, lifts you up, and carries you to the nearest chair, setting you down like a fragile vase.

Blade's touch was comforting, and he smells like citrus, which is a very unexpected scent for him to have in your opinion. You thought that he might've smelled like- wait, why were you even thinking about this? The way in which his lowkey kinda attractive strong arms carried you was completely irrelevant to the current situation - why was your brain hung up on this while the poor guy has to clean up after you?

Speaking of cleaning up, he was almost done. He was now putting the mop back in the closet, and after he shut the door, you took this moment of silence to ask a question.

"Can you carry me upstairs, please? Just to my bed."

He freezes. You desperately hope that it's not a bad thing - your legs are starting to actually hurt and you don't think that you can carry yourself up a flight of stairs.

Luckily for you, he walks over and scoops you into his arms once more, carrying you with relative ease to the wooden stairs, which creak a little under your combined weight. You loop your hands around his neck as you climb up, holding on for dear life. When he reaches the second floor you thank him quietly, and he returns the gesture with a nod, turning on the lights by raising his knee up to flick the switch. The hallway fills with a golden light, and when you point to the door to your room, he heads there.

You hope that your room doesn't seem too messy - there's plants everywhere (which probably isn't that much of a surprise given that you're a florist) and the occasional book is lying on every wide surface like your desk and the bookshelf. Blade strides over to the bed in one corner, moving a leather-bound book aside titled "A Complete Collection of Native Bee Species" when he lifts the blanket. He sets you down onto the mattress with that same gentleness and you lean into the pillow, eyes already drooping shut at its softness. You turn your back towards him, and he takes this as a signal to remove your apron, which he hangs on a nearby chair. You, in your near-sleepiness, hear him sigh as he turns off the lights and closes the door, leaving you to drift away in peace. The scent of citrus lingers in your mind.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The next day, as you're setting up shop, you find a note on the counter, written in black pen and a quick hand.

Locked front + back doors. Exited through window, keep the 30 strales.

#honkai star rail #hsr #honkai #fluff #blade fluff #blade x you #blade hsr #blade x y/n #blade x reader #hsr blade #blade honkai #blade star rail #star rail blade

[toranesu]

ok hear me out

punishing kafka for being a brat by edging her throughout the day, pulling her into closets or behind corners to finger her until she's shaking and right on the cusp, then pulling away with a smirk and dragging her back to whatever you were doing before

maybe she has a vibe stuffed inside her pretty pussy that you play with, keeping her worked up and biting back whimpers as she tries to keep her composure

imagine her teary-eyed begging when you finally go to bed that night, pleading for you to fuck her and let her cum as you continue the game. maybe she's tied up to make her keep her hands to herself as you tease her, playing with her clit as you let her whines and moans wash over you

good GOD this woman has me in a chokehold 🥵 please kafka just one chance, PLEASE i'll treat you so right 😫

gonna combine this w another ask cz i love this scenario so much nobody understands

sub kafka x dom gn reader | cw. non-specified sex reader, teasing, public vibe usage whatever that's called, bondage, brat kafka ftw

the two of you are lucky enough to be tasked with a pretty simple mission this time: get the new game silver wolf wants. it's simple, but annoying. normally you'd refuse, but you've decided to put this outing to use. your long awaited fantasy is waiting to be fulfilled.

she's been a brat, anyway. she deserves this. and you deserve to have your fun.

"are you kidding me?" kafka nearly laughs at your request. to walk around with an egg vibrator in her pussy... kafka had known some of your crazy fantasies, and this seems tame compared to them. "fine. it might be fun," she smiles teasingly at you, her hand trailing down your chest.

"go easy on me, darling."

you both enter the store, the controller of the vibrator in kafka's pussy settling nicely in your pocket. kafka herself doesn't seem to be struggling whatsoever, the sound of soft buzzing surrounding you covered by the music in the store.

"what game did she say she want again?" kafka asks, looking around a specific section of the store that you both know silver wolf likes. "mm. i dunno, babe," you respond in a small hum. "look down there maybe?"

as she crouches down to look at the bottom shelf, you turn the vibrator up to the maximum level without warning. kafka grips onto the shelf in shock, biting her lip down to contain the noises threatening to come out from the back of her throat. she glares at you, her hand covering her crotch as her grip tightens on the shelf.

she makes no sounds, but you don't fail to see the way she bites her bottom lip and the wet patch forming on her crotch. kafka really is good at keeping her composure when it's needed.

you chuckle under your breath and turn the vibrator back onto it's lowest setting, making kafka exhale deeply and stand up, shooting a pout at you. tonight's gonna be one hell of a night for sure.

once you get back, you hurriedly hand the game over to silver wolf before rushing towards your room. "what the hell are you running for..?" the hacker mutters under her breath before grinning at the game.

sure enough, once you enter your room, you see kafka fully naked on your bed. one hand on her breast, teasing her own nipple while the other's fingering herself open, three fingers already inside. the used vibrator already off, soaking wet from her fluids right beside her while she moans, looking at you with a lustful gaze.

"hey, come on. don't make me wait," she breathes out. her hair is messy already, her legs spread open, giving you full view of her wet cunt, leaving you breathless.

but no, this is a punishment. you're a stellaron hunter, no way you're giving in that easily. "who said you could take it out?" you grasp her hand with a stern look, pulling her fingers out of her hole as she whines at loss, looking at you with pleading eyes.

you grab some rope and tie her hands to the headboard tight enough to not let her escape, but loose enough to not hurt her too much. "h-hey— this isn't what we agreed on," kafka frowns, letting out a small groan as your thumb goes to rub over her clit.

"you acting like a whore and rubbing your ass and boobs all over me at a mission yesterday isn't something we agreed on either, is it, kafka?" you reply firmly, pressing the vibrator back into her throbbing cunt whilst she whines in protest, her legs closing on you.

you pinch her thigh and hold them apart. "you really wanna fuck with me right now, kafka?" she moans out at your words. the way you easily assert dominance over her makes her absolutely weak.

"c-come on, darling. you love me, don't you? don't– haaa.. d-do this," she moans as you press your thumb on her clit once more, her legs shaking. you haven't even done much to her, but it seems the idea of you teasing her like this gets her going.

you ignore her and continue rubbing her clit, turning the vibrator on to medium level. she lets out a whimper as she throws her head back, not even trying to hide her moans st this point, hoping to lure you in with that lewd voice of hers.

you give her clit a small pinch and press a light kiss onto her breast before turning over to change and head to rest. "well, goodnight, kaf," you grin at her, chugging down a glass of water and laying down next to her, wrapping a blanket around yourself.

"w-what? sweetheart, d-darling— h-honey?"

#demoaning #sub kafka #dom reader #sub honkai star rail #gn reader #top reader #kafka x reader #sub hsr #hsr x reader #sub character

[trendywaifus]

hii could i request some general kafka relationship/nsfw hcs with a female reader please? if it's okay to be a little more specific maybe a reader who is rather shy but still affectionate/likes receiving affection?

— you’re her favorite person, her baby fr. you being shy AND daring? kakfa discovered that she likes that combination verrrry much.

— whenever she sees you, she opens her arms with that smug smile on her face. yup, she’s totally expecting you to walk into her arms. it can be practically anywhere, public, who cares, she wants that hug. def where “my hug at? “ girl. kafka means well ofc but she just likes that flustered look on your face. her smug smile twists into a warm one when you walk into her midst and reciprocates her hug. “ that’s my girl~”

— kafka absolutely loves it when you give her surprise kisses out of no where. she’ll chuckles at the tickling sensation of your shy butterfly kisses and will do it back x2. ohhhh how she loves that bashful look and smile on your face when she does it, she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

— she’s always looking out for you even if y’all are a few warps apart (sadly). she’ll just use her own projection to visit you herself (she prefers being there physically but that’ll have to do). kafka never fails to be caught off guard by how upfront you can be sometimes. like damn, i didn’t know you had it in you type shi. you’ll be like “ i-i miss you so come back home safely, i want to cuddle and kiss. . .a-and whatnot. . .and th-things of that nature. “ (awkward way of expressing it but) yup, she’s def coming back as soon as POSSIBLE.

— if you’re a stellaron hunter, she’ll make sure most of the time that’s she’s with you or other people that she trusts like blade and sliver wolf. yes, she knows that you’re perfectly capable of getting the job done but it’s dangerous out there y’know? if for some reason you’re going on a mission by yourself, she sees you off with a good luck kiss that lingers for about a few seconds. kafka expects you to call her when you have the free time. honestly, she doesn’t like texting. she prefers to hear your voice or video call. but if you only have the time to text her, ig that’ll doooo.

“ alright sweets, i suppose i’ll see you off now. “ she drawls with disappointment, a small little frown adorning her beautiful features. you were just about leaving to a mission and of course, kafka has to see you one more time before you go. taking a deep breath, you held her hand and flashed her a big assuring smile. “ i’ll be back soon so don’t you worry kaf. m-maybe a good luck kiss will do? if you don’t mind- “ *fat smooch*

nsfw

— she’s topping but she lets you take control sometimes. though the woman loves to watch you struggle, she finds it so adorable. dw, she’s definitely taking you seriously.

— kafka makes it known that she loves your touch and praises the hell out of you. she’s very vocal woman and will let everyone know how good you’re making her feel.

— she sits on your face but before she does, she asks with that smug smirk of hers if you’re ready to handle her. once sits on your face, she’s practically glued to it until she gets her climax. she’ll make it up to you after. but first, she just wants you to please her with your tongue and cover your face with her juices. kafka adores how breathless you look after with that shy expression on your face.

— when it’s her turn, i see her taking it slow with you unless you want to speed things up. she doesn’t want you to be overwhelmed so she starts off with sweet promises and kisses while slowly undressing you. she’s going to ask before anything if you’re comfortable before proceeding.

— kafka def is tease and is down for quickies before missions. she can’t really help herself when she’s around you, y’know?

#kafka x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai x reader #honkai star rail kafka #honkai kafka

[4izawas]

╰─▸ ❝ 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢’𝐦 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫. ❞ ──── 𝐟𝐭. 𝐰. 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐠.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted and more, everything I ever searched the stars for…” he whispers in your ear through a pleased sigh, “I love you.”

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: honkai star rail | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: welt yang/reader, past nanook/reader | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 3.12k.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: age gap, creampies, previously established relationship, reader and welt have been together five years pre-caelus and have known each other at least fifteen, oral sex ( fem receiving ), riding, choking ( male receiving ), marriage proposals, reader catching feelings.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃 !! — @sangokokomis.

𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐬: kinktober 2 <3 also sorry but i suffer from can’t-do-pwp-bc-i-love-plot disease

— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!

Out of thousands upon thousands of years, so few men and women had met the Aeons in comparison to those that did not. Even fewer were selected by the deities to live closely with them — and many, many years ago, you yourself been chosen for such an opportunity. 

As a priestess of destruction, you’d had many long days to accustom yourself to the personality of your deity, far used to the occasional outbursts and fits of rage that could turn to silent ponderings within moments. You’d seen hundreds come and go, less than a dozen stay, and had long acquainted yourself with his many lesser followers. That being said, it had also been several long years that you’d been sent away from your official post by him, destined to infiltrate those which sought to destroy his plans, and those several years had been filled with nothing but annoyance. You missed your home, missed your Aeon, and you missed your former work. Life as Nanook’s high priestess was a good one, and life in his bed even better — but now you were on the Astral Express, feigning a life as a crewmember that a lesser associate of yours had long killed all while wearing her face thanks to the magics of Phantylia. One of the Express’s leaders had been attracted to the silly girl, and because of that he’d now fallen victim to your own charms and wiles, which was why he was serving you even now. 

Your head falls onto the back of the couch behind you, your glass of wine held in one slightly shaky hand as Welt Yang buried his face between your spread legs to taste the slit between them. Your eyes remain closed and your breathing deep and easy as you bask in the attention he was lavishing you in, and with a soft sigh you lift your glass to your lips and take a sip. 

When you’d arrived here, the girl whose face you’d stolen was still in the early innocent stages of a romance with the man, and you’d more than taken up the mantle she’d desired and had captured his heart and his cock with nothing more than a few wicked games veiled with false sincerities, so overall the fact that they’d not fucked yet was benefactory to your cause; Aeons knew what would have become of you if Yang had felt suspicious over his ‘lover’ because you clenched your cunt differently while he was inside it than the woman he was actually in love with — that being said, playing the part of a virgin when you’d not been one for centuries had been hell. 

Still, you’d played your part beautifully. 

The ways in which Welt Yang touched you were far different to the touches of Lord Nanook; where your Aeon could be vicious and cruel, a man at his core who sought blood and bruises, Yang was gentle and soft, preferring a romantic setting over one of chaos. You hated it at first, feeling lazy at how simple it all was, but eventually after a few years you came to enjoy it; the next many years spent hiding in plain sight as your Aeon commanded would only consist of suffering if you yourself felt that Yang’s lovemaking was such, so why not enjoy it while you could? Kafka had also advised that you find a bright spot in wherever you were located; she’d been in a handful of  ‘missions’ similar to these — and despite how well you knew her to be able to lie, you trusted her. So far she’d given you no reason to think otherwise. 

“Eager tonight, Mr. Yang?” you ask softly through a smile, finally breaking the silence that had only been punctuated by the wet noises of his talented mouth on your cunt while spreading your legs further apart ever so slightly. You feel him grin against you before tossing one of your legs over his shoulder, managing to worm his way closer to you as you knew he liked. 

“I’m always eager for a taste of what only you can give me,” he replies, murmuring the dead woman’s name like she was his god. You ignore it, humming softly and trying to calm your racing heart as his tongue rolled expertly over the thousands of nerves between your legs. The urge to buck up into his face was growing stronger than ever, and your grip on your glass tightens almost enough for it to shatter. 

Welt moans against your cunt, drunk off of the taste of you, and you let out a soft noise that has him doing exactly what he’d done to coax it out of you the first time. One of your hands rushes down to bury itself in his hair, fisting around a handful, and he moans into you again as you submit to your own urges and start rolling your hips up into his face. Your wine sloshes in your glass as you squeeze your eyes shut so tightly that tears start to spring up, and you whisper out curses and pleads as a spot in your belly starts growing tighter and tighter, and he changes nothing — an experienced lover, Welt knew just what he was meant to do. 

With a sharp wail, the leg over his shoulder curls around his head and holds his mouth to your cunt, your body spasming as you squeeze him. His eyelashes flutter slightly as he relishes the feeling of your thighs pressing in tightly around him all while continuing to taste you, and one of his hands comes up to rub small circles on your skin as you cum for him. 

After a moment, the feeling slowly fades and the afterglow kicks in. Standing up, Welt takes your wine glass from you carefully, helping you finish drinking what wine you had left as he also assists in removing your robe and baring yourself to him. As the last dregs roll into your mouth, he captures your lips in a kiss, and you can taste yourself on his lips before your juices blend with the wine. A few stray droplets escape your mouths and begin running down your chin and throat before rolling across your bare breasts, and Welt is quick to swallow what’s in his mouth to chase them with it, his tongue flicking out to capture each droplet before finally closing on one nipple. You whimper softly, weak cries falling from your kiss-swollen lips as his tongue curls around the sensitive bud. 

“Bed,” you whisper quietly, and he grunts against you in agreement. The two of you make your way over to the bed you shared, Welt kicking off his shoes hastily as you abandon your robe on the couch completely. 

He nudges you gently and you fall back onto the thick blankets, pretending to be offended as you prop yourself up on your elbows, and he laughs as he unbuckles his belt and lets his pants fall to puddle on the floor. Your gaze falls upon his cock, hard and weeping, and your lip darts out to wet your lips before you spread your legs invitingly. His brown eyes darken a few shades and he tugs his shirt up and over his head before taking his rightful place between your thighs, his thick length slapping against your cunt as you’d both desired as he begins kissing you again. 

A soft pressure makes itself known as he slips a hand between the two of you and begins pressing his cock inside of you; you just close your eyes and relax into the mattress as the ever so familiar feeling of him filling you washes over your body. The two of you wait a moment, basking in the feeling and allowing your body to adjust before wrecking each other as always. 

“I love you,” he whispers through a smile, and you laugh a little to yourself. 

“I know,” you reply, and it’s enough for him as he begins to gently move, rolling his hips against you in a soft rhythm he knows you enjoy. Soft sighs and moans fall from your lips as he drives himself deep inside over and over again, an ever familiar fire building in your belly as he slams against your sweet spot over and over; the bastard had memorized its placement a long time ago, much to your shock. 

“Yes, yes — fuck, please!” he moans above you, his eyes squeezed shut from the feeling of being inside. You lock your legs around his waist instinctively as he slowly picks up the pace, letting out sharp cries of pleasure. You don’t notice him open his eyes, nor do you notice him gazing down at you in adoration as he brings you closer and closer to the edge or the excited glint in his eyes as he grips your waist and rolls the two of you over so you sit on top of him — but you don’t have to have noticed any of these things to know what he’s wanting as he bucks his hips up into you. 

Lofting yourself up, you keep pulling up until the tip of his cock pops out and only brushes against your hole before dropping back down all at once, gasping as you’re filled and then shivering at the loud, shouted moan Welt lets loose; Aeons, you hoped no one heard. Last time he’d cried out like that while the two of you were fucking, Himeko had burst in in a panic with her weapon in hand, thinking he was under attack, only to find you with your wrists and ankles tied to the top bedposts so you’d be completely spread openand Welt balls deep inside you. 

Breakfast the next morning had been interesting. March and Dan Heng hadn’t understood why things were so awkward, but thankfully hadn’t commented on it. 

“Fuck, that’s good,” you whimper, lifting your hips and slamming them down on him over and over again. You can feel the tight grip Welt has on you, one hand on your waist and the other squeezing your hip, and you catch your bottom lip between your teeth and bite down a little as the tightness in your  belly grows. “Fuck, ‘m close — W-Welt!”

“Y-Yeah, I know — c’mon, sweetheart, just a little more!” he moans, his eyes rolling back a little as he fucks up into your dripping hole. His nails dig into your skin as you slow the manic bouncing to a deep grind that smashes his fat tip against your cervix, causing you both to let out equally deep cries of pleasure. He curses again, and you grab his shoulder with one hand while wrapping the other around his throat, choking him. His hips stutter up into you instinctively and he lets out a strained groan, but other than that he has no reaction to it. 

“You shouldn’t trust me so blindly, Mr. Yang,” you purr softly, gently tightening the grip you have around his neck. He lets out a gasped moan and tightens his grip on your hips, a blissed out grin on his face and a flush on his cheeks, and laughs a little even while his air is restricted.

“And why not? You’d never hurt me, Mrs. Yang,” he gasps, and your eyes widen as your grip loosens in shock. Breathing heavily, he looks down at you hopefully through sex-mussed hair with a bright smile.

You ask shakily, “D-Do you mean-?!” and he nods. 

“Yes. It’s been five years of bliss with you at my side, so marry me,” he begs softly, his eyes warm and genuine. “Marry me, take my name, let everyone know that I’m yours and you’re mine.”

“Everyone — Everyone already knows you’re mine, Welt,” you whisper truthfully, heart racing. You’ve both stopped the carnal movements you’d shared before, still connected in the most intimate ways, but still as your mind raced as fast as your heart. A proposal? Was he absolutely insane? 

Were you?

Marrying him would be an unbreakable cover. You’d never be questioned, no one’s thoughts of your loyalty to the Express would ever falter. Should there ever be a suspicion of a traitor in the midst of the crew, you’d never be considered — the wife of Welt Yang, a traitor? Impossible!

So… why were you hesitating? Your Aeon wouldn’t give a damn and demand you take this opportunity, Phantylia would mock you for your hesitance, Blade would call you a fool for not jumping for it, and Kafka —

Well. Maybe of all your secret allies, Kafka would actually understand. Despite the exterior mask she shrouded herself in, the woman felt strongly. It was not a ‘maybe’ — she would understand. 

You may have been a priestess of the Destruction, but you were still a priestess. Marriage was a vow more sacred than any other save a life debt, even to followers of Nanook. You’d blessed more marriages in your many long years than you could possibly remember, as well as the children that followed — whether these marriages be of love, stratagem, convenience, arrangement, or any other means. The bond between spouses was something you dared not tamper with. 

But would he suspect you if you said no?

You’d managed to ease more of your own personality into that of the girl you’d hidden as over the last many years you’d been on the Astral Express and during the three in which you’d been in a relationship with Yang. You’d ushered her ended life into a new era as a woman, helped her personality grow beyond the grave, and you couldn’t thank your past self enough for the insight to do so. If Yang had proposed when you’d first arrived amongst the Astral Express Crew, the girl would have cried and said yes immediately, full of excitement that overflowed into every action she made, a reaction very unlike the one you were having right now. Now you’d made certain the come across more subdued and less explosive, and better yet you’d had a trailblazing expedition that Himeko and Welt both considered traumatizing ( a few people died, who the hell cares? ) to the girl who used to be. 

You’d jumped on that opportunity as quickly as a viper strikes its prey with a killing bite. Why were you not greedily snatching this one up as well? What was happening to you to make you falter in such a way?

“You — You don’t have to say anything now, I know the proposal is sudden,” Welt mumbles softly, averting his eyes. 

You’d been quiet too long. 

“Don’t bother,” you reply, watching him wince. Smiling, you say, “Yes. I’ll marry you,” and watch him light up. 

“You will?” he asks, smiling serenely, and you nod through a soft smile of your own. 

“I will. I’ll marry you, I’ll take your name — and should we consider it, I’ll bear you a son,” you promise quietly, as is the oath of marriages amongst the Destruction ( though changed ever so slightly; you’d learned over the years that Welt Yang was no man desiring strictly obedient partners — a child would have to be a decision you both made in his mind ).

For some reason, the thought of using any child you share with him doesn’t present itself in your mind as another means of cover or of digging your claws deeper into the Express. 

Welt just laughs. “Son, daughter, both or none — I don’t need any children, only you.” Your eyes start to water a little at that, surprising you; when you’d attempted to make such a promise to the Aeon you served, his reaction had been vastly different. 

You were glad the room was dark enough for him not to notice — hopefully. If he does, he doesn’t say anything, and you appreciate it. 

He sits up and presses his lips against yours in a slow kiss, blatantly conveying his love for you in every movement. More tears well up. You ignore them. 

“Welt,” you whisper against his mouth, and he pulls back a hair’s width. “Make love to me.”

His eyes, soft and gooey in the meagre light like melted chocolate, gaze up at you with an unhidden adoration that makes some part of you inside ache. What was this feeling? You’d been feeling it more and more lately, and you didn’t know why. 

Hmm. Perhaps matters of the philosopher.

The two of you resume your previously abandoned movements, this time slower and more rhythmic, imbued with the romance that Welt so openly craved. He moans soft utterances of your name and declarations of love that make your heart suddenly sting. You cannot return them, you aren’t meant to, but Aeons above… you want to. 

You can feel yourself teetering over the edge, Welt able to make you cum like even Nanook had never managed, and you fight off a sudden rush of tears as he whispers his love for you yet again as he fills you up, his thick cum a hot weight inside that has you following suit quickly. He holds you through your orgasm, fucking you through it as well even as it sends him into overstimulation, and as you finally come down he pulls out, watching the way his thick spend dribbles out of your messy hole before laying down beside you, content. The two of you could bathe tomorrow morning, for now you were both too tired. 

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted and more, everything I ever searched the stars for…” he whispers in your ear through a pleased sigh, wrapping his arms around you, “I love you.” His hands, rough from use over his many years, toy with your own, and you close your eyes and bask in the feeling of him lacing your fingers together. 

“And I you,” you murmur softly, eyes slightly wet as he nuzzles his face into your neck and begins to ease into a deep sleep, and as you glance over to where your phone rests on the bedside table. A harsh light fills the room as the screen lights up with a message, likely from Kafka, requesting an update before she made a move on Herta’s Space Station; Welt, ever-trusting, only hides his face in your neck as you slowly reach over with a trembling hand and turn the phone face-down. 

You sigh, staring up at the ceiling as your fingers toy with the hair at his nape without you even realizing it. His breathing has evened out, and he’s clearly asleep — content and happy in your arms while also with you in his. You look down at him, then sigh again. You’d been doing that a lot lately, Aeons knew why. 

“Sorry, Mr. Yang, but I still haven’t found what I’m looking for.”

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © { 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 } 𝐛𝐲 𝟒𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.

#welt yang x reader #welt yang x you #star rail x reader #star rail x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai: star rail x reader #honkai: star rail x you #hsr x reader #hsr x you #— kinktober_23.♡

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

platonic blade taking care of injured!teen reader? reader is a stellaron hunter too :3

Oooh, alright! I'll see what I can do :)

Injured Teen!Reader Being Moody with Blade, Stellaron Hunter

(Warning: Might be OOC!)

Blade is 0.01% away from losing himself to the Mara with your constant antics. He knew teens were moodie (man also deals with Silver Wolf 25/7 along with Kafka's teasing), but man you were just something else.

As much as this man was suicidal, your wish that got you tied with Elio and the rest of the Stellaron Hunters was to (word by word) "experience the universe to the fullest." Blade was not sure whether getting injured every single time you step outside of the Stellaron Hunter base was a part of the wish, but he was sure as hell done with it.

"This is the fifth time you got hurt," he says simply, using one of his bandages to patch you up. Since you were on a mission, you couldn't exactly get patched up back at HQ, so this will have to do.

You sigh, a little frustrated. "Listen, Blade, I get it! I need to be more careful, I need to be more aware—spare me that lecture again, will you?"

"This is the fifth time this day," Blade adds in plainly, emphasizing the last word that nearly makes you want to retort at the plain man before. "Kafka is the one who lectures you. You should listen to her more, considering your recklessness."

"Yeah, yeah, old man, I got it. I'll take the blame, yada yada, you'll be fine." You eyeroll. "You're such a killjoy."

"You should be glad this injury is not serious. You may have been killed this time." Blade gets up. "Allow me to take the hits next time. I may not be able to die, but you can." How reassuring. At least he's trying...

"Thanks, old man." You sigh, getting up as well. You follow him and continue your trek. There's still a mission to finish.

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: Is it wrong to use a Yingxing GIF while talking about Blade—? Oh well too late—The Ghost Rebel's using it anyways :) Ghost Rebel loves ghosts clearly LOL

I really hope this was fluff but idk I think I made it more awkward than anything :') I still hope it was enjoyable at least lol

PENACONY PENACONY PENACONY!!!!

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

#honkai star rail #star rail #hsr #hsr blade #blade hsr #blade honkai #honkai blade #honkai star rail blade #stellaron hunters #platonic hsr #platonic relationships

[fiorella-a]

Honkai Star Rail girls as... "Jenny" song lyrics!

(+Short scenarios)

Info:

-Gn! Reader

-Fluff

Kafka:

"you're my best friend

But there's a few things that you don't know of

Why I borrow your lipstick so often"

"I've been doing bad things that you don't know about"

"I cannot pretend

Why I never like your new boyfriends"

>> Kafka knows you like her. The way you avoided eye contact is all she needed to know before getting her plan started, what was her plan? To give you mixed signals and to see how long your patience will last (don't worry, she likes you too, she just doesn't wanna be the one to confess).

First up is to ask you what shade of lipstick fits her and after giving your opinion, she kisses the nape of your neck!

Next, Kafka requested to Elio for blade to be her companion, all they do is fight and tease each other and Blade doesn't know what the hell is up with her requesting them to be together for a mission. Kafka will try to hide the fact that she feels sorry for you! The way your eyes filled with shock when Blade and her were announced to be partners for mission, shock isn't the only thing you're feeling though, also jealousy.

As soon as she gets back from the mission, you practically confess your heart out while avoiding her gaze, "It might seem stupid and I know this isn't supposed to happen but I like you, really I do." "Aw, I like you too! All you needed is two push of a button to confess? How adorable!" Oh boy, how you wish you could wipe that teasing smile off of her face.

Serval:

"Jenny, take my hand

'Cause we are more than friends

I will follow you until the end"

>> You have always looked up to Serval, she is the woman of every possibilities! She has multiple talents, a good reputation and a brother who's well known around belebog. While you're mostly in your comfort zone and that's why she likes you. Serval once offered her hands to you and showed you around Belebog and was nice enough to introduce you to her brother while her cheeks was painted a rosy-pink color, she just said "me? Blushing? No! I'm just exhausted from our little tour. How about I treat you some snacks, yeah?" And she smiled at you. You swore to follow her path as she was your role-model (and crush)

Seele:

"I wanna ruin our friendship

We should be lovers instead

I don't know how to say this

'Cause you're really my dearest friend"

>> You had a hard time trying to confess to her, knowing Seele, she's almost always busy protecting the underworld and its people. How were you able to confess? You might ask, well when you almost got attacked by a competitive and bad mannered miner– she grabbed your hands, put you behind her while she had her left hand guarding you and her right hand pointing the weapon at the said attacker. When all was finished, your confession became your way of saying 'thank you' and her confessing back was her way of saying 'you're welcome'

Silver Wolf:

"Stealing your stuff now and then

Nothing you'd miss, but it means the world to me"

>> When she noticed one of her button pins missing from her jacket, she just dismissed it thinking it probably fell when it was in the laundry, but once she sees your bag that suddenly has a button pin that looks just like hers, she thinks otherwise 'why would they do that?' And when she ranted about it to Kafka, you bet she was teasing you but she did help you make your feelings more visible to Silver Wolf. And boy did it pay off! Because just as you were about to take a nap, you got a message from your phone;

"Give me back my button pin."

"I bought matching ones for us though."

"No need to confess, scaredy cat, I already know."

Stelle:

"I'm using your shirt as a pillow case"

>> Stelle has the same white shirt with multiple copies of it, because she says "it fits me more and is elegant yet simple to look at" and when she comes into your room while you're in the bathroom, she sees one of her shirts serving as a... Pillow case?

When you came out of the bathroom you WISH you could go right back but she's so strong and literally holds the door open while she makes you explain. "Isn't it elegant to look at? And besides, it's not the shirt you used while going in a trashcan." Her grip would loosen at the bathroom door, "and if you don't get the thing yet, I like you, Stelle." and her grip is finally out, letting go of the door while a thud follows. Did she faint while blushing? Oh gosh.

#hsr #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #kafka #kafka x reader #serval #serval x reader #hsr seele #seele x reader #silver wolf #silverwolf x reader #stelle #stelle x reader #fanfic #hsr x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #hsr x y/n #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #gn reader #hsr fluff #fluff #stellaron hunters #trailblazer #serval landau #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #kafka x you #serval x you #seele x you

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Merry Christmas Kate

Oh Kate you are one of my favourite people ever! You are the funniest, sweetest, most loveable person. I can’t think of a time talking to you where I haven’t been laughing my head off. I’m so glad to have met you and without our random chats we’d have never made the discord chat where I met even more amazing people. I’m forever in your debt Kate. I love you so much. I hope you have an amazing Christmas and enjoy this little snippet of Kate and Lois from ‘Loving Her Was Red’ and the little introduction of Kate’s love interest.

You can find Kate and the other characters moodboard from the link here

Lois’ fingers drummed impatiently against the hard wooden desk, her eyes scanning over the officers as they waited to start the meeting. Dick gave her a sympathetic smile from his seat next to Nixon that she didn’t reciprocate, her mind too focused on the embarrassment of her friend's lateness.

Colonel Sink, noticing the anxiety in the room spoke up, “Captain Drake, could we start the meeting without Sergeant Blythe?”

Lois sighed, “I apologise for my friend's tardiness but she will be here, I assure you.”

Right on time the door flew open with a loud bang, ricocheting on its hinges. Kate burst into the room, her hair loose from its normally neat curls and her lipstick a little smudged at the corner of her mouth.

“Kate Blythe,” Lois stood up, hastily making her way over to her friend, “It’s nice of you to join us.”

“Sorry, I’m late,” Kate mumbled, her eyes glancing over the officers, sending Dick a quick grin.

“I’m so sorry for this gentlemen but could we reconvene in ten minutes?” She pushed Kate out of the doorway.

“Kate, what the hell is going on?” Lois demanded, her hard stare boring into Kate, causing Kate to shrink away a little.

“I’m so sorry, Lois. I lost track of time,” Kate apologised, but knew that she needed to grovel more than that to have Lois forgive her.

“What were you doing?”

“Well… it’s more like ‘who’ I was doing…” Kate trailed off, an amused smirk on her lips as she gauged Lois’ reaction.

“Who you were doing? Kate!”

“What? I just couldn’t help myself. He was handsome and charming. You can’t talk anyway…”

Lois placed her finger against her lips, silencing her mid-sentence before she said anything more about Dick Winters.

“At least tell me his name. Is he from Easy Company?” Lois folded her arms but a smile graced her crimson lips. She was happy for Kate really. While Lois had a more reserved outlook on life and wanted to protect her heart, Kate was a free spirit, she loved life and intended to live it to the fullest.

“Yes, he’s a Sergeant from Easy Company, his name is Donald Malarkey.”

“Donald?”

“Yes, but everyone calls him Don. Oh, he’s wonderful Lois. You will have to meet him,” Kate continued to sing Malarkey’s praises and Lois laughed.

“Well, I’m pleased for you and I would definitely love to meet him, but first can we get through this staff meeting.”

Kate nodded enthusiastically, “I’m meeting him again tonight, you should come along. Bring Dick with you.”

Lois laughed, nodding in agreement, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Tags: @malarkgirlypop @georgieluz @iceman-kazansky @yeahcurrahhe-e @lieutenant-speirs @sharpshootershifty @liberteuniteegalite @msmercury84 @mayhem24-7forever @blvestxr @dustyjumpwjngs @theflyingfin @jump-wings @kafka-ohdear @kmc1989 @mads-weasley @docroesmorphine @liptonsbabe @lena-basilone @sweetxvanixlla @hesbuckcompton-baby @ronsparky @allthingsimagines @whollyjoly @bucky32557038ww2 @panzershrike-pretz @xxluckystrike @hanniewinnix

#band of brothers #loving her was red #Lois Drake #dick winters #Lois Drake x dick winters

[astrxlfinale]

Head on his shoulder, Guinaifen let out a content hum as she'd scroll through endless of updates on her social medias, the buzzing life of the streets around them fading on occupied focus. All it took was a feed, the comfort of her lover and a soft drink in hand to bask in the artificial warmth of the sun above them. Quick scrolling, occasionally showing him hilarious pictures, and then... a pause.

Who was that ?

Finger scrolled back up, clicking on a video that would display a woman with purple hair and a great set of legs. Wow. Guinaifen needed both hands for this, fingers zooming in on the female figure. It was a news report, something that went straight past the performer's head as she paused on an image shown of her full figure, sword in hand.

"W o w, look at this woman -" Not just any woman, but a woman the trailblazer might find it in him to recognize as she exceeded every bit of reputation tied to her name (destiny's slave, Kafka) would be held up before the two of them, a nudge to his side. "Her legs are awesome ; I'd love to get my hands on that outfit ! Do you think she's like a celebrity or something ? She looks awesome... and kinda hot, but I think that's the outfit's fault ... Hm..."

There'd be a glance down at her own legs. "Mine might be a too long for that outfit though - What do you think, babe?"

Caelus's own hands were no better. A rhythmic, constant flow of the thumbs repeatedly raining perturbation upon his foes, and the gallant strides required to avoid their lethal, eldritch brand of powers on the other. Comfort like this genuinely feels rare, how even in open space they're basically treating it like their own house. Once again their 'infamy' has made them a common sight, either in mischief, testing new frontiers or just this.

From the bottom of his heart, the Trailblazer knew he could get use to this.

There's a moment of tension from her figure, and from that, a natural assumption that her attention might've been snagged as a volatile, original plan may be in the makings. "Mm? Just what did you--" Eyes drifting to the side, for a moment the delinquent's heart found itself stunned to a pause, his phone nearly dropping as the velvet like confidence of quite the infamous face found itself parked on Guinaifen's phone.

Exactly as he can remember or imagine, the way how life itself is played to her silk, the devilish glow underneath those eyelashes as the entirety of her form was utterly recognizable to him. Should he tell her? "Dude, that's--" He begins, that nudge succeeding in jostling out any thought that would come. Only for this moment to heighten it's prominence by the opinionated addition that, due to knowing these two worlds, watching them converge made his jaw hang in utter speechlessness.

Her legs are awesome---

SHE looks awesome.... and kinda hot.

Caelus could not refute that statement. All the same, his heart ping ponged within his ribcage as this obscure combination of amusement, shock, stunned, how the hell was he supposed to feel about this?! In the gleaming eye of his imagination, that image briefly comes to life, Kafka's calculating eyes practically peering up towards them as if the epitome of innocence. As if she was wholly conscious of the chaos woven by her hands.

...Did that goddamn image of her just wink at him!? He swears it did at this moment!

"You've-- legs." Of course she has legs, Caelus. The image of those form fitting tights would be imposed upon the mind, drifting from the image of Kafka's natural confidence to his Firekiss, except rather than her sunny disposition, here she was wearing that same confidence as the Stellaron Hunter in question! It led to his face growing warm, this image of Guinaifen holding those razor edges, donning an outfit similar to Kafka's as within moments, his eyes sailed down to the glory of those lovely and strong legs of her's.

For an instant that phone was dropped, impulse overtaking him as he press a hand onto her thigh, drifting it over the current fabric and the warm shape of that lovely curve, prompting him to give it the most appreciative of squeezes. Somehow, his body was host to a spiritual form of autopilot as he pictures a different fabric adorning them. A low hum of confirmation escapes as he peers back up to her.

"We'd find the length if you like-- That, considering how beautiful your legs are?"

.....

"Firekiss, I'd stay buried between them for the whole day if I saw that."

Caelus what.

@avaere

#avaere #| Shuttle Mail #Caelus & Guinaifen | It was never the Stars. No. My warmth is the Sun you've always been. #There is so many layers to this ask #Where do we begin #Shame left shot in the streets #Cause his mind has found a vision with his Gui

[andr0medafallen]

Green Tea Lemonade

A/N: Republishing my old fics

Pairing: Michael Perry x reader

Warnings: Playful existentialism, hipster coffee shops, fluff, judgmental baristas, overenthusiastic pretty boy Michael Perry, Michael Perry's fat ass, light swearing

Description: Hipster Coffee shops are fun, in their own way. Still, you wouldn’t mind if a handsome music teacher came and saved you from the exposed brick and judgemental baristas.

Word Count: 1.4k

You sat in the small, hipster-ish cafe as you waited for your drink. You figured that that was the sort vibe that the exposed brick and edison light bulbs nodded to. You had ordered the barista’s suggestion when you arrived, a green iced tea lemonade because ‘if you’re gonna get an upside down caramel macchiato, at that point just get a latte, dude.’ So when you asked for suggestions because clearly you didn’t know the ins and outs of overly pretentious coffee, you had quickly agreed to the barista's first suggestion.

You were a little hesitant to be going out so soon after moving to Pittsburgh, but you figure that that’s how you make friends, right? So when you saw the flyer for the open mic night at this cafe, you figured, why not? The boxes of your belongings could wait; it was a sunny Friday afternoon and you didn’t even start your new job until Monday.

You had scribbled your name onto the list of acts at the front of the room, and had even made time to find your guitar amongst the piles of your packed belongings before you left for this thing. It felt good to be out of the house, being independent in that spontaneous ‘I do whatever I want’ kind of way, but a part of you still felt like a bit of an outsider in a new city. Which, even rationally, you were.

You sat at the table which you had claimed for yourself. Strangely, the oak table was covered in graffiti. Cartoon flowers and existentialism covered the cluttered surface of the table, but it seemed encouraged by the owners of the establishment; A cup of multicolored sharpies was sitting tantalizingly at the table. You read some of the different messages which surrounded the cool condensation of your drink. ‘I am a cage, in search of a bird. 888-447-5594.’ Kafka. Interesting choice for table graffiti. You wondered how desperate you would have to be to start using a cafe table as your own personal tinder. On a scale of ‘Mary Wollstonecraft is my favorite philosopher’ to ‘that guy in college who put sticky notes on every door in my four story apartment building with his number on them’, you would probably put it at a solid seven.

You choked a bit on your tea (lemonade) when your name was announced on the speaker system at the front of the room. Not a gross amount, just a perfectly reasonable, ‘Mary Wollstonecraft is my favorite philosopher’ amount. Probably. Was in not she who said, ‘Those who are bold enough to perform in front of a very small crowd in a cafe…must learn to brave the possibility of choking on green tea lemonade’? Still, you got your sputtering under control in record time and made your way to the front of the room, guitar in hand.

You sat on the stool at the front of the room, forgoing an introduction in what you hoped was a blasé, couldn’t give two shits type of way. In reality, it was more of a, ‘God, why did I come here again? I should not have watched Pitch Perfect on the plane’ type of way. Not that you ever thought you were better than any one or cooler than anyone or any sort of embodiment of Anna Kendrick’s performance as Beca, but you were really tired. Honestly, you didn’t even feel like you had any moral superiority over Beca from Pitch Perfect. Hell, she would probably love this venue.

You finger-picked out the first few notes of your song before finding your way into a steady strum pattern and beginning to sing the lyrics and melody. You had listened to and learned to play lots of different songs at open mic night and karaoke bars, but this one was your favorite. You’d been told that it was sad and depressing and all of those lovely adjectives in the past, but it made you feel seen. And you figured that if this was the sort of venue where people quoted Kafka in an attempt to get bitches then mildly depressing music was perfectly acceptable.

It wasn’t until you had strummed out your last note that you really gauged your pseudo-audiences reaction. For the most part it was about the same as for anyone else, which was the preferred reaction in your book. Tame applause before returning to conversations. Except for this one curly-haired son-of-a-bitch who, for reasons unknown was freaking the fuck out. We’re talking those loud finger-in-mouth whistles that Dads do at little league baseball games, rapid-fire clapping, all of the above. Which, really, was flattering, sure, but who the fuck did he think you were, Taylor Swift?

You gave the man a hesitant placating smile before packing up your Martin and returning to your seat. It was an effort to avoid unnecessary eye-contact with anyone, but a worthy cause, in your opinion. That is, until Mr. Curl-of-Hair Fat-of-Ass made his way to your table. You looked up at him over your plastic cup of cheap tea, probably fake lemons, and artificial sweetener.

“I liked your song a lot,” He told you, stupid little smirk on his face, which was somehow safely on the genuine side of the line.

You chuckled. “Yeah, clearly,” you teased. You didn’t really know why, but you nodded towards the chair across from you, giving him an opening to take a seat. That’s what this was about though, right? Making friends. Your #1 fan accepted your offer, turning the chair around and sitting on it backwards, arms resting on the backrest.

“Seriously, you’re super good! I was going to play something, but how am I supposed to follow that up?” He exclaimed, running a hand through his curls. You laughed, shaking your head. He reached out his hand to shake yours. “I’m Michael, by the way.”

Taking his hand, you offered your own name.

“I do appreciate it, the compliment,” you admitted to him. “I’m kind of the new kid in town.” You chuckled a bit, blushing at your own childish phrasing. “So I guess even ridiculously boisterous applause and enthusiasm is appreciated.”

“Can I buy you a coffee?” He asked, a bold departure from the original source material. His cheeky grin when his eyes met your still mostly full drink told you everything and nothing about his personality. Somehow he kept managing to do what you would have considered the most cocky shit on any other man without seeming one bit an arrogant asshole.

“Honestly,” you looked into those warm brown eyes, leaning forward so that your gazes were level right above the wooden table and its sharpied Kafka quote, “I don’t want to be here right now.” You whispered it to him like it was a guarded secret. Like some part of it affected the fate of the world.

He matched your gaze, pausing for a moment as if considering or analyzing you. As if making sure that it was the place, and that he wasn’t making you uncomfortable in any way. “I think we can remedy that.”

You gasped, pressing a hand against your chest as if scandalized. “I don’t know what you’re implying but–”

Michael laughed, interrupting you with, “You are crazy, you know that?” You only smiled at him. Of course you were the crazy one. Shaking his head, he suggested, “Here’s a proposal, we leave, I show you the city that you clearly don’t understand the awesomeness levels of, and I finish that tea that you don’t look like you wanted.” He got out of his seat and came around to your side of the table, offering you his hand should you agree to his plan. “It’s a win-win situation.”

You took his hand, rising to his level. “Fine. But the tea is mine.” You doinked the plastic cup against his surprisingly solid arm in a joking cheers and downed the rest of the…What would be the prestigious way to put it? Citrusy blend of organic green tea, highlighted with an ethically sourced lemonade, and made more palatable with a house-made simple syrup.

He laughed at you, leading you out of the building, hands still connected, guitar scars on your hand meeting the guitar scars on his. “Deal.”

You could faintly hear the barista say “Thank God,” as you left, and knew that it was definitely directed at the fact that the two of you were no longer in her lovely establishment.

#Michael Perry x reader #reader insert #oscar isaac fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac fluff

[knockyasocksoff2022]

More Than You Know \\ soukoku

Chapter I: Nakahara VS Mori

POV: Chuuya

(2,552 words)

(A/N: For this context, Dazai's surname is Mori so Chuuya calls him Mori and calls Ougai, Mori-san.)

I'm the only one here and the courtyard is still quiet, the only sounds are the birds chirping, the creaking of the gate, and the swishing of the trees that hide Kafka Academy from the gritty rest of Yokohama.

I like it this way, here I can actually study, which I suppose is the point of my enrollment here, at any rate, it's better than home. I know Kuoyou tries her best but ever since our parents died in a lab accident, and my brother ran off to France, it's been hard. 

Kuoyou is in university and works as a secretary at Yokohama Port Corporation, and I studied my ass off for this scholarship.

My head flicks up from my maths textbook when I hear the gate opening. It piques my interest until I recognise the car. I curse myself for letting myself get distracted on this particularly difficult problem. Still, I can't look away. The car is a limousine, pretty standard for the types of kids here, but this car has the Mori family crest on the grill. 

Mori Ougai is the CEO of Yokohama Port Corporation, his son Mori Osamu goes here and we have all our classes together. Unfortunately for me, he's an annoying little shit. But, fortunately for me, he's usually only here just before the bell rings.

He steps out of the car, says something to the driver, and then to my horror starts marching right up to me, swinging his hips like some kind of model. Rich, spoilt brat!

When he reaches me he glances down at my textbook and then says "The answer to that one is 3,459."

I should be used to it by now but I'm not, "What!"

"You were close though."

His words snap me out of my shock, how dare he patronise me? "Don't tell me the answer, then I won't learn!" It feels stupid after I've said it.

"I'm just telling you the answer, not telling you how to get to it. Besides, even if I did, it's not like the teacher checks the textbooks anyway." he looks genuinely confused at why I would actually want to do more work and it makes me want to punch him.

"Well, some of us actually care if people think we're lazy and spoilt. You know, some of us aren't born arrogant geniuses, and I actually want to learn. Go flirt with the garbage bin, or whatever it is that makes you late every day."

I expect him to tease me back but instead, he sits down beside me and stares at the maths book. "Yes, you're a very passionate dedicated student, and person in general, so willing to try everything and do it with all of your heart, it's what makes you so admirable."

I can tell he's talking to me but his words don't make a shred of sense, "What the hell!? Stop that, are you high?"

He only laughs, "No, I'm flirting with garbage, just like you told me to."

I can feel the heat rising in my chest and my blood pulsing in my ears, my capabilities of rational thought disappearing as the anger takes over "Oh, really? Ya' know what? . . ."

The punch lands squarely on his left eye and he falls to the ground, not dramatically, he just falls with an empty-sounding thud, I expect him to spring up but he just stays there, after a few seconds he's still motionless.

As I walk away I realise it's the first time I've really hit him like that, with all of my power, and intention to hurt. I mean I've hit him loads of times before but this feels different, for one thing, he didn't hit back, even if just to play the victim. Shit! I wonder if he'll tell. I've always been so careful with my temper, of course, this bastard is the one who made me mess up. I could get kicked out and lose my scholarship for this.

I look around, but nobody's there yet, except the driver. I wonder distantly why he didn't leave, but more importantly, if he'll report this to Mori-san.

Pushing down all of my pride in favour of saving my reputation, I plaster the best sad expression on my face that I possibly can and walk back towards the boy on the ground.

He's still on the ground and completely still, should I say something? I hate that I'm actually worried about this when I should be worried about the beating Kuoyou's gonna give me for this. But what if I actually hurt him, I'll definitely lose my scholarship for this.

Panic starts to rise in my chest, and I fight to maintain my usual teasing tone, "Come on you lazy bastard, get up."

He makes no move, I nudge him with my foot, and try to bait him into getting back up and arguing with me, "Did I knock you down that easily? Wow, so it was really this easy huh? I should've done this a long time ago."

Finally, he stirs. I expect him to make some big announcement about how hearing my annoying voice brought him back from the dead but instead, he just mumbles something into the quiet morning air. 

Because I know the driver is watching I extend my hand, and to my surprise he actually takes it. I bring him to his feet and he lets go of me immediately, probably disgusted to be touching someone who doesn't live in the fanciest part of the city.

He walks away, not towards the school, but back to the car. Is he ditching? Just because I punched him? Whatever, what do I care?

I watch nervously as the driver says something to him, looking at me like I'm a bomb that could go off at any second. I would make a crack about how I didn't know rich people spoke to their help but I can't afford to make this any worse. Mori answers the driver and gets back into the car. 

It pulls out of the gate the same way as it came in, and then he's gone.

After he's gone the worry settles in my chest. Of course, he left, he's probably going to tell his dad that I 'mortally wounded' him, and then they'll sue the hell out of us. 

I try to go back to my maths to distract myself but I can't focus so I just stare off into space.

—

Eventually a hand waves in front of my face, for a second I think it's one of the Mori family's goons come to arrest me but then I realise that the hand is covered in bandages.

"Wha-"

It's Mori. He must have scraped his hand when he fell, but I didn't see any scrapes so he's probably faking for attention. "Hey, Chibi! Did you finally figure it out?"

"Figure what out?" it comes out in the aggressive tone I usually use with him but I try to soften it on the slim chance he's still making up his mind and hasn't told on me yet. His fringe is over his face, particularly his left eye, my punch definitely left a bruise.

"The maths problem, of course. I'd offer to help you, but you seem to be in a handsy mood this morning and I'm afraid I'm not really looking for that right now." The way he phrases it makes it sound like I did something . . . sexual.

"It wasn't fucking "handsy" I fucking punched you, you perv!" So much for being gentle, "And I don't need your fucking help!"

"Suit yourself." He shrugs in the way he does that says 'Whatever, I'm so superior anyways.' and walks back toward the school.

The bell rings and I grab my maths book and head to my locker.

-

When I arrive in the English classroom Mori is already there, in the seat next to mine. Well, we don't have assigned seats but I always sit there, and he knows it.

"What d-" I remember I'm supposed to be sucking up, for the sake of my scholarship. My tongue burns with all the words I want to throw at him right now but instead, I say, "Do you need something?" with as little aggression as I can possibly manage.

He looks at me for a long moment and then blinks, "You may speak normally, Nakahara-san." The sudden formality is clearly him mocking me but it sounds right on him, fitting, like this is how someone like him should talk, not throwing kid-ish insults every chance he gets. I've never heard him talk like this before, almost like he's pulling rank on me, but not like he usually does, shoving me and calling me a dog. At the same time, the elegance sounds weird coming from him, despite his aristocratic status, the words are like a suit that doesn't quite fit. I'm used to him teasing me like a child, and it makes me realise how stiff it must sound coming from me. That was probably his intention.

It's true it would seem hella suspicious if I all of a sudden started being sweet to him, I'll have to try to find a balance. "Well, what do you want?"

"Nothing, I'm just sitting here, we still have free seating you know."

I take a breath not trusting myself to forcefully relocate him to another seat by throwing him across the room. "Yeah well, just don't bother me okay?"

He gasps dramatically, throwing a hand over his chest, "Of course not!"

The relief is immediate, to be honest it was actually kinda creepy hearing him talk like some fancy businessman.

-

English goes well, and true to his word Osamu doesn't bother me once, not even to correct the mistakes I'm sure I must be making. It's relaxing.

But, as soon as I step out of the classroom door, he's beside me. "You didn't make nearly as many mistakes as usual, Nakahara-san, have you been studying more?"

I can tell he's still teasing me about being stiff earlier. "No, It's because you weren't bothering me the entire class. If you keep this up I'll kick your ass out of that top spot!" I almost regret saying that, god forbid I give him more incentive to pester me. As if anyone could ever touch his ranking.

"As if, Chibi can't even reach that high." he echoes my thoughts and I can't help but laugh just because it's so true that I can even forgive the height jab. I shake my head and head to my locker.

The next class is maths, just before I enter the room someone catches my shoulder. I turn. It's a tall blond boy with glasses, he holds a green notebook with the word "Ideals" written neatly on the cover in fancy script. I think his name is Kumiya or something like that.

He looks concerned and whispers as he speaks, "What did you say to Mori-san in the corridor, he looked like he'd just seen a ghost?"

"Huh, what'd ya mean?"

"I have English with you and right after you walked away he looked like he might faint."

The boy's words confuse me, and I have seriously no idea what I could've said to shock him so much. "He must have realised he forgot to turn his oven off or something."

Shaking off the strange encounter I head into the class

In maths, we do have assignment seats, and Mori's is right next to mine. It's hell. He's always holding his stupid IQ over my head.

When the professor releases us to do work he does his work with ease, finishing before me and the rest of the class. But that's not enough, no, then he turns to me and scans my paper.

He frowns, "You're still doing it wrong. I can help you if you like."

"No, I don't need your help."

"But, you clearly don't know how to do it?"

"You think I don't know that you smug asshole!"

"Well, if you know you're not doing it correctly then, why–"

The argument goes on until the work timer goes off, scaring the ever-loving shit out of me and making me fall out of my seat. I mutter a curse. And gather my worksheets, releasing rather belatedly that most of them are less than half done.

To my horror the teacher is walking down rows, he isn't collecting the paper but I see that he's checking it, I take out my maths book and pretend to be consulting the text. I glance over and see that Mori has his book out too and is dutifully "checking his work". Of course, he's done nothing wrong.

Professor Tsushimura approaches us and looks disapprovingly down at my mostly blank papers.

"Is there a reason, Nakahara-san, that your work has gone undone?"

I look over at Mori, the smug bastard. 

"Yes sir actually, Mori-san wouldn't stop bothering me. He repeatedly took my materials and refused to return them."

At this accusation, Mori looks up but directs his gaze back down before the professor notices.

"Ah, I see. Well, seeing as you're such a hard worker Nakahara-san I'll let you off with a warning, and I'll be moving your seat, come see me when you get to class tomorrow for your new seating assignment. And Mori-san," the boy looks up looking innocent, "while I did not witness your transgressions myself I'm sure you will be fine with another person next to you and cleaning the blackboard and desks during your free period today."

"Of course, professor." Mori just nods making no effort to deny my mostly false claims. I'll admit I expected him to come after me and the fact that he didn't startles me and leaves an almost uneasy feeling in my stomach. He must be planning his revenge. I hope that maybe he just wanted to suck up, but I know that isn't true.

The professor nods, pats me on the and heads back to his desk, dismissing the class just as the bell rings.

I cram the worksheets hurriedly into my bag and head off to the library to complete them.

By the end of the free hour, the concept starts to make sense. I think I'll be able to finish them at home.

The next class is Science.

I sit next to Mori in this class too, it's because we have M and N surnames and the seating chart is alphabetised. When I sit down Mori looks away. 

He doesn't look at me for the rest of science.

I ignore his eerie silence as best as I can and focus on my worksheet. The work is easy because we have a substitute teacher (Some old guy with a monocle) so I finish quickly. I want to work on my maths a bit more but when I finish I find myself turning to look at Mori. He's on his phone, playing one of those mindless candy-crush-type games. 

Soon my maths is abandoned as I watch him engrossed in something on his phone, he almost looks like a normal kid.

Before I know it the bell is ringing and I curse myself once again allowing Mori to distract me.

-

In History the same thing happens, it's kind of creeping me out and I know whatever he must have planned is going to make my life hell.

But by Physical Education, our last class of the day nothing has happened.

Maybe he just decided to stop wasting his time on a peasant or something but either way, I'll keep my guard up.

#More Than You Know // soukoku #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd #soukoku #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #soukoku angst #soukoku fanfiction #soukoku fic

[henryrodhamkissinger]

You should read Clarice Lispector. Read the short stories “Imitation of a Rose,” “The Smallest Woman in the World,” “The Chicken” (sometimes translated as “The Hen”) and the rest of them but those are three standout pieces that showcase her singular voice in two of its most frequently used cadences.

Lispector is something special, of a piece with a tradition of modernist Jewish writers of short fiction like Kafka—my favorite artist of any medium in the world and the writer to whom she’s most frequently compared—and Walser (whose bizarrely enchanting immediacy and easy meandering through the world as though it were right before you, unmediated by the written word, nobody remembers but Kafka himself was once hailed as “a strange and intriguing young expressionist in the vein of Robert Walser.” Kafka was even charged with imitating Walser by some of the really Extra stupid early critics.)

What these poetic and enigmatic early 20th century Jewish writers had in common is probably something close to “immediacy.” In Kafka’s short works, his parable-like fiction, this is obviously more evident than in grand experiments like The Castle. I won’t speak to the specific ways that each of these do this except as an introductory passage to what’s so fantastic about Lispector, largely because if you get me going about Kafka I will be Tumblring all into the night. That is the verb the kids use, correct?

By immediacy I mean that in the short works of all three of these writers, one is plunged headfirst into a world. There is no procedure, there is no paperwork, you read the first lines and you simply inhabit the piece. And they are strange habitats in different ways (I am biting my lip til it bleeds trying not to Say at Length about Kafka but I’m doin this for the Ladies out there who are the victims of violent erasure by the phallogocentric textual economy of blarrdeblafgh).

Lispector’s womanness, though, IS pretty inextricably germane to reading her work. Her Jewishness less obviously so, less than in the case of Kafka: Lispector’s family fled the Holodomor in Ukraine when she was a toddler and she spent nearly all of her life in Rio, Brazil—her ethnic/religious ties are all tangled, as she makes some note of. On a very shallow reading of Lispector’s stories, one could see a comfortable bourgeois housewife, dutifully and blissfully happy to serve her Important Diplomat husband as her day job and do her little stories when she had some time away from the chores of a housewife. Take a look at this picture of her—she certainly garnered a reputation of the sort. No Gertrude Stein or even Anne Sexton modernist rebel woman here, a precocious learned talent who “looked like Marlene Dietrich and wrote like Virginia Woolf.”

I love Woolf immensely but it’s as though Gregory Rabassa picked a modernist writer out of a hat with this comparison. “She’s a pretty broad AND she can write, like ehhh some other dame who can write…I dunno, Hildegard von Bingen or some.” Lispector’s stories are like Kafka’s and Walser’s in that their brevity and immediacy gives way to a sense of parable. Very little similarity in terms of style, beyond this important formal feature, to any of the above mentioned writers or to any writer I’ve ever encountered.

Of course her inner life was hell and she smoked about an oil drum of cigarettes a day, and hid her scowl or devious smirk behind fashionable sunglasses—she put her hell on paper in the form of something sublime, and stylistically almost cherubic, stories of Goyaesque consuming darkness masterfully written with the deceptive simplicity and airiness of a song for children. Just as her stories seem to erupt out of the soil of the earth, their subjects are consumed by some element or another of oblivion, of returning to that chthonic, nourishing nothingness. I will nurture because this is how things are, but I want to be nurtured, not by you, not by God, but by death, at least by its glimmers offered in life — she seems to say.

The Totally Other is another expression of this void, and in stories like “The Smallest Woman in the World,” she examines, with granular psychological sensitivity, what happens when people see something totally alien to themselves, the obverse of what they believe themselves to be. All throughout this conceptual preoccupation (really, a straightforward obsession), her stories present themselves in the most lively form, her bestiary of incidental characters given such life it seems as though you could stop reading the words on the page and they would still speak to you nonetheless, in a voice, seriously, that you can hear. It’s thrilling in an easy and light way, and it is simultaneously something fearsome, powerful, numinous. She is quickly becoming perhaps my second favorite writer of any style or genre. Read her stories.

#clarice lispector

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (760): Tue 16th Apr 2024

Today was supposed to be the day that I Was going to take Lucy to the vets for an operation to have her remaining teeth removed which the vets warned me she could die from. However I decided that I'd rather not have my heart shatter into a million pieces and so instead today Lucy and I spent most of the afternoon in the back garden where she soaked in the sun on the grass while I read more of Philip K Dick's Voices From The Street. I've been agonising over this decision ever since Lucy and I left the vet's office. I kept trying to reassure myself that as professionals they would take good care of her while she was under but a phone conversation with my sister awakened me to the fact that I was just trying to delude myself and that if we did take her in for the operation she probably wouldn't come back and even if she did she would have to live the remainder of her life with no fucking teeth which would be hell for her. The main reason I changed my mind on the operation was because i had this recurring vision in my head of me signalling to Lucy that we were going out for a walk and her excitedly sitting still while I put her leash on and then hopping out ther door not knowing that this might be the last time she leaves the house. I know that the picture the vets painted wasn't good but she never outright said that she is in pain she just said if she is in pain it might get to the point that she starts refusing to eat food but if she was in pain she'd constantly be yelping and crying all the time so I don't think it's that bad. Plus she doesn't seem to have a problem with the dental sticks I give her every day and ever since I started giving her these tablets the vet gave me (whatever they are) her breath has started to smell normal again. All this considered what she had was probably just a mild infection that has now fucked off. We're not sure how old Lucy is exactly but we're guessing roughly around fifteen so we're not sure how long she might have left with us. I'd hate it if I'd have cut short her life for something that turned out couldn've been treated relatively easily. I know that I might be being cruel and selfish by going against the vets orders but I just can't bring myself to go through with it. Lucy is my pal and I want her around for as long as possible. 

Voices From The Street is a great installment in Philip K Dick's early bibliography. Although it's not a science fiction story that doesn't really matter because the main character of Stuart Hadley, the grittiness of the story and the mood Dick creates for it which I would compare to the feeling you get when you read a novel by Kafka or a film by David Lynch makes this an emmensly enjoyable read. I really empathise with the main character Stuart Hadley who is convinced there is something missing in his life that he just hasn't bumped into yet and is frustrated because he's actively trying everything that he thinks could be his saving grace but nothing seems to fit. It's strange to me that Dick decided to exclusively write science fiction novels because he was incredibly gifted at realistic character study type books where he just lets you spend time with one or more of the characters he's created and let's you get a feel for them and make up your own mind about whether they are good or bad. In my opinion he could have made a good living writing these kinds of stories but obviously I'm glad he got bitten by whatever bug that pushed him in the sci-fi direction or else we never would have gotten Do Androids Dream Of Electric Sheep?