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#Thomas bless his soul
call-sign-shark · 11 months
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Heaven In Your Eyes || Masterlist
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Pairing: Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC (Heaven Lavey Shelby)
Additional content/Info: CLICK HERE
Fic Summary: He meets her at church one dreary night, guided by her singing. Her name? Heaven Lavey. White ivory hair, fair porcelain skin, and petite shape, this almost ethereal creature is Arthur's strict opposite. Yet, all it took was one dive into her heavenly eyes for him to be convinced God has sent His sweetest angel to save his bastard soul. The two lovebirds, obsessed with each other, are determined to live their love no matter people's judgments and no matter the dangers of a Peaky Blinder's life. They are together through the best and through the worst.
But behind her holy appearance and sweet facade, Heaven Lavey is dangerous. With rumors of witchcraft and murder, her shady past weighs on her shoulders. And if she is a blessing for Arthur Shelby, she will soon prove to be a curse for those who dare to stand in her and her husband's way. Even Thomas Shelby himself.
She is Arthur’s Angel, but don't get fooled by her doe eyes: for the rest of us, she is the White Devil.
And by extend, you are too.
Why? Because Heaven Lavey… It’s you.
TW: Major character death, explicit sexual content, canonical violence, graphic description of violence, blasphemy, witch trials and burning of innocent women, dependent relationship (if Arthur and Heaven are happy in their relationship, they are obsessed and possessive, which leads to bursts of violence and deifying from Arthur. By no means I am claiming their relationship is healthy, but it is what works for them)
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ACT I.
♢ Ch. 1 || Heaven in Your Eyes
♢ Ch. 2 || Never Did, Never Dared
♢ Ch. 3 || Something Wicked This Way Comes 🔞
♢ Ch. 4 || Dead Bird at Witchin Hour
♢ Ch. 5 || The Hell in His Eyes
♢ Ch. 6 || The One They Should Have Burned
♢ Ch. 7 || Of Matches and Gasoline 🔞
♢ Ch. 8 || Tango on Broken Dreams
ACT II.
♢ Ch. 9 || For Whom the Bells Toll
♢ Ch. 10 || Closer to Heaven or Closer to Hell? 🔞
♢ Ch. 11 || When The Bridges Burn
♢ Ch. 12 || As They Always Did
♢ Ch. 13 || Cross My Heart and Hope to Die
♢ Ch. 14 || Pure As a Lamb 🔞
♢ Ch. 15 || Women Like Me in a Men's World
♢ Ch. 16 || Après Moi le Déluge ( c o m i n g . . .)
♢ Ch. 17 || ( Il Diàvulu Biancu)
♢ Ch. 18 ||
ACT III.
♢ Ch. 18 ||
♢ Ch. 19 ||
♢ Ch. 20 ||
♢ Ch. 21 ||
♢ Ch. 22 ||
♢ Ch. 23 ||
♢ Ch. 24 ||
♢ Ch. 25 ||
♢ The series can be longer.
Some events from the show are taken and obviously reworked. Yet, except for a few quotes and scenes, everything else is imagined by the author.
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Related works - in chronological order-
♢ From Blood We Will Grow
♢ To Bark and Bite
♢ Kaiser Meeting Cyril (requested)
♢ A Bone to Pick With It (requested)
♢ Perfect Lines
♢ Savage Daughter
♢ A Slice of Us (Modern!HYE)
♢ Love Ritual (@zablife's celebration)
♢ The Woods Whisper 1, 2 (Halloween Horror)
♢Little Lamb 1, 2, 3 (Yandere!AU)
Moodboards and other content
♢ Playlist
♢ Moodboard Aesthetic
♢ Moodboard Chapter 6
♢Heaven In your Eyes Act II trailer
♢ Moodboard Chapter 12
♢ Heaven in your Eyes chapter 16 trailer
Looking for more? Check out Heaven's masterlist I and II.
Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @cherubswhispers @he6rtshaker @bemyqueenofdarkness @cljordan-imperium @cjarbo @red-riding-wood @rysko
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bruciemilf · 2 years
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,,,, russian bruce wayne
Russian Bruce Wayne
RUSSIAN BRUCE WAYNE -
Listen. Listen. Not fully compacted into something coherent, but I'll do my best, because this idea has been haunting me, -
SO he's russian on his mother's side!! Martha Wayne immigrated in America when she was a teenager, nothing to her name but hope in her chest and her mother's pearl necklace in her pocket
She always got ugly looks for speaking in her native language and her accent. Slowly, it melted into something perfectly English, but she still spoke Russian at home and especially to Bruce
Little Bruce loved Baba Yaga as a kid and dressed like her for Halloween every single year; Nobody really understood it, but a glare from Alfred was enough to fill a bag full of candy
Martha and Bruce would talk shit in front of Thomas' faux philanthropist friends, but they were on wildly different spectrums
Martha, whispering: You see that man, Brucie? He sold his soul to greed. He's a worm of a human and his morals are rotten. That's why his eyes are dead
Bruce: haha, he's balding at 25
Martha, Alfred, and Bruce cooking beef stroganoff, syriniki, borscht, and Bruce's absolute favorite- pirozhki.
Martha also played the piano and LOVED Swan Lake so, so much. It was the one song that calmed Bruce during night terrors.
When he reaches eight, it all stops.
He eventually reconnects with his Russian roots in his 20s, when he's in college and his literature teacher shares a DISRESPECTFULLY incorrect opinion about one of Dostoevsky's works.
His teacher scoffed, " Well. Didn't know we had a Russian citizen here. "
" Not a citizen, but I AM a Russian descendent. My mother was an immigrant. That's kind of how America was formed. It's a pretty significant thing that happened."
Imagine you're a Gotham criminal and Batman starts muttering things about you in Russian. Somehow that's even more intimidating than anything he does.
" I can't believe they're more afraid of someone who doesn't speak English than a guy who beats up people dressed as a bat."
Alfred hums, sloooowly pulling away the vodka cereal Bruce made. " I can't imagine why. You're the poster child for mental health, sir."
" Not funny, papachka"
" For you."
When Dick is brought into the nest, Bruce struggles a bit with showing his affections; He only has money to offer, but Dick is happily uninterested in that, and seeks Bruce out instead.
BRUCE ABSOLUTELY SPENDS AN ENTIRE NIGHT TRYING TO PERFECT HIS MOTHER'S BAKLAVA FOR DICK!!
yes he's supposed to be on patrol. No, he doesn't care, Jim. It's all worth it when Dick takes a single bite and he has stars in his eyes and vines his little but strong arms around him, " this is PERFECT! Thank you so much, dad"
Air freezes in his blood, " ... Of course, ptichka."
He absolutely uses russian proverbs all the time (mostly when his children need to be reprimanded and reminded that making jokes is illegal when they're on duty)
JASON AND BRUCE FIGHTING OVER TRANSLATIONS AND CONTEXT IN ENGLISH ADAPTATIONS OF SLAVIC LITERATURE!
" PAPI, THAT'S NOT WHAT THEY MEANT TO SAY!"
" MISKHA I'M SO GRATEFUL YOUR GRANDMA ISN'T HERE, BECAUSE SHE'D DIE AGAIN IF SHE HEARD YOU SAY THAT!"
Damian 100000% prides himself on knowing russian and communicating with Bruce the smoothest.
It becomes a competition soon enough. Bruce is SO tired but the way they butcher words is funny, so he just pretends they're right.
The League finds out when Bruce snaps and calls Hal Cyka in a low, angry mutter while stomping away from his stupidity. " ... Bless you? What did he call me?"
Diana, struggling so hard not to laugh. " He said you were a genius."
" Huh. Had no idea he was French."
Meanwhile Clark is losing HIS shit because wow, Bruce's russian might be the hottest thing he ever heard. Please, this dork would absolutely try to learn Russian and talk to Bruce more.
He's absolutely horrible with it but Bruce is just very excited. He definetly chuckles (which. Wow. Clark couldn't even make him GRIN 3 weeks ago) " You just asked me if I sleep with my dentist."
" ...Oh. I...Was trying to ask you for drinks. You can kill me right now. Please?"
" Maybe another time, solnyshko. Take me for a drink first."
Clark inhales. " oKaY thank yoU."
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nepentheisms · 6 months
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You ever find yourself down and out, going through a real dark night of the soul? Well if your name's Vash, then fortunately for you, you've got a Meryl Stryfe on your side.
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She came in clutch, and I'm proud of her. Nightow even conveys the moment Meryl's words of resolve reach Vash as a burst of light in the dark. After Vash kills Legato, we see his soul teetering on the brink. He feels truly lost, boxed inside an all-black space, wondering what reason he has to go on living, "What's there left to see?"
And as if in answer to prayer, sparks of light begin to appear around him. As our eyes follow the flow of panels down to the lower left, we're then hit with the impact of the space around Vash brightening dramatically as he hears Meryl's words. Her faith calls him out of the void, and he gets the answer to his question: Here are the people fighting to realize your dream. Here's the woman who declares that she's among those who will share your burden because it doesn't matter if you broke the vow that defined you for so long - you're still worth believing in. And here, right in front of you is a fragment of your sisters' memories - the key to finally bridging the gap between them and humanity. There's so much left to see.
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I love how in every version of Trigun, it's the sheer persistence of Meryl's faith that pulls Vash out of his lowest points (I know Stampede hasn't reached this climax in Vash's emotional journey yet, but I think what we've seen with Meryl helping him break Knives' control is a foretaste of bigger things to come). That tenacity and refusal to give up are so central to her character. Once her convictions are set, she's incredibly steadfast in them, and it's this steadfastness that makes the Mary Magdalene comparisons even more fitting.
In Thomas Aquinas' reflection on Mary Magdalene, he calls her devotion "constant," and says "it deserves praise" as a quality that "made her fit to see the angels." Aquinas remarks that while the other disciples left when Jesus was buried, Mary Magdalene stayed because of her "stronger and more burning affection." Thus, she is privileged among the saints as the chosen witness and messenger:
"Notice the three privileges given to Mary Magdalene. First, she had the privilege of being a prophet because she was worthy enough to see the angels, for a prophet is an intermediary between angels and the people. Secondly, she had the dignity or rank of an angel insofar as she looked upon Christ, on whom the angels desire to look. Thirdly, she had the office of an apostle; indeed, she was an apostle to the apostles insofar as it was her task to announce our Lord's resurrection to the disciples."
So how fitting is it that Meryl ends the story as a news reporter and thereby having even more power to tell Vash's story? She has witnessed the most hidden aspects of him (a fact that makes a great point of comparison to the characterization of Mary Magdalene in the extracanonical Gnostic Gospels), and there's so much she could say to help the rest of the world learn to understand him. She now has the resources to share his message on a much greater scale, and in those last few pages we see that the people Vash met in his travels, people like Lina and her grandmother and Badwick's family, are among those watching the broadcast. Meryl gets the word out to others who came to know him directly: He is risen.
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"Mary answered and said, What is hidden from you I will proclaim to you. And she began to speak to them these words: I, she said, I saw the Lord in a vision and I said to Him, Lord I saw you today in a vision. He answered and said to me, Blessed are you that you did not waver at the sight of Me. For where the mind is there is the treasure." -Gospel of Mary (extracanonical)
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hauntedandmurdered · 4 months
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You know what feels like a fucking slap in the face? Hearing over and over again that Silence of the Lambs is a bad horror story that only people with a sick brain can get excited about and making the claim that Hannibal and Clarice's relationship is toxic.
This goes out to anyone who can't and won't understand the message and depth that Thomas Harris was trying to convey. May your eyes be blessed. <3
With this work, the author of this tetralogy has created a concept, which is of central importance as a wake-up call for both literature and films, even nowadays. How? By developing a strong female protagonist who tries to assert herself in a world dominated by men. No matter what means she uses, no matter how successful she may be, she is not appreciated but sexualized because she is a woman. Her gender determines her position in society and her career at the FBI. Clarice Starling is the damn heroine of this story and is not recognized for it. She is repeatedly confronted with contempt on various social levels.
There is only one person in the story, her antagonist, the cannibalistic serial killer and psychiatrist, Hannibal Lecter, who respects her for her intellect, kindness and purity. This is part of the special charm that develops throughout their peer relationship. She is the first person during his imprisonment to whom he answers questions. In contrast to all the others who have tried before her and whom he despises for their greed and selfishness, Clarice treats him with respect, despite all his deeds. It is the small but significant details during the interrogations down in the Baltimore state hospitality for the criminally insane that give clues as to how something develops between the two.
Hannibal may be a murderer, but he is also a professional psychiatrist at heart. By letting her work through the trauma of her childhood and gaining insight into her soul, he gives her the relevant clue to see her mission through: the gift of self-absolution. He understands that despite what has happened to her, Clarice is genuinely a good person and that what drives her is ultimately courage and purity, not greed for prestige and self-promotion unlike the FBI. He values her for being on the same level of intelligency. They are equal.
They are also linked by a significant event in their childhoods: both grew up as orphans and lost loved ones. This drastic break changed the lives of both of them, albeit in completely different directions. While Clarice has never given up hope and the pursuit of good, Hannibal has turned his back on precisely that. This is most likely why he admires her, for the small glimmer of light in her that was destroyed in him a long time ago.
Hannibal, from whom one least expects it, shows compassion.
The touching of their fingers during their last encounter for the time being is therefore an indescribably captivating moment; it is the first and only physical intimacy they share.
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saturnandthewinter · 6 months
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YOU'RE THE QUEEN OF THE KINGDOM THAT HAS MY WHOLE HEART
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꒰ synopsis: fate has a weird way of working and you still can fully understand the way everything it's delicately interconnected
꒰ content warnings: nsfw (18+), fem!reader, smut, masturbation, male pov, fem pov, breeding kink if you squint, rough sex, making love, virgin reader (at one scenario), Tangerine is a bit of an asshole, emotionally constipated idiots
author's note: this is probably bad, english it's not my first language, no beta we die like men, im still simping about a motherfucker called Tangerine, lalalas
Tangerine knew that there was no such thing as an easy job, but Jesus Christ nobody ever told him that things could be this fucking difficult.
Lemon warned him. His brother, god bless his good soul, tried to talk his way out of this ridiculous job, but Tangerine didn't listen to him. Maybe he truly was a Gordon after all.
At first, the decision seemed easy. Rescue the White Death's son and bring back the ransom money for a great payment or rescue Tora's sister and keep a job as a nanny in a luxurious house without having to worry about anything but your safety until your brother himself kill the motherfucker who decided to mess with his remaining family for a marvelous payment.
Lemon thought the second option was too easy, too good to be true. Turns out fate really was on their side because the White Death's mission was some kind of trap and everything went to shit. From what they heard, they were going to be dead if they accepted that job.
And now here he was.
Sitting in a ginormous comfortable chair with a fantastic book that he got from your bookcase trying to read while you and Lemon were on the couch talking excitedly about an anime that you convinced him to watch saying that in exchange you would watch all the twenty-four seasons of Thomas the Tank Engine.
He didn't know how much longer he could handle this situation with sanity in his mind, but with how much your brother was paying just for them to keep you safe inside your house he knew he would rather eat his right hand out of his body than mess this up. Even because Lemon, that traitor, was having the time of his life. Every day since the second half of the first week in your house, Lemon says he's grateful for Tangerine accepting the job. The easiest job of their life. And the higher-paying too.
Maybe, just maybe, if Tangerine was a little bit less of a professional this actually would be the easiest job in his life. A beautiful house in the middle of a forest that looks like a scenario out of the fucking Twilight movie that you made Lemon watch in exchange for that one cartoon with the human and the dog, his brother is happy that he finally got a friend to share his interests, a good payment at the end of every month, not even one day of violence since the beginning of this job and you.
The level of frustration and violence running wild in his body is not comprehensible, right?
Everything was just perfect.
.
.
.
Except Tangerine wanted to bend you on every surface in sight and fuck you dumb on his cock at every opportunity. It was the first time he tried to resist the impetus to take something that he wanted and maybe Lemon was right and he should have seen a therapist. But you were just so sweet, always concerned about his well-being, always smiling in the morning and making coffee for you and Lemon and tea for him, always offering yourself to moisturize his hair and asking his opinion on everything like the food you cooked or the books he's reading. It would be hard to resist nevertheless.
But again, Tangerine was a professional. The fact that your brother was one of the most dangerous mafia leaders in Eurasia and you used to date his best mate before he got murdered trying to protect you a few years ago sending your brother into a spiral of madness and cruelty was just a detail.
He didn't know your brother very well, and it was hard to gather pieces of information about him, or you for that matter, but you seemed very fond of him and even if he continued to ignore you every time you tried to reach him you didn't allow him and Lemon speak a bad word about him.
Your soft voice was distracting him from the words displayed in front of him. He didn't even recognize exactly what was being said because he was trying really hard to ignore Lemon and pay attention just to the sound of your voice. Your sweet voice. He didn't know if he was able to live without listening to you every day from now on.
Given the amount of erotic and vivid dreams he's having about you, he doesn't think he will, but physically was way better than his imagination. Although he didn't have the chance to listen to your moans and sighs in reality yet. He did listen to you beg to him once. "Please, Tangerine. Please. I promise you will enjoy it. Let's watch this movie with us." you had said. The first phrase got printed in his brain like a burn and it's almost present in every dream he has about you. You beg so prettily, pouting unconsciously just a little bit. A truly divine sight.
He could feel his cock getting hard at the memory and the annoyance building up inside him together with the hot white desire he feels for you. Why did you have to be so perfect and so good for him? Tangerine knew he would ruin you if he got the chance.
He wanted to fuck you so hard that you wouldn't be able to walk in the ridiculous aristocratic way you always do like the world knows better than demand hurry from you. He would fill you with his dick until you couldn't feel anything else, but him. No sadness, no worries, nothing. Only him and his burning love and desire for you. He would put your mouth to use and with the way you're always so careful with everything you do to him, he bet you would be a natural. He just know you would worship his cock with kisses battling your long lashes at him until he couldn't take any more teasing and started to fuck your mouth with wild abandon like the madman he is. And you would let it because you would be so good to him.
Given the chance, he would kiss you for hours. Slow kisses, steamy makeouts, soft pecks after fucking your brains outs. He wouldn't waste a chance to claim your lips in rough passionate kisses.
But he doesn't get a chance with pretty little things like you. He's not like your ex.
Did Tangerine know anything about your ex or the depths of your relationship? No, just the thought of you loving and touching someone that wasn't him makes him sick in the stomach. But he could tell by the way you spoke about him with Lemon sometimes that he had been different from him.
Although there's one thing that you said that stuck with him and made him think that maybe he and Draken are not that different after all. "He used to say that I was the queen of the kingdom that has his whole heart. I guess I'm in exile now huh?" You spoke softly and laughed when Lemon said he didn't understand what you meant.
Tangerine understood. He understood very well. And given the chance he would give you another kingdom to rule.
"Oh, for fuck sake, you both don't know how to shut up?" Tangerine shouts angrily out of nowhere and both you and Lemon are staring at him like he's some sort of alien.
It's not out of nowhere. He got an aching boner and if he didn't know himself any better he could say a broken heart. He denied himself too much, but you two didn't know that so it looks like out of nowhere.
Your face does show something, a brief emotion he can't read it very well, but after you press the heels of your hands against your eyes and he listens to your small quivering voice, he knows he fucked up again.
"I'm going to my room. I'll sleep early tonight. You guys feel free to stay here in the living room as long as you want okay"
His eyes followed your figure and maybe lingered a little bit on your round arse until you were leaving his sight. Tangerine wants to hug and apologize promising he'll never scream at you again, that he'll never let you sad again. But he can't so maybe it's for the better if you think he's a crazy unpredictable angry man. Like that, you'll stop treating him affectionately and will give him what he deserves from you. Nothing. He wasn't worth of you and he knows it.
Turning his head forward he comes across his brother facing him. They both keep staring at each other and Tangerine suspects Lemon knows what's up with him.
"Gordon wouldn't act like that." Lemon said with a straight face and turned around to face the TV.
If the room was a little bit more silent would be possible to listen to Tangerine's heart breaking a little more.
--x--
The cold of the night was soothing against your warm body and restless mind. You easily could see how you got yourself in this situation, but at the same time, you had no idea how you ended up like this: baking a lemon cake at two in the morning, trying to keep yourself from making a very reckless mistake that could get you in a lot of trouble.
Five years ago your first love and long-term boyfriend Draken got murdered trying to protect you. He was your brother's best friend since childhood and early in your teenage years they started a gang but things escalated quickly. An amazing duo, an unstoppable force, and delicious naive if you stop to think about it now. Nothing could ever last forever.
After your lover's death, your brother started spiraling into a darker path mentally and morally. He became a ruthless murderer, a tireless man, and crawled his way to the top distancing himself from every single person he used to hold dear, including you.
At least that was what everybody thought, but you know that's not true. Even if he refused to talk to you or answer your texts, he never blocked you. He bought you this house, a house that he knew was your dream house since you both were teenagers.
A soft laugh escapes your mouth at the memory while you finish putting the dough into the cake pan. You always said how much you would love to live like the Cullens and even if he claimed he always slept when you forced him, Draken, and the rest of your group of friends to watch Twilight in those rainy autumn evenings, you knew he was paying attention. You just knew. Just like you know he's not the monster people think he is. He's your brother and you have known him all your life.
He still keeping you safe even from afar just like he promised he would after your older brother died in your childhood. He's still your Leo. You know if you could just talk to him, face to face, you could knock some sense into him, but he never let you get close to him. Maybe he knew that too and that's why he refuses to see you but he wouldn't give up on you so you will not give up on him.
Putting the cake pan in the oven you ask yourself how you still handling life without losing your mind. Again, baking a cake in the middle of the night was not the best sign that your mind was 100%, but it's not like you are in the worst-case scenario given your history and current situation. Being a baby witch helps because gives you a sense of fate and fate brings you hope that you are not insane when you feel that everything is going to be alright sooner rather than later. Or maybe you're just delusional, but it works too.
But you didn't feel delusional. You feel like there are missing pieces to this puzzle and that's partially the reason why you awake to see dawn once again. Only partially. You don't like to admit it, but the man sleeping in the room next to yours is also a factor that contributes to your insomnia.
Sitting in the cold soft chair next to the kitchen bench, you let yourself relax a little while looking at the soft light radiating from the oven. Cake for breakfast, just like when you were a child and you had both of your brothers and nothing to worry about, but before you could drown deep in your thoughts a man appears right in front of you, and before you could scream, Lemon's hand cover your mouth and finally you're back to reality.
"What are you doing?" He asks without removing his hand from your mouth so you grab his wrist and push it down yourself.
"What does it look like I’m doing?” you ask.
Rubbing the back of his neck Lemon says a little wary. “Well, to be quite honest it looks like you're going a bit mental."
That gets your attention and your eyes finally snap up to his.
“I’m not going mental, Lemon! I’m making a lemon cake." you say trying to sound calm and composed "Clearly.”
He blinks once, twice. “A lemon cake?”
“Yes.”
“At two in the morning?” Lemon it's trying to read you right now, but he doesn't know which Thomas character he can use to understand you better nor he has watched an episode that could prepare him for this.
You pause, and then answer with a straight face: “Yes. Clearly.”
The younger fruit keeps looking at you expecting you to elaborate a little bit more, but no explanation comes out of your mouth. In the deep silence of the kitchen you both keep staring at each other. You shift your weight between your feet and keep your eyes on his waiting for something, anything, to happen and save you from this situation because you know if you don't make an excuse plausible enough, Lemon will figure you out.
Suddenly you hear a step at the stairs and you know it. He listened to you both talking and he is coming to see what this is about. That's not what you meant when you said you wanted anything to save you from this situation.
A deep voice with a thick british accent comes from behind you. "What the fuck?" Tangerine asks and you know, even without turning around, he's pissed that he got his precious sleep disturbed.
At the first month in your house, he was cranky enough, but Lemon said it was his normal self. A little bit aggressive, a little bit sarcastic, and a huge asshole, but it was his normal self after all so you didn't mind him. He's keeping you safe, he's a good brother and that's such a personal subject for you, he's intelligent and has such good taste in books. He's so unbelievably handsome too. But as time went by he got irrationally angry at little things and apparently he couldn't get a decent night of sleep in a while.
"I'm baking a lemon cake." You answer still without turning around and you're surprised that you can keep your voice calm.
"Why the fuck you would bake a lemon cake at TWO IN THE MORNING? A lemon one nonetheless. It's this some kind of fucking twisted joke? "Let's bake a lemon cake and wake Tangerine up just as he was closing his eyes after hours trying to sleep?". This fucking ridiculous, assholes. If you want to be insane at least keep it quiet." At the end of his little speech he was screaming and although you didn't know exactly what your face was showing, Lemon seemed to take pity on you and decided to speak for you.
"Tangerine, mate, you need to get help."
Oh, at least he tried.
"I need to get help? I'm the one who needs to get help? You both inconsiderate twats decided to be insane and bake a lemon cake late at night and chit-chat until you wake a poor lad trying to rest and I need to get help?" You could bet that Tangerine eye was doing that little twitch thing that always happens when he was about to get into a discussion with Lemon.
"Look, first of all: we weren't even talking that loud, but most importantly: this is her house. It may be a little weird, but there's nothing wrong about it."
You gathered courage enough to turn around and face Tangerine. You weren't scared of him, that was not the problem here. That would be too easy. You could just send a text to Leo and your brother would find someone else to protect you. The real problem was you were uncontrollably attracted to him and how could you not? The man was a god among men, handsome enough to make pornstaches sexy again. When he was angry you could see the veins in his neck popping, his face slowly reddening, his blue eyes darkening and his accent getting thicker while spitting all kinds of curses and insults. But now, in addition to these classical traits, his soft curly hair was falling around his head and he was shirtless, his waistband hanging dangerously slow.
Oh god, you hope he didn't catch your wondering eyes following the line of the hair just below his belly button into his pants.
You already touched yourself thinking of him today. Twice. Nothing new, you've been doing this for almost two months now. But three times was a new personal record.
You had just finished coming down your high when you decided that you wanted to distract your mind from wandering to him again and the best way to do this was baking a cake. But fate had other plans and now you had no choice but to touch yourself again. You honestly don't know how much you could resist the urge to get into your knees and beg to suck him for all he's worth, but if you could delay this humiliation a little bit longer, you would.
You got lost in your thoughts again and didn't realize when the shouting match between the twins started.
Your voice was small, but both of them stopped talking the moment you made yourself present in the situation. "I'm sorry, Tangerine. It was my fault. It will not happen again. Sorry for waking you too, Lemon. I just wanted to clear my mind and baking helps. Let's go back to bed, shall we?" Not a complete lie, just not the whole truth, you think to yourself hoping they would buy it.
You get up without saying anything else and walk towards the stairs hoping you can keep your walk as normal as it ever is and pray that they don't notice how much you wanna run from the kitchen. You still hear their voices from upstairs. "She was kidnapped and we have no idea what happened to her, man." Lemon said trying to defend you, but you already closed the door of your room so you couldn't know how Tangerine replied.
Your cat, Luna, was spread around your bed like she worked all day to pay the rent that was due. Your chance of trying to relieve the aching between your legs was ruined by this fur ball because you may be going a little bit mental, but you draw a line at masturbating around your pet.
Climbing to the soft surface you finally let yourself relax. Luna didn't enjoy it being disturbed, but quickly forgave you when you wrapped your arms around her and started caressing her ears. Feeling the soft fabric of your nightgown and the warmth of your cat around your chest, you started to succumb to the tiredness and the dark even if the desire running through your veins didn't vanish as you would liked to.
Maybe if he wasn't hired by your brother to look out for you or maybe if he actually could develop a relationship with you, but most importantly maybe if he didn't hate your guts for no reason... Maybe if wasn't for that you could try despite the odds. But all you can do right now it's wish for good dreams.
And this was your last thought before falling asleep.
--x--
In the silence of his room, laying in his bed, Tangerine knew he couldn't deny himself any longer. Your flimsy nightgown and perky nipples because of the cold night were his last straw.
He could feel his member in his hand, hot, pulsing, and begging for relief inside his pants.
God knows how much he tried to avoid this from happening because he knows once he lets his mind succumb just a little to the thought of you he will need more and more and soon just thinking about you will not be enough. But now it's over. His cock was throbbing so much and was desperately needing release.
Every goddamn time you made him hard he tried touching himself picturing another woman, but every time it was you that he was imagining you without him even noticing what he was doing. When Tangerine switched back to another woman he became almost instantly soft. It was driving him to the brink of madness and he couldn't deny himself any longer.
He was so eager to finally give in that he didn't even know where to begin with. Should he let you take the lead and be the sweet little thing he knows you are and be all soft and small kisses before giving in to desire shyly and slowly or should he take the lead and ravish you without mercy making you succumb to him faster and messier?
He wants to go down on you, that's for sure, but he can't decide between exploring your body slowly, anticipating you when he finally starts to eat you out, or going straight to the place he dreamed of for almost three months now and devour you until he was satisfied.
"Fucking hell, I need to slow down or I'll come and I didn't even decide exactly how I'm going to take her." Tangerine was getting close to spilling himself all over your stolen panties just with the flashes that he was conjuring of you but he wasn't able to decide how to make you his yet. He decided to test himself to see how much control he had over his body in case he needed to be soft and tender with you in case you're still a virgin and just cum after he was able to conjure both scenarios in his head without touching himself during this process of torture. He needed to prove himself worthy of you and be prepared for all possibilities concerning your well-being.
Tangerine moves his hands to his hair, closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath imagining you asking for him to be careful with you "Please, go easy with me okay? I've never done this, not even with Draken? So please be gentle" you would say and he couldn't explain the feeling that bloomed in his chest and made his dick twitch uncontrollable.
"Of course, love. Do you feel prepared enough?" he asked while rubbing his cock along your slick pussy making obvious with the lewd sounds that you were more than ready.
"Yes."
"Can I put in?" he answered pressing the tip of his member in your tight opening.
"Yeah. And don't need to have pity okay? Just worry if I say stop unless keep going" Oh, but how could he not be pitiful of you if you're such a crybaby and he crumbles when he sees you with a tear in your eyes?
"Okay, darling. I'll try my best." Tangerine whispers against your neck, his hot breath making you shiver, before pressing his tip further into you making you suck a little breath.
You put your arms in his shoulders looking down mesmerized by the scene of finally having Tangerine filling you.
At that thought his cock throbbed so violently he instantly knew that he needed to be a little more alert otherwise he would cum before imagining you getting fucked dumb on his cock.
Tangerine is trying to calm himself after being carried away for too long taking deep breaths and holding firm the base of his dick so he wouldn't finish before accomplishing his goal. You will be the death of him, he's sure. Your pussy will be his reason to come back after every job in one piece. He just knew that.
His cock was running hot but stopped twitching a few seconds ago. He was stiff as a board and couldn't even phantom the idea of letting go of the tight grip on his hair because he needed to keep his hands firmly placed somewhere away from his painful and sensitive member.
After a few ragged breaths, he started to move his hand again, slowly and avoiding his sensitive tip.
He knows that once he's fully settled inside your warm tight cunt, he'll be careful and take it slow with you. There's nothing worse than the pace he's imagining for you. Nothing so torturous as feeling you heat swallowing him every time, her walls so tight and unused, begging him to just start going feral, but he knows he need to make you get used to his size.
So, just like that, he's fantasizing about taking you. Slowly, kissing you with eyes closed and tongue insistent, swallowing your mixed moans of pain and pleasure.
The pain was almost too much to bear, but so good at the same time. And the pleasure, oh God, the pleasure he's giving you. Your brain could only think of Tangerine, all you could only, feel, taste, and see was Tangerine. He was everywhere and you felt so full you swear you could feel your belly bulge a little.
Tangerine feels another violent throb run through his dick and his balls are twitching, itching for release. He let go of his dick again and press a pillow into his face screaming in frustration. A sudden urge to just give in and fuck his fist almost make him faint, but he can't give up now. His body was burning and his soft pink lips were bruised with how intense he was biting them, the skin on the verge of breaking with the force of his teeth.
He would never admit it, but the despair he was feeling was so intense that small tears were spilling from the side of his eyes.
"I can do this, I can do this" he thought to himself while taking deep breaths without the pillow on his face. His muscular chest was rising and falling quickly, the red in his face spread into his neck and started to fall into his pectorals, and his body was covered in a thin layer of sweat. A vision to behold.
Your shy tongue started to explore his neck, his skin hot against your wet tongue, and you could feel salty drops of sweat. Your teeth graze against the sensitive flesh and he let a breathy moan close to your right ear. Boldly you suck his pulsing point strong enough to leave a mark and he moans your name loud and clear.
These intrusive thoughts are the death of him. Even without taking his hands from his mischievous hair, his cock was pulsing against his abdomen, leaking from the tip. All his veins are startled like never before and his pretty sure his balls are getting really close to having cramps. Tangerine thought that maybe it was better to get shot in the neck than feel like this, delirious and fighting so hard to control himself for the first time in his life.
"Tangerine, I'm close, please" You didn't know exactly what you were begging for, but Tangerine knew. He picks up his pace? put his large, calloused hand around your neck applying a slight pressure, and keep his lips hovering over yours, like he's trying to decide if he wants to kiss you or keep listening to you moaning his name.
"Come on my cock, love. Be a good girl for me and let yourself go." His raspy voice so filled with desire and something that you still can't figure out what it is yet is enough to send you over the edge. Your orgasm is a hot white force that sends you over the edge and keeps your body spamming for what it seems forever.
The way you keep squeezing the life of his dick is enough to give Tangerine the best orgasm in his life. He's cumming so much inside of you that he's sure you're already full of his seed and he's not even finished yet.
"I can not do this." Tangerine says out loud. Did someone ever die of orgasm denial? Because he was sure he was about to. He was actually in tears at this point and was suspicious that blowing his load would not be that pleasing anymore. There was so much pre-cum pooling in his heated skin even with him stopping himself from touching his throbbing member a few minutes ago.
But now Tangerine could imagine how rough he would take you if this wasn't your first time and without his permission, his imagination started to run wild, and without him realizing it his hands started to crawl their way into his aching cock trying to relieve his pain.
He wasn't going to take it easy on you after everything you made him go through. Tangerine would take you hard, rough, borderline violent, and make you beg for more. More of him, unhinged, a beast out of the cage. More of what only he can give you. By the end, you would be completely addicted to him and his cock in the same way he was already addicted to you.
He would leave marks all over your small body. His fingertips would bruise the soft flesh of your thighs and of your round ass, bites, and hickeys around any smooth skin his hungry mouth could find. Your cunt would be tight and sensitive from the abuse his thick cock, a little too big for you, was making you endure it. But you would love every single second of it, Tangerine was sure.
His big hand was tightening his grip around your delicate neck cutting short your blood circulation and making you feel dizzy. The lewd sound you two were making, moans and skin slapping against skin, was out of a porn movie. To match his pornstache, you think.
You squeeze your tight walls around him and he groans so deep from his chest that you unconsciously squeeze him again.
"Fuck, my dirty little whore. You want me to come inside you so much huh? Is that what you want, love? My cum filling you up to the brim, leaking of you for days?" Tangerine's mouth is right against your ear so you can hear all the sweet sounds he makes, but listening to his voice calling you "his", degrading you, and calling you "love" sends you to another level of delirious"
Tangerine was sure he was losing his mind with how vivid his fantasies were, but now that he was getting close and actually was going to be able to cum he didn't want to question himself about it. His cock was throbbing in his hand, the sounds getting out of his mouth were pure filthy, and his fist slapping against his skin were the only thing he could focus on.
"Tangerine, please, please, please. I'm so close. Keep going just like that, but I'm begging you. Cum inside me. Let's cum together. Please?"
His heart missed a beat. He was staring at your pleading big doe eyes, left hand holding your hips in a bruising grip, right hand still holding your neck itching to give you a soft slap in the face.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck." Tangerine hisses through his perfect white teeth and when he's just about to spill all his seed, he fantasizes about you saying you love him, right after you finish. He's imagining you pulling him into your tight embrace after he pumped you full of his seed, his head resting on your soft tits, both of you trembling and heavy breathing.
Deep down he wants to think that you were holding all of his ugly and twisted sides of him. Deep down he's dreaming that you hugging him despite his dark desire for the result of this night to be your belly swollen with his child.
And with that wild picture, you round with his baby inside you, he cums. And he doesn't stop cuming, his balls heavy with much more of his thick seed to spill. Such a mess everywhere. His hand, abs, cock. He was sure you wouldn't mind licking him clean.
The sudden image of you on your knees with his cock in your mouth sends a new wave of fresh desire through his guts. Looking left while sighing he sees your stolen panties. In the middle of his self-imposed torture he forgot about it, but now he's going to start over he could put it to good use. He doesn't mind his burning, sweaty body nor his lack of oxygen because of his uneven breathing, the only thing he cares about it now it's his still hard cock.
This is gonna be a long night, isn't it?
--x--
You wake up the next morning feeling thoroughly fucked feeling your body running hot. You have a few flashes of your dream with Tangerine and you are actually on the verge of tears realizing that it was just a dream just like Bella in Breaking Dawn. In the only day you don't touch yourself to the thought of him it's the day that your brain reminds you of what you shouldn't try to ignore.
Maybe if you didn't manifested your life in your early teens wishing a life like Twilight and other book series your life wouldn't be such a mess right now and even with all the disasters in the history, the romance plot was the one consuming you the most.
Speaking of manifestation, you did asked for a sign that the spell you used of that old book with hand-written spells worked. And since you don't believe in coincidences there must be a connection between these things no? Maybe you should ask for a clearer sign.
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ariespellz · 2 years
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hand holding hcs !!
ft. genshin guys + gn!reader
includes: diluc, xiao, albedo, thoma, zhongli, itto, kaeya, childe.
one, two, three.
cw: fluff, established relationship, me simping (kinda), mentions of blood and battles, it gets kinda angsty in kaeya's (not too much. god im so in love with him it's unhealthy).
A/N: THEM!!! also this got progressively more informal KDHZJSBS sorry abt that lol. and sorry for having parts longer than others ://
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DILUC
top tier hand holding. bless his soul.
his hands are warm due to his vision. they're big and strong, and his palms are a bit rough.
he also has some scars, most of them he'd rather not talk about.
"just... and accident" he'd reply softly, clearing his throat.
some others are from small falls he had as a kid, or from training.
he doesn't like the scars at all, so if you were to tell him something positive about them, his cheeks would turn pink (please compliment them).
he's not the fondest of PDA but hand holding is one of the few things he'll do in public
when it's just the two of you it's better, though. he'll take his gloves off and smile when you interlace his fingers in yours :'))
you know the rubbing thumb thing?? yeah he does that
it's just something ingrained in his brain, really. his father did it when he was only a child, taking walks with him through the forest whenever the adult had some time to spare.
to him, hand holding is sacred. it just feels so intimate in a way he can't quite describe. fingers interlocked, little glances you sometimes steal the other, and your light giggles when you catch him.
OH and he's totally the type to lean down and kiss the reverse of your hand
with EYE CONTACT
makes your knees wobbly every. single. time.
and he knows that
so he only does it behind closed doors. to save you from the embarrassment (and totally not because he can't help the smirk tugging at his lips and the small laugh that scapes his lips when you cover your face with the free hand)
(yeah definitely not that)
you were the one initiating the contact the first time.
you see him all suave and mysterious and cool
but the first time you held his hand?? he almost combusts right there
you were walking home after a dinner out. it was your second date together and the opportunity just presented itself when he suggested taking a stroll instead of using a carriage.
and you just... went for it when he accidentally brushed his hand against yours.
you had some mercy and didn't interlace fingers.
but still. WOW. the reaction was immediate. you could hear a sharp breath and a shivering exhale. if it wasn't for the silence that accompanied the night, you were sure you wouldn't have heard it.
but it also was the night and it's darkness that you couldn't clearly see his raging blush. you two were lucky he didn't accidentally set anything on fire.
the redness extended from the apples of his cheeks, to the tip of his ears, to his neck and collarbones.
and the fluttering in his belly, which had been bothering him the entire afternoon, was going wild.
he couldn't LOOK at you. he was scared that you could hear his heartbeat. humiliating.
for him of course. you had the time of your life teasing him (and it was also cute so it's a win-win)
"is something the matter, master diluc?" you ask feigning innocence, a cheeky smile adorning your face "you don't look too good. perhaps you have fever?"
"i am perfectly fine, (y/n). thank you." he muttered through gritted teeth after a long silence. you just giggled in response.
good thing he didn't get to see the flush adorning your face, and how you had to bite back the loving sigh that threatened to leave your lips.
archons. you were down bad.
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XIAO
he won't initiate it but he won't stop you either (a.k.a he's too proud to let you see how soft it makes him)
"you mortals are weird" he scoffs. you don't fail to notice that he doesn't even try to pull away.
and that he won't meet your gaze.
his hands are so pretty omg. slender fingers that would look delicate if it wasn't for the sheer strength they have.
that's one of the reasons he's hesitant to touch you.
PDA with him is non existent. zero. maybe some acts or service, or the obvious way he favours you over anyone else present.
but there won't be a single touch that could confirm that.
(you swear you can see zhongli smirking behind his cup of tea, eyes flickering between the two of you full of amusement. oh, and archons forgive that hu tao's there, ready to point out the way his gaze softens when he hears your voice.)
the lack of contact in front of others is nothing to get worried over
it's just that he's kinda clueless when it comes to affection.
specially physical one.
but he's willing to try just to see you happy.
you don't initiate much either, considering how private he is.
to be completely honest, if he allows you to freely touch him without any grumbling (let alone hold his hand) it means that he's completely and absolutely smitten
you're the only one he could ever commit to. someone whose only purpose is to kill, to harm, to get his hands stained with blood. the same ones you're now cradling in yours, brushing your thumb lovingly over his knuckles, after practically begging him to take off his gloves, just to feel him.
"these hands have taken countless lives" he says, voice stern "why would you want to hold them?"
and he looks so genuinely confused.
golden eyes, perfect porcelain skin, teal hair moving with the breeze, watching the sunset in wangshuu inn's roof.
he feels himself melt. muscles relaxing for the first time in centuries.
and the way he looked at you, even if it was just for a moment. so full of love. so full of devotion.
you may or may not have had to sneakily dry a tear after that.
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ALBEDO
hmm
he's a wild card
maybe because he doesn't really care
it's not like he dislikes it (not at all) it's just that it feels so casual, so natural to him that he doesn't see the point in lingering in the thought for too long.
his hands are perfect. they were carved to be like that, after all.
soft palms, slender fingers, and clean, perfect nails.
his digits grazing your skin feel like kisses covering every inch they touch.
even if the gesture isn't a big deal for him, it feels comforting. he won't really hesitate to take your hand in his while walking around dragonspine, or while taking a stroll in the city.
he silently slides his digits between yours. the usual between you two. you were taking a different path home today, after an afternoon in his lab.
"so you don't get lost" he says. you know that's not the real reason, but no words are needed.
he was the one who suggested it first.
"just to see how it feels" or some bullshit excuse like that.
lies. it was because he read it in a romance book LMAO
don't even get me started on how kaeya wouldn't stop mercilessly teasing him about it after he caught him reading it. twice.
"this is nice. we should do it more often" he suggests with a straight face.
your lips inevitably quirk upwards.
"yeah," you mutter, feeling your face heat up "we should."
he likes it. that's it.
not a big deal.
but, just a secret between you and me...
...he'd only ever do it with you
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ZHONGLI
average hand holding enjoyer
seriously though. this man will NOT let go of your hand
(unless you ask ofc. but you probably won't lol)
going for a walk around liyue harbour? he's holding your hand. filling paperwork for a funeral? he's holding your hand with his free one. dinner out? hand holding OVER THE TABLE‼️ the waitress is swooning (it was me. i was the waitress/hj)
what can i say. a gentleman.
he's so natural with PDA, too. does not give a single fuck about who's watching.
oh and HIS HANDS
lord have mercy
we must stay focused brothers
they're strong and veiny, but also slim at the same time. for someone who as slaughtered hundreds, if not thousands, he has a surprisingly low amount of marks.
he heals fast. he's a god.
you may notice a few scratches if you look closely, but that's about it. he doesn't hesitate to tell you the full story if you ask for it.
"oh, that one?" he let out a low chuckle "it was a long time ago..."
yeah, get ready. he likes to ramble.
but his stories are interesting and you love to listen, sooo
just like diluc, he's 1000% the type to kiss the back of your hand.
he'll lean down, golden eyes boring through yours, digits holding your hand in place, and place a chaste kiss right in the middle.
dancing with him ugh<3
as stated before, he does NOT hesitate to do it in public. if hu tao or childe are there, get ready.
anyway back to the point.
he also does the thumb rubbing thing.
i don't know how to describe it but his hands are always the right temperature.
you'd have to be the one to do it the first time.
it's not that he doesn't want to, its more of a what if you don't want to.
so, you were walking around liyue harbour, and it was really busy
he's really tall, so you would've been able to find him if you two got separated
but it was the perfect opportunity to grab his hand.
when you suggested it he smiled softly and let you decide how you wanted it.
"the scenery is beautiful today, isn't it?"
"indeed, it is" he answered. he, however, could only look at you.
probably one of the best hand holders in teyvat ngl.
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THOMA
OH
THIS ONE
THIS ONE RIGHT HERE
your hand is always entangled with his
but it's less casual and more... passionate
going for walks in the nature, he'll interlock your fingers with his
he'll kiss the back of your hand, yeah, but hear me out:
he'll kiss your palm while looking at you in the eye.
dunno about you jut i'd just MELT
oh and going around through the market, buying groceries?? you WILL dangle your conjoined hands back and forth
it's so cute PLS the vendors have a heartache every time they see you two.
(honestly same)
he's a PDA guy. he's a private person, as extroverted as he can be, but he loves showing you off because he knows you're so cool and great and yadda yadda yadda
he also knows your worth
also!! imagine having a hotpot with the kamisatos at komore teahouse.
he's ambidextrous (a hc of mine) so he'll hold his chopsticks in one hand and yours in the other.
ayaka is practically fantasizing and sighing adoringly while ayato is being a dick teasing you
"my, thoma! i didn't take you for a showoff" ayato says. "when's the wedding?"
ayaka lightly taps his thigh, annoyance written all over her face. thoma just chuckled, tightening his grip.
his hands are rough thanks to all the work, but still delicate in some way. careful and precise, long fingers and veiny forearms. he also manages to always have his nails perfect?? clean and the right length.
same as diluc, his vision makes them warm.
he initiated it the first time.
"can i hold your hand, (y/n)?" he asked. it was your first date and he had just picked you up. nothing too formal, just a walk around the city at night.
your heart was racing, and you were sure your palms were sweaty.
and his emerald eyes flickered nervously, not quite connecting with yours
and his beautiful smile was trembling a bit with excitement
and his cheeks and the tip of his ears were colored pink
"sure, i'd love to." you couldn't contain the happy giggle that scaped your lips because oh my god you were holding thoma's hand.
another one who does the thumb thing
ladies, gentlemen and nobles of the court he is the PERFECT MAN. his hand holding will make you ascent to celestia.
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ITTO
he's a passionate one that's for sure
sometimes he's a bit too passionate, and you have to ask him to calm down (otherwise he might just break your hand lmao)
oni stuff we don't get it
his hands are huge, and warm, and full of scars, and nghhh please i wanna hold his hand and kiss the marks
most of them are from doing dumb shit lol
shinobu always gets you to treat his scratches because she knows he won't resist you (an that he actually listens to you)
big PDA guy.
he OWNS it
he could make out with you in the middle of a busy street as long as you wanted him to
so it goes without saying that his hands are ALWAYS on you
but he specially loves to hold your hand
it feels so romantic to him hehe <3
it makes him lightheaded and his stomach fill with butterflies
he feels so joyous that he always chuckles when you do it
"so we don't get separated" you'd excuse yourself.
unpopular opinion YOU WERE THE FIRST ONE TO DO IT
yes his love language is physical touch, yes he was shy about it. so what?
you were in a beetle fight, the two of you cheering for your onikabuto to win.
and then...
it did!
you weren't officially dating yet, so kissing him was out of the question (even if you really wanted to, just by hearing his cheery laugh and seeing his adorable smile)
instead, you picked one of his hands with both of yours, looked up to him and thanked him
"see?" he stammered, trying to play it cool "what did i tell ya? the small ones are the best!"
he scratched the back of his head with his free hand, avoiding eye contact. he was a stuttering, babbling mess. face reddened, heartbeat quickening, and hands sweating.
it didn't take him long to ask you out after that.
loves to touch you and loves hand holding. totally worth it.
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KAEYA
you'd assume he does it a lot
WRONG
wait not too wrong
he loves to touch you (same as itto, he's all over you) but hand holding somehow feels vulnerable to him
which means it makes him shy
hands holding your waist? cool. an arm draped over your shoulders? nothing out of the ordinary. his palm on your thighs, caressing and grabbing the flesh? how daring! still nothing new.
but your fingers toying with his? his thumb brushing over your knuckles? to feel your grip tighten or soften depending on the mood?
holy shit he's malfunctioning
because yes, he can be a smooth talker. a flirt. someone who's handsome and knows it.
he'll be as cool as a cucumber as long as it's not intimate.
because kaeya's heart its surrounded by an everlasting blizzard. because he's scared of commitment, of intimacy.
because he's scared of attachment, but even more scared of loneliness.
so he'll play it off with lingering touches that feel burning on your skin. with fingertips stoking your back. with a playful kiss on your cheek.
he wants to be liked, but he can't be important.
so when the touch is innocent, genuine, caring. when you allow yourself to wear your heart on your sleeve just for him.
it's when you see past the façade.
"oh." he gasped softly. thank barbatos the street was practically empty. you can feel his muscles tense for a second, but he doesn't waste a second to chuckle and dissimulate it with faux-confidence "feeling needy, aren't we?"
you just roll your eyes. what a guy.
still!! not as big on PDA as you initially assumed. if you're in a flirting/first dates phase, he might be a bit more public.
the moment it becomes official, he's more lowkey.
the grannies and grandpa's of mond remind you two how lucky you are to have each other.
OK OK BACK TO THE POINT
you were the first one to hold his hand (go get him tiger)
diluc had knocked on your door one day at around two in the morning.
"that guy is drunk and i don't want him making a mess" he had said. judging by the look on his face, he meant something like "im worried about him but i don't want him to know".
so, you tidied yourself as much as you could and went to angel's share.
the walk to his home was torture. he would not stop whining with his face in the crook of your neck.
at one point you got frustrated and told him to stop. your voice came out colder than you wanted and you instantly regretted it.
"i'm sorry. please don't leave me."
you heard your heart break. not wanting to push his boundaries, you settled for taking his hands in yours.
"i won't, i promise." you sighed. "let's get you home, then, yeah?"
"...yeah."
needless to say, he had a lot to think about the next day, when he saw you sleeping on his couch.
your response to his vulnerability was what made the difference for him.
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CHILDE
childe would love nothing more than to spend his whole life with his hands on you.
but he can't.
PDA with him has to be settled to a minimum. the last thing he wants is to let any of those ten menaces and their minions to know just how important you are to him.
that's why holding hands is the most he'll do in public
when he's sober, at least.
due to the cold, it's the usual in snezhnaya to hold hands. not even in the romantic sense. just another way to maintain the heat.
so he doesn't really see it as something that intimate or relevant.
he does like it, though
specially with you.
he does this thing when he grabs your wrist and expects you to do the rest just so he can tease you for it and 'gaslight you' into believing you were the one holding him
"aw, (y/n), do you really like me that much, hm?
"not this again, please."
#Free(Y/N)
ANYWAYS his hand is always in yours, similar to zhongli or thoma.
unless his co-workers are nearby.
noone really knows who did it first.
you were going for a stroll one day and tried it at the exact same time.
an "accident".
(he saw you staring at his hand and tried to make it less awkward by doing that)
(king shit)
his hands are veiny and also a bit bony?? (is that a thing lol)
slim and long fingers
his palms are softer than you'd expect. he always wears gloves while training
still, he has a lot of scars. mostly cuts and scratches.
contrary to popular belief, he's not fond of his scars. he likes the stories that go behind them, and the experience they give him.
but god forbid that any of his younger siblings see them. specially teucer.
"i think they look good on you" you complimented one day, kissing them one by one. "it's in character of you."
he smiled softly, sliding his digits between yours "i think you look good in everything."
man that was SMOOTH /j
hand holding is a big deal in snezhnaya because of how common it is.
so he'll use it as an excuse not to let you go.
what a dork. i want to marry him.
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Finally got out a proper finished Doc doodle! The Daily Poem that inspired this one is “The Darkling Thrush” by Thomas Hardy, which is under the cut.
I leant upon a coppice gate       When Frost was spectre-grey, And Winter's dregs made desolate       The weakening eye of day. The tangled bine-stems scored the sky       Like strings of broken lyres, And all mankind that haunted nigh       Had sought their household fires. The land's sharp features seemed to be       The Century's corpse outleant, His crypt the cloudy canopy,       The wind his death-lament. The ancient pulse of germ and birth       Was shrunken hard and dry, And every spirit upon earth       Seemed fervourless as I. At once a voice arose among       The bleak twigs overhead In a full-hearted evensong       Of joy illimited; An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,       In blast-beruffled plume, Had chosen thus to fling his soul       Upon the growing gloom. So little cause for carolings       Of such ecstatic sound Was written on terrestrial things       Afar or nigh around, That I could think there trembled through       His happy good-night air Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew       And I was unaware.
The Darkling Thrush by Thomas Hardy
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dabiconcordia · 3 months
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"The Darkling Thrush"
I leant upon a coppice gate     When Frost was spectre-gray, And Winter's dregs made desolate     The weakening eye of day. The tangled bine-stems scored the sky     Like strings of broken lyres, And all mankind that haunted nigh     Had sought their household fires.
The land's sharp features seemed to be     The Century's corpse outleant, His crypt the cloudy canopy,     The wind his death-lament. The ancient pulse of germ and birth     Was shrunken hard and dry, And every spirit upon earth     Seemed fervorless as I.
At once a voice arose among     The bleak twigs overhead In a full-hearted evensong     Of joy illimited; An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small     In blast-beruffled plume, Had chosen thus to fling his soul     Upon the growing gloom.
So little cause for carolings     Of such ecstatic sound Was written on terrestrial things     Afar or nigh around, That I could think there trembled through     His happy good-night air Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew     And I was unaware. By Thomas Hardy
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◇ 𝓐 𝓑𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓭 𝓘𝓶𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 ◇ [2]
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SYNOPSIS:
Many consider your disability as a burden, but he finds a way to make it a blessing in disguise. What makes us flawed is what makes us unique, and that is what he considers the most beautiful thing about you—an imperfection he dearly adores. Nevertheless, he knows of your lingering sorrows and seeks a way to support you in the best way he could.
ENTRY TYPE: Submission, F!Reader
WARNING(S): slightly suggestive scenes, symptoms of chronic/terminal illness, implications of mental instability, mentions of past trauma resulting to severe injury, scenes of past abuse/violence, possible triggers, panic attacks, sleep paralysis, visual/auditory hallucinations, etc...
CHARACTER(S):
Baizhu, Xiao/Alatus, Zhongli / Rex Lapis / Morax, Kaedehara Kazuha, Kamisato Ayato, Thoma
•☆••☆••☆•
BAIZHU is a doctor that advocates for the healing of all those in need even at his own expense. In the city of Liyue where everything is bound by contracts, he is the successor to the ancient arts imparted by Changsheng. To nurture the light of souls in danger of being extinguished, the green-haired healer must sacrifice the years bestowed upon him. However, his predecessors—particularly his late master—left him a conundrum: were their lives not just as precious, and thus deserving of preservation? On the other hand, Changsheng would perish if left without a host. Under such facts, how can one continue the contract without paying the price of either the host's or Changsheng's life?
The concepts of life and death have come hand in hand since the olden days. Whether in literature or science, life and death are two sides of the same coin. True immortality is gifted to non-humans for the nature of humans is to remain mortal and ever so fleeting—as there is beauty in its evanescence.
To pursue otherwise is considered an atrocity, perhaps even, a forbidden knowledge.
Baizhu has long been disillusioned by all sides to such lectures. A medicine can easily be used as a poison via overdose, just as a poison can be used as a remedy to eliminate a harmful virus. Power is neither good nor evil, for it is the wielder's intention that shall define its purpose. The supposedly heretic pursuit of immortality is only ever catastrophic when a soul becomes seduced by dark temptations. He is not so arrogant as to proclaim being above it since he is only human as much as any ordinary person. He just knows what to expect of himself.
The green-haired doctor has always been selfish in a way that he just wants to save lives—simple.
"Is it because you loathe death?"
That was a question Changsheng once asked him when he was but a young apprentice.
Death is a natural part of a cycle. It is the mortality that defines the end of every season so it can begin anew; as when one falls, another grows. As a doctor, he merely considers it his job—maybe even a calling—to deter death so his patients could appreciate life.
If Changsheng's contract is the answer, then why should he hesitate? Of course, if said contract shall be considered a plight, then he is determined to let it end with him.
On the gravesite of his predecessors, a chartreuse lantern innocently rested on the tombstone of the first doctor. It sways precariously yet does not tip even against the breeze. Its lit flame was slowly dimming, and it is then that they—he, Changsheng, and Qiqi—finally noticed a peculiar symbol on it.
An ouroboros with silver eyes is drawn in sparkling viridian ink, as if covered in real scales.
"Show yourself, wàishengnǚ."
Upon Changsheng's demand, the lantern shimmered a vibrant green. In its place, a woman was resting on the grave like a grieving widow. Contrastingly, your serene countenance displayed a sweeter image and amplified the otherworldly beauty that can only belong to an adeptus. A silk hanfu in various shades of green covered your figure, and a lone jade comb pinned your hair back in a waterfall braid. There was also a ghostly silver yǔyī draped over you.
"That," her tail points at you, "is the petulant daughter of my late sister. You may call her [Name]."
Thus, his new life with you began.
Baizhu found you to be pleasant company if not a bit eccentric due to your outdated manners. Most of the time, you were always hibernating. Changsheng had clarified that it is not always by choice. They are the side-effects of your abilities—resembling symptoms of narcolepsy, given how he sometimes finds you paralyzed. A part of him felt protective over you because of that. His responsibility now is to provide you treatment in regaining the movement of your muscles, whether through acupuncture or massage.
You trusted no other hands to handle you too.
Speaking of which, you and his adorable assistant have been inseparable. Whenever you are in snake form, you are found either wrapped around Qiqi's neck or nesting on/under her big hat. Whenever you are in human form, she is cuddled in your cold yet welcoming embrace. It came as a bit of a shock when Qiqi claimed her body never suffers rigor mortis in your presence.
"Qiqi loves [Name]." She proclaims.
From what Baizhu observed, you love her just as much...even if you refuse to admit it.
According to Changsheng, you have been asleep since the death of her first contractor—which left you at odds with each other. He did not pry despite his curiosity. He could deduce the facts based on your behavior. On the rare times Qiqi left you behind in Bubu Pharmacy, you sneak into the sleeves of his coat as if to find solace in it.
While Changsheng was asleep, Baizhu took the rare chance to converse with you.
"Why did you choose to wake up now?" He asked.
You deadpanned at him, staring into his eyes as if the answer should have been obvious.
"You were being too loud." You replied.
Baizhu raised a brow confusedly, making you sigh in a mix of boredom and agitation.
"You kept calling me and it woke me up. Really annoying, to be honest..."
He frowned, "I...don't understand. I never knew about you until Changsheng introduced us."
You laughed, and Baizhu swore it sounded like the whispering soft waves by the seashore.
"Your soul sure did~!" You chimed, "It kept nagging about immortality and all that stuff."
His eyes widened in realization.
"Wait, does that mean you—"
"—know about the secret you so desperately seek?"
You gave a sultry smile, walking towards him with a very subtle swing to your hips.
"You must wonder why yímā said nothing about it."
Baizhu looks up yet the gleam remains on his lenses as he stared at you. The golden hour bathed you in flaxen glaze, and his breath hitches when it seems to make your eyes glower. It left him frozen as your lips grazed his ear and the warmth of your breath made him shiver.
"It's quite simple." You whispered, "The method I practice can only be done by me."
You pull back just enough for your eyes to meet.
"It would have been worthless for her to tell you when she was under the assumption I plan to sleep for the rest of eternity."
You glared as your smile sharpened. For a second, the man in your arms felt the familiar constriction of a snake around his body—less friendly, and more threatening. He looked down to see your silver yǔyī tightly wound around his waist like a vise made of plumage. It pulls him closer to you.
"I would have done exactly that if not for your soul's incessant whining." You snarked.
A soft sound resembling a melodic hiss echoes in the room as you turn away. The cloak tickles his skin as it slides away from his exposed stomach. It can almost be seen as a taunt to "come hither" while the eldritch cloth fluttered around you.
You behave more serpentine than Changsheng, yet he still finds it difficult to fear you.
"I suppose," you mumble, "you did present me the perfect opportunity with your ambition."
Rustic golden eyes narrowed at you, flickering into red for a split second. You thought it was a much lovelier shade on him, and you desired to see it more often.
"An opportunity for you to what...?"
You look back over your shoulder. At that precise timing, your grin was childlike and delicate. It was an extreme juxtaposition to your next words.
"An opportunity to die, of course~!"
Baizhu stares in dumbfounded shock, yet he could not inquire more as you slumped. The bout of high emotions seem to have put your muscles at its limit as you slurred. He rushes forward, catching you in his arms and was surprised. Usually, you turn back into your snake form in defense if anyone other than Qiqi touched you in human form; but not this time.
Watching your elegant features, your foreboding words haunt him.
In a moment of weakness, his hand caressed your cheek. His knuckles traced your lips as his eyes are left mesmerized—besotted by you alone.
Flustered, he then pulls away.
Since that day, Baizhu subconsciously begins to treat you more gently and warmly. It did not perturb you but there was trepidation in your gaze, as well as a hint of hope. A mutual understanding grew between you and this persistent fool.
He is a greedy man advocating for life.
You are a pitiful woman yearning for death.
That parallelism is what enabled his soul to awaken yours back to reality. As days pass and nights wane, you grew infatuated by this premise. In the fleeting bliss of domesticity, an ardent affection for living has returned to your nihilistic heart. A part of you still wishes it remained forgotten with the broken pieces that the first doctor left abandoned.
Changsheng sees right through you.
Someday, your feelings for Baizhu will far surpass whatever fascinations you held for Xu Xian.
"I always found it odd." You said.
Baizhu hums as he stargazes beside you. Qiqi had taken Changsheng inside to give you both some needed privacy.
"You and your predecessors," you scoffed, "are always so determined to defy the clutches that death has over your patients; yet in your attempts, you become the most eager to greet it on your doorstep."
You glared into his bespectacled honey gaze, sweet as much as it is infuriating. Your heart swells when he dropped his fallacious smile, proving he is taking your words seriously.
"It is hypocrisy at its finest." You spat.
Your limbs flailed in irritation but you swiftly calmed yourself. The last thing you needed is for your words to slur in anger and then faint.
"What about you?" Baizhu confronts, "Why are you so fixated to die?"
You smile resentfully, "I want to spite him."
It took no guesses whom you meant.
"The audacity of that man," you grumble, "pleading for me to live and find happiness again—in another, as if my heart was so fickle—while he laid dying due to his own foolishness. Since he was so unrepentant for his choice, I want to know why."
Your hand reaches out to the moon. For those brief seconds, beguiled golden eyes watched the scales on your skin shine.
"What does being human feel like? What does it mean to die?" You ask rhetorically.
Baizhu looks at you and is awed to finally see you in whole view. Your regrets, your woes, your pride, your vulnerabilities...
...and your love—he witnesses.
He wants them all.
"Your powers," he said, "what would they entail if I take your contract as well?"
A delicate tenderness softens your smile, pushing a surge of pride in him.
"Simple," you respond idly, "all the energy I have accumulated will be transferred to you."
Baizhu blinked, "So...a reverse of Changsheng's own healing arts?"
You shrug, "My mother had said that the green and white snakes were always meant to be united. One is responsible for refining chi to immortalize the host, while the other will heal by absorbing illnesses."
"That is why you always end up hibernating," he alas concludes, "to gather chi around you."
You smirk, "My endearment for Qiqi is not entirely innocent in that notion. As an undead, the adeptal energy which surrounds her is my ideal reservoir. Similar to dual cultivation, I keep her bodily functions in circulation even when at rest."
In a blink, you levitated before Baizhu with feet just barely touching the ground to be on equal eye level with him. Your hands cradled his face and a solemn glint made your eyes shimmer, as if in tears.
"The green snake is an ouroboros," you murmur, "a serpent that eats itself to gain power."
Your arms slide around his shoulders as your body slumped against him.
"The white snake is a shapeshifter," you continue, "a serpent that endlessly sheds its skin to live."
Your lips kissed his neck and he felt your fangs graze the skin all too tantalizingly.
"Ironically," you chuckle darkly, "the powers are set in reverse. With both contracts, you get to fulfill that ambition of yours: an immortal doctor that can cure any ailment."
"To accomplish it," Baizhu intercepts, "I must take the identity of the green snake."
He understands it now.
The two snakes are bound because they are the only ones capable of undertaking each other's contract without paying a steep price. Your mother perished to save you, leaving Changsheng vulnerable. The first doctor took her contract and then met you. His death could have been prevented if he took yours too, but he chose otherwise.
You did not spite the doctor for choosing death.
You hated how he chose death for your sake. He failed to understand your heart by heeding the calls of his own...and you blamed yourself for it, not Changsheng.
"I accept."
His declaration was not unexpected but you did not anticipate the weight behind it. While Xu Xian acted callous with his life, Baizhu was just as flippant by the burdens of immortality.
However, the way he looks at you says otherwise.
The way he smiles at you while his arms embraced your figure in turn proved it.
"Acceptance is a point of no return." You warn one last time, "Nothing of you will remain—only the green ouroboros. I will go to sleep more and more for every time you wake with vitality. Someday, I will not wake up beside you anymore at all."
Baizhu tightens his hold as if spooked by the idea yet he smiles angelically at you. His hand rose to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear while yours tilted his glasses down teasingly in jest.
"I will relieve you of your burden." He proclaims, "I only ask that you live the remainders of this life with joy and no regrets..."
Audaciously, he leans forward until your lips were centimeters away from each other.
"...by my side."
Tears escape yet your laughter is most sincere.
"Then, the contract is sealed."
With your words, a kiss is exchanged.
Baizhu will have to live the rest of eternity knowing that he chose to let his beloved go to death. He will spend that same eternity persuading others to keep choosing life in exchange. His sole comfort is that it shall be a mutual choice—a mortal yet bountiful life together—between you and him.
You are destined to become his first grievance when he turns immortal.
That is the proof of love he can give you in return for your blessings, your heart, and—
"My dearest, for whom I embrace eternal damnation so you may rest."
•☆••☆••☆•
XIAO is a yaksha whose purpose lies within his many names under one mask. As General Alatus, he fought alongside his fellow yaksha brothers and sisters in the perilous era of the Archon War. As the Golden Winged King, he is respected amongst the adepti that serve Rex Lapis. As the Winged Nemesis, the stars acknowledged him enough to bestow the power of anemo. As the Conqueror of Demons, he works tirelessly against the undying darkness. As the Vigilant Yaksha, he became the last of his kind and a phantom that lingers within the Wangshu Inn.
All of these identities are united under one mask and one name: Adeptus Xiao.
It is both his shield and his bond.
Xiao can vividly hear the ringing of his real name being called in reverence by his comrades. He will sometimes linger from the hilltops at night to reply morosely. The sound is similar to a bird call from a distance, a mimicry of his true form. If he felt more sentimental in his solitude, he would even play a whole piece with the dizi flute.
In one such night, the last yaksha smelled the potent odor of hysterical panic and fear. It clashed against the putrid taste of hateful rage and sadism.
One soul is hunting for the blood of another.
By raw instinct, his mask took form upon his face as he dashed towards the origin of the scent. He was led towards Qingyun Peak. For a moment, he paused at the sight of burning qingxin flowers by his feet—a peculiar hint to what awaits him. The wind whipped against his hair and exposed arms, chilling his skin in a familiar brush. It pushed him to go even faster to save the victim of such malice.
A swirl of anemo green and inky black blur together as he finally arrived with spear in hand.
That was when Xiao first saw you.
A man twice your size had been choking you. Now, he was dead by your feet with a piece of broken glass stabbed into his jugular. However, you were clearly bleeding out as the rag you call a dress had been painted red. On the other hand, your flesh was in shades of black and blue. In some twisted sense, your face was left in pristine condition—churning Xiao's stomach, for he could guess the intention of your abuser. Your hair was matted due to sweat and grime, a splatter of dirt on your cheeks.
The imagery struck too much familiarity.
The Conqueror of Demons then gasped as he is forced out of reverie. You are losing consciousness while standing dangerously close to the edge of a steep cliff. Your chapped lips move as the wind carried your message to his ears.
Three words.
A plea for help. A desperation to live.
"Help...me...please."
Then, you fell back.
For Xiao, it felt like a surreal dream as he threw his body forward. His hand released his weapon and reached out towards you. A raw cry reverberated in his ears, distantly recognizing it to be his own. The yaksha willed his Vision to let him fall faster as his fingers grazed yours, until he managed to take hold of your hand.
With a strong pull, Xiao engulfs you in a tight yet gentle embrace—mindful of your fragility. In another swirl of green and black, he swiftly teleports to the Wangshu Inn.
That was the start of his life's chapter with you.
It actually took you three days to awaken, and an entire month to fully recover. Verr Goldet concluded that irreparable damage was done to your throat, rendering you indefinitely voiceless. Talking causes you pain, and straining yourself causes you to cough out blood. The yaksha has never met someone who can scream so loud in silence.
Alatus understood the feeling.
Although you never officially met your savior, Verr had told you everything you needed to know. While working through your physical rehabilitation, you made a habit of leaving almond tofu in a certain room. It is accompanied by a single honeyed qingxin flower, a pain-killing remedy that you learned as a child. Whenever you collect the plate in the morning, it is always empty. After three days, you grew bold and thus began to also leave a small note under the plate—just messages of goodwill or brief greetings to the Vigilant Yaksha.
"What a foolish mortal." Xiao murmured.
You never received a reply but you were far from disheartened by it.
After a month of this routine, the first sign of your savior's reciprocation was a freshly picked qingxin flower beside the empty plate.
That was the first time Xiao saw a genuine smile from you as he watched at a distance.
"Truly foolish indeed." He mumbled.
Everyone was pleasantly surprised by your hidden Pyro Vision. You can conjure different colors of wisp flames. Each served a purpose which the inn found very useful when you learned to control it.
Red is the most natural color, and enables the wisps to interact without burning anything. They can be touched in this state unless infused with anemo to cause Swirl.
Orange is the defensive color that produces barriers of all kinds. They serve as warning to anyone that provokes any harm or malice. Yellow/Gold is its secondary phase which makes the shield or wisps combust. It is also the color that engulfs your sword with your elemental skill and burst.
Xiao could not explain it but he is aware whenever you call out his name in your mind. There is always something tugging at his core ever since he began to reciprocate your small acts of affectionate goodwill. Whenever he follows it, he finds you—whether it is because you were praying to him, or because you were in danger.
He then consulted his fellow adepti but received no concrete answers. He would be lying if he claims to not be curious about this odd phenomenon, even if he just accepted in stride.
As time passed, the yaksha viewed you as a sort of companion for every silent call. It is an unspoken camaraderie, one he could not deny.
On the first anniversary of your meeting, Xiao gifted you the Primordial Jade Cutter.
On the second anniversary, you saw him vulnerable for the first time. Reduced to his knees, he gasped in pain as tendrils of black surrounded him—his karmic debt, as he called it. This was the price he had to pay for eons of slaughter. He warned you to back off in a raised voice, yet you persisted as your immaculate pyro swirled with his tainted anemo.
White is the color of healing, shining above the rest and burning hottest. It was your natural affinity, and he found it fitting on you—a soul most endearing and most loving. Alas, as the two elements danced and your flames purged the karmic debt within him, he had an epiphany. The bond you both nurtured over mutual exchanges of qingxin, the reason why he can hear a voice you can never use—they all point back towards her.
You stared at him in concern as you kneeled, joining him on the floor. Slowly to not spook him, your hand touches his cheek ever so tenderly. For all his strong abstinence, Xiao indulged your touch as he leaned into your palm. Your white flames dissolve the black miasma and the pain receded, if only for now.
However, as soon as he regained clarity, there was a spark of anxiety and disbelief in his catlike eyes.
Then, he vanished.
Xiao avoided you for weeks. A part of you felt a bit saddened by that but you ignored it. As long as he was taking care of himself, you had no reason to complain.
The next time you heard anything about him was from a gentleman named Zhongli.
You met the funeral consultant at the balcony of Wangshu Inn, which Xiao frequented whenever he is on standby. The older man smiled knowingly at you, inviting you for some tea. Then, he relays the news of the yaksha undertaking a perilous mission in The Chasm.
"Worry not," he told at the face of your concern, "I promise that he shall return to you."
For some reason, his tone made you blush like a girl exposed by the father of the boy she adores.
However, true to his word, Xiao returned safely.
Then, the yaksha told you to meet him at Qingyun Peak—the place of your first meeting.
You walked the familiar path in a strangely relaxed pace despite the bad memories. In fact, you felt overjoyed to see qingxin growing on formerly ashen grasslands. Rays of sunshine gold peek through the gaps of trees and their branches. You look up to see Xiao sitting alone by the cliff, staring ahead to oversee all of Liyue.
Xiao heard you coming and closed his eyes just as you sat beside him. He can feel your gaze analyzing him from head to toe. The warmth of your flames caressed his skin, likely seeking injuries in need of healing. His sore muscles are thus soothed but, to his curiosity, the flames linger on his arm.
Golden eyes open to see you dazedly observing his tattoo. Amidst the trance, your hand traced its shape and lingered when it pulsed aglow. He shivered at the sensation, making you pull back.
A silent apology was made by your lovely eyes.
Xiao said nothing to that, gazing at the setting sun once again.
"Indarias." He said.
You tilted your head in confusion.
The adeptus sighs somberly, eyes growing misty in recollections of old memories.
"The predecessor of your Vision," he clarified gently, "her name was Indarias."
That was the day Xiao bore his heart and soul open to you. He told you about his brothers and sisters, encouraged by his trials in The Chasm. He explains how they once swore blood oaths to each other. It carried to their Visions, and that is how he can hear you say his name even without a voice. After being confronted by remnants of Bosacius, he recalls what made him cower from you—the revelation that you inherited the power of Indarias. When he had been falling to his death, he recalls how his mind was only filled with thoughts of you.
Then, when that golden light saved him once again, all he could think was—
"I wanted to come home to you."
Xiao confessed as his eyes softened upon meeting yours. He raises a hand to your cheek, smiling as a blush coated your skin. Leaning forward, your lips met his for the first of many times. Your arms held him close, and it will be your shared secret how he shed tears upon this sacred act.
To embrace his future, Xiao had made peace with the fact he must let go of the past. He will carry the memories of the fallen and honor them; but he will now live for himself, and for you.
However, all things—good or bad—eventually must come to an end.
The karmic debt bore down more harshly than it has ever done. By instinct, Xiao sought your existence yet also wished to stay far from it. The result was teleporting to Qingyun Peak. He remained unaware to the flow of time, leaving you and those who knew of his plight to search for him. All he could think is how unfair everything felt. Just as he found the will to genuinely live his life, he was being taken away to the arms of death. In the past, all he wanted was to take flight with the birds in the sky—yet chose to remain grounded by contract with his lord.
Now, he has you.
He laments how he still wants to spend more time, to make more memories, with you...
...yet there is no time left for memories anymore.
"Xiao!"
Your echoing voice pierced through the excruciating haze of black. His mask was cracking. All he can do is lean on his spear. The Primordial Jade grew dull with each passing second.
"Stay back!" He yelled hoarsely.
You took a step, white flames lashing out.
"I mean it!" He shouted more frantically.
In an effort to get away and protect you, the yaksha backed himself to the edge. With wide eyes, he finds himself falling back in stumbling steps as his mask fully crumbled. The pupils of his eyes thinned into alarming slits before dilating into clarity as he saw you reaching for him. In practiced ease, his own hand moved to welcome yours yet he was getting pulled farther back. The image of the past overlaps with the present, the roles reversing—
—yet the wind still carried three words.
A promise by heart. A resignation to die.
Xiao smiled as his golden eyes softened, gleaming with tears of farewell.
"I love you."
His world is then consumed by black smoke, and you watched in horror. A glance at his fading Anemo Vision made you jump after him, reaching out like he did long ago.
You refuse to let it end like this.
Red embers swirled to chase after Xiao like dancing silk ribbons. They surround you in a vermillion shield, carmine transitioning into rustic amber. Your white flames burn brighter than ever. It fought against the dark karma which threaten to devour you.
Unabashed, you cried out even as you bled.
"Alatus!"
His real name. Not his adeptus name.
Time seems to slow into a stop for Alatus, whose eyes fluttered open. He felt the nostalgic comfort of heat amidst the coldest breeze. Mustering the last of his strength, he returns your embrace—a picture of bittersweet bliss. His left hand cradles your head and his free arm wraps around your waist.
"[Name], my foolish mortal..."
Alatus remembers the words of Indarias from long ago. She told him that only the wind can save a fire from dying and empower it. He had failed to do that when she burned herself to ashes in madness. The memory made him hold you tighter, beseeching.
He refuses to let that happen to you.
A tinkling sound of two Visions meeting echoes for all adepti to hear. By the breath of his anemo, your final flame awakens.
Blue is the color of rebirth. It allows the union of souls, merging ambitions to begin anew. This azure light symbolizes radiance of a newborn star, perhaps even the miracle of resurrection.
A majestic golden bird shrouded in cerulean flames rose above Liyue. It shrieked an ancient hymn while flying across the sky, free at last. Darkness is purged as if night turned into day, and the Fourth Descender bore witness. A pair of amber eyes watched from afar as their owner gave a meaningful smile.
This undying bond is a new contract signed by the Vigilant Yaksha and his mortal lover—
"As thou hath been promised to me, I offer mine whole self to thee."
•☆••☆••☆•
ZHONGLI is a god who has lived for eons, and has yet to begin his life at the same time. After his six millennia of existence, he has been known by many names and bestowed countless titles. Some are hearsay and some are legitimate—all are bonded through his contracts. As the Prime Adeptus, he is the warrior god named Morax whom subdued the rage of oceans and monsters by rain of spears. To the people of Liyue, he is the almighty Rex Lapis whom stood as the overseer of contracts, history, and commerce. By the word of Celestia, he is the Geo Archon whom holds dominion over the Rook Gnosis; and in the eyes of Teyvat, that made him god amongst gods even if he felt otherwise under the divine gaze.
When he finally stepped down from the throne and pedestal of glory, his words to the Traveler omitted a particular truth from them—
—that is, his reason of retirement.
Zhongli spoke of erosion, and even the merchant whom made him realize that his job was done.
However, he did not speak of you.
Of course, with two Harbingers present, his secrecy is understandably sound judgment. Nevertheless, even when he attained privacy to speak personally, he finds it hard to disclose about you. Perhaps, it is a draconic instinct to hoard and protect what he has claimed to be his.
The only other individual just as protective over any knowledge of your existence is Ningguang.
After all, the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing is also known as your dear older sister.
Ningguang raised you since the beginning, even if she had been a mere child herself. Your parents are never spoken, and you never asked. Even when you find yourself in comparison to other children with mothers and fathers, your older sister was always all you needed and wanted. Tirelessly, she carried you on her back while her arms were occupied by a basket of wares to be sold. Barefoot, she journeyed from the sands of Yaoguang Shoal to the main capital of Liyue Harbor to make ends meet. Every weekend, you will both scavenge anything that can be sold.
The first gift she ever bought you was an intricate erhu of the best craftsmanship.
It had been your smiles that told her everything will be worth the effort. It had been your songs that soothed the ache of muscles and the weariness of mind. It had been your words that invigorated her ambition to become something more.
"I love you, jiejie!"
"...I love you too, meimei."
Nothing would stop Ningguang from rising to the top and giving you the life you deserve.
Time is cruel to mortals and always issues a test of faith to see them thrive. In one such incident, it has been proven that you and Ningguang are true sisters in every sense of the word. Her determination can only be rivalled by yours, and the resolve which shine like stars in your eyes is unconquerable.
Your older sister had once fallen to sickness. She refused to tell you where she kept the money, not wanting to waste it to buy medicine. You furiously argued with her about it but nothing could change her mind. Thus, at the dark of night, you treaded the path towards Jueyun Karst. The entire map of Liyue has been engraved in your mind since you could walk. Even when nothing but black greets your blank eyes, it would have been child's play to travel into the abode of adepti.
That is, of course, if not for the adepti's indignant anger at your trespassing.
Fortunately, you stole a Sigil of Permission.
"My sister is ill," you told them, "and I require your aid to concoct a medicine."
You will never know that what eventually convinced them is how gold illuminated your form. It channels your soul, and then solidifies into a circlet. At its center, a Geo Vision proudly sparkled.
Mountain Shaper thus led you to collect herbs that you would need. Moon Carver carried you on his back while Cloud Retainer flew towards Yaoguang Shoal with Ganyu on hers to check on your sister. In the distance, the Conqueror of Demons obliterated all other threats that may come your way.
By morning, Ningguang was on a road to recovery and you thanked the adepti by playing your erhu for them every day.
Amongst these private performances, you ended up in Guili Plains alone.
A melody has been haunting your dreams. It is very melancholic yet profoundly moving, like a promise between lovers. The composition began to write itself in the abyssal void of your sight. Then, it played smoothly by your delicate hands on the strings. Your voice echoed across the plains, bequeathing a sense of serenity that mortals rarely have talent to supply.
The Lord of Geo has been enchanted as he listened to your lullaby.
"Milord, to what do I owe this pleasure?"
Your inquiry was met with silence, but you can still feel his piercing eyes on you. Thankfully, you are patient as you are resilient.
The sound of footsteps made your ears perk up. You could not stop yourself from tilting your head to the direction of its origin. The omnipotence of adeptal energy dominated the air, making you dazed for a few seconds. However, there was a charming scent that you recognize. It belongs to a wild glaze lily, one especially helped to bloom by music.
Morax paused before where you sat, staring into your curious gaze looking up at him. The blindness clouded them yet your earnest intrigue made them shimmer glamorously. Autumn ginkgo leaves rain upon you whom sat beneath the shade of its tree, and he whom loomed over your mortal form. He lifts the glaze lily in his hand to bless its petals with a chaste kiss. Then, he slowly presents it to you.
A steady hand tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, planting the flower as an ornament. Your sensitive skin felt the callouses that must be from a lifetime of conquests. Alas, your cheeks only flush brightly at their tender caress. His fingertips glide through your tresses very subtly, giving you agency to pull away from his touch.
Morax pulls a lock of hair towards his lips, giving it the same attention as he did the glaze lily.
Then, with a promising smile, he lets go—
—and then vanishes in a blink.
That encounter was the first of many secrets you kept from your older sister.
A week later, a gentleman named Zhongli introduces himself to you. You narrow your eyes in suspicion and confusion. His presence, the aura of Rex Lapis, is unmistakable to you. Nevertheless, you respond with quiet acceptance while listening to his pulse settle down in relief.
It was not your place to question an archon anyway, nor is it your responsibility.
Aside from music, you always held fascination for botany. After refusing your sister's offer to live with her in the Jade Chamber, she built you an estate with a large garden and a quaint greenhouse. From here, you have invented a unique art known as Geo Crystalline Preservation. You use the flowers in your garden to crystallize them with your Vision, but retain their scent like a real flower. By this method, you manage to pluck wild glaze lilies and preserve their natural fragrance after cultivation.
Your first specimen was the glaze lily gifted by your archon, now a part of your circlet.
Suddenly, wild glaze lilies were being revived to its former vast numbers in your garden.
Your artform can be applied to anything too. It can become a stained glass decor, a clothing design, an unwilting bouquet, and even a way to preserve food ingredients. For this reason, your fresh business had immediately made connections with all sorts of exchange across Liyue Harbor. In turn, you have developed a very reliable information network that answers to nobody but yourself. Twice, a visit from Yelan made your heart swell with pride to know you have information that eludes her.
Zhongli was more of a consultant or an advisor who directs you to the most beneficial proposals. It can be most helpful whenever you felt lost in making critical decisions that require more tact. He even made it possible for you to create a strong alliance with the Feiyun Commerce Guild. A part of you is still uncertain if it was worth the hassle that the esteemed Young Master Xingqiu tends to bring to your doorstep.
By the words of Rex Lapis, the core foundation of contracts is fairness. Thus, you asked Zhongli what he wants in exchange for his hard work.
"I only wish for your company," Zhongli replied, "and—if you would allow it—a chance to court you."
A gentle kiss lands upon your forehead. It brought back flashes of your first meeting under the ginkgo tree, when he was a god rather than a mortal. You used names to keep them separate, yet this moment has proven that Zhongli is Rex Lapis and Morax.
A cor lapis by any other name would nonetheless be as resplendent.
Then, two years later, he proposed and you said yes.
That resulted to an interesting private discussion between Zhongli and Ningguang. Neither of them disclosed any details other than the fact your sister gave her sincere blessings for the marriage. The wedding was reserved yet was also nothing short of extravagant. The collaboration of your sister and fiancé had you expecting nothing less if you were being honest.
Another year later, the final Rite of Descension turns into a Rite of Parting.
You knew of Zhongli's plan. He had to confide the details to you, excluding the Tsaritsa's contract. It was the only way to persuade you into staying in Wangshu Inn for a few weeks, to make sure you do not get caught in the crossfire. He promises his intervention if all goes awry, if it endangers your sister as well as the rest of Liyue Harbor.
Then, it was all over.
Zhongli came home to kiss you with fervor you have never felt from him since your wedding night.
Later, the geo lines on his arms pulse with luminous glow in your marital bedroom. It reflected upon his amber eyes, pupils alternating between slits and dilation as his instincts purred. He closed his eyes with an inaudible sigh before projecting himself into your dreamscape.
As a blind person, you have an odd way of dreaming.
You only hear amidst the abyss and a composition always reverberates. When visited by him, everything gets reconstructed to a meadow of glaze lilies. At its heart is his Statue of the Seven. He had learnt that the imagery of stars twinkling above your heads is a sign that his own dreamscape had begun to merge with yours. A golden aurora borealis emanated pure geo energy, representing elemental resonance.
Always, the Geo Archon finds himself replacing his own self on the statue when he visits. He opens his eyes to the perspective of the statue. The illusionary Memory of Dust remains afloat beside him with a few geo crystalflies. He shall always find you fast asleep, wearing a hanfu composed of his colors. At times, your head is only resting on the armrest or his lap; and other times you are already in his arms. Then, he cradles you closely while he listens to the tunes you dream. He has grown familiar with most of them through your erhu. A few would baffle him, and he would then realize they are your unfinished compositions.
There was also one other reason he strictly kept you far from the events in the harbor.
You are with child.
Zhongli recalls the time you discussed the concept of illumination with him. It is the method of possibly enlightening a mortal to become an adeptus. The topic of you becoming immortal was only broached once and never again. Your own perspective in the matter was irrelevant, mostly because you were incompatible for the procedure. Although far from being an invalid, your constitution is not necessarily ideal for such arduous illumination.
The Lord of Geo was overjoyed when you relayed the news of your pregnancy the first time. Alas, when the celebratory mood had gone, the slap of reality finally registered.
This will be a difficult ordeal for you, carrying a child that is half-adeptus.
Yanfei was conceived and born by a human mother, delivered through a complicated pregnancy. The health concerns never seemed to end, and her mother's miraculous survival was only thanks to her tenacity according to her father. Even then, she is a mortal woman in perfectly good health.
If you were not capable of undergoing illumination, can you even survive this pregnancy?
No matter the answer though, Zhongli knows you are determined to persevere. For the sake of the life within your womb, you will endure all the hardships that will be thrown your way.
That fact is why he fell in love with you.
Perhaps, there was one thing he could do to help you even if it was not a full illumination.
As he once did for Azhdaha, the Lord of Geo can bless you the gift of sight.
You can see your child when they are born.
Zhongli lifts his head from where it rested on your crown. He tilts your chin up to gaze upon your visage and feel your breath against his skin. His fingertips grazed your eyelids, and the golden light of his geo energy engulfs the dreamscape. As everything fades into white, he leans down so his lips meet yours...
...and then, you both awaken.
However, for the first time, the haunting darkness that usually welcomed you has been replaced with color.
You saw a man hovering over you, lips millimeters apart from yours. Dark brown hair is embellished with honey gold, long strands gliding over his toned shoulders. Sharp amber eyes glared into yours, an unreadable sheen making them glow. Your hand reaches up to touch his fair cheek, thumb tracing the red outlining his gaze.
You realize. This is your husband.
"Zhongli...!" You gasped, tears in your eyes.
He smiles like a breathtaking work of art, a godly beauty that blessed you to be his wife.
"Hello, tian xin."
Your arms wrapped around his neck to pull him into an ecstatic embrace and blissful kiss. He obliges, taking all you have and giving you all that is his.
Someday, you will no longer stay by his side.
Nevertheless, the proof of your existence will live through your child—and so will the love, the miracle that conceived them, which you shared with him. As such, you will continue to shine like gold in his memories forevermore.
This is not a mere contract, but a solemn promise that even Celestia can never break—
"My memories of you are treasures not even erosion can steal away."
•☆••☆••☆•
KAEDEHARA KAZUHA is a free spirit undeterred by the might of the eternal lightning's glow. At the face of loss and grief, he continued to pursue the calling that has been delivered by nature's winds. Days are spent searching for truth with an old friend's legacy, a masterless Vision to accompany him across the unconquered seas. Nights are spent in mourning a home that disowned him, a moment to digress from the disgrace he was bestowed. His family name has always been a burden that weighed heavily on his heart, but his sword cuts down all obstacles by will of wind and cloud. The Archon who represented the element he wields preached the ideal of freedom, yet nobody ever spoke of its steep price. In contrast, the Archon of his homeland follows an eternity that rejects change and henceforth decrees to prohibit ambitions that yearn for it.
When a bird who wishes to fly is born in a nation that wants it caged, which path is seen as right to abide?
When a dream is not enough to conquer divine sovereignty, what sort of reality is left to live?
They say when the gods give you a blessing, you do not ask why it was sent. Alas, if that same gift has condemned you to a tormenting fate, what else can be done but question the reason behind it all?
Wings clipped yet uncaged,
The price of freedom is steep
Yet the bird still sings.
That was the answer Kazuha realized.
If nothing in hindsight can tell him what he wishes to know, then he must listen to the unseen. If neither god nor mortal can be persuaded with words, then perhaps he must find a better use for his voice.
Thus, the lost ronin let the wind lead...
...and he was saved by the lonely desert flower that thrived amidst the City of Contracts.
You were a fresh graduate from Sumeru, a brilliant scholar disillusioned by the leaking discrepancies of the Akademiya. They would have forced you to stay with threats thinly veiled as pleasant requests to promote the growth of wisdom. However, you knew the potential they see in you is naught but another way to cultivate the poison spreading deeper than the withering of the rainforests. It was only by aid of the former General Mahamatra that you managed to destroy all research the sages desperately wanted, and then narrowly escaped. Your freedom cost his position, but he reassures you that it gained him a friend—one he hopes can still find heart to return.
You promised him as much, the sincerest gratitude pulsing in your soul.
It was a little difficult to start from scratch, yet Liyue certainly helped as a city of commerce.
The only possessions you have left are the clothes you wear, the bow strapped to the quiver of arrows on your back, and whatever is stored as luggage on your shoulder bag. However, you hold an unyielding confidence in two things: your intelligence, and your Dendro Vision.
That is what eventually led you to apply for the recent job opening in Bubu Pharmacy.
Baizhu is a fair employer and an overall good person as company. He does feel a little suspicious with his odd remarks, especially in regards to his fragile state due to some unknown illness. He gives the vibe of someone who smiles politely yet always schemes something nefarious. Perhaps, it was your time with the corrupted sages that made you wary.
Nonetheless, he treats you well.
Moreover, he never once criticized your disability as a nuisance nor made you seem inferior for it.
Qiqi, on the other hand, is a very lovely and adorable girl with the occasional eccentricities. A knitted finch plush for her birthday was the deciding factor for her to proclaim you as her older sister. She keeps a particular notebook for every detail she discovers about you. Her free time is now spent cuddling with you for a nap, if not to help make your remedies.
Your cheeky boss commented that you both share the same eyes. He laughs when you glared at him for the implication that you look like an airheaded zombie. As an intellectual, it is not appreciated.
After a year of relishing your new life in Liyue, the heavens decided to throw another curveball.
As a renowned healer in Bubu Pharmacy, there have been many patrons that come to you for any sort of emergency. It is the real term of employment that makes Baizhu pay you heftily, at least compared to his other employees. It is also why your colleagues and some citizens in the harbor consider you the pharmacy's second doctor. Your affinity for dendro has greatly progressed any medicinal research. Your accompaniment of Qiqi allowed the forgetful zombie to discover new herbs—not much use alone, but vital ingredients in brewing affordable remedies.
Thus, one stormy night, a woman named Beidou came barging on your door.
"Lady Doc," she called out boisterously, "I need a little help here!"
A young man, bloodied and bruised, was on her back and worryingly limp. The famous captain of the Crux Fleet had a strained smirk on her face, and the rest of her was roughed up. Whatever ordeal they had to endure, it must have been truly dangerous.
Without further questioning, you provided treatment to these unexpected patients. Being informed that the man is a foreign fugitive made no difference to you. From his clothes, you have easily deduced that he is from Inazuma—which allowed your mind to fill in all the blanks on why he was condemned. After all, news had traveled fast across nations about the Sakoku Decree and the closing of Inazuma's borders. You take pride in your oath as a healer to treat anyone in need of care indiscriminately. If they end up doing harm to others afterwards, then you deal with it just as accordingly.
However, the lady captain is a woman of integrity and so you chose to trust her judgment.
What did annoy you was how Beidou decided to just leave a wanted ronin in your care. All she left was a note to take care of him—Kazuha, she says—and a winky face signed at the bottom. She also snatched a bottle of rum from your liquor stash.
Pirates can really sniff out any hidden treasure in a matter of seconds.
Qiqi visits you that afternoon. This is the routine if you are ever tardy or absent during working hours. It was part of your contract since Baizhu is well aware that being an accomplished doctor can attract the wrong sort of crowd. Not to mention, he has been informed of your situation with the Akademiya. The zombie's visits are to ensure your well-being. She will report to the Millelith directly, per Baizhu's instruction, if she thinks anything feels off.
You gave Qiqi a notice to deliver to Baizhu, a request for a short leave. It was the usual for whenever you become busy in treating personal patients. A small bottle of coconut milk was also given as reward for the little zombie's troubles. Her lips twitch up to a small smile as her eyes gain an affectionate haze.
"Thank you, jiejie." She says.
After receiving a headpat from you, she skips away adorably and giddily.
You closed the door with a sigh, turning to go back and tend to your patient. However, you were met with a glistening blade to your face and a pair of dazed yet still menacing red eyes. They glare at you defensively behind silver white fringes.
"Where am I? Who are you?" Kazuha demands.
To your chagrin, you fainted from shock.
Kazuha finds the note from Beidou which clarified the situation to him. He apologized profusely as his pale cheeks blushed from embarrassment.
A year later, that not-so-pleasant first impression has paved the way to an unlikely romance.
You stand by the docks of Liyue Harbor, anxiously waiting for the return of the Alcor. The last time you heard from your lover, he has informed you via letter that the Vision Hunt Decree was no more—thanks to the Traveler. However, he did not immediately return to your side for personal reasons. You did not pry, a touching act of understanding that deepened his affections for you. Kazuha promised that once he has tied the last loose ends of his past, he will never allow himself to part from you.
A part of you wondered if you are willing to do the same. There is a significant difference between the both of you that had caused conflict in the past.
Kaedehara Kazuha is a free spirit, always following wherever the wind leads him.
You are a person who thrives by staying in one place, like a blossom in fertile soil.
If given the choice, will he allow himself to stay tied down to you? Similarly, are you capable of uprooting yourself just to be with him?
The scent of maple leaves carried by the salty ocean breeze snaps you out of reverie. A delighted smile brightens your lovely features, knowing this aroma can only belong to one person.
Kazuha stands meters away with a heartfelt smile and a smitten look in his crimson eyes. He holds his arms open, and that was your cue to run towards his direction. The momentum caused you both to spin as he caught you, yet your lover only laughed at your enthusiasm. A mild tremble in his arms allowed you to know that he has missed you just as much.
"I'm back." He murmurs.
You tighten the embrace while he plants a lingering kiss upon your crown. His bandaged hand combs through your hair, smiling as petals were swept by his fingertips. A couple of yellow roses and pink carnations blossom from your intricate braids.
"Welcome back." You mumbled raspily.
Kazuha effortlessly hears your words that tend to go unspoken. You kept seeds in your hair ornaments as easy access for herbs by making them bloom with your Vision. At times, he plucks a leaf or two from them to play a tune for you. Even if you cannot hear it, you always present him a jubilant smile and an appreciative applause.
"Come with me." He signed to you.
Taking you by the hand, the humble samurai leads you to a secret meadow in a cove. It is a rendezvous spot known only to you and him, a fortress of respite and solitude from the world. A single oak tree stood at the center, where it is rooted firmly upon the patch of land surrounded by water. The lake and running streams glimmer, a hint of salt permeating the air to connote their origins. The rocky ceilings are sturdy yet possess fissures that allowed light to shine upon the clear waters. The many luminous corals provide illumination deep in the darkness, as sea creatures have made themselves at home. Various beds of flowers engulf the soil with vines crawling along the wooden trunk, showing age lines on its bark.
Kazuha gently sweeps you into his arms and uses his Vision to float over the bodies of water. He puts you on the flowerbeds, promptly lying down with his head on your lap.
You blink at him confusedly for a moment while he only smiled innocently. A giggle escapes your lips, indulging him as your fingers languidly ran through his hair. Your eyes are entirely on him, either reading his lips or paying attention to his signs as he led the conversation. He told you of his visit to his friend's grave, and how he wishes to take you there someday to introduce you.
The idea made you pause only for a split second, but your ever attentive lover notices anyway.
His crimson eyes open, catching your own forlorn gaze. His hand reaches up to your face, caressing to comfort.
"I also went to a special place afterwards with the Traveler, a unique archipelago that reflects one's heart." He said slowly, "The experience made me realize a few things about myself..."
His words trail off as his free hand takes yours to pull it towards his lips. Your knuckles are grazed by his tokens of affection, and heat covers your cheeks in response to his adoration. Kazuha kept his eyes on you, fondness swirling within their depths.
"...and it also gave me an epiphany about you."
At his words, he gradually sits up yet your hands are still entwined. Fair strands of silver-white glide along his movements, framing his youthful features.
Kazuha is always most enchanting to you whenever he lets his hair loose.
"I want to marry you, [Name]."
To emphasize his words, Kazuha procures a ring of sterling silver. Small rubies decorate its exterior to form the design of red maple leaves. A single name is engraved along the interior side using traditional Inazuman letters. You have seen it so many times that you knew how to read it even if you were not as fluent in the language.
楓原. Kaedehara.
A flicker of fear seeped into your wide eyes, but the steady hold of your lover's hand kept you anchored to reality. You know what he is asking of you and what he is offering in return. This ronin is willing to bind himself to you, boldly and fearlessly.
"On my next voyage," Kazuha says, "come with me to Inazuma. I wish to marry you in my homeland. There is little left to my noble name, but it would be my greatest joy to share it with you—"
He smiles wistfully, "—if you would have me."
Once again, the question confronts you.
Are you willing to do the same for him?
Kazuha receives your answer in the form of a vine wrapping around your entwined hands. It gravitates to his wrist like a corsage, and then blossoms.
His own eyes widen in glee as red and white freesias decorated the vine. The flower of ultimate trust coated in the color of passion and purity.
You are saying—
"Yes."
Kazuha almost sobs in relief as his hands shook but manages to slide the ring onto your finger. Suddenly, you tackle him in happiness to plant your lips upon his own vigorously. He returns your fervor, cupping your face to deepen the passionate kiss.
A soft zephyr blew within the cove, rippling the water and fluttering the leaves alongside the petals. It is a dance that unites two hearts as one, consummating a bond as everlasting as lightning.
Nobody could ever know your heart the way Kazuha does, and so it shall be his right to claim it. Similarly, no soul other than yours can encourage his spirit yet still enrapture it with the ties that bind.
Henceforth, this pair of soulmates will prosper with or without a divine blessing—
Soulbound, windsong bloom Amidst strife of unheard voice Love called me to you.
•☆••☆••☆•
KAMISATO AYATO is a man whose heart seeks an equally capable partner. The idea of one day having to choose another half is something to consider as part of his duty. After all, the head of a noble clan is responsible for ensuring that its bloodline continues to prosper. To sire an heir, he must someday select a bride. His choice will lead to the rise of a matriarch within the Kamisato Clan. It must be a woman with the caliber to lead as the gentle hand of the Yashiro Commission to his iron fist. A fierce yet kind soul is necessary to command the Shuumatsuban in his place should the need ever arise. Furthermore, if he must eventually settle for a loveless marriage, his desire is to at least gain a lifelong friend. They must have the same depth of loyalty to his family, and the same headstrong resolve to uphold their principles.
Otherwise, he is very certain any other whom wishes to stand by his side will only break. With how he acts and carries himself, the people of Inazuma are more inclined to agree. Indeed, a wife less than up to par would be nothing short of disappointing.
Be that as it may, the Yashiro Commissioner can be a complicated man to love.
Ayato is a man who lives his life wearing a thousand masks, with little to no distinction between his true self and facades. At the early deaths of his parents, he was a young boy that had been forced into the lethal grind of political battles. To protect his little sister, he took up the blade to eliminate those who threaten them amidst the power struggle.
Just like that, his heart became a closely guarded vault privy to a trusted few.
Loving Ayato is likened to water, the same element he wields as weapon and shield. In calm days, he is transparent and clear to see. In chaotic nights, his own motives are harder to understand. There are times he can be as volatile as rapids, and others be as nurturing as a cool spring.
The most dangerous thing about loving Ayato is if you allow yourself to drown in him.
Alas, all of Inazuma is left dumbfounded when he abruptly announces his marriage to you.
The Yashiro Commissioner had gone missing for a week. A note with his penmanship claims he has a personal errand to run. Then, he returns to the estate—holding your hand while another clenches a scroll, sealed by the wax insignia of the Narukami Shrine and the Raiden Shogun. A glance at your respective hands reveal the glint of silver wedding bands, with camellia flower engravements filled by white jade.
Kamisato Ayato eloped with you.
"From here onwards," Ayato declared, "[Name] shall be living in the Kamisato Estate as my wife. Please treat her with the same respect you do for me."
The idea seems to intimidate you, a frown tugging your lips. Your husband, however, squeezed your hand in reassurance. Pacified, you end up snuggling your cheek onto his arm. The action is successful in grounding your senses, focusing on Ayato's scent and body heat. He obliges this by gently pulling you closer, practically trapping your own arm to his side.
Ayaka hid a smile of amusement behind her fan, as her eyes softened in endearment.
"Of course, brother." She replied.
Thoma nodded, beaming in welcome as you peeked at him and the young miss. Despite their slightest reservation upon this rushed turn of events, they trust Ayato.
Although, the Shirasagi Himegimi cannot help but feel you looked somewhat familiar.
You are a very peculiar woman, especially in a nation as conservative and traditional as Inazuma. In fact, some believe you seem more like an antithesis to your husband. Whereas he is always poised and very composed, there is always an untamed ferocity in you that refuses to comply to social norms. You can nonetheless dress as elegantly as any other noble aristocrat, speak as eloquently as any well-educated lady. If not for your infamous eccentricities, nobody would have doubted why Ayato chose you. It is quite renowned by gossipers that you shamelessly stroll Inazuma City in a commoner's yukata—a messy bun for a hairstyle, and sometimes going barefoot. You despise social events and acted more elusive than your husband.
The servants were initially wary yet none of them can deny your positive influence. The household has never been so efficient and organized until you took on managing its affairs. Thoma was astonished to realize that he ended up with more free time under your authority. The meticulous way you stick to a form of schedule and your quick wit to adapt have enabled the Kamisato Estate to operate smoothly, with or without the siblings present. In fact, some unique tasks you assign to Thoma aided him into securing businesses in Ritou. As equal exchange for your patronage, you have flawlessly expanded the Shuumatsuban's spy network.
Ayaka also found respite in her endeavors as face of the clan. She initially had a difficult time with being your mentor of sorts in the life of nobility. However, your creativity in problem solving and innovative thinking has been great in helping balance her own matters.
Thoma began to understand your ways when he has become in charge of all your meals. There is a set routine for every day of the week, and then a specific assortment of snacks with tea expected at certain hours. Each ingredient is meticulously picked and every dish is carefully prepared. If even one thing is out of place, you will notice with a single bite/sip and you would refuse to eat—which results to a very moody mistress for the rest of the estate.
It was only thanks to how well Ayato knew you that everyone else was able to keep up. He is aware of all factors to your behavior and how to aptly respond to them. His stern yet precise instructions left no room for mistakes if it meant taking care of you properly in his absence. It was as if he grew up with you due to the sheer amount of experience he has in how to deal with your odd patterns.
As months passed, Ayaka finally realized.
That is because her brother did grow up with you.
Ayato met you long ago when he was a mere lonely boy, burdened with the title of clan heir. He found you digging around the beach near his estate, an Electro Vision on your waist. A line of seashells were set on a flat rock beside you, all arranged by type as rows and by size as columns.
You glanced up at him. Your Vision flickers, making him tense—
—and then lightning struck the sands.
As a boy, Ayato watched in awe as the grains turned into glass. You manipulated the temperature of the element, heating the sand in quick seconds to create multiple pieces. He ended up getting closer, and it was enough to spook you. After you were finished, you hastily stood up and collected your things before sprinting away.
"Wait...!" Ayato exclaimed.
You did not listen.
The young master pouted, thinking he would never see you again. It was a shame since he found you so fascinating. He looked down and saw some strange hollow tubes in the shores, resembling coral.
That day, he went home a little despondent.
Ayato was pleasantly surprised to see you again the next day—same place, same hour. You are polishing the shells this time, and occasionally refining them to the shape you want. Small pots of paint surround you, and the Electro Vision is pulsing to be used at any given notice.
This time, you did not run when he got close.
"Fulgurite."
He flinches as you suddenly spoke. Your eyes were focused on the glass tubes he picked up. They hung from the string of his obi now, which got odd looks from his parents a while ago.
"These...?"
You nodded, "They are fulgurites. You can use them to make jewelry. Want to see?"
That was the start of a beautiful friendship.
Ayato figures out your schedule and how you like sticking to it, so he never misses out on visiting you. It was actually something you never minded as long as he remained consistent. The times when he did not get the memo, you got annoyed and told him harshly to stop showing up. At first, he felt hurt since he misunderstood. Thankfully, he was mature enough to clarify it with you. Since then, he promised his arrival only on particular days wherein he can assure his free time. At his words, you acted less bothered by his presence and worked on your craft.
The two of you grew up together in those constant stolen moments. He finds out you have a younger brother, and he tells you he has a younger sister. On weekends, you are not on the beach. That is the only time your brother is able to spend time with you instead of honing his swordsmanship.
In stormy days, he had to struggle pulling you into the estate. Every time, he braced himself for your ire but patiently coaxes you over it. The most effective method is to occupy your mind with something else, and let your hands be busy crafting. Once you are fixated, Ayato can be allowed into your safe space again and he is able to take care of you. Henceforth, rainy days are spent in his estate and that became the new norm for your daily routine. Ayato adapts by creating amendments to your unhealthy habits.
You still persistently argue that storms are perfect for making petrified lightning glass.
Nevertheless, you express gratitude for his sincere care and affection. No one has ever been so doting on you aside from your brother. In turn, Ayato felt touched that you treat him as one of the only two people you explicitly trust. You even adjust yourself to be considerate of his own needs, despite the clear discomfort it sometimes caused you.
When his parents died, you were his greatest pillar of support.
Ayato has always known to never underestimate you in any way. What made you different did not make you dumb. In fact, it is revealed in that dark period that you were more brilliant than your peers. It was only thanks to your guidance that he found direction how to proceed. It was due to your judgment that he knew who to trust, which ties needed to be severed for safety. Every critical decision was consulted by you, and he was awed when the results you predict come to fruition. When his demons made him lose sleep, you provided relief by playing with his hair.
When he finally triumphed in the succession, you gave him a precious gift.
You smiled. Of utmost sincerity, you smiled ever so sweetly and so warmly.
That is the day Ayato knew you were the one.
Unfortunately, he had taken too long to confess that to you. Too many years slipped past his fingers due to his obligations.
Then, the Vision Hunt Decree happened—
—and you went missing.
A young man named Kaedehara Kazuha barged into his estate, panicked and distressed. He called for Ayato, kneeling as he pleaded for help in finding his older sister—you. The wind has gone silent regarding your whereabouts, and he feared the worst due to the recent decree.
Of course, the Yashiro Commissioner wasted no time in utilizing his power to be of aid.
It was for naught.
Soon, he could not even protect your brother when the young man was branded as a wanted criminal.
Kazuha witnessed the love Ayato holds for you—a passion he deems worthy of his kin. He knew of the bond you shared with him, which is why he came to the man for help. Meeting the man personally, the winds crooned in approval—to which the ronin only smiled, a little resigned yet mostly relieved.
Someone else can take care of you now.
"Aneue spoke of you fondly." He said, "If anyone can find her, it's you."
The younger male presents him a box.
"She called it a tassel chime," Kazuha explained, "and referred to that piece as Rainmaker."
It contains a small windchime in the size and design of a tassel, thus the name. A pair of clamshells tie the knot for the noose. Camellias on rippling waters is carved onto the blue glass, painted with glittering golden lacquer. Instead of a striker, a ball of glowing white jade is inside the spherical glass with a cowrie shell at its base. The tail is a familiar indigo satin ribbon, his gift to you on the last Irodori Festival. His name is embroidered in your favorite fulgurite threads, and yours on the other side:
Kaedehara [Name].
Ayato knew this is the equivalent of a blessing. He ties it to his sword, aware by use of elemental sight that the energy within it will prevent the glass from breaking even in a skirmish. He makes a promise to your brother that he will stop at nothing to find you, and ask for your hand in marriage.
Eventually, he did.
You stood in an abandoned temple amidst the call of summer. The crystalflies illuminated your form, and the water shimmered like liquid diamonds. Tinkling sounds echoed in Chinju Forest, as the sails of windchimes blew with the nightly breeze.
"[Name]..."
At the call of your name, you turned to face him and Ayato embraces you immediately.
"I want to go home." You murmur.
The broken tone of your voice devastated him, and he nods while tightening his arms. You hugged him back, hiding your face on his chest while his nuzzled your shoulder.
"Yes, let's go home now." He whispered.
The Yashiro Commissioner spared nothing at your expense. He used the name of Kamisato to protect you. As his wife, you are now an integral part of the Tri-Commission and one with the Raiden Shogun's faction. You cannot be touched by the decree like your brother feared. Although you desire no riches, Ayato sought to provide something that will soothe your unease at the drastic changes in your life.
Thus, in an isolated wing of the estate, there was your personal workshop.
A safe haven. All for you.
Ayato leaned back with you in his arms, cuddling by the veranda. You were sorting through your brother's letters, worried, and missing him dearly. Looking up at your husband, he smiles and kisses you fervently.
"I'm here." He reassures.
You wrap your arms around his neck in response, snuggling his chest to nap. He adjusts you on his lap and rewraps the blanket around you. His long fingers comb through your hair, humming contently.
Heartbound lullabies in hiraeth, ever so mellifluous—
"You are my clarity amidst sullied waters, a wish to forever keep."
•☆••☆••☆•
THOMA is an ordinary ember within a hearth filled by unfathamoble wonders. He was born from a marital union between a woman of Mondstadt and a man of Inazuma. Amidst these contrasting cultures, he grew up fitting into the crevices resembling lacquer filling the cracks of porcelain. As a young man, he became quite a jack-of-all-trades that can help practically anyone in need—no matter the odd job presented to his capable hands. On his free time, he shares small treats with homeless animals. He fights off the urge to adopt every single one, and remains content to supply them a sanctuary. Perhaps, a part of him feels a kinship as he sometimes fancies seeing his own image to be that of a stray. Having two origins can often lead to confusion of where a person truly belongs.
Alas, this blond fixer-upper carries a beaming smile every time he greets the sun. For him, bridging gaps presents a hidden beauty that can only be found in imperfections, fixing the broken yet appreciating its flaws. While he does not always have a solution for everything, it never stopped him from trying.
Nevertheless, there have been times wherein Thoma also seeks some respite.
The Sakoku Decree added to it.
What terrifies him the most is having something to lose, more than just his Vision—
"Thoma, darling, where are you?"
"Ah!" He yelps as he stumbles towards the direction of your voice, "Over here, [Name]!"
—and that is someone to protect.
Bright green eyes see you turn up at the entrance of Komore Teahouse. You sat daintily and elegantly on your wheelchair, a carefully wrapped bento resting upon your lap. Despite being a mere commoner, you carried yourself with a dignity that can rival even the most affluent nobles of Inazuma. Being dependent on a metal seat never deterred people from feeling the promise of recompense should you be slighted.
Thoma smiles tenderly as he meets your gaze, to which you respond heartily.
The bout of excitement caused you to unwittingly freeze the ground beneath you. Swiftly, your lover discreetly melts it away by going near you before any guards notice your small demonstration. His eyes glanced around the perimeter to double-check, sighing in relief when he deems it safe.
"Ah," you gasped, "I'm sorry."
He chuckles nervously, "It's fine."
You and Thoma are childhood sweethearts. You were a very lonely orphan raised by the nuns. That played a part to your distinguished mannerisms. The Church of Favonius had instilled the etiquettes of a proper lady upon you at a young age. It probably made them all the more protective due to how you were paralyzed from the waist down. This made you bond with a girl named Glory, whom also lives with a disability that left her world dark since her birth. Of course, that did not halt you from sneaking out to play in the streets and getting your dresses dirty. A short adventure is what led you to meet the young blond boy whom quickly became your world. He, who offered a hand, took you to many other such adventures rather than persuading you to stay at home like an invalid.
"Life is short," he said, "you ought to relish it the best way you can rather than obsessing over what you can't do. I'll be your friend to help!"
Thoma showed you how to seize the day and claim the world as your own. He spent each Windblume proving it by giving you mismatched flower crowns, trying his best with clumsy fingers. You were invited into his home countless times as if it was yours too, with warm family dinners and cozy sleepovers. All that he could share with you, he did so with utter delight as if it was a privilege to be your friend—even if you felt it should be the other way.
Can anyone really blame you for being so smitten even as a young girl?
When he decided to set off for Inazuma, you did not hesitate to go with him.
The nuns were sad to see you leave, but the will of Barbatos clearly blessed you for it. The thousand winds have spoken, and they wish to lead you to the boy that has won your heart.
Life in Inazuma did not start as smoothly as you both had wanted. Your boat got wrecked in the storm but, for that one time, it became your turn to protect Thoma—to be the knight. Fear came first like a coiling serpent around your heart, and then you felt the warmth of his arms covering you. They stayed determined even as they shook, and your soul was inspired to take action. Heat turned into blistering coldness that froze every drop of rain, turning them into icicles in the shape of sakura petals. Together, they converged as fractals that carried you and your beau to safety within a dome of ice.
At the face of the eternal lightning, a blizzard defied the gods and earned their favor in turn.
The eye of storm was you.
From then onwards, the Kamisato Clan provided you both a home and way of sustenance. In gratitude, Thoma did everything he could as proper repayment; and whomever wins his favor shall have yours. At some point, you found a stable job for yourself in the Yae Publishing House as a minor editor. However, the keen amethyst gaze that focused upon you saw something else—a hidden gem brimming with the potential to move hearts via the quill.
Apparently, your calling is to be a writer.
Guuji Yae herself had mentored you after growing fond of your little snippets she caught in drafts. It got lost amongst the transcripts you were editing and ended up in her hands. A part of you suspected she blatantly stole it like the cunning vixen she truly is, no matter how nicely she treats you. Nonetheless, you were grateful for her direction since the kitsune remained sincere in her platonic affections for you—especially when you dedicated your second novella to her. The first was obviously for Thoma, featuring Mondstadt and then the Kamisato Clan.
Both were shocking bestsellers immediately, and Yae Miko sought to reward you.
"Would you like me to personally officiate your wedding someday?" She teased.
You blushed heavily at the sheer thought of marrying Thoma, excited yet flustered. Your words stuttered and the pink vixen only laughed at how adorable you looked. She was so tempted to pinch those soft and rosy cheeks but practiced her restraint.
You fiddled with your fingers as you turned away to watch the cherry blossom rain.
"Maybe someday..."
A pair of pink fox ears twitched upon hearing your gentle whisper. It sounded every bit like a woman in love, passionate and unconditional. A genuine smile shows itself on the Guuji's lovely face, feeling her own heart swell at the face of true romance. It may not be her favorite genre, but it was still dazzling to see in real life—especially amidst treacherous times.
"Then," Yae chuckled, "just set a date and I shall ensure to keep my schedule free...like tomorrow~!"
You blush again and whined for her to stop teasing just once. This time, she did not resist pinching you while she fawned over your pathetically whimpering self.
Perhaps, marriage can be in your future with Thoma if fate shall someday allow it. He was really the only one you can really see beside you until death do you part. In that perspective, you can comprehend a bit of the eternity that the Raiden Shogun so earnestly preaches and imposes.
For now, you were content to just let things naturally take its course—and that means indulging a lunch date with your boyfriend.
Thoma noticed that you have grown busier since that lunch date. He shrugged it off since you did mention your new tedious tasks in the publishing house. A part of him worried for your health but he also trusted the fact you would tell him anything amiss. In the meantime, he focused on the odd jobs he had to do in Ritou as well as housekeeping for the Kamisatos as per usual. It was a little challenging sometimes to even manage to share a meal or a bed together nowadays.
You have missed each other dearly.
Therefore, he felt his world crumble when he finally unveiled your secret.
Yae Miko sent a missive to the Kamisato Clan, in which she asked for a private audience. She insisted for Thoma and Ayaka to visit the Narukami Shrine, to which they obliged curiously. They surely did not expect Shikanoin Heizou to also be seated in the Guuji's secluded waiting room.
"A propaganda...?" Thoma said in disbelief.
A series of light novels have been distributed to the masses. It featured a story that referenced the tales of allogenes whose Visions have been confiscated, and the gruesome confrontations with Watatsumi Island as a result of the ongoing civil war. The plot is a very clever camouflage. On hindsight, the premise was written in such an ingenious way that none of the novels can really be used as legitimate proof of treason. They were inconspicuously clean enough to be dismissed as fiction. Alas, rumors have spread about the rebels gaining more manpower by the day since the publication of the novels. Thus, Kujou Sara suspected that the supposedly innocent pieces of literature were being used as tools of espionage and communication.
It was enough to warrant an investigation.
The detective nodded gravely, "Their identity has not been revealed since they use a pen name. We did deduce a pattern of sorts but nothing conclusive."
"By that," Yae interjects smoothly, "nothing that the Tenryou Commission can use to gain an official arrest warrant."
Ayaka opens her fan to shield the lower half of her face, retaining composure.
"You have a suspect?" She inquired.
"It's quite elementary." Heizou smirked wryly, "The culprit simply needs three things to accomplish this impressively troublesome feat."
He held up an index finger, "They hold power in the media—specifically journalism—which means they are associated with a prestigious publishing house that enables them to release works anonymously."
His light olive green eyes glanced at the kitsune, whom was sipping her tea calmly.
"Next, they work with an organization that functions as a stealth protection service. This is what has kept them safe in the shadows, while eluding the pursuit of the Tenryou Commission."
He then glances at Ayaka, particularly alluding to the Shuumatsuban of the Yashiro Commission.
"Finally," he then meets Thoma's eyes, "they have an extensively developed information network. This can be achieved if they make social connections daily, or simply just by being a figure trusted by the civilians."
Heizou smiled blithely, "There is also the fact I have noticed a pretty dove looking into the Visions that have been confiscated by the recent decree..."
An almost remorseful sigh escapes his lips.
"...and I may have shared a thing or two about the names of these Visions' owners."
"So this is your fault~?" Yae sang mockingly.
It was perfectly clear to everyone in the room.
You are the prime suspect that Heizou is targeting.
Thoma should have seen this coming. He was not blind to how you so deeply empathize with those affected by the recent decrees. There have been nights wherein he saw you staring balefully at your Vision—not for having it, but for being unable to proudly wield it.
"What is to be done?" He asked.
Heizou frowned sympathetically, "I am partly at fault which is why I sought to lead the investigation. I will not arrest her since, as mentioned, there is truly no sufficient evidence for a warrant."
A wave of relief for everyone, yet Thoma froze at the cold glare from the detective.
"However," he said, "we do need to close the case if only to get Sara off our backs. Investigations have found traces of elemental energy—cryo, to be precise—in the books to keep it preserved from aging or being destroyed. I can use that to push for the closing of the case."
Ayaka grimaced behind her fan, "You mean to say that she—"
"—needs to surrender her Vision." Heizou nods, "It will be my proof to Kujou Sara that the suspect has been apprehended and no longer a threat."
"Of course," he looked at Yae, "this also means you will have to suspend Miss [Name] from making any more of those controversial novels."
The priestess sighs morosely, "How dull."
In the end, Thoma's shield could not protect your own ambitions.
You made no fuss in handing over your Vision to the young detective. In fact, you seem almost at peace if not for the flicker of resentment in your eyes as they look upon Tenshukaku. When Heizou left, Yae and the Kamisato siblings have asked why you put up no fight despite your avid rebellion so far.
"I have done my part in this battle," you said, "and the rest is up to those who will face Baal."
The fact you so boldly used the Shogun's god name showed your obstinate courage.
Yae, in particular, grinned slyly as she has proven herself once again to have an eye for talent.
Ayato and Ayaka remarked how Thoma is truly lucky to have someone like you.
Regardless, some things cannot be defeated by will alone. The loss of your Vision gradually took a toll on you like the rest. You grew physically weaker, at times unable to leave bedrest. You became mentally absent, missing portions of your day often. Soon, Yae did not even need to suspend you whom already struggled to write anything of worth now.
Thoma has lost count how many sleepless nights he had woken up to your shaking form, and then having to comfort you in his embrace. The entire Kamisato Estate can hear your raw and mournful wails as they also felt your loss from afar. Your personal study has been ransacked due to frustrated anger—with inkwells spilled, parchments either left crumpled or torn, and splinters of broken brushes scattered on the floor. All your lover could do was put back the pieces of your broken heart in a frail effort to keep it from being bled dry. Pain and sorrow meant that you have not gone empty, meaning you still fight even while hopeless.
The Traveler steps into the docks of Inazuma from aboard the Alcor.
"Ahoy there!" Thoma greeted.
He could not salvage your dreams yet he does not falter in carrying your heart. Unfortunately, the storm was still ruthlessly devouring you. There may not be anything left of you in the end if this continues.
Nevertheless, he refuses to bow down and just give up on you now.
Regimes can be toppled, kings overthrown, and he would conquer all because—
"I am the shield of fire to her lance of ice, steadfast as we are defiant."
•☆••☆••☆•
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limehaspassed · 1 year
Text
Living for a God
(Thomas Hewitt x Reader)
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In which you try to show your devotion to Thomas Hewitt. <3
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Desire is a motivation that you’ve grown fond of, one that’s so familiar that it practically lives inside your soul, manifesting itself within your core. Desire led you wherever you went, your body only serving as a means of transport for whatever it was your heart thought of fondly. It is this desire that leads to obsession, your need to give praise and desperate cry for your heart’s gratification. Once something or someone is desired, you would give anything to feed that desire and you would blindly follow it to the edge of the world, a cliff made of ecstasy and existential meaning.
It is this desire that has chosen him, that has wrought upon you a vow to always serve him. Your being existed for him, your body meant to please him, and your words spoken formed to flatter him. Everything that you are, everything that you do, and everything that you believe in was dedicated to him. It is his joy that feeds you, his serenity that warms you, and his amusement that shelters you. As your desire sees fit, you are his past, his present, and his future. All of it, all of you, was built and created to bring about his eternal peace.
After all, a life without desire, without his stability and supportivity, was a life that will never be worth living.
Some may call this insanity, a love so obsessive that it formulates into a toxic serum, one that breaks down your body. However, it is his being that fuels you, without him you are surely doomed to fail, your life left a hollow meaning on an empty page. Your obsession with him, your desire to worship him, was so primal and so carnal that it caused others to flee, their simple minds unable to compute true love.. He was your god and you were his disciple, a being kept alive to bring the god gifts without a reason. No god needed a reason to be praised, a lesson forced out of society over years of blasphemy, years of built up narcissism.
Society was wrong. Your desire to please him was one so natural that even the roots of Mother Nature herself stood astonished. He was your god and as his disciple you are to bring his name might and mirth. No matter what anyone says, your love will never run cold, for the toxicity people claim is the toxicity they refuse to see inside themselves. Pure you stood amongst them, your god before you, his body a heaven within itself.
Weathered hands, calloused from years of work and hardship, laid upon your soft thighs, a luxury his hands deserves. Blue eyes, the sharpest of shades, gleamed with excitement, an emotion you bound yourself to spark within those shining oceans. Rapid breaths escaped through a heavenly mouth, noises so medicinally healing that you could never let them stop. A soul so bright, so strong, that it neary burns your skin with every touch, its light illuminating every part of your being. You were lifted within the planes of pure pleasure as those blue eyes were brought to ascension, his body relaxing against yours in a way that only continued to satisfy your heart.
Forever you would serve as his disciple, worshiping him with every part of your being for he has captured your desire.
No matter the time, you would sit at his altar and pray to him, for he deserved nothing short of pure and honest devotion. He was a gift to you, a grace, and a blessing. Nothing compared to his sweet gaze and heavenly features. Nothing compared to those rough lips pressed against your own as angels sung a hymn of worship around you, pure and unfiltered ecstasy filling the air with a satiable grace.
Nothing compared to your devotion, you need to please him. Nothing compared to his sweet moans and soft grunts as you lead him further into the night.
Nothing compared to those nights when the two of you would lay alone in bed, nothing left between you but love and that desire to please.
“Tommy, my love.” You would whisper into his ear, your voice barely loud enough for him to hear. You would sit up from your position beside him in bed, turning your body to face him, a warm smile gracing your lips. Gently, you would bring your hand up to his face, your fingers sliding against the rough leather of his mask as your hand fell towards his chin. Curling your fingers under his mask, you would slightly push against it, silently telling him that you wished for it to be removed.
Tommy would resist at first, the mask being his source of comfort from the judging eyes of a cruel world. However, you had lifted that mask before and had worshiped the sight. You had seen his face before and called him handsome. So, whenever the two of you were alone and you wished for his mask to be removed, he would let you. Within the bounds of this cruel-cold world was a bright star that shone just like you. With a grunt of approval, he allowed your request.
Slipping the mask off with practiced ease, you let the leather drop to the floor with the clink of the metal buckles. Gently, you would press your hands to his warm cheeks and caress the rough skin with your thumb. He was perfect in every way, his skin existing so you could praise it with your touch. His lips formed so you could connect them with your own, placing upon him the love he deserved.
When your lips would touch his, he would light up with a brilliance you could never fully describe. His skin would flush red and become hot with an embarrassed tone. His hands would become tight as they held onto the back of your shirt, holding you close as your lips stayed connected. His heart would beat so loud that you could feel it through the spots where your skin touched his.
When you pulled apart for breath, he would chase your lips, a whine emitting from his throat at the loss of contact. It was here when your heart swelled and your brain turned to mush. The way he fell apart under your touch and melted into a sea of bliss was an image you would always adore. He deserved nothing less than what you gave him, in fact, he deserved so much more. He was perfect.
Returning your lips against his, you would slip a hand up into his hair, running your fingers through his freshly washed hair, the faint smell of shampoo would always linger in the air around him. You would bite at his bottom lip slightly, causing a small whine to slip from his lips. Just this small noise was enough for you to want to continue, to send him over the edge till he was nothing more than a large moaning mess.
You pulled him into a rougher kiss, a kiss with an intensity so hot it could rival the sun. Dropping your hands from his hair, you ran them down to his thighs, squeezing them underneath your hand. The meat there was hard from muscle yet still contained that cushiony fat. It was all too addicting, every bit of his body.
Thomas hesitated a bit, always so reactive to the smallest of touches. You enjoyed watching him react to your touch, watching the way his mouth hangs open at times and how his eyes always fluttered closed the second you entered his personal space. His grace would always glow a perfect shade of pink, one you’ve engraved in your memory.
“I love you.” You whispered against his lips when you pulled apart again. “May I love you?” You asked, always cautious to gain his consent. (No one but you has ever asked his opinion on something and you didn’t plan on letting that fact grow even more despearable.)
Tommy shook his head eagerly, without thinking, chasing that love you so willingly delivered to him
You pull him back into another kiss, slipping your hands up his shirt and running your cool fingers against the warmth of his stomach. Tommy’s breath was hot against your own, whines escaping his mouth when you let your hands trail further down. You slipped your hand down to his pants and tugged at the hem, pulling away from the kiss to look him in the eyes fully.
“Tommy,” You started, your breath catching in your throat for a moment.
You had begun to say something else but was stopped as Tommy pulled you into another kiss, his own desperation beginning to show. You were quick to kiss him back, adjusting your position until you were straddling him, your legs on either side of him. You were leaned over him, your own chest pressed tightly against his, as his arms held you tightly, closely.
For a while, the two of you stayed like that, kissing and just enjoying the other. It always felt so nice to know that you had one another, that you were able to live alongside the latter. Every day, both of you fell deeper than either of you could ever imagine, perpetually in love as if it was an illness slowly corrupting you until there was nothing left but two souls, both hopelessly stricken with one another.
Moving your hands to the buttons of his shirt, you slowly began to undo the buttons, opening his shirt up. His face flushed red and he looked away. You looked up and smiled at the scene before pressing your hands against the warm skin of his stomach. You went to kiss his supple skin when he gently placed a hand on your shoulder, slightly pushing you away.
You looked up a bit confused and asked, “Not right now?”
He nodded while looking away, his eyes not connecting to yours. He wanted it of course, oh how he yearned for it but his body was weak and his soul was fading. He was exhausted, he didn’t want to disappoint your eagerness
You moved your hands to his cheek and moved his face to where he faced you, his eyes darted in every which direction. You rubbed his cheek and smiled while speaking softly. “No worries, love. I understand. There’s no need to feel bad. It’s okay to say no.” You reaffirmed, making sure he knew that it was beyond acceptable for him to decline your touch.
Thomas nodded and looked you in the eyes, a small smile graced his lips as he looked at you. You smiled back and patted his cheek before letting your hand fall. Leaning forward, you laid against his chest, placing your head on his shoulder as you closed your eyes. His arms adjusted themselves around you, holding you close, his warm skin pressed firmly against your front and back.
“I love you, Tommy.” You whispered.
“I love you too.” He wrote along your back in a messy haste with his pointer finger.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Word Count: 1,800+
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wexleresque · 6 months
Text
Fictober 2023 Day 1
Prompt 5: “You’re the smartest person I know.” (ao3)
Scully’s body quivers, muscles tight as violin strings. Her arms and legs strain against the ropes binding her to her chair. Mulder’s stomach twists at the look on her face, a mix between pain and enmity.
“Scully, Scully ,c’mon, you can fight this. You’re the smartest person I know.” he pleads. Mulder’s hands are empty and he feels useless.
“Intellect alone won’t be enough, Agent Mulder,” Father Thomas says solemnly, preparing the scene around them. The light thrown haphazardly from the candles adds another haunting dimension to Scully’s features. “We need to trust the power of The Lord to free her.”
That’s one of the only beliefs that Mulder has struggled with, but for Scully he’ll try.
“Just tell me what to do.” Mulder says.
The priest flips through his Bible and approaches Scully. A low, inhuman growl escapes her lips. The hair on the back of Mulder’s neck stands up and he fights the urge to back away.
“If she starts to become violent, hold her in place. I need to reach the spirit inside her as directly as possible.”
Mulder nods and positions himself at Scully’s side. A pang of guilt hits him as he sees the marks left on her skin from the ropes. The feeling of wrestling her into the chair and holding her down as she screamed will probably never leave him.
“I’m sorry Scully, I’m so sorry. We’re going to save you.”
Scully lets out something between a snarl and a sob. Father Thomas begins reading, his voice steady and loud.
In the name of Jesus Christ, our God and Lord, strengthened by the intercession of the Immaculate Virgin Mary, Mother of God, of Blessed Michael the Archangel…
There’s a sizzling noise emanating from somewhere on Scully’s body, and wisps of smoke slowly rise from her chest. Mulder sucks in a horrified breath as he realizes that her golden cross is burning its way through her skin. He reaches forward and wrenches it from her neck, breaking the clasp. Scully’s head lurches for his hand, teeth gnashing.
“Hold her!” Father Thomas looks back down at his book and continues to read. Mulder places his hands on Scully’s shoulders, holding her to the chair from behind. He swallows his discomfort, thinking of how many other men have tied her up or held her down with much worse intentions. He hopes she’ll forgive him.
We drive you from us, whoever you may be, unclean spirits, all satanic powers, all infernal invaders, all wicked legions, assemblies and sects.
The force inside Scully fights against Mulder, attempting to thrash out of his grip. She throws her head back and meets his eyes. Beyond the malice and demonic influence, Mulder can see his Scully, terrified and pleading for help.
“Almost there, Scully. You’ve got to fight it!”
In the Name and by the power of Our Lord Jesus Christ, may you be snatched away and driven from the Church of God and from souls made to the image and likeness of God and redeemed by the Precious Blood of the Divine Lamb.
The skin at the corners of her mouth begins to tear and bleed as a sound too large for its vessel fights to escape. Blood drips from her nose, a sick reminder of the last time she was this close to being lost.
“Mulder!” Scully screams hoarsely. “Help me!”
Father Thomas tosses a few drops of holy water on her and Scully screams in agony, a level of pain that Mulder has never heard before. Her back arches unnaturally and something deep in her spine cracks.
“You’re killing her!” Mulder shouts at the priest.
“Make him stop!” Scully sobs, her movements slowing. Her desperation sounds so genuine that Mulder wavers, his grip slackening.
“It worked, you’ve got to stop!” Mulder demands. Scully whimpers, her voice growing hoarse. 
Father Thomas shakes his head and brandishes his crucifix at Scully. Suddenly, she transforms again, lurching forward and hissing at him with fiery eyes. As she growls, two voices rumble from deep in her chest.
“It’s one of their tricks, they gain sympathy so they can possess someone else.” he explains, before reading further, his voice growing to a shout to be heard over Scully.
Most cunning serpent, you shall no more dare to deceive the human race, persecute the Church, torment God’s elect and sift them as wheat.
More holy water hits Scully’s cheek. She howls. Mulder fights to hold her in place, but she is growing stronger by the second. The wood of the chair begins to crack and splinter.
Begone Satan, inventor and master of all deceit, enemy of man’s salvation.
There is a moment of chilling silence. Scully stills and looks up at Mulder again, but he can’t find any trace of her true self in the yellow eyes that stare into his.
The chair comes apart entirely and Scully is free. A deep, malicious laugh spills from her lips and her limbs twist and reach for her captors.
Mulder gasps and fights the sheets that are tangled around his long limbs. The lime green light of the alarm clock tells him it’s nearly four in the morning.
In the adjoining motel room, Scully is soundly asleep. Mulder checks, peeking through the door just an inch or two. She sleeps on her side, hugging a pillow tight to her chest.
Mulder nods to himself and walks back to bed, trying to shake the unease of his dream.
A few minutes later,  Scully turns onto her back, exposing the angry red scar in the shape of a small cross between her clavicles to the cool night air.
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sneverussape · 10 months
Text
the phantom at the fishmongers
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“seamus!”
“well good bleedin’ mornin’ to you too, dean thomas. found my number now have ye?”
“shut it! listen…you won’t believe me but…I think i just saw a ghost. a proper one.”
“…are you soft in the head? what did ye think nearly headless nick was? a hallucination? ya twat!”
“no listen! I think…see, I went round to the fishmongers. im up north with Anatole and his family and i thought I’d surprise them with a bangin’ fish pie…”
“get to the bleedin point! jesus, merlin, and mary.”
“im getting to that part! the man who’s here with me at the fishmongers…mate, I think it’s snape.”
“yer outta yer MIND, thomas. the man has been bloody dead for ten years!”
“no, im not joking, it absolutely looks like him, only…well he’s wearing more color than snape ever did.”
“old snape would have never worn color. the man seemed to have been made of spite and ink.”
“ok hang on…hang on—”
“where are ye exactly? imma apparate to you and see for meself. yer not drunk, are ye?! for SHAME, thomas…”
“no im not! okay…right, let me approach—oh. oh.”
“what? what?!”
“they called him mr prince and said he’s lived here for ages. he also spoke in the dialect too. damn.”
“I told ye it wasn’t him. old snape…didn’t like him much but bless his soul that one. ye all right then? next thing you’ll tell me is that you’ve seen you-know-who in Majorca or somethin’.”
“ah. I really thought…well never mind.”
“tell you what, come round to ours tomorrow and we can do a round or two of quidditch. it’s been too long anyway. take anatole. he can be the chaser.”
“all right, I’ll take you up on that offer.”
“and bring some of that blessed fish pie ye were braggin’ about. let’s see if yer english cooking is worth an irishman’s appetite.”
“you’ll see stars, finnegan.”
“yeah well you’ll see stars too if it won’t be any good. pop round at 10. I’ll keep the floo open.”
“see you then.”
“take care, mate.”
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seelestia · 2 years
Note
ive been thinking, kamisato ayato with a reader that got their vision taken away. im curious, what would he do and how would he act hwhwwhhhhhwwww
— 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞.
[ prequel to recover. ]
word count: 0.4k words.
genre: ayato x reader, secret relationship, angst, took place during the vision hunt decree.
thoughts: assuming that your vision was taken away, you must be someone unaffiliated with the tri-commissions or a regular citizen... so, i thought why not make it a secret relationship??? 👀 ngl, i doubled over my seat when i saw ayato's name. (/j) also, i'm not sure if you're the same anon who has sent me brainrots before but regardless, ty for this! have a good day, mwah <3
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it was hard not to break.
as soon as ayato caught wind about the confiscation of your vision, he had to conceal the briefest moment where his heart skipped a beat. no, he must stay calm, he mustn't falter — lest he risks raising suspicion among the shogunate and endangering the reputation of his clan.
but that extremely bitter taste in his mouth lingered still.
to lose one's vision is to lose one's soul. with your convictions ripped away from you, to where will you be headed now? no, you could barely even recall anything — and it pained ayato to see you this way.
the thought of the suffering people was already unbearable for him, knowing their desperate gazes that were laid upon his shoulders. the vision that hung from his waist, one that was called as a blessing from the archons, felt like a tool to taunt those who had lost theirs, even if he didn't mean to seem so.
kamisato ayato may still have his vision with him, he may never experience the loss of his ambitions like the others — but for someone whose lover he partially shared a heart with had experienced it all, he became familiar with the feeling.
"my love," ayato muttered. but you didn't respond, you didn't have any strength left in your body to.
once, when he called you by those two words, it would carve such a lovely smile upon your lips, but now, they were nothing but mere words that fell from his own.
his touch that cradled your cheek was gentle, he held you so gently as if you were a piece of fragile glass in his hand. but the resolve in his chest only hardened itself even further the more he gazed upon your lifeless face.
you had gone to a place far away from here, and the only way to bring you into his arms again was to abolish this decree. and he will achieve it, that shall be his promise.
this time, the commissioner stood up with a quiet flourish of his sleeves. a heavy sigh escaped his cold lips, "i'll be back."
he had no choice but to let go, as much as he wished he could hold your face in his hand for much longer. reality was calling for him and he couldn't ignore it, as much as he wished he could do so.
"my lord?" thoma's voice was a concerned inquiry in his ears. in the corner of ayato's eyes, he caught another glance of you. the last one before he resigned himself to this path of inevitability and betrayal.
your eyes were fluttered close and your chest moved a steady rhythm as you lied weakly on the mattress, thoma's homemade bowl of porridge untouched beside you. it was a reminder for ayato; that he needed to persevere, for you and for the people.
and exactly that, he shall do.
"please continue to look after them, thoma. i have matters to take care of."
"yes, my lord."
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jo-harrington · 8 months
Note
Are you still taking requests for creatures? I love Greek mythology. Oneiroi?
Oh hey anon; sorry it's taken a little while for me to get to your request. This sounded familiar to me and I couldn't place it. Obviously I looked it up, and it was incredibly interesting...but then I realized! (Sorry I'm gonna go off on a tangent for a second.) Persephone calls Hades "Oneiroi" when he appears in her dream in Rachel Alexander's Receiver of Many. Which is a fantastic series and 10/10 recommend.
So I'm gonna take a little inspiration from that book, as well as one of my favorite little animated shorts Somewhere in Dreamland. Hope you enjoy.
Themes/TW: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/No Comfort
Find other Hymns of Heaven here.
And find the Master List for As Above, So Below here.
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September 1984
Eddie was sick.
He didn't get sick often and it was a fact that he often touted about when his friends came down with a cold or the flu.
One time in the third or fourth grade, there was a horrible outbreak of the chicken pox and Eddie had been the only kid in class that didn't succumb to the terrible itching and endure countless oatmeal baths.
It was a bit of a blessing; his mom couldn't have afforded a day off work to take care of him or the penicillin shot at Doc Thomas' office. And once she was gone...well...Wayne and Rick did their best to take care of a healthy Eddie...who knows how much of a burden they would have faced with a phlegmy, puking one.
Now though, it hit him hard. Like 20 years of mediocre luck had run out.
It started with a dry and sore throat; he just wrote it off as having pushed his voice little too hard at the Hideout the night prior. A new setlist, a new song...pretty much an entirely new band. He had been excited.
Then his eyes started to feel dry and crusty; his vision just on the annoying side of strained and blurry. For the first time in his public school education, he wasn't lying when a teacher called on him and he said he was having trouble seeing the board.
By the time he got home, his head was pounding, and he used the last of his willpower to throw a can of chicken noodle soup in the microwave and call you to cancel your date for that night.
He curled himself into a ball on the couch and promptly passed out--didn't even touch his soup--only to wake up to yours and Wayne's voices in his ear and a hand on his forehead.
"...doesn't feel warm but he never gets sick. Maybe I ought to stay?"
Well...he assumed it was Wayne. It didn't really sound like Wayne. Maybe he was sick too.
"As much as he would enjoy the attention, he doesn't need both of us to stay with him. I've got something that'll fix him right up; you go."
"If you're sure?"
Next thing he knew, the front door slammed shut and his eyes cracked open to see a steaming bowl of something in his face.
"Alright you plague-ridden fiend," you teased. "Sit up, I'm not gonna spoon feed you."
"But what if I asked real nice," he groaned and hoisted himself upright.
He took the bowl and inhaled the warm steam coming from within. He'd had this recipe before; something your grandma made you if you were sick or just feeling down as a kid. You made it for him the day after Mickey left for college.
It had been like a healing light shined directly onto his soul.
Craving that feeling again, he practically shoveled the food into his mouth as you moved around the trailer to grab pillows and blankets and other supplies.
"Obviously I was worried when you cancelled," you explained as you roamed about. "I stopped at Bradleys so I could make dinner--there's ice cream too if you're feeling up to it--oh and Family Video...I figured some horror movies but then they had Casper and Friends and I couldn't say no to that. So I got a ton of cartoons. Popeye, Underdog...No Rocky and Bullwinkle. I promise."
"Fuck that squirrel," Eddie groused with his mouth full.
Before long, dinner and dessert had been consumed--the mix of warm and cold did wonders for his sore throat--and he was cradled in your arms on the couch as the otherwise-dark living room glowed from the old Technicolor cartoons on the tv. His arms were around your midsection as he rested his cheek right over your heart; the steady beat of it soothed him.
It was nice. You had your dates, your days out, your time with the guys...but this was different. It was almost as healing as dinner had been.
Comments were shared periodically between the two of you, and when there was a short that didn't particularly interest him, he would close his eyes to rest them.
He enjoyed the feeling of your hand carding through his hair.
Sure enough his headache started to fade.
Before long, a soft little lullaby started playing on screen and you hummed along to it. You were no singer--he teased you about it often; you couldn't carry a tune if your life depended on it--but you must have been familiar with this one if you could match every note instinctually.
Eddie opened his eyes and watched the two cartoon children on screen sing each other to sleep.
"I'll see you somewhere in dreamland," the little boy on screen crooned. "Somewhere in dreamland tonight."
"Do you think you meet the people you've lost...in your dreams?" Eddie asked suddenly. He didn't know where the question came from...or really why he asked it. It just bubbled out of him instinctually and...he felt like sobbing.
"I think so," you answered softly. "How else could they find you? But in your dreams?"
"Over a bridge made of moonbeams. We'll find the clouds are silver lined." The boy's sweet face turned serene.
"Did you know..." you pressed a kiss to his forehead. "That in greek mythology...the oneiroi...they control dreams and they live beyond an ivory and silver bridge on Olympus."
"Yeah?"
"Each little star is a castle," the little girl sang. "Shining a welcome so bright."
"Yeah. So I imagine that...that if you lose someone...a bridge like that would be easier for them to find...than the door to your house. Or they would just have to ask the oneiroi would help them."
Tears started leaking from his eyes and he turned his face into the softness of your chest to hide it. You felt him anyway.
"Hey what's this?"
"Sorry my eyes just hurt," he muttered.
You pulled him close to you and muttered sweet, reassuring words.
"Hey! It'll be ok," you whispered into the crown of his head. "It's ok, I'm here. I'm here so you've gotta feel better ok?"
"Don't go."
"I won't. I'm still here; don't cry anymore. Please."
"Please don't go."
The children still sang on the television.
"Dreams will come true for me and you. Somewhere in dreamland tonight."
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April 1985
Eddie opened his bleary, leaking eyes.
His vision was blurred but he still could tell he was alone on the couch. The tv was off. A now-cold can of chicken noodle soup left half-eaten on the coffee table.
He was tired, he was angry, he was broken.
"I'm here Eddie, I'm here."
Your voice echoed in his head.
He was alone.
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sofasoap · 1 year
Text
Am I full of sorrow, or filled with love.
Pairing: Simon “Ghost ” Riley x f!Reader ( OC aka Mini MacTavish )
Summary : Part II of " Love, Do not pass me by." Our emotionally constipated boy Simon is having a moment of self reflection. And realise the universe hates him.
Warning: Mature theme, swearing. Alcohol use ( be RESPONSIBLE drinker people.) Unplanned pregnancy ( safe sex pls!) . mention of abuse. Inaccurate medical facts etc.
Thank you to @saltofmercury ’s for lending me her character from “The Favorite MacTavish” , where the reader/OC is Soap’s little sister. PLEASE GO READ HER STORY first to make sense of this
“masterlist” for more stories to this Mini MacTavish expanded verse.
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The tension within the task force 141 after the unexpected pregnancy news, to say, awkward was an understatement. Luckily, Soap and Ghost acted professional stay civil to each other during missions after a stern warning from Price, but off mission they stay far away from each other as they can.
Alejandro made the mistake of asking about the awkward tension once ( bless his poor soul, can't blame that man) and got death glare coming from both Ghost and Soap while Gaz was strongly hinting him to drop the subject.
Ghost stepped outside to have a moment to himself, away from the party noises which is happening back at Alejandro's base, celebrating another successful mission of reclaiming another town from the cartel.
Taking a drag from his cigarette, he thought back to the event from the last few months, leading right up to the event few weeks earlier on when you came to the base and drop the bombshell about the pregnancy.
First time you two met, he wondering what has he done to deserve this, he is pretty sure his enemies must have cursed him. Instead of cursing him to seven hell, they asked the universe to send him not one but TWO MacTavishes to be in his life and annoy the hell out of him.
He heard about you before, Soap couldn't shut up about his baby sister most time. My sister this, my sister that. She's the most precious thing in the world blah blah. Part of him was curious to meet you. Another part wondering you were just as annoying as his brother. You were.
You actually dare to challenge him to a drinking game. To be fair, a chance to shut Soap up for the entire night was the biggest factor that he accepted the challenge. and you NEARLY beat him. The cocky smile that you showed when you think you were on the cusp of victory, stirred part of his heart he never thought he had. He gets drawn to you, bit by bit with each of the meeting and interaction. The sibling bantering between you and Soap made him miss his brother Thomas. That normal family love that he only got to experience for a little while before the tragedy. He was slightly disappointed and got extremely jealous when he saw you flirting with König.
She's mine. Stay away from my woman. His heart screams.
 ” I am just as cuddly as König if you want to give it a try. And I will keep you nice and warm in the bed as well.“
"My offer still stands, if you are willing." He whispered after walking you back to the accommodation you staying for the weekend, visiting Soap at the barrack. Turning around ,the way you look at at him, confusion and also hint of lust and want just turned him on even more. Does he regret what happen that night? No and yes. No because he had been craving for that light, that little warmth that he has been searching for a long time. All the love and attention you were showing him. Not just some random flings and one night stands. He regrets it because he doesn't deserve any of this. Your gentleness, your laughter, the way you look at him.
The bombshell? His defence mechanism just kicked into gear. "And?" Nonono, don't say that. yes say it. Happiness isn't for you. “ I don’t care. Do whatever you want.” His heart flinches when he saw tears and anger in your eye. It's for the best. His brain tells him.
You will be just the same as your father. You will turn out to be exact same guy. Apple never falls far from the tree. You don't deserve her. Push her away. He can't subject the children to the same fate as him. .....wait.
All of a sudden he realised something.
"... Simon Riley, you are the father of the babies" Did you say BABIES? Are you expecting twins??? A dreaded feeling came to him.
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Ding.
Price looking at his phone, email coming through from SAS UK, flagging needing urgent attention. Opening the email, all the smile drained from his face. Gaz noticed it first, bumping his shoulder, asking his Captain what the problem is. Price ignored him and stood up, walking up towards Soap instead who is having what seems to be a good time ( but Price can tell he isn't the usual happy rowdy Soap after a successful mission). "Soap." " Yes Captain? why all this seriousiness?" Soap raise his bottle of beer cheering his captain.
" Is your phone on at all?" Soap pulled out his phone from his side pocket, looked at it,frowning " Aw shites, think I broke it when the bloody asshite knocked me over earlier this morning. better get a new one issued once we get back to base." ".... Mini is in ICU. Your mother tried to contact you but the call couldn't get through, so SAS emailed me just now letting you know. We will get you back to London first flight tomorrow morning. They said there is a chance both her and the babies might not make it." The room just went silent. Ghost caught tail end of the conversation just as he came back into the building. He froze.
He knew it. Everytime he tries to grasp onto that little hope of light, or wanting to make a better man of himself, the universe has another plan for him. You don't deserve happiness We gonna take away everything you want. Make you suffer.
Now he is going to lose the only woman he might possibly dare to say to be the love of his life.
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jessamine-rose · 1 year
Text
ʚ✿ Ubi amor, ibi dolor ✿ɞ
“Where there is love, there is pain.”
♡ Jessamine’s masterlist for Genshin Impact
♡ Italics for nsfw/ suggestive themes!!
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♡ How do the Yandere! Harbingers Comfort their Darlings?? - Pantalone, Dottore, Pierro
✿ YANDERE MERMAID AU ✿
♡ Part of Your World - Capitano, Pantalone, Dottore, Pierro + notes
♡ Under the Sea - sequel + mermaid lore
♡ Orca! Mermaid! Pierro and aquatic diets
♡ A Lionfish! Mermaid for a darling??
✿ IL CAPITANO ✿
♡ Window to the Soul - Thank you for sharing the Captain’s eye color, Mika :’>
♡ Drunk s/o calls Capitano a stapler
♡ Happy New Year!! - a romantic start to 2024
♡ Capitano warms up his lover on a wintry day
✿ PANTALONE ✿
♡ Ardor of a Lover - Yandere! Vampire AU
♡ Blessing of Aphrodite - Yandere! NSFW
♡ A small act of love from the Regrator
✿ IL DOTTORE ✿  
♡ Happy Pocky Day!! - Pocky kisses with Webttore and Primettore
♡ An Experiment in Procreation - Yandere! Dottore’s thoughts on babytrapping
♡ The Golden Ratio - Akademiya romance
♡ Ladyttore - Introduction ๑ Dottore’s jealousy
♡ Happy Valentine’s Day!! - a special present
♡ Dottore’s lover mourns his Segments
♡ Coffee Break - a date with the Segments
♡ An Unlikely Fitness Consultant <3 - Dottore helps you with your physical exercises
♡ Requiem for the Damned - Yandere Priest! Dottore x Demon! Darling
✿ PIERRO ✿  
♡ Surgeon! Pierro comforts his patient
♡ Aoede - Yandere! Pierro x Singer! Reader (Modern AU) + EXTRA
♡ Smoke Break - a shared vice
✿ SCARAMOUCHE ✿
♡ Ghost Heart - Yandere! Wanderer x Reader
♡ Scaramouche’s regional tea preferences
✿ LA SIGNORA ✿
♡ A Candlelit Dinner - Yandere! La Signora’s darling copes with the death of their wife
✿ NEUVILLETTE ✿
♡ Mental image of Neuvillette wearing lingerie
✿ KAMISATO AYATO X THOMA ✿
♡ Kakegurui AU inspired by Kirari x Sayaka
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♡ I Love You, Darling - official masterlist for my Yandere! Harbinger longfic series. Click the link for more content  ꒰♡ˊ͈ ु꒳ ूˋ͈꒱。゚
♡ Darling Crossover - Part One ๑ Part Two
♡ Artifact Set: Beloved Darlings - lore + extras
✿ IL CAPITANO ✿  
♡ Herbarium - Il Capitano x f! reader
♡ Fairytale - side story, Capitano’s POV
♡ Forget-Me-Not - epilogue, Capitano’s POV
♡ Astilbe - epilogue, comfort from Capitano
✿ PANTALONE ✿
♡ Housecat - Pantalone x f! Reader, pt 1
♡ Alea Iacta Est - part 2, Pantalone’s POV
♡ Happy - alternate ending written by Anon
✿ IL DOTTORE ✿  
♡ Chemistry - Il Dottore x f! Reader
♡ Magnum Opus - side story, Dottore’s POV
♡ About Time - epilogue, Dottore’s thoughts on marriage
✿ PIERRO ✿
♡ Disjecta Membra - Pierro x f! Reader
♡ Chess Piece - side story, Pierro’s POV
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✿ IL CAPITANO ✿  
♡ Il Capitano x Little Dove! Darling
♡ Herbarium - chibi doodles, my own design for Damsel (Capitano’s darling)
♡ Happy 1.4k followers!! - Capitano x Damsel
✿ PANTALONE ✿  
♡ Housecat - chibi doodles, my own design for Kitty (Pantalone’s darling) - OLD ๑ NEW
♡ Happy 1.5k followers!! - Pantalone x Kitty
✿ IL DOTTORE ✿
♡ Chemistry - chibi doodles, my own design for Assistant (Dottore’s darling)
♡ Happy 1.6k followers!! - Dottore x Assistant
✿ PIERRO ✿
♡ Disjecta Membra - chibi doodles, my own design for Savior (Pierro’s darling)
♡ Happy 1.7k followers!! - Pierro and Savior
✿ WANDERER ✿
♡ Happy 2k followers!! - Wanderer x Doll
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