#ෆ banner cr @ v6que

[ariiadnes]

ଓ.° ・ arthur morgan. red dead redemption 2. note: female reader, is referred to as 'missus'. arthur is drunk.

you truly weren't sure what to expect when hosea informed you that lenny and arthur were, in fact, very much inebriated-- ah, well, that was the kind and proper way to describe it, hosea said. you also weren't sure why you were so insistent this time around on tagging along and getting a certain outlaw home yourself; you knew he'd always find his way back to you, come hell or high water.

"honey bun," you say, words quiet and nearly drowned out in the chaos of the saloon, "i think you drank too much."

your touch is as tender as ever, hand gently pulling on his as you carefully, albeit clumsily try to drag him out of the building. you can see lenny laughing loudly in the corner, hosea sighing as he pats the younger gentleman on the back. you can't help but smile at the nonsense, though it falters the moment you feel arthur let go of your hand.

"...sorry, miss." he mumbles, half coherent. "i got a beautiful missus waitin' at home. can't be doing anythin' like holdin' hands."

you tilt your head, brows furrowed in slight puzzlement. must have drank more than usual, you assume.

"...arthur morgan."

"...yes'm?" he suspects you won't let up-- he's preparing for some incomprehensible ramble to shoo you, and you're very well aware of this-- as much as you'd love to hear it, you're a little tired, and you'd like to just go to sleep and be held by a certain cowboy that you love dearly.

"i am your missus."

you both just stare at each other, amusement meeting cluelessness, confusion, and...ah-- there it is. you smile when his eyes seem to brighten up at the sudden realization and recollection that you are, in fact, his.

"...so you are." he says. "well, i'll be damned. lucky me." he mumbles.

you roll your eyes, holding your hand out, the curve of your lips growing ever so softly as he gladly holds it.

"lucky you, arthur morgan."

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ TENDING TO YOUR INJURIES

-ˋ ♡ ◞ xiao ･ alhaitham ･ ayato. genshin impact. repost.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ xiao

you imagined this would have gone differently. you imagined xiao would be frantic, furious-- not at you, but at those who dared bring you harm. you imagined he'd be scolding you endlessly for such acts of recklessness, but he does not. instead, he chooses silence, expression stoic, almost unreadable, and it makes the heart sink into uncertainties.

it is silent.

there is a heaviness that lingers in the air as he tends to your wounds, fresh cuts stinging and irritated by the balm he applies in the gentlest of ways. you imagined this would be so much more different, and you almost wish it was, because you can feel his hurt like it is your own, and you know that he believes your pain is his, always and forever.

the salve is cool against your skin ; it tingles, the back of your hand, but a warmth replaces the sensation as his fingers dance across the injuries. he doesn't look at you, but instead, chooses to displace his anxiety and frustration in the way he takes care of you.

you tilt your head the slightest bit, force your gazes to meet as you smile faintly. it is a guilty smile, he notices, and he does not return it, nor can he bring himself to look away.

"i am still here, xiao."

then, he speaks for the first time tonight.

"you should have called me. you know you cannot face dangers greater than yourself alone."

there is something in his words-- a grief, the thought of what could have been, a preemptive readiness for the loss of a loved one-- and your smile turns somber. he is right. you should have asked for help. you are lucky to have survived the night, and you both are well aware of that.

you grab his hand, squeeze it gently despite the pain. you can see that small flicker of surprise in his eyes as you pull him towards you, and in the way your lips meet his, there is the quiet seeking of forgiveness and a known gratitude.

"i'm sorry, xiao." you murmur against his lips. "i will be sure to speak your name when the time arises."

❀ ﾟ. ༄ alhaitham

"be honest. you're pissed."

alhaitham is quick to care for your wounds, but he is not quick to panic. not a surprise, really, and it's also not really a surprise as to how he's acting.

"i'm not angry". he states, a blunt brutality in his words. "i'm just disappointed."

you don't say anything initially, your expression deadpan as it meets his before you throw him a half-hearted glare. there's a slightly teasing tone in his response, though you know he means them. had you been a stranger, you would have thought he was dead serious.

"i'm sorry," you start, "i almost thought i was being grounded for a second."

alhaitham doesn't say anything at first, simply stares at you-- and it's a long while of just looking at each other until the first person breaks. he's almost certain you will be the first to lose in this battle of resilience-- you always are, albeit through his own means. so he scoots a little closer to you, leans forward until all you can see or think about is him. he cups your face with his hand, touch gentle, almost too warm, and how steady it is that he holds your gaze.

"you are." he murmurs, and you almost think you see a hint of a smile when you finally look away, begrudgingly leaning back the slightest bit in silent admit of defeat.

"shut up."

"i won't." he answers. "now come back to me. you have a scratch on your face, you know."

"oh. is that why you were getting so close?"

"yes," alhaitham chuckles, and you are unsure what makes your heart beat faster : the love in it, or the way he closes the distance between you once more, "but i also happen to like you, too."

❀ ﾟ. ༄ ayato

"beloved, you wound me so."

there's a faint curve that settles on ayato's lips, but there's worry in that smile, and you know that no amount of words can ease it. you let out a quiet laugh, your hands in his as he squeezes them gently in comfort to both you and him : to you, in means of letting you know that he is there for you, and to him, in means of reassurance that you are still here, still alive and breathing.

there's bandages all over your body-- no serious injuries, thankfully, but there are still so many, and how they adorn you terribly so.

"and i thought i was the only one who was wounded." you respond, a lighthearted tone in your words. you do not wish to see him sad, nor do you wish to add any additional stress to his already hectic routine. ayato has experienced much loss in his life -- and even now, he must be on guard for those who wish to harm him through means of hurting those he cares for. you squeeze his hand twice : a quiet apology, an i'm sorry, and he hears it loud and clear.

"in spirit, i'm hurt, too."

your laughter grows a little louder. he's always been so cheesy and theatrical when it came to romance. the worry in his smile dissipates, turns into something of genuine relief at your reaction. though you may be littered in wounds, it's clear that you are alright.

"well, we can't have that, can we?" you murmur, pressing a kiss to his forehead in yet another means of apology. "i'm sorry. i didn't mean to worry you." you whisper, and you press your forehead against his. "i'm alright, love. thank you for taking care of me."

[ariiadnes]

ㅤ╭ ⿻ ･ of ghosts & coincidences

-ˋ ♡ ◞ simon riley. call of duty. a family fic with simon riley ? real and not delusional at all

simon riley doesn't like public spaces-- too crowded, yet somehow too open all the same. unpredictable. it leaves you too vulnerable, leaves you dead center in the hands of danger. how deeply it keeps him on edge, jaw clenched, gaze hardened towards everyone except you. never you.

he's used to staying by your side, soldier turned shadow-- silent. observing. always looking for a means of escape in a moment's notice, should the need ever arise.

has he learned to lower his guard over the years? no, not in the slightest sense. quite the opposite, he thinks, and he'll admit it in a heartbeat.

things have changed. more to take care of, more to protect. now, you've got a little one-- she's the spitting image of him, as difficult as that is for him to comprehend at times. she's very much entirely the opposite of him in terms of personality : shy, reserved in every sense. he doesn't quite get it, doesn't quite feel like he knows how to be a dad, but time after time these past two years, you've always told him otherwise.

he can't help but dwell-- it's only for a second, but the thought is disrupted by a weak squeeze of his hand. he looks down, greeted by curious eyes that look so damn similar to his, and instinctively, his gaze softens. he reciprocates the gesture-- a silent comfort to his daughter as she crinkles her nose in response, a timid smile on her face.

yes, things have changed. him, his protectiveness. his kindness.

ー the only thing that hasn't changed? his distaste for shopping trips, as mundane as they may be at times. but mundane is good; mundane is safe-- although he wouldn't describe this particular trip as such. not necessarily, and for a few good reasons :

one : you've gone entirely off course with the shopping list. he has no idea how you've all been here for an hour when the list had three items ( you also grabbed those items within the first ten minutes of arrival, by the way ). so while he's not really sure what you're buying, he's also very much okay with staying in his lane and not questioning it.

two : it's... july, isn't it? he stares blankly at the shelves before him.

it is july. there are halloween items on display. he shouldn't care much about it, and he doesn't, not at all, until--

three : until the little kiddo lets go of his hand, eyes wide and absolutely mesmerized at the sight of the outrageously out-of-season decor. her gaze shifts as she looks up at him, bottom lip jutting out the tiniest little bit.

christ. he can see it from a mile away-- that subtle hint of puppy eyes that she seemed to inherit from you ( and was purposely taught by johnny. damn bastard ).

"...go on." he tells her, and so she gingerly explores the aisle, never daring to stray too far from either of you, though you're only a few feet away at the most.

you stand side by side, watching her diligently inspect each item on the shelves. it's sudden-- the way she halts in her steps, that soft gasp just barely heard before her little hands reach for something. you can't quite make out what it is, nor have you seen her move that quickly before-- not even when she rushes into your bedroom during a loud thunderstorm. she clutches onto it for dear life, hugging it tightly to her chest before she runs back to you and simon.

"look!" she beams brightly, proudly holding up...a toy?

okay. cool. you tilt your head slightly. a white blob...shape. thing. whatever. okay. but then she actually turns it around, and ah-- it has a face.

oh. a ghost. a cute, little ghost plushie.

dead silence.

you purse your lips tightly, desperately trying to force back a smile ( and failing ) as you look down at your shoes, suddenly immensely interested in them. you clear your throat, albeit a little dramatically before making eye contact with him, and though anyone else would see a lack of emotion in those eyes, you can see both resignation and confusion in them. it's a moment of silent communication between you two with many, many unspoken questions.

because you have never referred to him as 'ghost', nor have either of you talked about his military service in front of her before. for the sake of everyone's safety, that's a conversation for later down the road. the less she knows, the better.

ー so he doesn't know if this is some strange coincidence or not, because how the hell does his two year old daughter with no prior history of liking anything even remotely related to halloween suddenly get attached to a ghost plush? either way, he's got a headache now.

you focus on your daughter, amusement still very much on your visage.

"whatcha got there, baby?"

you're not sure what answer to expect. you're not sure what to expect at all from this situation, truthfully. her brows furrow as she puts deep consideration into her answer.

"...ghostie."

you almost wonder if this is a fever dream. if this was a television show, you would imagine they'd put crickets chirping in the background. you can feel simon's soul shrivel up and wither away.

"...fucking hell." he mumbles, and you can't help but laugh, gently ruffling her hair.

( yes, you do take ghostie home. no, simon doesn't understand the attachment. and yes, maybe he does take a little bit of pride in knowing that somehow, she was instinctively drawn to something that represents her dad. even if it is a... cute ghost plushie.

he'll make do, he supposes. he'll make do. )

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ TENDING TO THEIR INJURIES ( part ii. )

ଓ.° ・ ayato ･ kazuha ･ xiao. genshin impact. repost. ・ ・ ・ pt i.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ ayato

"my goodness," the head of the yashiro commission laughs, but you catch the way he winces, "how unbecoming of me."

"unbecoming indeed." you mutter, brows furrowed in absolute concentration as you rummage through the first aid supplies scattered before you.

"adding insult to injury, i see." ayato smiles wryly at you, indifferent. "well then, i leave myself in your hands."

"you should bring thoma back. i think he might be more helpful than me in this case." comes your murmur, a quiet apology leaving your lips as you press the washcloth against the wound on his temple. he sucks in a breath, lets out a deep exhale before he places his hand over yours.

"that won't be necessary. i would rather have no one else but you, love."

"stop flirting."

"i am your husband."

ayato considers teasing you once more, digging himself further into this rabbit hole he knows as amusement, but he feels your hand trembling under his. the smile wavers ever so slightly, turns into one of bittersweetness.

it is a difficult thing to remember, this reality that comes with the role as the head of the clan. you both knew what you were getting into, but when you are reminded of such burdens and possible consequences, it is hard to tell yourself that danger has always had a place in your life together.

"there is nothing to worry about." he tells you, and gently does he lace his fingers with yours, lowering your hands together until the bloodied washcloth hits the floor. "as long as you exist, i will not leave you. you have my word. i swore this to you, did i not?"

such pledges of adoration from him are nothing new to you, but the tears still come, anyway. you feel the heat in your cheeks surface when he presses a gentle kiss against your nose, and for the rest of the day, you do not let go of his hand.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ kazuha

the tides are not always kind ; kazuha knows this first and foremost, understands that nature is not one to be messed with. the storms are endless at sea, the lurching of the sails an indication of the danger ahead.

his head hurts, an endless ringing in his ears. he does not remember much of the struggle, only remnants of the chaos of the waves here and there. the bandages wrapped around his head are beginning to come undone, his restlessness slowly unraveling the fabric that fails to keep hold.

how long has he spent trying to redress this? he struggles, a long sigh released when it all falls into his lap for the fifth time. he glances in your direction, smiles brightly when you merely raise a brow at him.

"would you help me, please? this doesn't seem to want to cooperate."

you make your way over, sit on the floor in front of him. gingerly, you wrap the bandages around his head, careful to not pull on his hair. he remains silent, unable to focus on anything else but you.

"even vagabonds rest. you should take it easy, save the adventure for another time."

you secure the dressing, stern gaze abating as kazuha's laughter fills the room. your expression softens into something of ardor as your hands trail down his face, cup his cheeks. he looks at you, crimson eyes holding utmost warmth before another smile blossoms on his lips.

"who will keep this lonely wanderer company while he rests?" he hums, nonchalant, before the smile turns into a grin. "if adventure cannot occupy my time, then who will?"

you nearly roll your eyes, pinch his cheek.

"beidou."

you do not think you've ever seen his content expression falter so quickly.

"no, that's not who--"

"i know who you meant, my lovely crimson leaf." now you are the one who is smiling. you kiss his lips, gentle, and note the pink that blooms on his face. "i'll stay with you, kazuha."

❀ ﾟ. ༄ xiao

xiao knows pain like it is a longtime friend ; the past & present & future filled with such hindrances. this is nothing compared to what he has endured once before , karmic debt dwelling in the crevices of a corrupted soul that is undeserving of redemption renounced. an adeptus covered head to toe with wounds, sanguine clashing with porcelain skin.

it stings, all of it. leaves a searing sensation throughout his body, makes him almost see white. his jaw clenches, fists balled up. he knows this pains you too, so he thinks it's better that you don't see him in such a state. he'll push you away, just as he always does, because that is all he knows.

"leave me be." he tells you, his calm demeanor sharpened with jagged edges. "this is nothing to worry about."

your hands tremble, fumble with the bandages that nearly slip through your fingers. you swallow hard, misery in your eyes, and you almost feel stupid. because it is not your injury, but the hurt is yours to carry too, and you wish xiao would realize that.

he does not meet your gaze ; he doesn't allow himself to, because he has always succumbed to a moment of weakness and will not allow himself to fall any further. but there is something in the way you whisper his name, and there is something in the way your voice breaks that makes his heart shatter. your gazes lock, shock meeting sorrow, and how devastating it is to see the tears trail down your face and know that he is the cause of it all.

"xiao," his name falls off the tip of your tongue, pleading, "won't you let me help you?"

so he does. he does, silently, and when all is said and done, you are still crying.

"i'm sorry." xiao says, tenderness in the heart as he kisses your tears away. "please, don't waste your tears on me. i will be alright."

[ariiadnes]

ㅤ╭ ⿻ ･ CAMPUS ENCOUNTERS ( part ii. )

ଓ.° ・ xiao ･ albedo ･ scaramouche. genshin impact. uni!au. repost! ・ ・ ・ pt i.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ xiao

"oh my god," you whisper, "it's like i'm ten again and reliving all my first day of school nightmares."

was anyone going to tell you that ice breakers were still a thing in college? you thought you left that behind, long forgotten, buried deep in your soul where no one could reach.

"what's a truth about me? or a subtle lie that people wouldn't catch on about? what's an interesting fact about me?"

"you talk to yourself loudly." xiao mumbles. "you could say that."

your expression of worry turns deadpan. you're not sure if you're offended, because he says it like it's a mere observation and not a smartass remark. you debate for a few seconds until your professor tells you to make quick introductions to the person next to you, which would be--

"xiao."

you thought you would prefer personal intros instead of those two lies, one truth ones, but you wonder if you thought wrong. you smile weakly, offer a hand out as you tell him your name, noting his slight hesitance. it's a few moments of contemplation before he shakes your hand, murmurs a very polite 'nice to meet you'.

that's pretty much the whole conversation. you sit in idle ( and uncomfortable ) silence as the chatter around you continues on.

"what's an interesting fact about you, xiao?"

you can see the gears turn in his head and the way his muscles tense up at the question-- which is fair, really, because small talk isn't the funnest thing-- not to mention the fact that you're paying too much money for a class that is wasting time on getting to know your classmates.

"i..." xiao thinks hard, but nothing comes to mind. "i don't have one."

oh. you did think wrong. this is even worse. this is the worst. ice breakers are awful. small talk is awful. college is awful. you are having a crisis and it's not even related to a test.

"well, we'll get there, won't we, xiao?"

xiao looks at you, skeptical.

"eventually."

❀ ﾟ. ༄ albedo

friendships in chemistry are made because no one knows what's happening most of the time. or at least that's what it seems like, anyway.

maybe not in this case, though.

"what did you get for your margin of error?"

so you're not going to say your lab partner is cold by any means, because he's really not-- it just seems like he prefers to keep to himself, which doesn't work exceptionally well when you're an assigned pair for the rest of the semester.

but you've also known albedo for thirty minutes, so your judgement could be entirely wrong ( and you're not too good at small talk yourself, so you guess this pairing isn't the most convenient in the first place ). you smile as he awaits your answer, glancing at the math and formulas you've calculated probably fifteen times over. oh, this is so wrong. you are about to embarrass yourself, you think, looking at his expectant visage.

"two hundred thousand and seventy-eight percent."

albedo stares at you with the blankest expression you have ever seen in your life. you laugh when his eyes cloud over, but he's quick to recover and clear his throat.

"according to this formula," he scoots closer to you, points at the figures on his notebook, "taking into account the numbers from this trial, you should have gotten three percent."

you have this theory that if you stare at the numbers really hard, you'll understand them. this theory is incorrect.

"i don't know how to tell you this, and i'm sorry i have to," you whisper, albeit dramatically, pure amusement on your countenance when you see slight concern on albedo's face, "but i don't know what i'm doing. you're probably right, though."

albedo suspects this will be a long semester. ( it will be, but with you, perhaps he might enjoy it more than he expects. )

❀ ﾟ. ༄ scaramouche

in case anyone asks: no, you are most definitely not crying at 1:42am in the university library because of the fifth final you have to take in 15 hours. you would never break down in a public area where everyone around you is either dead inside or on the verge of death.

--except for the person at the next table over.

"stop crying. this is a library. the bathroom is right there."

you do stop crying-- not because scaramouche told you to, but from the pure shock and rage this stranger evokes from your very core of existence. you stare at him, baffled, as he tilts his head in the direction of the bathroom and the only thing that floods your mind is a plethora of insults.

you are going to fight this little man. you are going to be suspended but you won't have to take your test so it'll be fine. ( that's how you justify this act of violence you're about to commit, anyway. )

you watch, speechless, as he grabs his belongings and sits across you, digging out a pack of tissues from his backpack before he tosses them in your direction.

"stop crying." he repeats, the words gentler this time around. he avoids eye contact by looking at the notes scattered about the desk. "i'll help you, so stop throwing a tantrum."

at this point, the tears are long gone and replaced with confusion. how could someone be so rude and then offer a helping hand in such a manner? another glance at the tissues, then the matching of gazes. he raises a brow at you in the waiting.

"you're really bad at comforting people."

"i'm going to make you cry again."

"you didn't even make me cry the first time!"

"then i will this time."

( okay. you do end up getting help from him, and yes, that is how you become study buddies. )

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ TENDING TO THEIR INJURIES ( part iii. )

ଓ.° ・ cyno ･ alhaitham ･ tighnari. genshin impact. repost. ・ ・ ・ pt i. pt ii.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ cyno

the role cyno plays is a heavy one : judgement & justice hand in hand in an act of righteousness as he deems another to fate. how quick it is for one's wrongdoings to meld into something deeper, deserved, and decayed into a sin they will learn to shoulder for the rest of a lifetime. you hold back a sigh, brows furrowed only the slightest bit in suppressed concern as you discard sanguine drenched gauze. you almost forget the danger that lurks in the shadows, expression growing grim as the seconds pass. cyno notices, smiles ever so faintly as he calls your name in gentle tones and meets your gaze.

"i guess someone--" he pauses, dramatic, and perhaps the final straw in your relationship lies in the moment he pulls a genius invokation card from behind his ear, "decked me."

you stare at him, deadpan. he stares back, also deadpan. this is far too unsettling.

"oh yeah? got decked in your bleeding knee, huh?"

"oh. well, you see-- i actually scraped my knee--"

"falling for me?"

cyno pauses again, clears his throat so incredibly loudly you wonder if it hurt doing so. you roll your eyes, don't bother to even hide the way your lips curl in amusement as you pinch his cheeks. his words of protest die down when you kiss him on the nose and you almost think you will hear them again with the way he frowns once you pull away from him.

"i don't love you, dearest general."

"okay, well that actually hurts to hear."

you laugh, feel his arms wrap around your waist as he looks at you expectantly. you press a kiss to his temple, see the way his countenance lightens at your affection.

"kidding, kidding. i do. i'm glad you're okay."

❀ ﾟ. ༄ alhaitham

you almost wonder if alhaitham is human -- a silly thing to ponder, truthfully, but you do not think you've yet encountered someone who seeks logic in all things and seldom succumbs to feelings and instinct. & it's unfortunate, almost -- to feel anything remotely close to love for someone who does not know the heaviness of it.

there is a strange feeling that brews in your chest : a nervousness, a knowing anxiety, and so you clench your jaw in frustration, place your focus elsewhere as to seek haven in denial of such foolishness. you wrap the bandages around his hands, try to ignore the foreign and comforting tenderness that sends shivers down your spine every time your fingertips brush.

"you are worried."

his voice cuts through steel air, forces you to freeze in your movements. you swallow hard, look him in the eye. you wish you could understand. you wish you could read him, know what lies in a dormant heart. but you don't. you don't, and it doesn't mean anything, not really, but somehow, it hurts anyway and you think you hate that the most.

"i'm not." you tell him, ignore the way he raises a brow at the short response. "it's a few scratches on your hands, nothing major. i'm only doing this out of courtesy."

"that's not what i'm talking about." alhaitham studies you further, makes you feel too seen and understood without a single explanation. you think to resume wrapping the bandages once again, but he grabs your hands, prevents you from moving away. you still, hold your breath, feel the way his hold tightens if only by a slight amount as if testing the waters.

"enough tending to me." he leans forward, closes the distance that separates you. "tell me what's on your mind."

❀ ﾟ. ༄ tighnari

"so... did you know that plant was alive?"

you imagined this would happen one day, given the nature of the forest watcher. a peaceful day turned to chaos, a leisurely exploration turned to a rather stressful yet memorable lesson. tighnari winces as you rub the ointment into his skin, red and pink patches adorning his body. he throws you a strange look, almost finds himself distracted from the pain at your words.

"all plants are alive, technically."

you sigh.

"remember when you ate that mushroom and didn't sleep for three days?"

how was he supposed to know that plant was particularly carnivorous? there's a trial and error with these things-- a system of sorts. not that he has the most optimal methods of research and learning, but he gets things done at the very least, so who can complain?

( him, probably. he is truly suffering right now. who knew plants had such sharp teeth? )

"for research. someone has to learn these things." he stares at the ceiling, entirely absentminded, until a flicker of seriousness graces his expression. "this was also for research, too, by the way. in case you were wondering."

"i wasn't."

"you are now."

"i was wondering about something i already know the answer to?"

"yes. your quiz will be tomorrow morning, pass or fail. i expect only the best results."

you scoff in disbelief, but the grin on your face betrays your seemingly annoyed visage. a quiet fills the air as you continue to attend to the numerous rashes, touch gentle as not to irritate them further.

"thank you for your help." tighnari's voice is softer now; you would have completely overlooked it had it not been for the blush on his cheeks.

you nod, silent, offer a timid smile as you press your lips against his for only a moment.

"i lied. that was your quiz. you pass."

"stop ruining the moment, tighnari."

[ariiadnes]

╭ ㅤ ⿻ ･ HOLY IS THE LOVE THAT SAVED ME ( part i. )

HOW DELICATE LOVE IS , THIS EBB & FLOW OF SERENITY.

-ˋ ♡ ◞ scaramouche ･ kaeya ･ diluc. genshin impact. title cr : juniper vale. repost. tagging @pixelcafe-network.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ scaramouche

a puppet is meant to be devoid of life : controlled by another, actions unknown and unwarranted through strings, all of them crimson and none connected to fate. a vessel birthed by curiosity, filled with anger and spite and selfishness and a yearning to be more.

"i don't think you're made of cruelty." your fingers thread through his hair, sweep the strays that cling to his face. your voice has always kept him grounded and safe, but there is something in the words that makes blood run cold with trepidation.

you are lying.

he wants to accuse you, deny you of this tenderness that resides inside of him ( but where does it go? where does it settle when there is no place for it? A PUPPET HAS NO HEART, AFTER ALL. )

he almost forgets this sometimes, the absence of a pulse. it is a dreadful thing that haunts him, makes him long for a heart, rid of the incomplete. but you-- you, who taught him what love is and what it is to be human even without the core of being. he wants to live, wants to be and not have to fear that he is empty and undeserving.

because love is something you share and it frightens him because it doesn't make sense. because he isn't worthy in the first place, because he shouldn't be capable of feeling something as kind as love when all he knows is fury and sadness unspoken.

your fingers run over his skin, linger on his neck-- you pause and feel the lack of a heartbeat. it scares him. he stills, waits for the repulsion. the disgust.

it never comes. ( of course it doesn't. in every moment spent with you, you have never expressed disdain at who he was. you are foolish and he is cowardly. how hand in hand you are meant to be. )

"it's okay." you remind him, time and time again, your lips gentle against his temple. "you are still human with or without a heart."

he frowns at the heat that rushes to his face, acts indifferent to your words even though he will remember them until the end of time.

"you lie too much."

you see through his facade, smile when he avoids eye contact with you.

"maybe you'll learn to believe it if i keep telling you."

( he is torn between the desire to believe in your words and heavy doubt that tells him of his unworthiness. but he'll listen for now, and hope that he will find the heart that deems him worthy of existence. )

❀ ﾟ. ༄ kaeya

kaeya will always be a mystery, you've come to realize, even in the hands of love. unreadable, unpredictable in his endeavors, words laced with silk and lies.

you don't expect to learn everything about him-- even in your familiarity, you've yet to know much about his past. vulnerability is too great a thing; he does not ever think he can allow himself it again.

( -- so he thinks, but how easily does he unravel in your presence. )

you think kaeya looks beautiful in the moonlight. the way it shines brightly on his tired features, the devilish facade only breaking the slightest bit in the night hours. you've always told him that he was beautiful and you remember the first time so vividly-- a few seconds of his utter bafflement followed by rambunctious laughter.

"admiring me so late at night? scandalous." he grins when you roll your eyes. "have you fallen in love with me again?"

"again?"

he's quick to grab you and pull you towards him, your laughter filling the bedroom when he kisses your cheek. kaeya has met many people before, remembered each and every one of them-- but you are different in all the right ways-- your first meeting a memory he carries so carefully with him.

"are you implying you're not in love with me?" he asks. you're almost impressed by the feign hurt on his visage.

"are you in love with me?"

the room goes silent. you pause, swallow hard as to brace yourself for the answer.

"you say it first."

"you--" you gasp in exasperation, the insults dying down on your tongue when he kisses you again. "fine, fine. i love you, kaeya."

it's quiet again. you expect him to return the words immediately, but there is something in his smile that makes your heart hurt just a little bit and you don't know why.

kaeya is very much in love with you and knows you reciprocate that love. he doesn't understand why -- because he knows that somewhere underneath all this happiness, that you deserve better, that you deserve to know who you love, rather than be in love with someone made of false pretenses and superficials.

but maybe-- one day, he hopes, he will be able to wear his heart on his sleeve with you, and he hopes you will love him all the same. a selfish dream-- likely unobtainable, but he will play the fool and consider the possibility of a happy ending with you.

"what a coincidence. i just so happen to love you, too."

❀ ﾟ. ༄ diluc

gentle are the hands calloused and scarred from battles unforgotten. diluc shivers when your fingertips gingerly trace the lines of his palms. you do not notice this ; your gaze dropped, mind elsewhere.

where did you get these, you wonder, a sickening tightness in your chest that worsens as you fall deeper into the rabbit hole, and how long did it take to heal from the hurt?

your mind treads to depths unknown, a dangerous spiral of worriment running rampant. you are in love with diluc-- an honorable man perturbed by his past and present, a lone vigilante. one who carries too much weight by himself, heavy shoulders aching and aching until the bruises sink deeper, overwhelming him with purple and blue hues.

diluc leans towards you, bows ever so slightly until he can meet your gaze. you look up-- just barely, enough to catch his worried visage under butterfly lashes, and you cannot tell whether your heart's burden lessens or grows at the sight of the person you love.

he has always understood you, even when words failed and silence reigned in its place. there is a subtle affliction of heartache in red eyes when you look away.

"i am here with you." diluc begins with a gentle reminder. "will you look at me?"

so you do. you look at him, eyes welling up with tears at the tender smile he greets you with. another step forward, a close intimacy, and the feeling of his forehead against yours. you do not think you have ever felt so safe before, the beating of your heart slowing when his arms wrap around your frame.

"the world could not take me away from the one i love." he tells you; in those words is a promise of forever and better times. "even when we're apart, you are always in my mind. i will always return to you."

you want to tear your gaze away, hide the tears, but they fall quickly at his resolve. you know this already. you know of diluc's promises and his loyalty and his love, and he knows of yours, through and through. there is nothing that could separate you.

he wipes the tears away and you murmur an apology out of instinct, but he's quick to dismiss it with a quiet laugh and gentle reassurances.

"you know i'll always find my way back to you, too, right?"

diluc kisses you with adoration and you feel him smile against your lips.

"i know."

[ariiadnes]

ㅤ╭ ⿻ ･ CAMPUS ENCOUNTERS ( part i. )

ଓ.° ・ childe ･ itto ･ thoma. genshin impact. uni!au. repost!

❀ ﾟ. ༄ childe

so maybe there isn't an official college etiquette rule book, but you're 99% sure this can be classified as a violation. you glance around the lecture hall for the third time in the past two minutes-- nineteen, twenty, twenty-one vacant seats-- yet this stranger is sitting right next to you.

weird, yes, but whatever. maybe he won't do this again next class. you can deal with it for another hour. hopefully.

--until he starts talking to you, and god, it's like you're having a fever dream. not a single introduction shared between you two-- and somehow, within the span of a few minutes, your mind shifts from 'who the hell is this dude?' to 'who cares, i need to focus on this physics lecture' to 'you want to fist fight who now? did you just say god?'

"but anyway, that's my theory on that. get what i'm saying?"

you stare blankly at your notes, notice how the writing has gotten progressively worse the more you listen to this mysterious classmate and his weird rambles. it's undecipherable at this point. scribbles, really.

"i am so sorry," you start, the words more drawn out than intended as you figure out the politest way to approach him, "but do i know you?"

the redhead watches as you massage your temples as if it'll rid of your headache, grinning when he realizes that he, is in fact, the headache. he slides his notes over to you, perfect and pristine ( which invokes an ungodly rage in you, because how did he even manage to jot all that down and spew such utter bullshit all the while? )

"i'm childe. you're welcome, by the way."

❀ ﾟ. ༄ itto

it's storming, and here you are, running for your life across campus without an umbrella. ( it's also eight in the morning and you overslept, so all in all, you think this monday is an ominous warning for the week to come. )

"you there!"

no. okay. you lied. that voice is an ominous warning. you halt in your steps, blood running cold at the brisk command. you turn on your heel with a vague guess of what you expect to see-- someone intimidating, naturally, but the man before you screams terrifying. a booming voice, red markings adorning his face, and an intense expression you can't quite decipher.

you don't think too hard about it because he's suddenly charging towards you, and in all your horror, you can't seem to budge the slightest inch despite the harsh downpour.

--then he stops inches before you, holds his umbrella over your figure to shield you from the weather.

"oh." you're breathless, staring at the other with both gratefulness and absolute bewilderment. "you scared me."

he blinks four times, thinks about how he approached you, and comes to the realization that it wasn't the most optimal approach. itto knows he can come off as scary and he's sure the fact that you're absolute strangers doesn't help.

there's a sheepish smile on his face as he says his apologies; you think it grows wider when you tell him it's okay and thank him instead.

"don't worry," he says fiercely, "i'll walk you to class. i won't let this rain hurt you."

your brows scrunch the slightest bit in confusion, but you're almost inclined to let him accompany you because of the fervor in his voice.

"thank you--"

"itto."

you smile.

"thanks, itto."

( it turns out that he always acts like that. you're not sure why you thought it would be a one time thing. )

❀ ﾟ. ༄ thoma

one in the afternoon and there are no open seats on the campus bus, much less any open space. you're squished between the wall and a stranger, hands aching as you cling onto the overhead handle for dear life ( because you suck at balancing and you would die if you crashed into anyone. )

you're too focused on trying not to fall to notice that the person in front of you is frowning as he looks at your trembling hand. the bus ride is a long one, unfortunately, and he wonders how long you've been hanging on like that. surely your hand must ache.

he almost smiles, amused at your efforts, although his concern grows. thoma is good at many things, distraction one of them.

"i'm thoma." he speaks up out of nowhere, capturing your attention as you finally look up at him. you're a little thrown off at the random initiation, returning the formalities as you introduce yourself. his lips curl faintly as he hears your name; you're suddenly too aware of the close proximity the bus capacity has forced you into.

"i don't mean to intrude," he speaks in gentle tones, "but you might hurt your hand if you don't relax it a little."

you have already-- just a bit ever since he began talking to you-- but you look at your hand, grimace at your knuckles before loosening your grip. thoma seems entirely relaxed, unconcerned with the possibility of losing balance at bus stops. you, on the other hand--

he seems to read your mind. the blithe smile grows a little bit more.

"if you stumble, i've got you."

"if i stumble, then you stumble."

"that's alright." thoma responds with such genuine enthusiasm and reassurance that you're not sure what to do with yourself. "i'll catch you."

( yes, you do manage to let go of your death grip. and no, you do not stumble, much to thoma's relief. )

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ of ghosts & coincidences ( part ii. )

ଓ.° ・ simon riley. call of duty. family fic -- reader and simon have a two year old daughter. indirect sequel of sorts (*_ _)人 please read the first part before reading this one! ・・・ pt i.

simon riley has never viewed anyone as competition. not a single soul. no reason to, not even when he first enlisted and was just a rookie. never found the need to prove himself to others within the same rank, quite frankly, and with his dedication and skill, he knew there was no need for concern; he'd move up and on eventually-- and that, he did.

so he's not going to say there's room for concern now, because there's not-- he doesn't care what you say, and he especially does not care for the way you purse your lips tightly in frail attempt to hold back a smile.

no, there is no competition. how could there be competition in the presence of his home? his home, shared with you and your little two year old munchkin... and that damned plushie. he still doesn't have the faintest clue why there was halloween decor out on display during the summer or why she was so infatuated with a ghost plush upon first sight. it's even worse when she names him "ghostie." hell on earth, she doesn't even know about his other alias -- and she won't, not ever.

no, he doesn't understand, doesn't care if it's a freak coincidence, he will question it. silently. mostly. and sometimes at 3 in the morning when you're half asleep in his arms.

ghostie, simon says, is not competition. he does not care about that thing-- kind of. so he says. you've pointed out that he does, only to be met with a disgruntled admittance of if my baby cares, then so do i, and promptly left it at that.

however, you've both definitely noticed that wherever your daughter goes, ghostie goes-- kind of a package deal at this point. it's been doing wonders for your sleep schedule, you'll admit, because even when she wakes up scared, she's comforted by the plushie, which means no more late nights where you're both woken up by a crying toddler. no more late nights soothing your daughter and holding her until she falls asleep.

-- which is an issue. for him. simon doesn't give a damn about his sleep schedule-- he's gone god knows how long without sleeping due to his military career, anyway. if he's gonna stay up, it's gonna be for his family.

so yes, simon is bothered. very much so. and you get it, you really do. but as time passes, you notice how the little one always clings onto the plushie, her curious gaze shifting between it and her dad. it's subtle, and sometimes he catches it, too, but he's more occupied brooding at the preemptive loss of his daughter ( his... indirect words, not yours ) to even think much about it.

"hey, baby?" you ask one day, crouching before the two year old, a faint smile on your lips as you fix her hair. "can i ask you something about ghostie?"

she stares at you with those big brown eyes-- just like his, you'll always think, and nods.

"--what makes him so special, baby?"

simon watches from the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. he watches, waits, meets your gaze for a moment before it returns to your daughter. she stares at the plush in her arms, newly cleaned and warm from the laundry ( and please, don't get simon started on how tightly she squeezed his hand when she learned that washers, do in fact, spin, and that meant ghostie would be dizzy from his "bath". oh, the horrors ).

"um, because--" she tries to find the right words, looking at her dad for guidance, receiving an encouraging nod in response, "he reminds me of papa."

you both pause in surprise as she stares at you both, brows furrowed ever so slightly as her arms tighten around the plush.

"...yeah?" the faint curl of your lips only seems to grow-- a familiar sight to her, one that's always been reassuring. you smooth over her hair before adjusting the hair clip. "how does he remind you of papa, honey?"

another glance at simon from the little one, and yet another silent nod of encouragement.

"...'cause ghostie is really big and strong, and he, um, protects me just like papa does."

silence. your gaze meets your husband's-- notes the kindness in his eyes as he steps closer, crouching before her, too. he pats her head, mindful to not mess up your efforts to fix her hair.

"...does ghostie help when i'm not home, princess?"

she nods, holding it a little closer.

...ah. you had a feeling. simon isn't deployed as often ever since she was born -- you're not sure how-- whether it's on behalf of price, simon's personal request, or just by chance-- you don't really care; you won't question it. but in the times he is gone, it's always hard for everyone. she gets a little clingier, a little quieter, a little more easily distressed, asks for her dad more frequently during those times.

you stay silent, just watching as simon lets out a quiet sigh before he picks her up, pressing a thousand kisses to her head, her temple, her forehead, her nose-- and while your hearts may feel a little heavier, the sound of her laughter fills the room, brings a quiet ease to the aches in your chests.

( no, simon later tells you, he does not dislike ghostie anymore. he supposes that little cute plushie does have some place in the home you share.

that night, he wraps an arm around your waist, holds you close. he's too deep in thought to consider sleeping, and you know this.

"...'ought to talk to price soon." he murmurs, thumb absentmindedly tracing circles onto your skin. "can't have that thing replacing me."

you hum softly in acknowledgement, lips meeting his in quiet understanding. "no room for competition, si?" you offer a tired smile as he pulls the blanket over your bodies.

when he looks at you, all he can see is adoration and understanding. he doesn't think he'll ever get over it. he kisses you once, twice, three times-- a goodnight kiss, a thank you kiss, and an i love you kiss.

"none at all, dove." )

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ 0713

ଓ.° ・ simon riley. call of duty. family fic -- simon and reader have a daughter. may as well make this an unofficial series ～(　TロT)σ every day i am victim to the delusions !!

when you first met simon, you quite honestly did not think you'd end up having such a domestic life with him. you've known each other for a long while, been together for less. you've seen each other go through hell and back, worry for each other's safety and return, and here you are now, with a daughter that is exactly like him.

kind of. mostly, you'd say.

personality? absolutely. quiet, reserved-- her, mostly in the sense that she's shy. him, in the sense that he just doesn't like talking to people very much. but quiet all the same, you suppose.

appearances? oh, one hundred percent. brown eyes, brown hair. sharp gaze. you don't know how a two year old has a sharp gaze, but she does.

little quirks? you suppress a sigh just thinking about it. wherever you are, simon is. he's practically your shadow-- so what's your daughter? his shadow. so basically, in summary : anywhere you go? have no fear, you will never be alone. ever.

oh, forgot something in the bedroom? just turn around and you'll face-plant into your husband's chest, and when you recover, you'll see your daughter peek out from behind his leg to see what all the ruckus is. oh, you're going to do laundry? forget the television, make it a group effort instead. grocery shopping? no need to split up to make it faster. he's mapped out the most efficient route around the store to knock out this trip in less than an hour.

yeah. they're weird. but you love them, so it's okay.

you'd like to think that nothing surprises you at this point, until today -- when you're tending to the house, bright and early, only to see a certain half awake toddler and her dad standing in the living room. you pause for a moment, mildly surprised that she's already up. you don't say anything-- just watching, as they haven't noticed you around the corner of the hallway quite yet.

"papa."

"munchkin."

silence. like, a long silence. your brows furrow, and you can't help but tilt your head in confusion and curiosity as you witness the strange phenomenon that is your family. she closes the distance, looking up at him. and in return, he looks down at her.

and they just stare at each other. in even more silence. for a good few minutes. not a single word exchanged. you're just so confused by this interaction that you're about to speak up, but then she raises her arms, and just like that, he picks her up, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead-- his usual good morning greeting to her, you've come to notice.

you stand there in the hallway, confused as ever, as he walks off to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for her. you have no idea what that was. you blink a few times before shaking your head, joining him in the kitchen to help with the morning prep.

-- so naturally, when night comes, the little one is sleeping, and you're laying in bed next to simon, you can't help but ask:

"what the hell happened this morning?"

he pauses at the sudden question.

"you burned the pancakes, dove."

your eye twitches.

"i did fucking not." you roll your eyes, though you don't put up any resistance as he pulls you closer to him, an arm draped over your waist. "i'm talking about your little stare down today. what was that?"

simon stares blankly at the wall in recollection of the event. a moment or two, then a slow shift in his gaze as he looks at you.

"-- just had a bit of a chat."

"...you both said one word each."

"said it was a bit, didn't i?"

oh, insufferable. weird and insufferable. you give him a deadpan stare, in which he returns full on-- and now you're stuck in a silent staring contest with him. as much as you'd love to try and redeem yourself from the losing streak you've maintained all these years, you understand that one : it is midnight, and you would like to not stay up until three in the morning only to lose, and two : you should be realistic and know that you'll never win.

"stop that." you grumble, hand covering his eyes. "she's gonna pick up on that and start staring into people's souls. it'll freak them out."

he chuckles softly, moves your hand away before lacing his fingers with yours, lips gently trailing down your neck. "not a bad thing. instills fear."

"...i would really like you to not encourage our two year old daughter to instill fear into people, simon riley."

a faint hum of acknowledgement and amusement, then another kiss along your jaw, the corner of your mouth, then your lips. he can't help but notice the feeling of your smile despite your disgruntled words, and he thinks he loves you all the more for it.

"i'll consider it, love."

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ TENDING TO THEIR INJURIES ( part i. )

ଓ.° ・ thoma ･ itto ･ childe. genshin impact. repost.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ thoma

"i'm okay, i'm okay! i promise."

the way thoma winces when you dress his injuries betrays a forced smile. you study him, brows furrowed in both concern and distress-- concern at his condition, distress at his failed attempts to downplay it.

you want to say a thousand things-- ask him why he's trying to hide the pain, what happened-- but the lump in your throat renders you speechless and the tears that threaten to form shift focus elsewhere. you inhale, shaky-- exhale, and look away from him. he doesn't need another problem-- and it's stupid to cause him worry because you're on the verge of crying.

it's hard to steel yourself when thoma has always been quick to pick up on your emotions and take them to heart. he notices how you struggle to pick up the antiseptic, takes one glance at your face and the way the tears well up, and perhaps that is the most painful of all.

his hands cup your cheeks so gently that you are afraid the tears will spill. how wonderfully loved and safe you feel in his hold.

"please don't cry," thoma reassures you, and you almost think you hear his voice quiver, "please. i'm okay, i really am."

"i'm not." you tell him that, but you are, and now he is, too. you imagine you both look so silly right now, crying and fretting over each other like it's the end of the world. "my allergies are bad."

"oh." thoma laughs through his tears, pinches your cheeks playfully and in meaning of you're okay and so am i. i am grateful. "so are mine."

"we're really bad at lying." you mumble, and he hums in agreement as he kisses your forehead. you place your hands over his, find closure in the idea that he is still with you, here and now. safe.

"thank you for coming back to me." you whisper, and under the stars, thoma presses his lips against yours in need.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ itto

itto, you've come to notice, gets hurt more often than one would think. a daring warrior that throws himself entirely into battle, caution and safety disregarded in the midst of adrenaline rushes. he comes home to you with wounds littered across his body; the cheeky smile on his face that appears at the sight of you almost makes the ache in your heart abate. almost.

he tends to forget about the pain, he tells you, so it's okay. he notices the way your jaw clenches at the sentence, how your words of protest die instantly. something in your chest tightens as if someone wrapped their hand around your heart and squeezed and squeezed until the words of innocence fell on deaf ears. because there are only so many times you can see the love of your life injured, and you are losing count.

how many times have you replayed this act before? an unending cycle of hurt and healing over and over again, the scenes blurred and turned into one. you remember where each scar came from -- how you did everything to ensure his wellness, and how the injuries faded into scars to serve as a reminder.

your fingers brush over the gash on his temple. he winces, slightly, but maybe his pain is insignificant in comparison to what you're feeling.

"please be more careful." you say after a long silence. he nods solemnly, finds that his usual lighthearted words of comfort will not do in this situation.

itto leans forward.

"kiss it better?"

you laugh for the first time that night, indulge in his request. a gentle kiss pressed against his temple and the feeling of his arms wrapped around your waist. he holds you closely, apologetic in his touch.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ childe

"i almost think you do this on purpose."

childe grins. you aren't entirely wrong-- but it's not like he tries to get hurt. it's more so that he enjoys the thrill of lethal situations and will jump straight into one for the sake of amusement and the yearning for acknowledgement that he can handle it. that's a bit different, he supposes, but he won't argue.

"i like the attention from you."

"i know you do." comes your flat tone, and you gently tap his chin as if that'll make his grin go away ( surprise: it doesn't ). "have you considered that you could just ask for attention instead of doing...this?"

ah. well, that makes it go away, and now you're faced with a very convincing pout. you sigh; he smiles at your reaction.

he never has the intention of worrying you with small cuts and bruises, not at all. he's completely fine, save for some discomfort and aches here and there, and while he truly does enjoy the attention and care, he's not one to cause you distress on purpose. ( the teasing is fun, though. he can admit that much. )

his expression softens as you inspect the bandage on his arm, fingers sliding down the cloth as a means to make sure it hasn't loosened anywhere. slowly, your hand meets his and he squeezes it tightly in reassurance.

"i'm sorry." his apology is genuine; it always is when this happens. "i'm alright though-- see? nearly at a hundred percent again because of you. couldn't do it without my favorite nurse."

"childe." you poke his forehead with your free hand, but he responds by grabbing it. "if i was your nurse, i would personally fire you."

he's grinning again. how annoying-- is what you want to think, but when he presses kisses against your knuckles, the touch light as a feather but heavy in meaning, you can't help but smile.

--until he talks again.

"you couldn't get rid of me if you tried."

"i know. it's annoying."

his laughter rings in the air, and you admit your defeat when you kiss him.

[ariiadnes]

ㅤ╭ ⿻ ･ GAVE YOUR WHOLE HEART TO MAKE IT TO HEAVEN

no other word makes my mouth as tender as your name.

ଓ.°・・・ synopsis : karmic debt is an evil unpurged , and in the burial of alatus & awakening of xiao , there is a kindness in the way his name falls from your tongue.

-ˋ ♡ ◞ xiao. genshin impact. reader has no specific pronouns or features. nsfw. MDNI. quote cr : emery allen. title cr : yeju - pyramidion. repost.

xiao has always found a strange fondness in the way you call his name, the first time unforgettable, each time a newfound memory more precious than the last. how beautiful your voice has always been when you called for him -- gentle, lighthearted, and how beautiful you are now, radiant, unraveled.

"xiao--" you choke back a sob, throw your head back against the pillow, the sheets beneath you almost in as much disarray as you are at the feeling of his tongue between your legs.

with one hand in his hair and the other over your mouth, what little control that remains spirals. you feel too much, feel it all-- the way he teases you endlessly, fingers inside you as he takes in your warmth.

it's too much, it's too much--

"xiao, i-- it's too much, i can't--" the muffled words are lost in the violence of your breaths, chest heaving as your back arches off the bed when he slips another finger in you. the noise that escapes you is not one either of you have heard before, your cheeks burning in embarrassment when you feel him smile against you. how amber hues shine so brightly in a moonlit room, and in those eyes, you know of a love beyond.

his tongue slows, movements languid yet tender all the same. his hand reaches for yours, fingers lacing together as he pulls it away from your mouth in means of coaxing those pretty little noises out of you. he loves how you call for him, the remnants of your desire slick on his lips. a gentle squeeze of the hand, a quiet whimper, and the surrendering of yourself to a lover that deems you as a higher being, worships you in ways so.

it is when you beg, plead in ways he has yet to hear that he picks up the pace, knows how to move in all the right ways to bring you closer to the edge. you ball your fist, instinctively tug on his hair and feel the vibrations of his groan against your body.

more, more, more-- you do not think you can beg anymore, mind wiped of any coherent thought or speech, so you beg him in ways untold : your hips rocking into his mouth in search of release, hand on his head pressing him closer. your thighs tremble, legs nearly closing on instinct had he not growled in light warning as his tongue slipped inside you.

his name is a holy mantra on your parted lips, hand still in his as you meet that high, feel it envelop you entirely before the exhaustion sinks in. you are breathless, body shuddering as his movements lull.

he kisses the inside of your thighs, gentle, looks up at you with such reverence that you are filled with even more want than before. you swallow hard, let out a shaky exhale.

"speak my name again," another kiss to your inner thigh— he smiles, knowing, "and i will give you everything you want."

[ariiadnes]

ㅤ╭ ⿻ ･ beneath the universe ( part ii. )

AT THE END AS AT THE START , & THROUGH ALL THE IN-BETWEENS , I LOVE YOU

ଓ.° ・ kaveh ･ dehya ･ cyno ･ ayato ･ diluc. genshin impact. quote cr : amal el-mohtar & max gladstone. repost. each character's parts are limited to 150 words! ・ ・ ・ pt i.

❀ ⋆˚࿔ kaveh

"of all the creations i've made, none can compare to your beauty."

kaveh has always been a romantic, love language born from touch and fervor. you blink, disoriented expression meeting your lover's through the mirror. it is barely morning. you've just woken up, head out of sorts as you brush your teeth. you wouldn't say you're the epitome of beauty at this moment, but he thinks otherwise.

how can someone be so radiant in the most mundane of things? he leans against the doorway, watches as you get ready for the day. you toss a reluctant glance in his direction, but he simply smiles.

"already hitting on me, huh?"

he hums, beckons you closer.

"what can i say? i'm an honest man."

his hands rest on your hips as if that's where they have always belonged and he presses a gentle kiss to your temple in greeting.

"good morning, dearest."

❀ ⋆˚࿔ dehya

"sunshine, you're not blushing, are you?"

dehya is not one to be trifled with, strength and skill in combat unmatched. she is not as intimidating as she lets on, altruism in her nature.

no, dehya isn't one to be messed with, but you do it anyway. with one hand in hers, the other pressed against her cheek, you grin, almost think it might have grown warmer after your words. she has yet to become accustomed to these nicknames, and in truth, she does not think she ever will.

"sunshine? you..."

she sighs, knows this is already defeat. she has fought many battles, none of them this difficult.

"not a fan? should i call you something else?"

she blinks furiously, tries to hide her flustered visage. she clears her throat, fails to maintain eye contact, but squeezes your hand all the more.

"i'll only let you call me that, you know."

❀ ⋆˚࿔ cyno

the first time cyno made you laugh is the most memorable, he decides. his jokes, while quite humorous, often miss the mark, so he vividly recalls that moment, knows it to be one he cherishes ever so dearly.

the flow of time is one that cannot be changed, days gone by as he seeks out those who taunt justice. it is an arduous role, but one he carries with pride.

it's when he finally comes home to you that he feels at ease, heart lightened, and so he is once more reminded that the passage of time is not one to be taken for granted.

"did you know," cyno begins, "that your laughter is one of my favorite things to hear?"

"are you saying that because i laugh at your jokes?"

cyno grins, loves the way you naturally place your hand in his when he reaches out for you.

"maybe."

❀ ⋆˚࿔ ayato

the role as the head of the kamisato clan is seldom easy, ayato's past filled with hardships paving the road to a masterful deception, fabricated smiles shown with ease despite a quiet suffering.

how warm you are, he thinks, so he relaxes in your hold, allows a rare vulnerability in the presence of the one he's sworn devotion to.

"what a special occasion." he comments, wavering between consciousness. "you're hardly this kind to me."

you've always been used to his banter, but there is something dispiriting in his teasing tone, so your fingertips lightly trace circles into his skin, your lips against his forehead in reverie.

"what can i do for you, ayato?"

he leans into your touch, and you know the smile that blossoms on his lips is one of genuine happiness.

"you've done enough. so long as you remain by my side, i could ask for nothing more."

❀ ⋆˚࿔ diluc

diluc does not know when the right moment is for declarations of adoration; although you've already exchanged confessions, it has always been a challenge.

maybe it's the way you weave cecilias into crimson locks, tuck a stray strand of hair behind his ear. maybe it's how you smile, look at him wordlessly yet announce your love for him. diluc is uncertain, but he recognizes this feeling that takes over and makes the echoes of a heartbeat terribly known.

it is instinct, the way he draws closer to you when your fingers trace his jawline with utmost reverence. you still at the little space that exists between two lovers, and perhaps the silence is louder than ever.

i love you is spoken in the way diluc kisses you, and in the way he pulls you closer, there is a i love you, i will gladly give all of myself to you.

[ariiadnes]

╭ ㅤ⿻ ･ HOLY IS THE LOVE THAT SAVED ME ( part ii. )

HOW DELICATE LOVE IS , THIS EBB & FLOW OF SERENITY.

-ˋ ♡ ◞ childe ･ thoma ･ xiao. genshin impact. title cr : juniper vale. repost. tagging @pixelcafe-network. ଓ.°・・・part i.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ childe

childe has always been meant for greater things. in his future, he envisions it all : CONQUEST, POWER, & DESTRUCTION. but in his present arises LOVE , and he does not know what to make of it.

it is a fascinating feeling, the knowing of a belonging. in the abyss he found the hunger for survival and cold fury, and in you, he found the yearning for love and infatuation.

delicate is the way he treads with a wavering heart, sinews lined with chaos and calamity and hesitation and the wanting. childe doesn't know what this type of love is supposed to mean, doesn't know what it's supposed to be, and whether it is right-- this act of pretending like it is his, like it is meant for him. ( but he is made of facades, and he always will be, so maybe this is okay, and maybe he can have this love. )

in the winter, childe holds you close to him. there is no better way to warm up, he claims, and what's there to lose? after all, you can steal some of his body heat and cuddle with him. it's a win-win situation, and even though you roll your eyes at his theatrics, you always give into the comfort of being held.

"i could hold you like this forever." he says with a dramatic sigh, and he almost thinks that your arms wrap around his neck just a little bit tighter.

he expects you to brush him off, make light of his silly words just as you normally do, but you look at him with a gaze so gentle that he almost thinks that maybe this is it-- that love is the endgame for him, and this is all he really needs, power and superiority be damned. with you at his side, what more could he ask for?

you smile, pinch his nose ever so softly before pressing a kiss to it.

"well, what's stopping you, ajax?"

( nothing, he realizes. you are his everything, and he will do everything in his power to cherish you. )

❀ ﾟ. ༄ thoma

thoma is made of gentle beings & love never ending ; in the strings of a tender heart, there is a reverence so pure that not even the gods could understand what worship means.

thoma is in love with you and there is not one day where you are not reminded of this. because there is love to be found in the little things, you both learn: in the way you both wake early with the intention of surprising each other with breakfast, only to wake up at the same time, hearts full and the air filled with laughter as you cook together in compromise. in the way you slow dance in the place you've made a home together at 2:38am, in the way he finds peace in the warmth of your hug as if it were second nature when he comes home after a tedious day of tasks.

thoma is in love with you, and he always tells you this. because to him, love flows in his bloodstream, and how lightly does he carry it with him everywhere he goes. you feel it with every touch, every word-- every glance, every fleeting moment with him, and what a wonderful thing to drown in, this feeling of adoration.

you wake before sunrise, vision blurred as you adjust to the darkness of the bedroom. besides you is the person you love & the person you have decided to spend the rest of your life with, and the smile that graces your lips is one of genuine solace.

you fell asleep holding hands & you wake to his still in yours, his grasp still firm. you tighten your hold the slightest bit; he stirs in his sleep, awakens from his slumber.

you almost apologize for the disruption, but the sight of your tranquility is a blessed one to wake to, and he smiles a smile that is even brighter than the sun, you think.

"good early morning," thoma says, and you nearly laugh at the way his voice cracks, "i love you."

"good early morning," you whisper, pressing a kiss against his temple, "i love you."

❀ ﾟ. ༄ xiao

loneliness is a dull blade; twists itself into his existence, burrows into remnants of misery, and leaves its presence there. it is known and untouched, and perhaps even deserved-- because the removal of such a thing can only lead to the pouring and pouring of sorrow, and a yaksha does not know if the pain would be worth it until it healed and scarred.

the loneliness has always been there, he thinks, and he does not indulge into his thoughts too much for his own sake. but it dissipates when you come into his life, and of all the people he has met, he believes you are the one he cherishes the most.

"xiao," your fingers trail down his neck, touch delicate and exalted, "what do the dreams taste like?"

he shivers under the graze of your fingertips. he wonders if it is from the way you speak his name or the feeling of you.

there is a lump in his throat and he cannot seem to rid of it. he swallows hard, noticing the slight amusement and curiosity that adorns your features. how lovely does the moon's light shine brightly on you, and xiao realizes that he has always found you beautiful, whether under the night sky or the sun's rays-- no matter where you are, he will always look at you with affection in his eyes.

he separates himself from his pride, lips pressing against yours in a kiss made of sacredness and love known. the dreams were once bitter in times of darkness, but now, they taste like nostalgia. like days remembered and times unforgotten. they taste sweet, meant to be held dearly to one's memories.

he breaks the contact, too flustered to notice the way you chase after his touch for only a brief moment. pink hues color his cheeks, and instinctively, he buries his face in your neck to hide his embarrassment.

"it tastes like love." he mumbles against your skin; your laughter is light as a feather, happiness laced throughout, and he thinks it is a miracle that his face can get even hotter.

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ TENDING TO THEIR INJURIES ( part iv. )

ଓ.° ・ wriothesley ･ neuvillette. genshin impact. repost. ・ ・ ・ pt i. pt ii. pt iii.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ wriothesley

wriothesley is far too familiar with getting injured on the job. it's nothing new, not really-- what's work if he doesn't get a little roughened up, anyway? it's certainly not a big deal ( to him, at least ).

he'll admit that some days are worse than others, but he's got too much to do, too much to protect. he can't afford to let anyone take him down. so all in all? he'll be fine. end of story.

you, on the other hand? he's not really sure. he's warned you from time to time that he's bound to run into trouble here and there; the fortress is not a place of innocence, after all, and you are both all too aware of that.

still, that doesn't stop you from mentally combusting every time he walks through the door, cuts and bruises all across his body. unfortunately, tonight is no different, even if his injury ( if anyone can even consider it to be one ) is a small cut on his cheek.

"jail. jail for a thousand years."

it's three in the morning, and yeah, he's a little sleep deprived, so he's not really sure if he heard you correctly. he blinks a few times, brows knit ever so slightly as he tries to register your words.

huh.

he's far more used to a lecture, but he'll take this instead.

"a thousand years?" he grins, though the amusement fades slightly as you use a washcloth to wipe the blood away. "that's a little cruel. seriously, do you think you could survive that long without seeing me?"

"guess we'll see."

he lets out a chuckle, though he sees through your annoyance. it may be a simple cut to him, but to you, it runs deeper and he knows that. he chooses to keep his silence instead of continuing the banter, only watching you carefully as you study him in search of other injuries you may have missed.

"i miss you when i'm gone for a thousand minutes." he leans in, closes that small distance between you two. "don't send me away." he murmurs. "i won't survive."

you don't say anything for a long while, a small sigh escaping through parted lips. it's his unique way of asking for forgiveness; of course you'll grant it. but you're just as stubborn as he is, so you don't quite give him the satisfaction or peace of mind that he expects.

you kiss him for a moment too short, then speak.

"how many hours is a thousand minutes?"

❀ ﾟ. ༄ neuvillette

neuvillette is not accustomed to the woes of human emotion. it is a fickle thing, he muses, and the nature of one's heart is a complexity he wishes to understand with ease. he tries, but there are so many variables and constants that even the ludex of fontaine cannot grasp it.

he is, admittedly, always a little doubtful of himself when it comes to such interactions. he is careful in his approach-- certainly not wary, but careful in the means of not causing offense. he is learning with time, after all, and though he has learned much through experience and through you, there is much he still remains naive to.

but this-- this, he understands : the silence that weighs heavy in the air, the lack of words so often spoken when you are together, the way your eyes won't meet his. your gaze is focused elsewhere as you throw all concentration into putting away the antiseptic and spare bandages, carefully organizing the supply kit in the most optimal manner in case of emergency. he is not sure how long you spend rearranging it, but surely it is a means of distraction to distance yourself from your feelings.

"thank you." neuvillette speaks up after a long while, notices how you pause at his gratitude. your body tenses up for the slightest moment, but you are quick to force yourself to relax.

"you're welcome."

he is unsure of how to proceed at this point. it is not often that he gets injured; such occasion is truly rare, but it is not something always in his control. he understands you are worried. he understands that you are afraid, that you might be angry. he wishes to speak, but when he hears that little sniffle, he freezes.

"please, look at me."

you listen. when he looks at you, there is something strange that stirs in his heart-- something so softly devastating at the sight of your sorrow. he hesitates, wonders if he will do the right thing to comfort you.

his hand cups your cheek, thumb wiping away the tear that trails down your face. there is the gentle curve of the lips-- a subtle reassurance, quiet in its nature, but deeply resonant.

"do not waste your tears on me." he tells you, gentle. "i'm alright. so long as the tides continue to turn, i will be here."

he presses a kiss to your forehead, smile growing ever so faintly as your tears continue to fall. it is something that cannot be helped; he knows this more than anyone, this weeping dragon. he pulls you into his arms, and until the tears are no longer shed, he will not let you go.

[ariiadnes]

ㅤ╭ ⿻ ･ beneath the universe ( part i. )

AT THE END AS AT THE START , & THROUGH ALL THE IN-BETWEENS , I LOVE YOU

-ˋ ♡ ◞ xiao ･ alhaitham ･ shenhe ･ kazuha ･ zhongli. genshin impact. quote cr : amal el-mohtar & max gladstone. repost. each character's parts are limited to 150 words! tagging @pixelcafe-network

❀ ﾟ. ༄ xiao

a yaksha knows what it is like to be needed, redemption sought upon self-sacrifice and approaching insanity. yes, xiao knows the feeling of being needed, but not the feeling of being wanted. mortal trivialities are not meant for intrigue, so he dismisses the thought.

it is when you first speak his name that he wonders -- it is merciless : the shift in gentle tones, the way your hands tremble, anxious at the selfish request. because you truly do not need anything, but there is something in the heart that desires him so.

he makes his presence known, notes how you brighten at the mere sight of him. it is then that he feels his pulse quicken, feels a semblance of home.

yes, xiao knows what it's like to be needed, he thinks, the burden of karmic debt soothed by another's love, and he knows what it is like to be wanted.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ alhaitham

alhaitham does not know of the tenderness that resides in a seemingly dormant heart, endeavors found in all things factual. so it is a strange phenomenon, as said by a certain architect, that he has sworn himself to another, expressed loyalty in ways unseen by most. he does not recognize ardor, not quite -- it is a foreign stranger in his life, but one he is willing to welcome.

"read to me?"

your head rests against his chest, arm draped over his waist. book in hand, he gives you a questioning look-- one you return with an exhausted smile.

"it'll bore you, unless that's how you intend to fall asleep."

"that's okay." you fight back a yawn, giving into fatigue. "i just like listening to your voice."

"you subject yourself to strange things."

"you like it."

he chuckles, but pulls the warm covers over your close figures.

"do i? i wonder."

❀ ﾟ. ༄ shenhe

cursed are those abandoned, innocence tarnished by deceit and insanity. a lone soul bound by red ropes and fate alike, shenhe bores a cold rage ; how it drowns in waves, struggles to stay afloat. but it is not only anger that remains at sea, but joy and sorrow. she was once devoid of such things, though they have bloomed so wonderfully in the knowing of you.

in the knowing of you, shenhe feels a longing that brings uncertainty and comfort. but she is naive to the bonds of mortals, and so she carries it forth without knowing it is love.

she will learn of it, eventually, and it will be beautiful. for now, she takes your hand, presses a kiss against your knuckles, and rests it against a beating heart. how wildly it rings in her ears, and surely she knows that this is the beginning of a future cherished.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ kazuha

kazuha's soul belongs in many places : the sky, the shore, and the sea. how it thrives in the presence of all, but it is with you that it yearns the most. how silly, he thinks, this lovesickness he's given into entirely.

the rain pours upon his arrival, but it is not an unwanted greeting. he watches, nostalgic, a soft melancholy woven into his smile as the kind winds guide brilliant red maple leaves. you stand at his side, your hand in his, feel how he squeezes it in hope and quiet grief.

nature knows his heart all too well, just as you do. you laugh when a leaf lands in his hair, turns his smile into one of amusement as you remove it delicately.

"thank you."

you do not let go of the maple leaf, knowing he will keep it for his travels as remembrance of this moment you share.

❀ ﾟ. ༄ zhongli

it is difficult, morax finds, to survive. even time cannot heal the deepest of wounds, and the burdens of leading humanity have hurt him so. he no longer has nightmares of battles won and lost, but he wonders-- did he ever truly win? to witness bloodshed, to cause bloodshed, knowing he lost his allies--

it is difficult, zhongli thinks, to survive.

the days pass quickly; even in a life freed from loosened chains of godhood, he wonders if he will ever adapt. from amber to embers, he closes his eyes, the music a welcome distraction as he focuses on the feeling of your body against his. you sway together, movements slow as you surrender to the depths of time.

yes, it is difficult to survive. but perhaps in this brave new world, he muses, resting his forehead against yours, he will remember once more what it means to live again.