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generalsdiary · 4 months ago

Text

the spice will warm me from the inside

Jiaoqiu x Moze

warnings: description of injuries, mentions of the 2.5 events, Jiaoqiu’s history, Moze’s history, nightmares, anxiety, breakdowns, knives/weapons mentioned, one swear word, assassination attempt (dw)

word count: 5.5k

description: a hurt/comfort fic, angst & fluff, life after the events of 2.5, kinda found family trope as well. Jiaoqiu's life with his newfound trauma and disability, Jiaoqiu and Moze living life and communicating in healthy ways. As much as it goes over their "angsty" pasts and traumas it is very healing and focused on moving forward and learning to find a way to go on even when all has gone dark (pun not intended). Feixiao shows up a few times, Sushang comes to visit. As much as it is hurt/comfort, dw as soon as it hurts you, you will be comforted. One has to process through their past traumas and everything they have been through in order to start moving on. A realistic approach.

Jiaoqiu's fingers pressed against the smooth surface of the window. Cold, smooth, glossy. Traveling between the ships of the Luofu wasn't something new to him, but the experience felt different. The darkness, the shadow didn't move no matter how wide he opened his eyes, hoping for light to seep in, for a picture to form. It was hopeless, the poison took its toll.

“Moze.” his voice was gentle as ever, trying his best to hide the tremble in it. The fear as every space feels unfamiliar. The small tremor in his hands that hasn't left since he was... rescued.

“Yes?” a deep-toned voice beside him makes his ears perk up, trying to pinpoint the location, to naturally turn to the man as he usually would. With the way he could before. He turns, hopefully towards Moze. A small crinkle in his eyes as he recalls how March corrected him twice because he wasn't facing her nor the others. Jiaoqiu expected his hearing to be better, to be a better aid, especially as a foxian.

“Describe the room for me. Please.” there's a small pause. A silence. The shadow guard was incredibly quiet, not even a rustle of his clothes.

“It is the same as the last time. Small room, red velvet seats, three across three, sliding glass door, warm light from the headlight, grey floors. The regular transportation.”

Jiaoqiu nods, bringing his fan out, hiding half his face and gently moving it creating a small whiff of air. He remembers some of it... such a mundane thing, he never paid it too much attention. It hurts. Leaning his head back against the soft seat he closes his eyes. They are straining him. an unfamiliar feeling this early in the day.

“Mhm, thank you, Moze... and. General Feixiao, where is she?”

“Arranging a private port for us three to exit at. to avoid crowds.” Moze keeps his answer concise.

The trio is still greeted by guards and some of the general’s usual caretakers. They have received the news, and a man eagerly approaches the trio. His hand is quickly gripping Jiaoqiu’s forearm, making him lose his balance, making him stumble. He desperately uses his tail to balance and tug his arm back. The irritation barely hidden in his voice, “You do not take my arm- one does not simply drag a blind man with them.”

Commotion. Calming words of the general. And a voice that cuts through the multiple voices talking. A low tone, beside him. “I’m on your right, half a step in front of you.” being taller than Jiaoqiu, Moze’s soothing voice is heard easily, mouth so near the foxian’s fluffy ears.

Jiaoqiu takes a calming breath. Another one. This is fine. No. It is not fine. He just has to get home. Home. Yes. Everything will be fine when he gets home.

His hand reaches out into the unknown, the rough fabric meets his fingertips, he gently rests his arm tucked into Moze’s and then grips his forearm. “Thank you. Please. ..Slowly. I can’t.-“ Jiaoqiu’s voice breaks, why did it- no he is fine. He is not breaking down in public. It has been years since has was able to cry. Not after he served in the military. Those tears have long dried up.

You don’t need to cry to break down. To feel the pain engulfing you. The war took most of his ability to taste away. The once lover of subtle, bland flavors, now chased the spiciest, hottest meals- no matter how much it burned his tongue or hurt his throat. It made him feel alive. The spice burned inside him, warming him up when all he could feel was an icy cold throughout his bones.

The familiar crack of the wooden floor beneath his feet lets him know he is finally home. Jiaoqiu immediately took his shoes off and let go of Moze. Stretching out his arms, feeling the smooth texture of the walls in his home. Navigating to his bedroom. Through many dark nights, he could move around his house effortlessly- but this wasn’t a dark night. No moonlight. No lamp. No candle. No soft lights coming off the electronics. He bumps into the couch, and a cabinet, until he finally sits down on the soft bed. Opening his eyes. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing nothing nothing. Nothing? Jiaoqiu wants to rage, to throw furniture around. Hasn’t he done enough? Given enough? Deep breaths. He will not succumb to the anger that wants to drown him. Mindlessly caressing the cotton sheets beneath him.

“G-give me a scarf.”

Silence. Jiaoqiu cannot hear him. Moze was always someone he could see, even in his shadow form, he could always SEE him. he could not even smell him. the clean man. Not a single scent.

A fabric touches his hands, soft, strange patterns swirling on it. He drags his fingers across it. Deep breaths. Calm down. He folds it neatly and brings it over his eyes. Tying it up around his head.

“Why?” Moze asked quietly. The sound seems to be coming from below. He is… kneeling beside the bed?

“Every time I open my eyes I hope they will heal. That… that something maybe changed. And every single fucking time that hope is crushed. And I-“ his voice wavers, “I cannot deal with that. I cannot bear another time of my heart getting broken by my inability to see. … with this, I won’t be able to open them. Just. Just… until I get used to… things.”

“I can order a cane for you.”

“No,” Jiaoqiu says a bit too harshly. “I will not. I can’t. I… just. Please, I.” he stumbles over his words like he is falling down the stairs. Shaking his head. Hands trembling. Moze’s habit of not speaking is upsetting at this moment. The bed squeaks under the weight of the other man, strong arms encircle him. Firm chest pressed against the foxian’s back. Calm breathing on his shoulder and a strong steady heart beating against his own works wonders. Making him ground his own breathing in the pace he feels the other’s ribs expand and contract. Heartbeat soon enough coming into sync with Moze’s. A comfortable silence. Although to Jiaoqiu it isn’t a silence. The inhale, exhale, a reassuring sound in this abyss.

Jiaoqiu’s fingers gripped the peeled onion a bit too roughly. He worried it might roll away. Just have to tuck in his fingers, and it is okay. Chop, chop, chop.

Cooking is a big part of him. and his situation will not take it away from him. The last thing that makes him feel like himself. His hand hovers above the deep pan, warmth seeping in. It is hot enough. He chops more veggies and meat and puts it all on a low simmer. Doors open and close, and as per usual he turns towards the sound. It has to be Moze or Feixiao. A burglar wouldn’t enter that casually, right? These thoughts don’t ease his life. The constant worrying and anxiety-

“It’s me.” he doubts he is able to recognize everyone’s voice. Humanoid hearing is simply not suited for it. Expect that it is Moze. Jiaoqiu can recognize his voice. “I have brought you something” With a quick step he is beside him, warm hands holding his and handing him something… smooth. “You said no cane. This is a walking stick. Older people use it- I know, you maybe don’t want it, and it may cause more trouble. Simply put, at least it’s here to help you not fall. okay?”

That’s a lot of words for the shadow guard who prefers to stay silent. Jiaoqiu feels out the walking stick, tapping the ground with it a bit. “I appreciate the thought, I will. I will keep it near.” With that, he sets it against the kitchen counter and stirs the food. Sour and spicy notes hit his nose. Home. Breathing it in like smoke. Wishing it could take him back.

“Why are there green peppers in the trash? They appear fine.” Moze questions. Jiaoqiu exhales, his throat tightens. Opening his mouth to explain but the strain stops him from voicing anything. Why are they in the trash can? A perfectly good ingredient, still fresh, he is never wasteful. The everpresent tremble is his new companion, his imagination makes him feel the finger that pressed against his back causing immense pain so he may give away secrets about Feixiao. The claws that ripped his clothes apart and left rough textured scars- still wounds, they have yet to heal to become scars. The makeup that ran down his face. The tugged hair. Flashes of scent induced fear. The last thing he ever saw was that monster. Hoolay. Green peppers. No. It isn’t something he can see- … it isn’t something he can smell, eat, or feel again.

Moze quietly observes the way Jiaoqiu grips the counter, the way his breathing becomes shallow, the silence piercing his ears, worry coloring Moze’s face now that he doesn’t have to conceal his expressions anymore. “I will take the trash out.”

“Please, thank you.” Jiaoqiu answers in a shaky, broken voice. The voice one sounds like right before they will break down. With swift movements, Moze ties the bag and takes the trash out.

With a slow step and one hand on the walking stick, he carries the food to the table. Plate by plate. Chopsticks, spoons. Beverages. If it were any other normal day he’d carry the pan to the table. But it isn’t any other normal day. This is the new normal. And carrying a heavy, soup-filled pan is risky. Finally satisfied, he sits down and smiles gently. Like he used to. Small wins, little joys.

Moze returns and wishes to say how he could’ve helped. Those words die down in his throat. Would it be more condescending than helpful? Would he even care for his words? Moze lost his voice, his will to speak, from his “second family”. Where no one cared for what he said. He convinces himself that this time he isn’t speaking because it might be rude.

“Would you text the trailblazer for me?” Jiaoqiu inquires during the meal, once Moze returns from washing his hands.

“Now?”

“No, no. after we eat. And could you switch the settings to voice commands and audio-specific notifications?”

“Consider it done.”

Technology is another thing Moze has a great understanding of. Updating the phone and other digital items in their home poses no issue. “When I call you in the future, or anyone whose number you have saved this is how it will sound” Moze calls Jiaoqiu’s phone, and instead of making a pleasant melody, a robotic voice starts talking ‘Moze Moze Moze Moze…’ Jiaoqiu nods with a small smile. “That is helpful, I appreciate it.” “And you can text the trailblazer by giving voice commands to the phone. You don’t need my assistance.” Moze sounds proud, showing Jiaoqiu that he is perfectly capable of doing it alone, just a bit differently than what he is used to.

“I’m going to meet Suyi. You can take the time to clean, Moze” Jiaoqiu takes his cane and exits their home. Hopefully, by giving him obligations and keeping clear of the area, it will make Moze not follow him.

It has been a few weeks. He took an orientation and mobility class. Learning how to use an actual cane. It felt easier to exist. Jiaoqiu was once again mobile, he could go to the market, buy fresh produce, and go out to meet old friends. Tap tap taping his way to the café. Jiaoqiu had a preference for a nonfoldable cane. The subtle vibrations carried through much better. And concrete felt like hell so he tried to stick to the pavement the best he could. The Yaoqing, sadly, had no pathways adjusted to those with impaired vision. Tap tap tap. Jiaoqiu made do with what he had. Walking in public with his cane made him feel free again, akin to feeling in control again. There is a lingering hope in it. Reminiscent of a small candle’s light, not too strong, yet it may illuminate a whole room.

Another assassination attempt failed. Moze groans. The general suggested asking for advice from others, and the trailblazer, the first person he asked, had nothing useful to say in that regard. The silver shine of the knife glistened in the artificial sun. Like sharpening it will make the attempts successful. Feixiao killed his entire family. His family. His close ones, they healed him, gave him a roof over his head, they fed him… poisons under the claim he will live forever with it, his words ever only falling on deaf ears, mantras shoved down his throat like rose spikes. Intoxicating his insides even after he knew of the evil those same words caused. Not to mention the first family that abandoned him, the village that left him to die.

Is this what you call a family? Moze asks himself as the sharp blade lingers above Feixiao’s throat. There he stands. About to succeed. To win his freedom. Is he not already free tho? No, no, she killed his family. This was the agreement and the rightful vengeance. Moze outdid her. Snuck into her home, he won. Yet his hand is frozen. It stands still in the dead of the night. Unmoving. Static. Immobile. Eyes observing the resting face of the woman who saved him. Educated him, showed him kindness, and actual warmth. And in his adult years, she is the one who introduced him to his current partner. Be that as it may, what becomes of him if he let go of it all now? What is his worth? This was his goal, all this time. The driving force of his medically adjusted body. Is this what you call a family? Is this who has been his family all along? The general and the healer? The borisin and the foxian. The air is deathly still. His hand is calm, free from tremors. His brow furrows deeper, thinking through all of it. Until he comes to a decision.

“Feixiao.” Moze says in a normal tone. The knife was still against her neck. The general stirs awake, eyes widening at the surprise, however she makes no move to shove him away. Feixiao knows if he wanted to do something, it would have been done.

“I have won. … I shall remain your guard, General. Death will have to walk through me to get you.” in the blink of an eye he is gone. Feixiao exhales and returns to her sleep with a smile on his face. Moze finally, slowly, started to move on. Decades later, he managed to take small steps toward acceptance.

A few minutes later he is holding his partner in his arms. “Jiaoqiu” Moze whispers into the soft ear. The foxian stirs, “hm?” “I have succeeded in my revenge.” Small shuffle and a sharp inhale, Jiaoqiu turns towards him, “Hm?” sleep-driven hum. “I couldn’t bring myself to kill her. She is my family. I cannot. I would never bring harm upon the ones I care about. Never.” Moze speaks his vow aloud and nuzzles his head into Jiaoqiu’s neck. Nothing more had to be said, in his opinion, time to sleep. A gentle hand caresses his hair, “Good.” Jiaoqiu leaves a feathery kiss on the grey hair after which he continues sleeping.

Misty rain soaked his clothes and the small boat rocked along the smooth surface of the Rainsoar lake. Jiaoqiu used to come here often. Alone he’d collect herbs and fruit in the herbal basket on his back.

“You didn’t have to come with me, one of the locals could’ve taken me.”

“It is not a problem for me, Jiaoqiu. I’m glad to be in your company, we see each other less… and it brings me joy to be beside you.” Feixiao answers, slowly rowing the boat through the lake covered with heart-shaped foliage, blossoms, water chestnuts, and the occasional fish jumping out. A beautiful sight, a tranquil atmosphere surrounding the two.

Jiaoqiu reaches out beyond the small boat, dipping his fingers into the icy cold water to collect the lotus flowers and floating heart plants. An old tradition for him, one he did even before he joined the army as a doctor. The cold fingers pluck a wild rice stem and open it up. Bringing the fresh rice to his mouth.

Years before it had a wonderful sweet and refreshing taste. His taste changed after he came back from war. Jiaoqiu’s taste buds were the price he paid in the war. A renowned chef, and healer, lost his delicate sense of taste. The gaze of an Aeon who looked down upon the thousand-year war, and their choice to end it, burned everyone involved. Jiaoqiu’s tongue was the price he paid for running into the white light to save the young kid. Feixiao. The cold region was something he got accustomed to. Nonetheless, when the almighty power sliced down the battlefield, Jiaoqiu felt a cold unlike any other. Freezing him from the inside. With the leftover survivors, he decided to cook a stew. A warm flame. Some spice. More spice. Chili peppers. Not enough. All the spice he had in his pouch. Until he finally felt a taste on his tongue. A burning sensation. The last flavor he can actually taste. For it made him feel alive despite everything that happened, everything around him, the cold air, the cold insides, the tasteless tongue. And the heat… it sent a jitter down his body. So alive. … the sensation bordered on pain. As spice tolerance grows, surely his grew as well. And he might today very well be dancing with pain every bite. After he returned from the war the rice stems tasted too bland. No flavor to them. He reaped the consequences of his actions. Of choosing to save the girl. His scars from the war.

Years later, at the same lake, with the woman he saved during the war, the boat rocks with her movements. The second time he saved her he paid with his sight. Jiaoqiu never blamed her, why would he? It was his choice the whole way and his goal. The jump to save her from the Aeon. To drink… Tumbledust. To give everyone a fighting chance and to heal Feixiao’s moon rage. Jiaoqiu is an adult and he made his decisions to the best of his judgment in the circumstances that were given to him.

The wild rice lands on his tongue. For a sacred moment, he feels a tinge of sweetness, however, it is only for one moment. And gone with the wind. Even so, for one moment it was there. Is it because he lost his vision that his other senses have enhanced the tiniest bit giving him a single second, less than a second of something that used to bring him joy? The foxian could cry at that moment if his eyes had not dried from any tears while he was still in the army. A moment is still a moment. It is enough. Enough to give him more hope. To keep him moving forward. To have faith in the future. To even dare to look into the future.

For a man to willingly drink poison, deadly poison, he had to give up all hope. Any faith toward the future, any life he thought he had left. Jiaoqiu had to make peace with the fact that no one was coming to recuse him- that he would not be saved. So what was the last thing he could do? After Hoolay drained him of any secrets about the general, humiliated him, treated him less than the ground they walk on, and broke his ego and pride by allowing him to walk around knowing he will “always return to his master”. The only thing he could do was give the others a fighting chance, somehow use the knowledge he acquired; to save Feixiao and sacrifice himself.

The sweet flavor of rice on his tongue. A small flame of a candle, a hope. Hope for the future, he gets to live in. as he slowly finds his self-worth again, his self-respect, and his hopefulness for the oncoming days.

“We may return. I got what I came for.”

“Hm- I’m still-“ Feixiao speaks with her mouth full and Jiaoqiu angles his head a bit analyzing the sound, and a chuckle is ready to part his lips. “You are eating?”

“-mh, hey the water chestnuts are really good!” Feixiao probably has her mouth full of food. The general likely got bored and hungry. Jiaoqiu’s warm laugh cuts the silence of the lake. He hasn’t laughed in a long time. It makes his tummy hurt and he has to stop to not make the boat flip over. Feixiao laughs with him… after she chews down the food in her mouth.

How does one make noise when one walks? A question Moze never thought he’d ask himself. Hence, doing his best, it sounds like a child purposefully stomping the heel of their feet onto the floor. Heavy steps. It is ridiculous. Moze finds himself hilarious, ironic even. His stoic front breaks down when he hears his partner laughing from the couch. The sole reason why he is doing this. To fill the void Jiaoqiu sees. Moze will not move like a shadow in their home. He shall make noise. Even if it sounds like an overgrown toddler throwing a tantrum.

“I’m trying!” Moze voices between bursts of laughter.

“Ooh, I can hear that indeed~” Jiaoqiu nods and giggles.

A knock on the door interrupts their conversation. Jiaoqiu stands up, slowly making his way to the door, while Moze opens it.

A girl with a cloud knight uniform on and long dark brown hair with a big bright smile stands in the doorway. “Hello!” she says cheerfully, “It has been so long, I thought I’d come to visit, how are you, Uncle J?”

Jiaoqiu angles his head a bit, the voice not ringing any bells. “I’m sorry, you-“ Moze quickly buts in, “It is Sushang.” “Yeah, and I brought a gift!” Sushang happily stretches out her hands, handing Jiaoqiu a small box. There’s a few seconds of silence. Moze once again says, “She is handing you a small box, approximately the size of a human head, and by the looks of it not too heavy.”

“Ah, thank you, Sushang. Your presence is unexpected but I’m glad you came over, are you hungry?” Jiaoqiu carefully takes the gift in his hands and smiles. “I mean, I could never say no to your cooking Uncle J! Also... I’m sorry, you are..?” Moze sighs. This is the third time he has seen her and she fails to remember him. The shadow guard, proficient in remaining hidden, wonders why she never remembers him. Jiaoqiu speaks in his stead as he slowly walks to the kitchen, “This is Moze, my partner.” “oh! Hi there, Uncle Moze!” Sushang flashes him a bright smile and moves past him to sit at the kitchen island, ready to yap a whole storm about her life and catch her uncle up with it all. Starting with her best friend, Guinaifen. Once she finishes her stories, Sushang is more than happy to sit in a slump position, stuff her face full of dumplings while Jiaoqiu shares some new stories of his life (the happy ones). In her eyes, he tells them better than the storyteller at Sleepless Earl.

“You know I care about your thoughts, opinions, even random comments with not a single thought behind them, right?” Jiaoqiu’s hand effortlessly treaded through Moze’s silver hair, facing him on the couch. “I will try. I have learned differently and… despite it being a bad habit, those are even harder to let go of.” Moze’s eyes are closed, melting under his lover’s touch. Jiaoqiu’s voice is smooth like butter, continuing, “I know, Moze. When it gets hard, just remember that I care about you and what you have to say. I always have. I love you.” Moze leans forward, pressing his forehead against Jiaoqiu’s, “I love you too. I will do my best.” Moze softly kisses the bridge of his nose, where the cotton scarf lays across his eyes.

Jiaoqiu reached behind his head, untangling the scarf. Weeks, months have passed since he started wearing it. Taking it off only when he bathes or sleeps. He opens his eyes. “I missed seeing them. Such beautiful golden glow, Jiaoqiu.” Moze muses, enjoying the view of bright orange eyes. “Thank you. I feel finally… strong enough mentally to exist and move without it. I have gathered… hope and mental strength.” Jiaoqiu nods, the darkness beyond his eyes unchanged. “They still look beautiful to you, Tumbledust didn’t affect them?” “Even if it did, the fact would not change. To answer your question your eyes are unchanged. They cannot meet mine, but I was never big on eye contact.” The simplicity and honesty in his answer made Jiaoqiu feel secure and loved. The foxian smiles, and their home feels warm. So warm with them together, kind, loving, patient. Healing through their traumas and pain. One thoughtful word at a time.

In the peaceful moment, Jiaoqiu caresses Moze’s cheek and leans in to kiss him. One of the moments where darkness is welcomed… because of the way Moze makes him feel during the kiss, it makes Jiaoqiu feel like he can taste colors.

“The divine traces of Abundance shall heal your body... quick. Drink this...” Moze’s body was covered with sweat, his breathing was shallow. Hooded figures surrounded him.

“I don’t… don’t make drink… no…no” he mumbles helplessly, the thick liquid forced down his throat again. Goosebumps rose on his skin, “Drink child. You will… immortal… save… others…” Moze’s throat closed up, drowning on dry land and his mind disconnected from his body in an all too familiar way. Dying and fighting in the same breath. Half a second away from a silent scream or spitting the medicine back out. “Please… please… I…” his voice trembled, powerless against any of them. Once more his voice is ignored. His yelps and pleading for help, his begging for mercy shushed, ignored… put aside. Nothing more than a good test subject, convinced this is what family does. This is how it must be. Others live like this too, right? This is completely normal, right? He is cared for and nourished here, right? He will survive this, right? I will survive this…right?

A hushed voice hummed in the distance. The worn down building, cold and exposed cement his everyday environment, and the sound he didn’t recognize. “shh, shh, shh.” Rhythmical, paced… soothing? No one ever soothed him. Then he feels it. A delicate tender touch. Fingers brushing his hair. Moze’s breathing sped up as his surroundings changed, he inhaled sharply, his vision going black, all sound stopping into a painful echo of silence, a deafening sound, his lungs moving up and down with irregular breathing until there was none of him left. Abyss. Darkness. Black dots of midnight oil. A window. A window? Moonlight vaguely illuminated the space. A bed. And… “shh, shh, shh. There you go… back with me.”

Moze’s face felt wet, his vision blurry and his eyelashes stuck together, a salty taste on his lips. The sight of his partner holding him so carefully, gingerly, and taking care of him… Moze had no words. The nightmare swallowed him up again. He hated the feeling. Immediately he turns to press himself fully into his partner, to hide his face away from the shadows in the room, “Jiaoqiu” he whispers. “Yes, my precious. I’m here. You’re here. In our home. In our bed. Safe. With me.” For the next few minutes, Jiaoqiu keeps murmuring comforting words and hushed hums until Moze grounds himself in the present moment.

“I hate them. I hate my nightmares.”

“May I offer my healing abilities? A nine-squared grid hotpot will surely have a pleasurable effect on this, and help out.”

“I… that sounds good. If you say it will help, then I’ll take it.”

Jiaoqiu starts sitting up, “Very well.”

“Wait,” Moze utters, squinting his eyes to look at the clock, “it is 3 am, you don’t have to cook now.”

“Then when am I supposed to cook, Moze?” Jiaoqiu replies with a smile, “It isn’t hard. It doesn’t bother me.” He stands up and faces somewhat in the direction of the bed. “I’m happy to take care of you, Moze.” Jiaoqiu sits back on the bed and finds his partner’s face, cupping it in his hands. The texture of Moze’s unshaven face against his fingers feels rough but familiar, and in that familiarity, he feels safe. His home. He presses his lips against the younger man’s forehead and stands back up, already on his way to the kitchen.

Approximately half an hour later, a freshly bathed Moze sits across Jiaoqiu for a late night or an early morning meal. The warm liquid filled with various vegetables and spices feels good as it goes down his throat. It isn’t poison. It doesn’t hurt. It isn’t a threat.

“Thank you, Jiaoqiu. It tastes amazing.”

“Always a pleasure.” He answers with an all-knowing smile. “I could add a little more chili oil next time…”

“eh- I… it is spicy enough, darling.” Moze voices his thoughts hesitantly, which makes Jiaoqiu softly laugh and add a few drops of chili pepper flakes to his own bowl.

On the other hand, Jiaoqiu’s nightmares didn’t stop. Many nights he wakes up in fear of where he is. Is he still captive? Still kidnapped? Still surrounded by borisin and under the effect of lupitoxin? Jiaoqiu wakes up with heavy breathing every time, sitting up quickly, feeling the space around him- more often than not, waking Moze in his desperate attempt to gather where he is whether he is home or there. There’s a phantom pain where Hoolay pressed his finger onto his back to drain information from him. An itch on his chest where the wounds will form into dark pink scar tissue. In the beginning, it was every night. Every night for weeks, months. Jiaoqiu started relying on afternoon naps. Time has passed but his nightmares are still often. On the rare nights when Moze isn’t in bed, he has a good sleep schedule- most likely went to drink some water, Jiaoqiu is quick to spiral and clumsily get out of bed. Moze usually finds him kneeling on the floor, hanging onto the wall, mumbling, “No, no, no, no, no, no. I am not. This is home. This is home. It is. My walls. M-moze…Moze”

The curse of a doctor, a healer, they cannot heal themselves. The trauma he has been through, the scars from it that he carries still with him, most of them not even visible, it isn’t something that passes overnight. Healing is a long and slow process. It will take time. Sometimes he has no nightmares for weeks, only for them to torment his peaceful night’s rest for days on end. Some days, Jiaoqiu will have a bit more anxiety while walking around. What if everyone and anyone he talks to once again is under a guarantee of a death filled with fangs and claws?

Hence, he takes it slowly. When the world feels like it is crushing him, he takes a deep breath and eats spicy food. He grounds himself in his environment. Reminds himself that he is safe, Hoolay is dead, the borisin are under control, he isn’t being targeted, and everything is fine. Everything is fine. He will be fine. With time. One deep breath at a time.

The tremor in his hands never left him.

A breeze rustled various branches and leaves, providing a lovely melody of an artificial autumn on the Yaoqing. The scent of cooked apples dipped in caramel and baked cinnamon rolls filled the air.

“I see no threat in my retainers. The man you cannot see is my guard, and the foxian is my personal doctor. Surely, we don’t pose a problem?” Feixiao questioned the men in front of her, attempting to enter a highly secure space, on a very important and very secret mission.

Moze appears by her side, “I shall leave all my weapons with you.” he takes his time to slowly strip himself of his hidden knives and make a full scene out of it.

Jiaoqiu stands still with a small smile and his cane in his hands. “I do not carry weapons. I am a healer, I wouldn’t hurt a fly.” If at all possible, his smile widens subtly with the honey-dripped words that coat the actual truth. “Moreover, I am retired. I’m here on the general’s command to accompany her to this… wonderful occasion.”

Rustling, murmuring, quiet chats, “…what could a blind man do…” “…the guard left all of his weapons…” “….yeah, we can let them through..” “You may come.”

Feixiao slowly walks towards the entrance with a confident stride, Jiaoqiu steadily taps his cane following her with the same smirk on his face, Moze soundlessly steps last, with at least, still 32 weapons on him.

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generalsdiary · 11 months ago

Text

flowers... for me?

Dan Heng x gn!reader

word count: under 1k

description: you gift flowers to him, sweet tooth-rotting fluff

a/n: i read somewhere that men only receive flowers at their funeral- while this ain’t that sad nor referenced to that, it made me think of how dan heng would react to getting flowers ^^

„flowers“ you extend your hands, handing over the beautiful bouquet to him. „yes. I can see. they look fresh, healthy. T- hm... tulips, I believe? I'll have to check in the data bank.“ he graciously turns around tapping on a small screen in the archive. „yes I think those are tulips. I am not as acquainted as you are with Earth's specimen, so apologies for taking a moment.“

you smile, he must be oblivious. with hands still outstretched you softly call out his name, „Dan Heng. they're for you.“ there's a pause. he slowly turns back around to face you. „flowers? for... me?“ you nod. „there's a custom to gift one's significant other with gifts and or flowers.“ smiling brightly at the stoic man with a neutral expression which to you translates that he is flustered. „I see. well then, I grow more accustomed to such traditions of this planet you cherish each day.“ his fingers caress against yours as he takes the bouquet in his hands. „…thank you“

„you should put them in a vase and add some sugar in the water so they last long, and perhaps cut the stem diagonally, they will take water in better that way.“ adorably you give him directions on how to take care of it. „please, I know how to take care of plants and similar species.“ he sighs softly and closes his eyes for a moment. “any particular reason behind this kind of flowers? aren’t roses the most popular Earth’s flower?” “they are. I chose tulips, red tulips because of their meaning. but, also, you could try searching for the meaning or what they symbolize- I don’t have to tell you~” you smirk, taking a small step back, teasing the poor man. he sighs, reaching out with his free hand to delicately take your hand in his, “tell me. it is obvious you wish so”, his lips press soft kisses over your knuckles and fingers while you answer. “among other things, they mean eternal, forever-lasting love.” his lips freeze for a moment, hovering over your hand, the faintest blush covers his cheeks. he blinks a few times, and after gaining his composure he gazes at the flowers, “I didn’t take you for the romantic type”, moving his gaze at you. “it’s hard to not be a romantic with someone as gentle and patient as you.” you just seem to be out for his heart today, he glances away. between feeling flustered and happy he is reminded of how in love with you he is.

your hand cups his cheek, thumb caressing his cheekbone, nudging him ever so slightly with soft moves to look back at you. “you might want to press one flower between the pages of a book, to preserve it.” he nods, “yes, that is a pleasant idea. in that cause, one flower shall be preserved.” he picks out a tulip, pulling it out of the bouquet, and brings it to your lips, “may I request…?” he quietly, almost like he is shy in this bold action, asks. your lips move against the soft petals, careful to not create a crease on the fragile flower. to your surprise, Dan Heng also moves, his lips meeting the petals on the opposite side of the same flower, his cyan eyes making unmoving eye contact with you, making your heart skip a beat.

the intimate moment passes, yet it leaves a warm atmosphere behind it. Dan Heng sets the single tulip aside, eyes lingering on it and his fingers move along the stem. in his mind, he is appreciating the flower, and in your eyes, those fingers are moving a bit seductively, you almost want to call him out on flirting in such a coy nature. your mind begins to imagine how those fingers would feel on your cheek, caressing in the same gentle way, and your eyes close at the comforting image.

you feel a hand on your cheek, caressing gently, “are you alright?” Dan Heng wonders, you appeared to have wandered off in your head. you open your eyes and meet his. the sight and the feeling of his touch fill you with a sense of joy, peace, and contentment. “I love you.” the words come out easily, you say them like it is the most natural thing in the world. he smiles, looking down at the flowers in his other hand, and looks back up at you. “I love you too.”

his gaze is filled with love and loyalty to you only, so when he talks the words seem to blow past the both of you as your focus is on each other, “I’ll have to ask Pom-Pom about a vase then.” “they will be more than happy to help out, I’m certain” you know how Pom-Pom is excited to be needed and they will probably be overjoyed to have such a sweet request. you depart your lips to say how he had you jealous over a flower but the words die down in your throat as you two don’t break eye contact, you smile. it is a personal, romantic moment, belonging only to you two. he blinks, smiling as well, surprisingly he also states something similar to your thoughts- which is quite unlike him, “you had me jealous over a flower. kissing it so… gingerly.” Dan Heng chuckles dryly. “will you kiss me as tenderly as it?” he makes a simple hushed plea.

“always” you move closer, your nose brushing past his, making your lips meet. and you could swear they feel softer than the tulip’s petals and taste sweeter than the flower’s nectar.

#hsr #honkai star rail #dan heng #dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #fluff #imbibitor lunae #imbibitor lunae x reader #oneshot #writing #drabble #dan heng x y/n #divider cr: milklemondrop

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generalsdiary · 1 year ago

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sunshine in his eyes

Jing Yuan x gn!reader

word count: 400

description: fluff drabble, soft moments, and cuddles with the general

a/n: i can never get enough of this man and his antics

„I missed the feeling of you“ you inhale his scent while your face rests on his chest. you are lying in your shared bed, it is a slow, cozy afternoon with him.

„I've missed you too “ Jing Yuan replied, as he continued to rub your back.

„even when we weren't married, I always craved your touch. I craved being by your side. I craved touching the delicate texture of your skin. I craved being yours...“ his voice is deep and loving, as he caresses your hair and kisses the back of your head. he then placed a finger under your chin tilting your head upwards so he could kiss your lips softly.

it is a sweet one, sweet like flowers' scent, the flavor the bees taste when buzzing around their colorful petals. his lips just as sweet against yours, light as starlight. when your lips separate, his golden eyes flutter open, lovingly staring into yours. if the sun could be stared at, without the pain, if it could be adored, it would probably look like his eyes.

Jing Yuan easily notices your mind spiraling around him and the soft smile remains on his lips, „loving you is my favorite thing in the world“ he whispers, you feel his breath against your lips before he meets them with his own again. those two suns hiding under eyelids yet again. his fingers move lower on your back, pressing lightly to push you even further into his body like you're two candles melting together. your fingers moving to tangle in his long white locks, near his roots, slightly tugging but also massaging his scalp, making him exhale softly. his other hand goes to the back of your neck, pulling your lips even closer to his. when you pull away to breathe between kisses „-Yuan“, he simply swallows each word, kissing you once again. it is slow, like a butterfly's wings passing by, each touch feeling heavenly.

you move to lay beside him, but his arms wrap around your torso pulling you closer to his side, „nuh-huh, you're not going anywhere~“ he chuckles, nuzzling his head into your neck. „of course not, don't worry“ you kiss his hair and smile.

Jing Yuan nods, the general relishing in the feeling of your bodies next to each other, holding you close to him, a piece of peace, where he isn't required to be 'the general'. just Jing Yuan. your Jing Yuan.

#honkai star rail #hsr #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x y/n #high cloud quintet #fluff #general jing yuan #writing #oneshot #drabble #divider cr: milklemondrop

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generalsdiary · 8 days ago

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the amethyst siren

Dr. Ratio x Aventurine

warnings: vague injury description, blood

word count: 2.6k

description: in this chapter, Aventurine makes it back to land and Veritas struggles to find his footing (Chapter 1)

a/n: life got in the way and this chapter took months for me to get to it unlike the planned few days... sorry- hope the ones who stuck around for it like it! also shoutout and thank you to my beta reader ^^ (@tayzzyronth-ao3)

Chapter 2: The Village

Another prison for his body. Another captive of the humans. He swam himself into this one.

After dropping Kakavasha off, Veritas couldn’t help but linger. Couldn’t help but make sure the human made it safely to the shore.

Underestimating his own injuries Veritas swam to the edge of the village and laid on the ocean floor under a cliff, succumbing to the pain. Color drained from his face, energy leaving him due to no food consumption. His vision filled with shadows, looming to take his consciousness away and put him to sleep.

No one saves the savior.

Aventurine was exhausted and hungry, with dried salt itching his skin and providing some healthy – and unwelcome –exfoliation. Despite this, he pressed on, drenched, walking through the gravel street towards a large house on top of a cliff. ‘Property of the IPC’, according to the kind people that were willing enough to indulge the questions of his whereabouts. How lucky.

It was a large luxurious white mansion with wall-length windows and a tall fence. Reminding Aventurine of a prison, if said prison had a pool beside it. Ironic.

Aventurine typed a code on the large metal door which slowly opened. A warm shower and a cup of ramen later, he was as good as new. His phone was soaked, to say nothing of his nearly-ruined clothes. At least the rumble of the washing machine proved to be a soothing white noise he needed; a reminder of his regular life, taking his mind away from the accident and near-death experience.

The various gold necklaces and bracelets were actually the first thing he took off. The smell of fish scales, seaweed stuck between the loops of the chains, and salt which accumulated under the simple ring bands; it all added to the feeling of overheating. Not to mention that usually, he couldn’t stand the reminder of such bounds on his body. An all too familiar feeling urged him to take everything off, as the feeling does every day he gets home. The overstimulation choked him.

The golden watch was undoubtedly broken beyond repair – it would be easier to just buy a new one.

He found some clean clothes to wear. They were hardly to his preference, but beggars can’t be choosers.

A plain white button-up, a few sizes too big, made him look like a lover that stayed the night over after a passionate evening. Soft pants, blue boxers, white slippers, and the ‘outfit-of-the-day’ was complete.

There was some comfort in not needing to shine and reflect light like a diamond. Aventurine believed this must be how healthcare workers felt after taking off their white coats and dark blue scrubs; suddenly no one stopped them to answer questions and people weren't looking at them expectantly. A form of freedom.

Taking off the clothes of a flashy rich man for the simple ones, ones not meant for performing… Although he still unbuttoned too many buttons. He told himself it was for comfort, but perhaps it was more for the situation if someone came to the door and he had to perform, to use his ‘assets’…

Although, true comfort would mean not buttoning up the shirt at all.

At sunset he made his way carefully down the cliff and back to the sea. The combination of the slippers and the gravelly road down proved to be tricky in descending by foot. Upon reaching the area where the waves kissed the large rocks he sat down.

Mentally, he was preparing to keep the existence of the siren a secret until his death. He still couldn’t help but take a few moments to cherish the memory of him in his mind before he locked it away. Some people exist with the power to read his thoughts, to steal his secrets away from him, but he swore to himself he would never endanger Veritas like that, which meant he could never let his mind wander through those memories again.

Aventurine reached out with his hand into the water. The secret spilled from his lips in a flutter of whispers for the first and final time, “Thank you for saving me. You didn’t have to and I–” he exhaled, “…I got lucky enough you chose to do so. May you get home safely, Veritas…”

Aventurine had spoken those words to offer himself peace of mind and heart, certain that he was alone, with no one near enough to hear it, especially not Veritas, so his heart nearly burst out of his chest when he felt a hand grab his.

It was Veritas, looking beyond sick, grasping his hand and feebly raising his head out of the ocean. He had somehow heard his words, and out of pure delirium and a survival instinct that ignored his fears, swam up to the surface.

“I will die,” the siren rasped, “I cannot treat my wounds. I’m… I can’t find my way back.” His voice broke.

“How–” He cut himself off, his face changing to one of shock and worry. Veritas was in no state to answer his questions. Feeling the adrenaline rush to his head he provided a hasty solution, “there’s a salt pool on top of the cliff. I can try to carry you there- I’m sure I can provide you with some first aid and I can show you what our maps look like- surely that can be–“

Veritas interrupted him with a weak voice, barely a whisper, struggling to use his lungs with a raspy inhale, “Where on the cliff?”

Aventurine felt dumbfounded, he pointed in a general direction he recalled the big pool being on top of it. Not a moment later Veritas dove under the surface all the way to the sandy bottom. With every ounce of strength he had left in him he swam up, sending pulsations of underwater waves with his tail, and leaped out of the ocean.

Aventurine gasped, stuck between heartbeats, paused between breaths. Only after he heard a splash, what if showed the wrong way, how was he supposed to know the siren would do this, did his mind stop yelling at him. Despite his tired body, he ran up the cliff, back to where Veritas landed.

The tension left his sore muscles when he saw Veritas had made it safely. He was on the bottom of the pool, curled up. The only sign he was alive.

Aventurine ran up inside the house to get a first aid kit and with the same haste came back. The luxury of searching for a random piece of bathing shorts is not what he had. Fully clothed, he stepped into a pool, the white shirt sticking to his torso in an uncomfortable manner. He ignored it.

Aventurine placed his arms around the siren’s torso and pulled his heavy body towards the steps that led into the pool. As soon as it got to the point of pulling at least his upper body out of the water, Aventurine felt truly how heavy his species was.

A set of grunts later, along with the line of sweat developed on his forehead, the siren’s torso rested on his lap. Aventurine had no practice in medicine, so his first course of action was… well, to freeze and stare. Veritas’ chest wasn’t moving. Did he even have lungs? If so, they were not working.

In panic, he shook his shoulders, “Veritas-“ And his chest rose in a sharp inhale. So, he does have lungs.

The dazed siren opened his eyes, “A-allow me… I’ll take out the… glass shards and… wood pieces..” and passed out.

As the sun drowned in the sea, spilling an array of purple and orange shades, Aventurine now at least had a guideline on what to do.

It was messy work. Blood and stained tissues surrounded the two, along with big chunks of glass and smaller pieces of timber. He did the best he could. He hoped he got everything out before he applied, with shaky hands, messy stitches which he wrapped up with the white cloth and then his own shirt to secure it even more.

Aventurine knew Veritas would stay in the pool hence the extra pressure on the injuries wouldn’t hurt. Medicine would be in order, but he didn’t know how it would react with anatomy different from his own, nor was he familiar even with what type of drugs would be useful for a human in this case.

With most of that done he hesitantly pushed Veritas back under the water's surface. It felt… wrong. It felt like he was drowning him.

The blue gills opened and closed signifying consumption of oxygen. Good. With heavy hesitation and worry eating at his inside like a small creature that scratched the bones of his ribcage as if it was an actual cage, he left Veritas as such and went back inside.

His hands felt dry from the latex gloves and all the rubbing alcohol he used the clean up the blood off the tiles. Where does he even throw such materials? The normal trash was probably a bad option.

Aventurine settled for turning on the fireplace and burning every cotton pad and tissue. And the glass parts and the timber. No proof was needed. His clothes? Immediately went to the washing machine. And the pool? What if someone came by? The left hand behind his back clutched a coin tightly, pondering.

Aventurine won’t sleep easy this night. Tossing, turning, tugging onto the roots of his blond hair……

Veritas awoke to no waves. The earth wasn’t pulsating under him with each turn around itself, whispering of the currents’ direction. The oxygen was low, his gills struggled to filter it out. And his body ached. A tugging sensation on his injuries… messily wrapped up. His eyes opened to a semi-darkness. A… cover? Pulled over the oxygen-deficient pool of water…

His mind cleared up and he managed to recall what he exactly did. Veritas condemned himself. Trusting one of their kind? Offering himself into a trap with no way of escaping? He screamed into the pool water which created small waves and trembled in fear against the tile walls. This water has never seen the wrath and desperate scream of a siren. Glassy air filled bubbles flowed from his eyes, the tears of a siren.

Flowing up. Cursing himself. Cursing it all.

“It is just the wind, do not worry, Madam Jade” Aventurine smiled at his higher-up’s glance towards the pool cover moving.

“I’m glad you are in one piece… how unlucky the ship flipped over. And how interesting you made it back to shore.” Her words are nothing but a dance between a snake’s poison and sweet honey.

“Yes, luck is always in my favor, is it not?” Aventurine smiled brightly, gesturing with his right hand. The knuckles of his left hand turned white with how hard he clenched his fist behind his back. “Those fishermen are my life saviors. I shall have to offer some donations to this village as an extension of my gratitude.”

Jade hummed, quietly analyzing, making no comments, and making Aventurine want to squirm under her gaze. He will not crack under pressure, or even dare squirm. This one isn’t about him. This is about someone else’s life. And there was no way in hell he was letting someone become an experiment, a slave like he was. Not if he can prevent it.

“You mentioned you wish to take a leave?” Jade mused.

“Yes ma’am, the shipwreck truly stressed me out, I would require a week or so of vacation. And this village seems… perfect.”

She nods to his words. To anyone’s eyes, it looked like she believed him. The shivers that went down his spine told him otherwise.

The large door hummed as it opened, “…and I shall take the sailboat. To get over my newfound… trauma.”

She hummed, “If it helps you, Aventurine” words coated in a sheen of green glazed gold. Rotten. Demeaning.

The cover slowly pulled off of the pool with a mechanical buzz. Aventurine sat beside the pool with a phone in his hands, showing a map.

Meanwhile, Veritas fought in his head to not threaten the man, to not jump him and strike his claws in the human’s thighs. With a lot of calming inhales, and a swish of his tail he resurfaced. “You called other humans. When will they… take me away?” He spoke through gritted teeth despite the calming internal chat.

Aventurine quickly shook his head, a flash of horror in his eyes, “The woman that came is my superior, she came to check up on me.” Paranoid from her arrival he kept his voice low, hushed, “… She is bad news. We will leave tomorrow at dawn.”

“We? Leave?” Veritas raised an eyebrow in question.

“Here is the map. We are here. I can get you away from the land to somewhere further in, at least closer to your own kind. Your injuries don’t make it easy to swim, I’m sure. So, I will… I will make sure to get you as far away as I can.” Aventurine’s eyes showed vulnerability, honesty, it baffled Veritas. Depending on a man. He had no other option. This was what he had to do.

“That sounds… good. I… I have a request.” It pained him to ask. “Do you have any seaweed? Or… any form of food?”

Aventurine immediately ran off without a word. Why he was so on edge, he himself didn’t even know.

He grabbed some dried seaweed and a can of tuna fish and returned. Veritas made plenty of weird facial expressions and ate without enthusiasm with an obvious crease between his brows from the small frown. The food must have not been to his taste. It was tricky to figure out where he was. The digital map which focused on showing the land proved to be quite challenging in showing where his home might be in the ocean.

It didn’t stop Aventurine from making plans to leave.

The heat from the coffee cup burned the inside of Aventurine’s palms as he observed the dawn’s rising sun. He never was much of a coffee drinker, however when in doubt or rush, it is smart to resort to what humans have been doing for years; getting caffeinated.

Pulling Veritas onto the sailboat was something Veritas himself disregarded immediately. “Given the size of humans and your size, I genuinely doubt you’d be able to lift me or drag me to that machine.”

Veritas got back to the ocean with a risky leap.

The rope tied around his upper body scratched at his wounds, nevertheless, it proved to be a good idea by Kakavasha. Tying up the rope to the boat and around his body meant he could stay underwater and make a swim for it if necessary. Kept him hidden, safe, and somewhat free.

Despite the concerns Kakavasha posed, Veritas made sure to reassure him that he swims faster than the boat so being dragged by it wouldn’t be an issue. The speed will not hurt him. If anything it felt like a tickle he gets when he swims around with some of the slower sirens and mermaids.

The sea tasted nothing like the one of his home. The waves whispered soft lullabies to soothe the poor siren, rumbles, and utters of hushed chants of protection. Worry and pain remained his travel companions throughout the journey, much like worry and anxiety remained Aventurine’s. Did someone see something in the wreckage? Did someone see Veritas leap in and out of the sea? Were they being followed? Knowing Jade it was just a question of time. A question of how much time they have left. How much time he has left to save Veritas. To return the favor.

The water turned a turquoise color as they approached a group of small unpopulated islands. Aventurine needed land to refuel the sailboat with the barrels of fuel he brought onboard. It may also offer a breather in the hours he felt like an escapee. And get rid of his nausea.

#dr veritas ratio x aventurine #ratiorine #aventio #golden ratio #kakavasha #raturine #merman #siren!ratio x human!aventurine #hsr #honkai star rail #dr ratio #aventurine #divider cr: milklemondrop

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generalsdiary · 1 year ago

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mint tea

Zhongli x gn!reader

word count: 500~

description: domestic vibes with the geo archon

a/n: in his latest bday art the shirt he is wearing is sheer so it is canon that he has gold lines on his body and i’m just screaming over the fact

„hello, darling“ the deep warm toned voice greeted you, his hand caressing your cheek. you smiled leaning your head more into his hand.

„took your gloves off already?“ a question which was more of a statement while you looked at his forearms and the gold lines complimenting his skin.

he hums in agreement. already aware of your complaints and thoughts about how pretty they are, but he would always remind you that he preferred to keep his identity private.

his eyes close when you softly kiss his cheek, those same lines glowing softly a dim golden shade.

„who did you terrorize today, my dearest?“ you ask with a bit of amusement in your tone. he is quite a menace, especially in his old age. steering trouble and confusion amongst historians, taking money from the rich while pretending not to know much of it all the while being the inventor of mora.

„a merchant claiming they knew the original recipe of bamboo shoot soup. while the recipe did continue getting passed on for generations they altered it over time..“ he continued talking, you didn't mind. the tone of his voice is a always beautiful sound to your ears.

you reach for his hand laying small kisses on those golden lines, he smiles, humming softly stopping his story.

you look up meeting his warm gaze. „don't stop on my account, darling“

with a soft smile on his face, he quietly says, „your sweetness knows no bounds, reminding me each day why I fell in love with such a kind person as you“

he never fails to make your heart flutter, giving a bright smile to your face. like the sun shined on you and you only. it wasn't a flirty comment, more of a kind statement, he always came up with new ways, new words to which he can say he loves you.

„may I tempt you with some tea?“ you chirp.

„tea sounds wonderful“ he nods, following you to the kitchen. he stands next to you while you put the kettle on. it all feels natural, the air between you two light, welcoming, safe. his eyes are observing your movements, the sun shining through the windows throwing different shadows and light beams making it all look even more magical. he moves closer and kisses your temple, his hand caressing your jaw so you don't slip accidentally out of the kiss.

„mint?“ he asks, the refreshing scent fills the air, reminding you of your first date, the same mint. that is how you feel to him, refreshing, sweet, cooling from the loud world. he feels the same way to you; a warm embrace, a protecting feeling like mint soothes the throat when it is sore. his eyes full of love and adoration for you, and so are yours for him. the word mint doesn't mean what it meant years ago, it means you're here with me, right? and, you're not going anywhere? speaking almost like a different language, saying so much with so little.

„mint“ you answer.

#morax fluff #genshin impact #genshin impact zhongli #genshin zhongli #genshin fluff #zhongli drabble #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n #geo archon #zhongli writing #zhongli oneshot #divider cr: milklemondrop #rex lapis

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generalsdiary · 5 months ago

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Moze x Jiaoqiu

word count: 900~

description: just mozqiu being domestic (pre-2.5 events)

moze is the type of husband who always cleans, keeps everything neat, he will run (quite literally) anywhere and do any errand without complaint, nothing is too hard or difficult for him. he is v protective, „I promise I will bring him back“, nothing is stopping him from getting his husband back, he is confident in his abilities, to the point he isn't even worrying. he always attentively listens to jiaoqiu’s ramblings, his full attention on the foxian. he will eat anything jiaoqiu puts before him, no matter his preferences. uttering simple praises after the meal and never letting his husband clean up.

at night he cuddles with him, being the big spoon, holding his husband close, face buried in the orangey pink hair. like a touch starved kitten, he gravitates to him during the day, always hugging him- backhugs are his favorite. jiaoqiu always smiles, a sparkle in his eyes with each embrace. moze is often quiet, very thoughtful- usually ending up blunt in his words but not cold, never cold. the care and love for each other shown in the soft words, gentle embraces and lingering gazes. moze doesn’t do causal touches, his hands don’t wander to jiaoqiu’s soft tail, or even softer ears, or to caress him. he doesn’t want to overwhelm his husband or make him uncomfortable. yet when they stand close he bumps his nose against his. and when he is so so tired he rests his forehead on the shorter man’s. recharging, seeking comfort, love. luckily for him, his husband knows his main love language is physical touch. jiaoqiu bringing his hands to cup his cheeks, thumbs caressing the rough skin. he misses the smile that brightens the foxian’s face, his eyes shut relishing in the sensations. such a sensitive and responsive man. jiaoqiu is the only person moze allows to touch him, to drag those soft fingers across his scars, through the silver hair, to see him shirtless. he is the only one with whom he makes and keeps eye contact. moze is the type of husband that even without being close jiaoqiu can feel his touch on him. sitting across him, over a hotpot. lilac eyes on him. full of love. as if he is caressing his husband’s cheek at that moment. making jiaoqiu’s chest feel warm from the feeling of such a silent expression of admiration.

on the days jiaoqiu voices that he feels tired a quick response is given in turn “I can carry you.” a blunt, straightforward, and the same offer every time. he is more than happy to carry him + he enjoys showing off for his hubby. not caring for the public opinion or any observers; it doesn’t even cross his mind, jiaoqiu’s happiness the only thing on his mind. sadly, he is always rejected (occasionally making him pout). moze doesn’t even know why (painfully obvious why, the rare blushed jiaoqiu further confirming it). shadows are his safe haven, but jiaoqiu is his peace. they fill each other's needs, like puzzles fitting together, completely domestic in their behaviors; perfect for general feixiao’s safety and well-being. despite working together they don’t get tired of each other. work is work and their house is home.

coriander is not allowed under this roof and no big lights are ever on. when they have guests, jiaoqiu compensates with many small lamps, fairy lights, and a bunch of candles. unscented ones. otherwise, they would clash with the meal. sometimes, jiaoqiu will light a scented candle, but it won’t be lit for longer than an hour, otherwise, he would get overwhelmed due to how sensitive his nose is to smells. moze being the clean freak, and insistent on maintaining really good hygiene and not strong perfumes so he can do his job perfectly would just make jiaoqiu purr if he could. type of husband truly only for him. jiaoqiu is quite a social butterfly and he drags his husband with him, who will grumble a bit and then go along, and behave politely to the best of his capabilities. moze cannot read a room to save his life, short in his sentences and straight to the point despite pondering his words prior, they end up always coming off blunt. he means no harm and what he says is usually of little matter, and none of it holds any weight to him when all he needs is to hear his darling chuckle or gaze at him and all is well in his world. the only result he could possibly ever wish for.

and when they kiss? the lighting and shadow with fire and spice? the I talk a lot, flirtatious, rarely flustered with I listen to you with heart eyes, mainly unaffected but you make me smile. well… they keep it private. such actions feel too personal and intimate for them to be shown in public and given for anyone to see on display. they hold it too close to their hearts, it matters in a different way to them. something near and dear. they won’t be caught showing pda, not even holding hands- well they rarely hold hands either way. it is behind closed doors and in the privacy of their home that their lips meet, and hands wander, leaving soft touches in intimate places that they’d never do in public (unlike many others). it means too much to them.

#UGH THEM #BITES THEM #idk what this is i just had to write it down after watching the 2.5 livestream #moze is so autistic coded i cannot explain it but he is #the gays!!#moze x jiaoqiu #BEN BALMACEDA TRY TO VOICE A HOYO CHARACTER NOT IN A GAY RELATIONSHIP CHALLENGE FAILED #gg honestly that man has range i was so surprised and he did an insanely good job with moze #also finally felt comfy enough to write about moze now with the va change #ben is truly amazing #kaveh is always my pookie #IM SO LUCKY MOZE IS A 4 STAR PSPSP I GOT UR HUSBAND COME HOME MOZE #btw i do speak chinese amongst a shit ton of lang i speak and their pronounciation of moze is kinda strange. it should be a “ts”/ “c” sound #not a “z” sound #also for some reason i thought i was gonna write like 2 sentences so i started writing on tumblr and had to save it as a draft when I poste #it got fkn deleted cos tumblr fkn bugged out and i spent 2h breaking #down cos it was so fkn beautiful. and i couldnt possibly get the flow of it back or the exact version #hopefully i managed to rewrite it again in a way that it is readable #moqiu #mozilla firefox #hsr #honkai star rail #fluff #jiaoze #mozeqiu #divider cr: milklemondrop

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generalsdiary · 1 year ago

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Jing Yuan x gn!reader

description: cuddles with the general

the sun barely shined through the thick curtains, it was early morning and you were sound asleep until Jing Yuan shifted in his sleep. you were spooned, cuddling as you two slept, his arms around your waist pulled you closer even, getting tighter. half awake he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, his long white locks falling over your shoulder like a curtain. he sighed, signaling he was awake as he inhaled the soft scent of your neck and lay a gentle kiss near your ear. „morning“ he mumbled, his morning voice deep and groggy. you groaned softly, not a morning person, and sighed as well, you gave him a small nod instead of talking. „sleep well?“ he continued, voice low. you turned to face him, your arms wrapping around his torso and laying your head onto his chest causing him to chuckle making his chest rumble under your head. Jing Yuan's hand moved up your back caressing it and the other moved to your hair massaging your scalp. „I don't wanna get up yet“ you whispered. he smiled softly to himself, „we can stay here as long as we want.“ silence fell over you two, it seemed like you both would continue sleeping. he hugged you tighter and exhaled softly. this was your peace, your oasis. nothing could touch you or harm you here. both each other's safe space.

#hsr #honkai star rail #jing yuan #fluff #writing #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #oneshot #jing yuan x y/n #drabble #gn!reader #high cloud quintet #divider cr: milklemondrop

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generalsdiary · 11 days ago

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Sunday x gn!reader

word count: 1.3k

description: crackfic, written for shits and giggles, reader with a trailblazer mindset (and a crush on Sunday) - they're roommates

A Halovian man being your first sight in the morning isn’t something you signed up for. Against the opposite wall is another bed, his bed and he is sitting up, much like you are. His usually brushed wavy hair is now messy and his wings are ruffled, making his head look much like a bird’s nest. His eyes look sleepier than his usual tired ones and yet he still looks… beautiful. Perhaps it is his halo that framed the puffy eyes and untamed hair.

“Morning” Sunday voiced. It almost angered you. You finally got your own room except you had to share it. A frown colors your features. Maybe you’d frown less if you were waking up in his arms-

“Morning.” You decide to answer. Being that pretty when waking up should be a crime. And he should be punished for it. Yes. Punished. You nod to yourself. Sentenced to cuddle with you every night until the universe ends. Sounds good. Must talk with the judge.

Being distracted by your sneaky evil plans you get jumpscared by Sunday suddenly standing next to you in his long white pajamas and reaching out to your hair. “What are you...” he pulls a white feather out of your hair.

“I apologize, I had a restless night and it seems a feather fell your way.” Your eyes widen. His feather fell to you? Are you even allowed to touch it? Aren’t only significant others allowed to touch Halovian’s wings and therefore the feathers?

“Is it mine now?”

Sunday was slightly stunned. “Sorry, what?”

“It was on me. Is it not mine now?” your words a met with a head shake.

“No, it is still my feather. I do have to prune my wings soon…” Sunday sighs, visibly rethinking his plans.

“So no feather?”

“No feather.”

Aw shucks. If you had woken up earlier, maybe could’ve touched the feather, and felt how soft his wings might be to touch. This…crush on him is sometimes making you think you’re a stalker. You shake your head.

Sunday smiles softly at your simple disappointment, something was endearing about you. He left soon after. Claiming the first use of the bathroom.

Given the size of the room, it more often than not provided the usage of a living room to the other Nameless. Many nights are spent playing board games. In which you either made Sunday your archenemy for the night or did your best to have him as your partner in a 2v2. Either way, you enjoyed his attention.

“Pay up, angel” you smirked as Sunday’s figurine stopped on your hotel-built street. Sadly, he doesn’t take the loss sorely, as you had hoped he would. With a sour smile and nod he counts the owed money. “There you go, and I shall make sure to not step on your property again.” He smiles with that same head of the Oak family smile. It just makes you want to squish him, or punch him, or kiss him. You’re unsure. All of the above? All of the above.

Despite your empty complaints, born out of other reasons rather than disliking the man, Sunday is a good roommate. Clean, organized, always remembered where he placed something or where you left something. On the other hand, he will make you stand trial if you even touched anything of his. Moved by a millimeter- he knows. Moved a bit and returned to the exact spot- he knows. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d have assumed he had placed cameras in the room. Alas, you know better.

Standing said trial included him glaring at you with a piercing gaze and accusatory eyes. Terrifying to anyone from Penacony, exciting to you because you point your finger at him and take a few steps back, “Do not read my mind- hey, no, nope! I do not consent!”

Sunday sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I wouldn’t read your thoughts without your permission moreover I do not need to use such powers. It is obvious that you meddled with my personal items.”

“I borrowed a pen!”

“You have pens.”

“I ran out of ink.” You crossed your arms across your chest.

“Ink?”

“Yeah, ink.” Your insistence caused another heavy sigh from the not-so-tall man. Your mind couldn’t help but wander to other valleys of imagination; other versions of the same sigh. Or would he pant, gasp, mumble your name… Enough, he is staring at you- Aeons forbid he was reading your mind, your eyes widen in fear.

“Have you ever kissed anyone?” A bold question you posed to Sunday. You smirk to yourself, proud of your blunt nature.

With avoidant eyes, he answered, “No. Why?”

“Do you wanna know what it is like?” Your chance to shine has come! Aeons have shown mercy upon thee and you shall grasp this divine chance! Avoiding the ever-sleazy love confessions and complicated discussions of who likes who and how much. Yes, another victory is almost in the palm of your hand!

“I am perfectly aware of how it would feel, soft and eh- intimate. Just a moment… are you offering?” Sunday tilted his head subtly and both of his wings twitched. Given your constant observations (blatant staring) in the shadows (your room) you know that twitch means he is flustered. How cute, it makes you want to squish his little cheeks and boop his nose UGH-.

Your tummy fills with a wave of nervousness and anxiety. Aeons, they have failed you! Where did the boldness go? A warmth envelops your cheeks and you exhale, “Yes, I am offering.”

Bit of stumbling back and forth and you were kissing him, what a delight. Wait, hold on- you, YOU were kissing HIM? The Sunday? The head of the Oak family? …former head of the Oak family. Oh shit. Your buzzed out sensations all kicked back in at once; his gloved hand cupping your cheek, his nose pressed against yours, the faintest cologne that you could only smell if you stood really close to him, and of course, his lips. The soft feeling of your lips meeting in what was a prolonged peck. You can’t expect an inexperienced man to just jump in with tongue kissing now can you? Nonetheless, it felt better than anything you could have ever imagined and you did your best to suppress the small whine that threatened to escape you when he pulled away.

The softest shade of crimson colored his cheeks, “Was that okay?” Sunday shyly posed the question.

“Can we do more?” A moment of bravery! You are a lion! A mech that only Welt mister Yang himself could’ve built! Yes, Aeons have truly blessed you! Except the softness of your voice matched his and you sounded smaller than a kitchen mouse.

“You didn’t kiss me just to show me how it feels, did you?” His golden eyes scanned yours.

“No” Your heart was beating fast, preparing for the run of its life- treadmill time! Or it was your imagination which was running once more with the image of him making small noises as you two kissed…

His left wing twitched- happiness! Your earlier observations come in clutch once more! They should call you a super secret ninja spy! A ninja spy capable of finding out even the most secret of the enemy’s information!

“Then I suppose we have matters to discuss.” Sunday proposed with a small smile, his thumb slowly caressing your cheek.

Aw shucks. Just the thing you tried to avoid, albeit necessary. “Can we kiss for a bit more before that?”

Sunday warmly laughed at your question and nodded, offering a consolation prize, you have rolled an 8 for a Charisma check, he leaned in to kiss your cheek.

There will be more kisses, surely. If not you will file a complaint with the room manager (you) about your unfulfilled needs.

#felt like writing something lighthearted ngl #too often im writing in a poetic style #i need a breather with this crack fic #sunday x reader #sunday x y/n #sunday x gn reader #fluff #hsr #honkai star rail #trailblazer mindset!reader #divider cr: milklemondrop

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generalsdiary · 2 months ago

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Dr. Ratio x Aventurine masterlist

a tired gem ☾ Aventurine x Dr. Ratio (Aventurine pov, comfort oneshot)

legato ☾ Aventurine x Dr. Ratio (fluff)

A name written in water ☾ Aventurine x Dr. Ratio (Aventurine pov, poetic)

what if ratio breaks down and falls apart ☾ Dr. Ratio (angst, fluff, x Aventurine)

drabble ☾ Aventurine x reader (he leaves you for a man; Ratio)

is this enough for a love confession? ☾ Dr. Ratio x Aventurine (fluff, a sprinkle of angst)

sculpture ☾ Dr. Ratio x Aventurine (fluff)

Aventurine's nightmares ☾ (post Penacony events, x Dr Ratio, hurt/comfort, based on his message in game, angst, fluff)

there is no rain without clouds ☾ Dr. Ratio x Aventurine (rain deity x human) - complete (original drabble here)

the amethyst siren ☾ Dr. Ratio x Aventurine (siren!ratio x human!aventurine au)

Dr. Ratio w/ Kavetham parents x Aventurine ☾ (fluff, nostalgia)

Aventio & Johnlock parallels ☾ an analysis and comparison between Aventurine x Ratio and Sherlock x Watson

drabbles:

☾ hybrid cat!Ratio x Aventurine

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generalsdiary · 11 months ago

Text

I'm here.

Alhaitham x Kaveh

warnings: mentions of disassociation, blood, cursing, nudity (non-sexual)

word count: 3.4k

description: “who did this to you” trope (not the way one would probably assume), hurt/comfort (except they DIDN’T HURT EACH OTHER, they ended up hurt and therefore COMFORT each other), fluff at the end

a/n: written in a 3rd person pov w/ a focus on alhaitham and his thoughts – i preferred this approach much more than 1st person pov, much more can be said and added with the way i wrote it. there’s a switch in the middle for a few paragraphs to kaveh’s pov (still 3rd person tho) marked with green, the switch back to alhaitham’s pov (3rd person) marked with blue. not beta read we pray to nahida, can be read whether you choose to view them as a couple/friends/companions/whatever you want any way works, i enjoy the uncommon way their relationship works without the typical romantic stuff <2

he got into a fight. a group of eremites planned an attack catching him unprepared, surprised. they got quite a bit of the punches in, he managed to defend himself but was mainly outnumbered. his injuries weren’t that bad, and he had no reason to cover up any of it. his hand still moves to his grey hair, while he walks home switching the bangs to cover the bruised side of his face. frustration fills him as he can't justify to himself why he is then covering it up; the red-purpleish eye, the cut on his cheekbone. with a soft sigh Alhaitham walks into his home.

the melodic voice pierces his noise-canceling pieces, his roommate complaining immediately about something easily resolved.

„... which resulted in me actually doing the work and helping the student and they-“ Kaveh stopped in front of him, mid-sentence, his eyes focused on his face. Alhaitham feels a shiver down his spine, fear? no, why would he feel fear? he is fine.

„you were saying, and they?“ he continues, to nudge Kaveh to continue his sentence.

„what is up with your hair, Alhaitham?“ Kaveh steps closer, his eyes staring, almost like he was digging around, scanning every detail.

„can I not change my appearance?“ maintaining the same unamused tone Alhaitham provides a counterargument.

not a beat after, “it is unlike you to change anything“ and a small frown on the blond's face.

Alhaitham sighs, and gestures with his hand, “you were saying, about the student..?“. he is doing his best to hold himself up normally, to appear like he isn’t in pain, and to give Kaveh attention so he can be unbothered in his room for at least the rest of the day. he doesn’t want him to worry.

Kaveh nods and starts talking about his interaction not even paying attention to Alhaitham, his eyes moving around the room as he talks and complains until one specific glance at Alhaitham's face makes him stop.

„Alhaitham, you're hurt. you- you're bleeding“ Kaveh moves closer, Alhaitham raises a hand over his hair in an attempt to hide any sign of injury and tries to play it off as a gesture. The blond doesn't buy it, wrapping his hand around the younger's wrist and moving it away. Kaveh's eyes calm, the red matching the anger starting to bubble inside him, and it is scary, he does usually get frustrated and loud, but angry? A terrifying sight, when a kind man is angry.

Alhaitham gulps at the sight of a calm, collected... dear Archons, quiet Kaveh.

„who. who did this to you?“ his voice slightly quieter than normal, he steps closer, his hand moving the hair out of Alhaitham's face and staring at the fresh bruise. “I'll kill them. Who touched you-“ his voice shaking with rage, worry, sadness.

„Kaveh, it is nothing of matter- a few eremites, there were more of them… they caught me off guard, I'm fine.“

„are you?“ Kaveh quickly sees through the façade he put down, Kaveh’s eyes drop down to the way his arm is embracing his own side like one would do if they were punched there, or kicked.

Alhaitham opens his mouth to reassure him that he is indeed fine but Kaveh cuts him off. “don't lie to me.“

continuing to press this lie would be pointless so he just falls silent. Alhaitham pulls Kaveh into his chest with the hand that is still in Kaveh's grip. it isn't a full hug, or maybe it is. with the sort of free hand- he was using it to soothe his own pain, he brings him closer by resting it on Kaveh's back.

„I will be fine“ he mumbles, his words met with silence. Alhaitham finds himself thinking, is Kaveh crying? why the silence? no, he isn't crying, he is completely still.

„let's get you patched up-“„I'm fine- I have taken care of it-“„-and put something cold over the bruise and you should go rest“ there is a certain silence in the air beneath his words. the way his voice flows along the air and the sound evaporates like smoke. message between the lines, he knows him, why is he having trouble decoding it? perhaps the words between the lines aren’t meant for him.

the architect's hands are gentle and steady while they press the soft cotton onto his cheek, the cold towel soothing the bruised eye. his lips pursed, focused on his movements making sure to not provide Alhaitham any more pain.

Kaveh spent the remainder of the day, afternoon and evening included, taking care of Alhaitham's injuries, which weren't major, but enough to make him worry, to make him fill with questions. he did ask those questions along the way and loudly express his worries to which Alhaitham didn't make many comments or provide too many answers than what he had already given.

hence when the night came and both of them went to their respective rooms, Kaveh laid awake in his bed. the idea that Alhaitham could be attacked again, especially due to his current high-ranking position as the acting grand sage, dug around his mind. his thoughts of hopeless worry and helplessness turning into laser focus on making sure he is safe, probably in the most destructive way possible; by going out and taking care of it himself.

hyper fixated on only that, he organized what little information he had of the whole situation in his head and headed out, purposely leaving Mehrak behind.

he informed Cyno of the attack from the day by talking to some of the younger matra who were on his way, informing them of the urgency, and letting them know where he assumed their base was. without waiting for anyone or any feedback he made his way to said location. after confirming they were the ones who attacked Alhaitham... he attacked on sight.

lifting the heavy weapon like it was light as air, not caring for his muscles burning in pain, he knew how to wield it. along with using his vision, he fought quite a few of them, getting hit occasionally but much less than one may think, creating slashes, and getting covered in blood. no one dropped dead yet when the matra showed up, taking them all in and away. they thanked Kaveh for the information and while Cyno was busy scanning around the area and conversing Kaveh left. his job, his goal, finished. the price to achieve it, in the way he wanted to achieve it, was too high.

he walked slowly back home, dragging the weapon on the ground as he did. he walked for hours, his head empty, with no thoughts. Alhaitham was now safe and that was all that mattered. not feeling the pain in his body, not actually. the dryness of his throat, the bruises he sustained, the ache in his wrists. the way he looked like he had just slaughtered a boar or a sumpter beast. the way he has yet to realize the dire consequences and the toll it takes on one's mind when you do such things. when you... turn off everything except the one goal.

any hi's, hello's falling onto deaf ears, or comments on his appearance while he walked through Sumeru city. any worried, scared expressions unnoticed by his eyes. his body but a mere shell as he approaches the door of his home. unknown to him it was already past noon the following day, and quite a bit of time had passed.

the doors open, making Alhaitham look up for a second, he knows it's his roommate- but he does a double take, his eyes widening and freezing on Kaveh. Kaveh walks further in, his hands, arms - the white puffy sleeves covered in blood. the tips of his blond golden hair dyed a dark shade of red, his face splattered with drops the same shade as his eyes. his body language suggests he is uninjured, and there is a sound. like something is dragged on the ground. the large claymore weapon, which is still in Kaveh's hand comes into his sight.

Alhaitham is horrified, worried, and aware that this is a moment where he has to try his best to communicate the best he can - because Kaveh looks like... that. what could’ve possibly happened, possible outcomes run through his mind. he continues observing him, the way his eyes are focused on the floor, the fact he didn't bring Mehrak wherever he went. speechless for a few moments as he puts down the book and slowly stands up, patiently finding the right words to say. meanwhile, Kaveh gently leans the claymore onto the wall, his movements mechanical, and automatic, after which he straightens his back and notices Alhaitham. his eyes turning brighter at the sight and approaching him, behaving as if he looks completely normal.

„Alhaitham- don't worry, you're safe now, no one will hurt you ever again- they-they wouldn't, would not dare touch you“ his voice is full of emotion, shaking, showing flashes of anger, pain, relief, stumbling over his words as he approaches the taller man. he sounds almost delirious.

„Kaveh, what happened? are you okay?“ his voice calm, stern. he holds his tongue to not ask, what did you do?

„yes-,“ he waves his hand gesturing like it is nothing “of course, I'm fine“ he chuckles between his words “and nothing happened, I took care of those people that jumped you- well I-“ he stops, sighs, “the matra came quickly, you need not worry, I have not turned into a criminal on your account.“ he laughs dryly.

beat. a feeling of relief, murder sits heavy on the mind, it is good the matra came. Alhaitham nods to himself. he reaches with his hand, hovering above Kaveh's cheek, and lets it fall back. the way Kaveh didn't even react to that tells him enough, the architect is not fully here, perhaps dissociated or he was hyper focused on what he wanted to get done. he isn't facing reality, or rather he isn’t completely in reality at this moment. and if he is hurt he probably can't even feel it, can’t acknowledge it. no words Alhaitham would say right now to scold him, lecture him, or express worry would not reach him actually. he attempts to settle on other ways.

„you do realize how you look right now?“ Alhaitham can't help himself trying his normal way of talking, which fails immediately- his earlier conclusion on Kaveh's mental state at the moment proves itself accurate as the blond nods and speaks the same thing again, “you're safe, I- I took care of it“

...other ways it is. the underlying worry about him being injured still lies but at this moment, anything his roommate would say would be unreliable. “let's...“ he reaches with his hand towards his. “let's get you cleaned up“ Kaveh just shuts down, allowing Alhaitham to lead him to the bathroom, he stays silent, fully on ‘autopilot’.

with simple instructions he leads him in. “your clothes are dirty, take them off, we will wash them later.“ in his monotone voice he instructs.

a line which would be flustering at least, no matter the situation, now it provides not even a blush from the shorter man. he takes off the white blouse, which Alhaitham immediately places in a bowl filled with cold water, and does the same with the remaining clothing pieces. Kaveh sits down in an empty tub and Alhaitham gently washes the blood out of his hair, he notices from Kaveh's body language that he is slowly coming back to reality. with a cloth he gently scrubs down the blood from his arms while silently praying to lesser lord Kusanali that he doesn't have any cuts or wounds there. as if she had answered his prayers, Kaveh’s arms are only covered with the occasional light bruise.

after the only running water turns clear, with no sign of blood, he turns the water to fill the tub. allowing himself to place a hand on his forehead, his mind fills with worry and regret closing his eyes for a moment, his gaze moves to Kaveh who is staring at a dot on the wall across from him. the warm water fills the tub and Alhaitham speaks, but only in the basic words, instructive kind, keeping his thoughts still to himself, “the warm water will soothe you, you should stay inside the tub for half an hour at least.“ a nod. a positive sign in his mind, he stays sitting on the ground, observing the older man. Kaveh's eyes fall to the water, his voice comes out shaky, quiet, “A- Alhaitham?“

„I'm here“ he responds in his normal tone, he notices Kaveh's distress, his hand moving under the water, caressing the older's back. “I'm here“ he repeats himself, his tone a tad softer this time.

Kaveh turns his head to Alhaitham, his eyes filling with tears, “I-I-“

„you're in distress right now, you don't have to force yourself to speak“ to which Kaveh nods, but he is trembling slightly as if he is about to have a panic attack, Alhaitham notices that and makes a quick decision, moving to gently kiss his golden hair. “I'm here“ he whispers, offering a moment of comfort while he quickly strips himself of his clothes and goes into the tub, sitting behind him. his arms pull Kaveh into his chest, so he leans backward on him. Alhaitham whispers once more, his lips next to the older's head “I'm here.“

time seamlessly flows by, until Kaveh's breathing calms down to match Alhaitham's. the water stays warm, and Alhaitham would sit there with him as long as his senior needed, nothing else would matter. Kaveh then softly starts telling what happened, or what he believes is important at that moment.

„I'm not- I'm not a violent person, I just...“ falling quiet for a moment. “I don't mind self-defense- I just- I couldn't bear the thought of you being in danger... It had to be by my hands, not with Mehrak- and I, I probably sprained my wrist-“ his words made Alhaitham's eyes fall to his wrist, scanning it for any injury, moving to gently grasp it, hold it, ever so softly.“-and, I know why... for some... fucking reason I blame myself for not being able to keep one fucking person safe“ there's a heaviness in the way he says ‘one fucking person’, Alhaitham can sense the incomplete version of it hovering. one fucking person I care about, the most? his voice fills with anger at himself and Alhaitham already mentally prepares his words but Kaveh says the lesson he wanted to carry over, “tho it has no relation to me and I'm not guilty for it and therefore shouldn't have punished myself for it by using the claymore by hand.“

he shakes his head. “and I probably look like a wet rat now“ typically in Kaveh fashion he also adds a complaint or something rather unimportant and, if you ask Alhaitham, completely untrue. to maybe make Kaveh laugh, or even crack a smile, he plays along his line “eh, so do I, especially with the gray hair“ he dryly laughs. Kaveh turns his head to look at Alhaitham and sighs, “well that is no consolation, you look handsome as ever.“ which makes Alhaitham chuckle, his chest lightly rumbling under Kaveh's back.

Alhaitham of course doesn't allow such slander against his roommate, even if it comes from the roommate himself, grabbing his chin to make him face him once more for a moment, “and you look as beautiful as ever, as radiant as the sun.“ Alhaitham could ramble on and on about Kaveh's beauty, and how he must be a descendant of the goddess of flowers because he is so ethereal, yet his looks are what he cares about the least. thus, he sees little point in it. he has much more appreciation for his personality, intellect, habits, behavior, kindness, loyalty, etc. those things you can't buy. the moment is short and unnecessary in his opinion, yet Kaveh's eyes turn a shade brighter, appreciating the comment, but his head turns to the front and he leans his head back onto Alhaitham's collarbone.

„please, don't ever do that again- and, no, I do not care about those people, I am talking about you, do not bring yourself in such danger again, not for my sake at least, or anyone's for that matter.“ Alhaitham scolds the man in his arms.

„that means I should never bring myself in danger then, Alhaitham.“ he points out a fault in his sentence, to which Alhaitham nods, a small smile playing on his lips, which Kaveh cannot see. “I'll try my best not to then.“ Kaveh adds, earning a nod from Alhaitham.

„you also don't understand- you wouldn't do it for me“ Kaveh turns the conversation back to the middle of the topic, an underlying tone suggests he is upset.

„of course, I wouldn't, I wouldn't be so foolish.“ Alhaitham is quick to answer, to which Kaveh scoffs, “I'd get them to proper punishment from the matra, and be more careful towards my injuries, or get them to be judged in front of our archon.“

after a moment of silence, “I wouldn't do what you did.“ he says a bit quieter the following, in that moment, the warmth of the water, Kaveh's body against his, his tired mind, he can't bite his tongue to the next words “I would do much... much worse.“ his mind forces him to imagine Kaveh getting hurt, just the thought of someone daring or even thinking about hurting his comfort person, his roommate, his senior, his... everything... anger, rage flashes, his words whispered “I'd kill them.“ and in that moment, those are true words. he'd kill them in cold blood and never blink an eye for it until the rest of his life. it would be as natural and as justified to him as killing an ant in the kitchen is.

Kaveh moves his hand to Alhaitham's, which was beside Kaveh's thigh, he takes it in his own under the water and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “no one is harming me, I'm okay.“

Alhaitham nods, “I know“ he kisses Kaveh's temple, “the biggest threat to you is you, yourself“ making Kaveh laugh self-deprecatingly.

time passes, with comforting silence, and eventually, Alhaitham massages Kaveh's scalp with a mint soap bar, proving to be a soothing, simple moment for the both of them. they both dislike any sweet scents, mint being the only scented one amongst their shared products.

after the bath, the drying up, the clean clothes, pajamas, Alhaitham is escorting, that is what he told himself - in all actuality he is following, Kaveh to his room. promptly also moving into the blond's bed, nuzzling his head into the still slightly damp golden locks.

„I..“ Alhaitham begins, “I care about you too much for this to happen to us, let's“ he exhales, “let's try communicating better“ which makes Kaveh chuckle, “you suck at communicating well enough.“

„I am excellent at it“ Kaveh raises an eyebrow to that statement. “oh, are you now? well-“ he decides to not go along his usual route of this conversation, he sighs softly, pausing for a moment as he changes the trajectory of his thoughts “we have different ways of communication, and 90% of them perfectly match which is not visible or even typical with any normal people, we... for fucks sake the fact that we write notes in an ancient language would be the prime example. but in those 10%...“ he sighs, and Alhaitham continues instead of him, “we differ to the point we hurt each other.“

a silence falls over the bedroom upon which Alhaitham would've thought Kaveh fell asleep if it were not for the pattern of his breathing which gave away his state of consciousness.

in a hushed voice he says, “I care about you.. a lot. I am... I am failing to find words for the things I wish to say, except I just care.“

Kaveh turns to face him in the dark bedroom, heads next to each other to the point they can feel each other's breath. “it is painfully obvious that I also care. I guess we should show it to each other, to remind ourselves, in more... mundane ways.“

Alhaitham closes his eyes, moving closer, his arm moving to rest on Kaveh's waist, his head resting in the crook of his neck, “agreed. you can start by doing the dishes in the morning.“ the soft quiet moment sliced by a high pitched whisper which makes him chuckle, “hey! I did them just the other day- it is your turn!“

Alhaitham smiles, Kaveh grumbles a bit more and he listens. all is well.

they will be fine.

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