Future Kokomi Main

I’m a bit in love with everyone | 18 | writing blog: @cupidthingz

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! /Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here! <This is Part 11!>

A/N: because Taylor released midnights here’s part 11

* You’re starting to understand why people make the trek to California to enter the underworld.

* Wind brushes against your face as you sit sideways on your staff, the neverending flight of stairs stretches before you, the only thing to reassure you you’re not in an infinite loop is the occasional curve of the dark stairwell, for the first two hours you’d struggled to use the staff, flying on a broom is harder than it looks. For one there’s no one here to give you any advice so you’re learning on your own—

* ‘Circe really said "let’s give a twelve year old a broom and see what happens’.’'

* —and the other thing is that despite what an entire generation of magical/witch media might suggest, sitting on a broom is super uncomfortable. You tried straddling it, and it was fine but not comfy. Then you tried sitting sideways, which was better but still not ideal. And finally, out of all options you decided to hang from it using your arms which was a massive mistake, because you were basically doing pull ups.

* ‘I’m lucky Circe gave me this staff otherwise I’d probably pass out climbing down all these steps.’

* Even with the broom you’re sure it’s been a few hours at the very least, you glance at your watch which moves impossibly slow, by the time you count to five it only moves one second forward.

* ‘Maybe it’s the magnetic pull.’

* You fight fatigue as you forge ahead, you eyes grow heavy when the lit torches on either side of you become glittering blue crystals embedded along the walls.

* You fight to keep your eyes open, a voice in the back of your head whispering ‘what would it hurt to sleep for just a few minutes.’

* The exhaustion only wins out when a bright light comes into view. Suddenly you’re in a grassy meadow, a bright blue sky hanging overhead.

* ‘A sky underground?’

* You’re so drowsy you hardly realize the staff is lowering, not until your feet graze against the ground, catching on a dip in the earth, stumbling off of the staff, your hands grasping onto it before tumbling down to the ground.

* Your entire body hurts from the fall, and you’re gasping for air.

* ‘I’m so sleepy, maybe I could just rest my eyes for a few minutes.’

* You feel your eyes drift close, but before you do you think you see someone, a pair of kind eyes. A touch of warmth on your forehead as you slip into pleasant dreams.

* You dream of warmth, the soothing shade of yellow that makes you feel like you’re being held when you wake up.

* When you awaken you stare at a bright blue sky, fluffy white clouds dangling like balls of cotton. Your hand presses against long black strands of a fur blanket. It’s only when you sit up that you notice a familiar black tail swishing from side to side.

* “Cerberus?” A massive tongue licks your shoulder in answer, while another nose guides you to his neck.

* The Underworld looks nothing like you ever imagined, here waterfalls cascade in thedistance, lush green grass swaying in the wind, jewels glitter from almost every surface, and in the distance you can make out a small white house, it’s built in a modern style, all hard lines with little embellishment. Beside it you see a massive garden filled with any plant you could imagine.

* Mango trees, and thousands of blooming roses, Peonies, yellow tulips, and pomegranate trees decorate the area.

* And at the center of it all, is your father.

* Cerberus guides you down with his mouth, the back of your jacket pinched between his teeth, setting you down in front of your Father who looks every bit like sleeping beauty.

* He looks like he’s just sleeping, but he’s pale, even paler than usual. And the wounds across his chest and torso glisten. Closing only to re-open once more.

* You suck in your teeth, hands frantically searching into your backpack for the potion, a restlessness that only ceases when you hold the amber potion in your hands.

* ‘Circe said it can be ingested either orally or directly on the wound.’

* You first try by parting his mouth, watch the amber liquid slide down his throat with a bob of his adams apple. You wait for several long minutes, until applying the rest directly on the wound, waiting with bated breath.

* But nothing happens.

* Your father stays pale, the wounds on his body in a constant cycle of healing and re-opening, as if space and time itself was at war in his body.

* You fall to your knees at his side.

* ‘I failed.’

* The goal had been so clear to you, to cross the ocean and reach Circe’s island, to give whatever you had in exchange for a potion to cure him. In your mind, as long as you had a potion, as long as you made it in time, you could save him. So failure had never even occurred to you, especially not at this stage.

* You sit beside him, numb in shock.

* “Please don’t leave me, if you’re gone I’ll be completely alone.” You murmur.

* The tears slide down your face, your despair etched into each one, as sobs begin to wrack through your body. Your eyes shut, your hands clutched around your fathers right hand, hoping beyond hope that some miracle will happen. And that he’ll wake up like nothing ever happened.

* You feel a warm hand rest on your shoulder, finally opening your eyes.

* The spots where your tears landed sparkle with blue light, emitting short bursts of light. You watch as your father’s wounds begin to heal, transforming from large gashes to scars, then to cuts, and a scratch, until it’s completely gone. Like it was never there to begin with.

* ‘Maybe Circe’s potion just took some time? But then what was that blue light?’

* Your eyes trace to where the hand on your shoulder is, only to see Hades standing in front of you, clad in a simple greek chiton. His eyes are warm as he looks at you.

* “My child,” His words hold your attention, commanding it even. “You’re a fertility god.”

A/N: a reminder that if you want to be added to the tag list please comment on this post :)

Tag List: @holybatflapexpert @atomicsoph @fadingunknowncoffee @hopeworldsupremacy @padsfirewhisky @magical-dreamland @ladylapize @kookiedesi @kiritokunuwu @bleepmorp @flickeringlizard @luckyzipperscissorsbat @jessiegerl @bluegremlin108 @undecided-as-always @officiallydarkgeek @marsbars09 @smolfrogz @yizhoutv @alicesolengg @luxaryllis-primaryacc @time-shardz @cryinghotmess @crow-with-a-hoodie @the-nerdy-fangirl @crackedpumpkin @milothegreat @geekyandgay98 @lazydreamers @chanels-shitposts @agentsofblinks @justsomestuffiguessman

[superhero--imagines]

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! /Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! <This is Part 10!>

* You look at the scattered belongings on the beach, your fingers curling around the smooth suede wallet.

* “I have about five hundred dollars?” You hold it up, only for Circe to shake her head.

* “I have no use for mortal money.”

* “Drachma then?” You ask, holding up the sack full of gold coins, you’re slightly aware of Clarisse, Luke, and Annabeth’s gaping expressions as you pull out enough money to buy an island.

* Circe shakes her head.

* Circe had made it abundantly clear when she led you to her island that saving you had not been from the goodness of her heart, she was especially disgusted with Luke, she just didn’t want a space time disotriation ruining her view.

* She also made it clear that she would not make you a potion just because your grandfather had asked it from her.

* “What about Diamonds?” Circe’s annoyed expression is answer enough.

* ‘Geez what could she possibly want?’

* It makes sense, what use does Circe have for currency? She just spends all day on her island, she’s a sorceress to boot so she can just magic-up herself anything she wants.

* ‘Something she can’t make, something she would want…’

* Your hands clasp around the bright red cloak, thrusting it out to her.

* “This—this is Hades' cloak of invisibility.” Her eyebrow raises at that. “Not only does it hide the wearer visually, but it removes all presence, including smell.”

* This is you last ditch effort, if she doesn’t take this you don’t have anything else, not unless she’s interested in your blood or bones.

* “Here,” a deeper voice says from beside you. Luke sits beside you, pink dusting his cheeks, bare feet pressed into the sand. “These are sneakers from the god Hermes, they let you fly.”

* “This is a knife made of celestial bronze enchanted by Athena.” Annabeth says, from the other side of you setting her knife onto the sand.

* And after they shoot a few dirty looks at Clarisse, she grumbles as she sticks her spear into the hot sand.

* “Ares made this spear himself, it never misses its target.”

* You feel tears well into your eyes. Because you’ve never had friends like this before.

* Circe’s eyes dance from one object to the next, the corner of her mouth twitching.

* “I have no use for knives or spears, or—” Her face wrinkles in disgust. “---anything from Hermes.” Her eyes settle on the cloak, her expression softening. “I will take the cloak of invisibility.”

* She watches you with keen eyes as you rejoice, cutting your celebration short as she beacons you into the small chateau on the island, her lions lazing on either side.

* “Come, there is much work to be done.”

* The black stone pestle grinds the herbs against the mortar, a fine green paste beginning to form.

* ‘Is it supposed to look like this?’

* Circe looks over your shoulder, nodding approvingly.

* “Good work, you’re grinding at just the right pace.”

* Her approving expression fizzles into one of dissatisfaction as she moves onto the others.

* “You are too prideful.” Annabeth’s makes an awkward face into her mortar.

* “You are too rash.” Clarisse only bashes her pestle in even more to drive in her anger.

* “You…” Luke’s paste is perfect, almost identical to yours, he looks up at Circe with eager eyes. “Disgust me too much.” Luke’s expression immediately falls.

* ‘That’s pretty harsh.’

* “All of you have no talent, go into my garden and bring me back mint, thyme and sage.” She shoo’s them out of her home, each one grumbling as they leave.

* All things aside, Circe has a pretty nice house here on the island. It’s a little rustic, in an old fashioned Greek style, the walls are bronze and textured, the furniture is simple with uneven shapes. But it’s nice.

* At Circe’s feet a lion sleeps, watching you with a disinterested gaze as you both work in silence.

* “Is this good?” you ask, showing her your wasabi-like paste, she nods beckoning you closer.

* “You have a talent for this,” she murmurs, inspecting the paste before mixing it into a cauldron.

* ‘I didn’t think anyone used those outside of cartoons and movies.’

* “We’ll have to boil this for some time, tell me godling when is your deadline.” Her words are spoken with all the authority of a statement. You have to count backwards in your mind.

* ‘One day since we left the train, three days since we left camp before that…’

* “I have ten more days.” She sucks her teeth, eyeing the contents of the pot.

* “It will be hard, but with your help…maybe.” At her feet the lion yawns.

* You fall into a steady rhythm on Circe’s island, you wake up at twilight, stretching your limbs, before tugging Circe’s shawl over your shoulders, yawning as you make you way to the her—well it’s a little like a home office but for magic— following whatever instructions she has, more often than not ending with an approving nod from her.

* The other’s wake up later, and make breakfast, usually something simple like porridge, occasionally dark grain bread with goat cheese.

* Afterwards the others will tend to Circe’s lions, and collect herbs and whatever ingredient fo the day she’s determined, and then you all make dinner together — usually pasta since that seems to be her favorite— before turning in for bed.

* She’s started warming up to Annabeth and Clarisse, she even ruffled Annabeth’s hair the other night. But she remains cold to Luke.

* “You’re wondering why I hate the boy so much.” Your eyes lift from the bubbling pot to the woman in front of you.

* “Is it because of his Father?” You recall Dionysus saying something like that, that they had an affair or something.

* “Hermes is one of the nicer ones…” Her voice trails off. “But he’s just as bad as any god, child, make no mistake.”

* You learn about Circe in jagged non-linear tales, each one a puzzle piece to the entirety of her existence.

* On the first day you learn that Hades is the only god who’s ever been kind to her, Helios and her mother excluded.

* On the second you find out that her magic had not been inherent, it had come ot her gradually, at first through accidents, acts she didn't even realize she was committing—only that she had the will for these things to happen. Later it became art, and when the titan war was over, within a handful of years she was a prisoner on her island.

* “I’m sure my father bartered long and hard for this punishment, Zeus would have preferred it if I had been reduced to dust or maybe sealed away in some cavern—cut to pieces like Kronos.” A strange expression crosses her face, but her eyes remain tender. “Your father supported Helios, spoke on his behalf.”

* “Hades did?” You stop sifting herbs mid-motion, tilting your head. Hades didn’t strike you as the particularly sentimental type.

* “In a way, he and I are living the same life. He was pushed to the underworld in the guise of being granted a kingdom and I was banished to my island as punishment for acts that would have been praised on another man so no one would dare use me to disrupt society as we know it.”

* You say nothing else, silently working beside her.

* On the fourth day, as you boil the pot counter clockwise under the moon that appears in the day Circe asks: “Do you love that boy?”

* You raise an eyebrow looking over to where Luke’s tryin to discreetly scratch his butt.

* “No, definitely not.” She nods, sprinkling dust into the pot, watching as it changes color.

* “I was in love once, or maybe twice.” She tells you of how there was a man named Telemochus who came to her by the wind, she lived with him for a long time, changing her form so their ages would match, sighing when his soul finally stuttered out of his body.

* On the fifth night Luke sits across Circe on the beach campfire during dinner and says:

* “If you hate my dad that’s fine, because I hate him too.”

* There’s a stunned moment of silence where you, Clarisse, and Annabeth study CIrce with bated breath.

* “I doubt that would hurt him.” But the corner of her mouth twitches as she says it.

* On the sixth day, taking a page from Luke’s book you ask why she hates Hermes so much.

* “It’s not just him, I hate most of the gods on Olympus.”

* You don’t miss the way she says Olympus, specifically excluding the underworld.

* “In the early days, when everyone was too afraid to come by, only Hermes would come,” There’s a long cold look on her face. “He wasn’t as vile as Zeus’s other offspring, but anything he did was for a flicker of amusement. He would bring a civilization to ruin if it meant a hearty chuckle.”

* She turns to you, a hard look in her eyes.

* “Don’t trust a god child,” her eyes become sad. “They’ll only let you down.”

* On the seventh night, when the others are in bed and you soak hydrangea in white moonlight, Circe whispers to you of beings even more powerful than the gods.

* “The titans?” You ask, and Circe shakes her head.

* “Even older than the titans. Beings that have been here since the creation of the universe, that arrived from a rip in the space time continuum. Beings that could dethrone even Zeus with a single flick of their wrist.”

* “Then why don’t they?” You whisper, and she shrugs.

* “Power, social positions, wealth…these are the desires of children, these beings simply do not wish for it.”

* On the eighth day, while the others try to make hummus and bake pita bread, you ask her about something you’ve been wondering about since you met.

* “Circe, are you a fertility goddess?” She sputters.

* “How do you know that term?” You bite the inside of your cheek, looking down at the white powder.

* “I heard Hera and Persephone are fertility goddesses.”

* ‘And that dad is one too.’

* Circe is quite for a long moment.

* “No, I am not.” There’s a moment of silence and her amber eyes burn a hole into you. “Well, go on.” She encourages, a small teasing smile twisting on her lips.

* “What is a fertility god?”

* “A fertility god is someone that has the power of life within their body, they’re able to replenish waning life forces for any living creature, they’re also able to craft life as well using any natural element, and…” she pauses, as if remembering something painful. “And they’re able to grant someone else that power as well, if they wish.”

* You don’t say anything more.

* On the eighth night, sitting on the shore with your cauldron, and the thirtieth version of this potion, watching as the stars begin to lose their glimmer you admit:

* “You know, I wouldn’t mind staying here for the rest of my life.” And you mean it, in another life maybe you would have shown up at her doorstep with a letter of introduction begging to be a witch's apprentice.

* “Now child, do not forget all those that are waiting for you on the mainland.” Her voice is soft, a hand caressing your cheek. You hear her loud and clear.

* ‘She wishes I could stay too.’

* She presses a bottle filled with amber liquid into your hand as morning breaks over the horizon.

* “It’s the day of the deadline.” Luke says his backpack strapped onto his shoulders.

* “The three of you will travel by air.” Circe says, giving them what seems to be a three person skateboard. “Be careful to not crash into airplanes, I’ll get an earful from Dionysus if that happens again.”

* ‘She and Dionysus talk huh?’

* “What about (Y/N), they can’t travel by air.” Annabeth chimes in, a worried expression crossing her face.

* “(Y/N) will be traveling into the underworld directly.” There’s shouts of protests, but you wave them away.

* “I’m a child of the Underworld, it’s the safest place for me.” Even Clarisse has a hesitant expression, but you shake your head. “You guys go back to camp and let Dionysus know what happened, I’ll just take this to the underworld and be right there!” You wave goodbye, telling them to save you the last of the summer strawberries, before turning to Circe.

* “I thought the only way to get into the Underworld is in Los Angeles?”

* “That’s just something they say since it’s the easiest entrance. You can enter from anywhere if you tap on the ground three times and say the old name.”

* You’re about to kneel down when you’re stopped, something glints in her hand.

* “Is that?”

* Circe huffs, a rosy tinge beginning to form on her cheeks.

* “I’m not about to let my apprentice go into the underworld without their own staff.”

* It’s a simple thing, uneven like the furniture in her home, and carved from wood, a glittering orb on the end. But the second it falls into your hand it transforms, the orb fills with the inky black of space, singed with streaks of blue and white, wings sprout from either side, and branches begin to grow sprouting leaves and flowers.

* “It can be used as a witches broom as well, so you can ride it.”

* “But the air isn’t safe for me.”

* “The air up here is not safe for you,” Circe points to the cloudless blue sky. “But the air down there is your domain.”

* You don’t miss the look in her eye as she eyes your staff, her mouth creasing into a frown as she watches you tap the ground three times, whispering ‘Erobos’, and watching a chasm open in the ground, a torch lit staircase descending into the underworld.

* ‘It’s a good thing I’m not claustrophobic.’

* Your heart beats in your chest, your grip tightening around your staff as you look into the dark depths.

* “Wait!”

* A dark colored garment is in her hands, one that she passes to you.

* ‘It’s my jean jacket.’

* She’s modieifed it, lining the oversized jacket with red silk.

* ‘Is that?’

* “I hope you don’t mind, Hades has terrible taste when it comes to clothes.” She whispers, tugging the jackets over your arms. “I fashioned it into something more modern.” There’s a red blush on her face as she secures a pin on your collar that has her symbol on it.

* “The underworld is teaming with monsters, some of which won’t care whose child you are.” She pats your shoulders, looking at you like a mother about to say goodbye to her child.

* ‘She gave me the cloak back.’

* You can’t understand this god, who’s been alive for thousands of years, most of which have been spent in solitude.

* But the one thing you do understand, is that–

* ‘Circe likes me…and I like her too.’

* You wrap your arms around her, hugging her like only a child can, and you find her own arms wrapping around you, holding you like you’re made of glass.

* “Can I come to see you again sometime?”

* You’re not sure if you’re imagining the tears in her eyes because that’s what you would like to see, or if they’re really there.

* “I would…like that.” She says softly. You engrave this memory into your mind, devastated you don’t have a camera to capture it. Circe against her lush green island, on her snow white sand beach, the infinite blue ocean behind her, before taking one final breath, giving your best smile and descending into the abyss.

Tag List: @holybatflapexpert @atomicsoph @fadingunknowncoffee @hopeworldsupremacy @padsfirewhisky @magical-dreamland @ladylapize @kookiedesi @kiritokunuwu @bleepmorp @flickeringlizard @luckyzipperscissorsbat @jessiegerl @bluegremlin108 @undecided-as-always @officiallydarkgeek @marsbars09 @smolfrogz @yizhoutv @alicesolengg @luxaryllis-primaryacc @time-shardz @cryinghotmess @crow-with-a-hoodie @the-nerdy-fangirl

[bluexiao]

#why do i love you so

—alternative title: in death and dreams, i shall love you still | where they dream of you even after you’re gone | a request

CHARACTERS. Al-Haitham, Ayato, Cyno, Diluc, Ei, Kaeya, Kazuha, Shenhe, Wanderer, Xiao; gn! Reader (has mentions of a few characters such as Qiqi on Xiao’s and Diluc on Kaeya’s) 

THEMES. major character death (reader); pure angst; hurt/no comfort; bring tissues; mentions of sleepwalking (on Kazuha’s); there is only one fluff here (i think)… find whose is it…

NOTES. i promise not to hold back on this one. 

P.S. if you wanna know why xiao’s hurts the most, you’re free to guess ;))

P.P.S. i teared up a bit after writing cyno’s :))

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ꒰⚘

“Y/n… is that you?” 

XIAO feels his knees weakening and his breath staggering. It couldn’t be… you’re-

He flinches almost in an instant as you finally raise your head, yet instead of meeting your ever-joyous eyes and bright smile that can rival the sun… there you were, glaring at him as if you were throwing daggers his way, a scowl curled on your face–Xiao was far too frozen in shock to realize the dark aura emitting around your body. 

“You! It’s you!” even your voice didn’t sound like you. 

But he didn’t notice. “Y/n…?” 

“Xiao!” you screeched, and he shivers, “I called for you! Where were you?! Where were you, Xiao?!!” 

“You killed me! It was because of you!” 

Keep reading

[despairparfait]

ganyu x child!reader — Up!

Ganyu was just tending to the glaze lilies and silk flowers which grew outside the Yuehai Pavilion when she was suddenly approached by a young child. Initially not even noticing them as they crept up behind her silently, much too invested in her own thoughts. It was two gentle tugs felt at the back of her clothing that piqued her attention, prompting her to turn around in surprise, eyes landing on you stood there peering up at her.

As her initial surprise faltered, and she gained a better understanding of the situation, her eyes closed into a perfect smile. "Why hello there. Can I help you?"

As she half expected, you hadn't said anything back, and when her eyes opened once more, she found you still standing there looking up at her with wide eyes. Eyes in which she could not currently read. As the seconds continued to roll by, she began to feel a pit of unsettlement begin to form at the very back of her consciousness. She feels like she should say something else, but what? What is it that you wanted? Could it be, that you were attempting to tell her something, and she just cannot guess what it is? Or... Perhaps you have already told her what you wanted, but she was just too deep in her thoughts to hear you?

As she continued spiralling down those panicky thoughts, what finally snapped her out of them was when she noticed you move. Arms up in the air, in her direction. She froze, and now she was the one staring down at you with no explanation. You hadn't said a word.

"...Up?" She mumbled to herself as she attempted to guess what it is that you wanted. When you continued to try and reach your arms higher up at her, she bent down to pick you up. Which was indeed proven to be what you wanted from her, when she noticed how you moved your body to correct your position when it became obvious she had minimal knowledge of handling a child. Sitting on her hip comfortably.

Now Ganyu knows even less of what to do. Stood outside her work holding a small child she doesn't know, who still remains silent, staring directly at her face. Does she try and find your parents now? That's probably a good idea, right? She cannot just stand here and hold you forever. Your gaze was beginning to make her slightly flustered, the way yours was so close watching her, unblinking.

She observes as your blank expression breaks out into a sudden smile, followed by a quiet yet audible giggle, as you lift your tiny hands to grasp both of her horns. Her eyes snapped open the widest they could go at the action that she expected you to do the least.

"U-Um-!" In an instant, she became as stiff as a board. Unmoving, and unsure of how to react in this situation. As you were looking up at the two horns which you had in your hands, Ganyu watched as your smile became ever the more excited.

"Sheep. Baaa~" The sweetest little voice sang in her ear quietly. As much as she had wanted to correct you that she was not half sheep, but Qilin, she was unsure of how your childish mind would interpret that. Besides, you appeared extremely happy already at the idea that she had the horns of a sheep.

As Ganyu was once again plunged into the blackened tank of her frantic thoughts, you eventually got bored of her horns. Moving to rest the side of your head against her shoulder. When she snapped out of them once again to find you like that, she hadn't much time to acknowledge it, as her attention was forced elsewhere once a name was called worriedly from a distance.

Looking up, a woman rushing in Ganyu's direction with a face of both sheer panic and relief. Her eyes directly on you, sat in Ganyu's arms.

"Miss Ganyu!" She exclaimed, gaining your own attention. Your face flashed with recognition, and so Ganyu instantly knew that this was your mother. "Oh my gosh! T- Thank you so much for finding them! I- I looked away for a moment, and they'd run away! I- I hope they didn't cause you any trouble!"

Your mother held her arms out to take you from your temporary caregiver, and as she handed you back, Ganyu surveyed the way in which the woman held you. For future reference, maybe. Just in case she ever needed to hold a child again.

As she noticed her lack of response, still mildly in shock from the encounter, Ganyu responded with the kindest smile she could muster. "No trouble! None at all!"

"Ah, that's good then!" While your mother continued to apologize to the adeptus over and over again, her eyes made their way back to you. Sat in her arms, yet reaching out to her with a look of longing on your face.

You... liked her horns?

[hiwofumi]

       𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐭         

starring ⭒ kishibe ⭒ fem reader

tags ⭒ fluff ⭒ age gap ⭒ suggestive scenes ⭒ pet names (for kishibe: old man, dear) ⭒ size difference (reader is smaller than kishibe) ⭒ 1.7k words

note ⭒ started making the banner, had a breakdown, bon appétit 🫠 ⭒ big thank you to the dears @akicore and @blueparadis for beta reading!

𝟏 ︱ THE CONFESSION

“I like you.”

You’re seated next to him in the quiet of a meeting room when you blurt it out. He’s slouching over the wide table, tapping the surface with his fingers, a hair’s breadth of patience left. When he hears you, his fingers stop. Then he turns to you. “Why?”

He retains his lax expression. He’s noticed through your gestures—your habit of lacing your arm around his as you walk, your common act of sitting too close to him (like you are at present). Always him and no one else.

“I’m just an old man. You’re a charming young lady.” He adds.

“Give yourself some credit, old man,” you say, eyeing him casually, resting your cheek on your palm. “Sure, you’re rough around the edges, but I like that about you.”

He always thought your affection was platonic, a young devil hunter doting on her eldest senior. It didn’t necessarily help—if there was anyone who knew best what happened to the good ones, it was him.

He’s certain he won’t ask you to stop anytime soon, though.

“What do you say?” you ask.

“I say you’re crazy,” he responds.

“Is that a no?”

He deliberates as he gazes at you. “No. I like crazy.”

Intrigued by his answer, you reach for his scar, grazing it with the pads of your fingers. His thin beard scratches your palm. His fixed stare tells you he’s waiting for a motion.

The space between you recedes until your lips touch.

You know the taste of whisky and menthol cigarettes, but not when they came from his mouth. Not when he was written all over them.

They taste better like this.

When Makima walks in, you’re settled comfortably on his lap, and your lipstick smears the edges of his mouth. You both turn to her with alarm, the faces of two people caught.

“What’s this?” she smirks, then she turns to you. “I’m surprised. You never struck me as the antique type.”

𝟐 ︱ THE LIFE

When Kishibe was alone, he would come home late at night to inebriate or ​sleep his inebriation away. His apartment was empty whether he was in it or not; every space seemed cold and hollow, void of anything worthwhile. He refused to stick around for long periods of time.

Now it’s a dresser crowded with makeup products, a closet with nude-colored bras and panties, and a bathroom drain clogged with hair.

It’s also button-ups of contrasting sizes in the washer, big and small dress shoes in the genkan, and the empty side of the bed pleasantly filled.

He’s never felt warmer in his home.

“Eat your fruit, old man,” you lean over the armchair he sits in with a plate of sliced apples in your hand. You offer him a genial smile along with it.

His eyes reflect the motions of what’s on TV as he accepts the plate. “I don’t think you should keep calling me ‘old man,’”

You sit on one of the chair’s armrests. “How’s ‘baby’ sound?”

“Anything but that,” he says plainly, feeding the first piece of apple he picks up to you.

You chew loudly, uttering in between, “Master?”

“You’re not my student anymore,”

“Kishibe?”

“That’s just my name.”

“Hmm,” your tongue protrudes from your cheek. Then you tip your head toward him, “Dear?”

You see it in his pause: the slight curve of his lips, indicating you’ve hit the jackpot.

“I like that.”

𝟑 ︱ THE INTIMACY

“Oh dear,”

Your bare skin rubs against dark sheets as you shift sideways, your head throbbing, a soreness between your thighs. The air you’ve woken up to reeks of liquor and sin.

When you open your eyes, you’re greeted by the old scars on Kishibe’s broad back. He turns to face the ceiling with his eyes still closed, his gray hair sticking out at the sides. “What?” he asks groggily, another layer of gruffness to his voice; it was like that in the morning.

“Did we . . . ?”

His eyes flutter open. He looks down, raises your shared blanket to peek under it, then puts it back. “Looks like it.”

You groan and roll to the other side, facing away from him. “I can’t remember a thing,” you rub your face with your palms.

“I can remember some things,” he faces your side and shifts closer, wrapping his arm around your bare waist, pressing his front to your back. His chin rests on the crown of your head.

“Like what?” you put your hand over his as his fingers caress your stomach.

“Your pretty face,” he murmurs lowly. “Your pretty sounds.”

A breathy chuckle escapes your nose. “Was I good?”

His palm flattens on your stomach. Then it glides downward, to the middle of your thighs, leaving a streak of warmth in its wake. Your lungs feel compressed in your rib cage.

He lingers there, and your mind falls into a one-track state, absorbed in the bliss of his motions.

“So good,” he indulges in your mewls, presses himself to you further, and you squirm.

𝟒 ︱ THE FEAR

For the majority of his life, Kishibe had only seen people die, die, and die.

With you working in the same field, the thought of you joining those people inevitably crept into his mind. It’s another reason to drink, another reason to lie awake at night with a head full of troubles that drown out the sound of your light snoring.

You’re never out of his sight when you’re working together, and you’re never at peace when you’re not. Your cellphone has never received so many calls in one day.

One night, as he undresses on the edge of the bed after a day at work, you straddle his lap. You drape your arms around his shoulders, over his half-undone button-up, and regard him with a tender smile.

He shouldn’t be bothered when you’re a heavenly sight, but the thought creeps into his mind again. He could lose this smile through your line of work. He could lose this existence if you weren’t careful.

For once, he wears his heart on his sleeve. “I think you should resign.”

Your smile falls. There’s no returning from this.

He continues, “Don’t worry about supporting your family. I’ll take care of it.”

Your eyes cast down to his loose necktie. You take it between your fingers and rub the silk. You deliberate for several moments, and the longer he waits, the louder the thumping in his chest resounds.

You meet his eyes with resolve, smiling again. “No.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but you continue, “Look, I know I’m not as strong as you are. Nobody is. But I can take care of myse—”

“I know,” he interrupts. “I’m not saying you can’t. I just want you to—”

“Be safe?” you cup his cheeks, leaning closer until your noses brush. “I know, dear.”

He breathes you in. He notes the growth of your pupils before pressing a kiss to your lips. “I can’t lose ya.”

“You won’t,” you kiss him, too, and linger on his lips. “In fact, I’ll stick around for so long that you’ll get sick of me.”

His heart settles. In a wave of relief, he takes you into his arms and stands. He kneels on the bed, sets your head down on the pillow, and swallows you with his frame. “You’ll get sick of me first,”

𝟓 ︱ THE RESOLVE

“Do you wanna get married?”

Your eyes grow, then shift from the ceiling to set on him. You lie together in bed; sweat sheens his forehead, and his bare chest rises and falls rapidly, like yours. But he sounded calm when he asked, and he looks calm as you observe him.

He turns his head to you. “If I die, everything I own will be yours. I don’t have much, but I’d like you to have all of it.”

In your pensive silence, your breathing eases. You shift your body and face his side, propping your head up on one elbow. “You make it sound like you have to convince me to marry you.”

He replies with a semblance of hope, “Is that a yes?”

You hum in brief thought. “Do you have a ring?”

He pauses, then says, “Not at the moment.”

“Then no,” you switch sides curtly, facing your back to him. He saw it coming.

You meant it lightly. But the following night, as you drink with your colleagues, your several calls to him go unanswered.

Your beer glass sweats in your hand. You wonder if it has to do with your rejection, or worse: What if something’s happened?

Your anxiety branches out, multiplying thought after thought: Should I have accepted his proposal the first time? Was that his last chance to ask me? My last chance to say yes? Are his possessions ever going to be mine like he hoped?

Your colleagues watch you closely, wanting and attempting to assure you that he’s fine. But they know as well as you do that you can never tell.

Then gray hair sticks out of the curtains, a head lowered to fit into the doorframe, and the first pair of eyes he meets is yours.

You’re on the verge of tears with your phone pressed to your ear. You put it down abruptly. “Where the hell were you?”

He trudges toward you, to the end of the low table where you sit alone, and kneels at your side. “Are you drunk? Why are you crying?”

“You weren’t answering my calls,” you sob, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, looking down abashedly.

“I was getting you something,” his hand disappears under his coat. “It was hard to pick.”

He holds a small velvet box out to you and opens it, prompting a collective gasp from your colleagues. “Will you say yes this time?”

The ring matches his silver hair; its tiny stones adorning the sides of the center stone resemble the long scar on his cheek. Your glossy eyes reflect its luster, blurring with the spill of more tears. You nod at him.

Cheers rip through the silence of the room and disrupt the peace of the establishment. He slides the ring into your finger, presses a kiss to your hand, then your lips. “I’ll never leave your side.”

You sniff and smile against the brush of his thumbs under your wet eyes, the tender kiss he lays on your forehead. “I’ll take your word for it.”

network ⭒ @tokyometronetwork

[genderfluid-insomniac]

Meeting scaramouche x divine creator!reader

Meeting scaramouche x divine creator!reader

You were shaking with excitement because you were going to meet the harbingers (or some of them) by order of the cryo archon after most of teyvat had been informed of your arrival, your assistants kept scolding you because you kept running off anytime you thought you saw your destination. Both parties had agree to meet in neutral ground and half way to save the travel distance, you saw the large gazebo that had been agreed as you meet up spot and one of your guards put their arm in front of you before you could run off. “Your holiness, I know you’re excited but please we must keep you safe from harm and we don’t know if we can trust them.”

“I promise, I’ll be safe and if anything happens I have you all.” Because of your status you almost always had an archon with you for safety reasons and as of now Zhongli had decided to accompany you on your journey. A group of people came into view and your spotted the one person who you’d been waiting to meet ever since you got to Genshin Impact and bare could contain your excitement, smiling brightly.

Both groups spotted each other and turned to greet one another, you stepped forward and dipped your head in respect. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The Tsarista softly chuckled and shook her head, “The pleasure is all mine, divine creator. I apologize for any trouble the Fatui have caused for you.” Her company stepped forward beside her and got down on one knee, silently showing their respect. “Thank you. It’s great to meet you all.”

Your eyes scanned for who you thought would be here but your heart sank when you didn’t see him, ultimately sighing internally as your false hope. “Your holiness, it is quite an honor to meet you and be in your presence. My name is Tartaglia but I also go by Childe.” Smiling you struck up a conversation with the ginger and also got to meet one of the other Harbingers, La Signora.

Minutes later your attention was drawn to a latecomer and held back your euphoria, as the sixth harbinger walked gracefully over to the Tsarista before kneeling and explaining his absence. “Forgive me for being late, your highness. A few pests tried to interfere but it’s no longer an issue.” Fuck being formal. You ran over, tackling Scaramouche to the ground and hugging him tightly, shocking everyone (the cryo archon unable to hold back an amused smile).

“How dare you pull such an idiotic stunt-” His violet eyes locked with yours, recognizing the deep starry reflections of galaxies and constellations before cutting himself off quickly. “Y-your divinity?!” Not caring about how others saw you, you continued to latch onto the Inazuman and mumbled words against his chest. “Pardon?”

You looked up to see a pretty crimson blush heavily painting his cheeks and got distracted by his bare head, his hat no doubt scattered somewhere else. Running your fingers through it and muttering how it was just as soft as you thought it was which only worsened his flustered state. Attention back on the Balladeer, you smiled widely and laughed sheepishly before helping him up.

“I’ve been waiting so long to meet you, Scaramouche- oh sorry I knocked off your Jingasa.” You retrieved his hat and brushed off some of the dust that dirtied it, smoothing out the veils swaying in the wind. Heading back over and setting it on his head, moving some of his bangs out of his face. “There we go! It’s an honor to meet you, Balladeer.” Bowing your head slightly and silencing everyone around you, look around at the sudden silence and cocking your head.

Everyone was stunned about your actions, especially the Fatui members given you went straight for one of the most hated members in the whole organization and showed him so much affection. His face was blooming crimson and stuttering so much, still in shock of your actions given he was late and should be bowing to you. Finally able to snap himself out of this and drop a knee in response, holding back his usual response of snapping and insulting whoever touched him.

“It should be me that’s saying that, your grace. Thank you for fixing my hat and I apologize for my lateness.” He lifted his head and nearly broke his stoic facade when he saw the excitement swirling in your eyes, coughing into his hand and averting his gaze. “It’s not a problem, Scaramouche, I’m just glad your here!” You giggled when you saw the blush further deepen on his cheeks when he was reminded that you were here for him specifically out of your own free will.

It’s not a feeling that he’s used to. Being wanted or sought out for affection. The puppet spent centuries wandering Teyvat trying to figure himself out and cope with what humans called emotions only to get used and hurt. Sealing his true feelings away so he couldn’t ever be vulnerable or hurt again.

The rest of the gathering you were always next to Scaramouche much to the displeasure of the other harbingers (especially Childe), holding his arm in your hands or laying you head in his lap. You gave him nothing but affection and sweetness, occasionally looking at his perfect porcelain face and tracing hearts on his neck or admiring his drank eye lashes. Mumbles of how pretty he is escape your lips and while you can feel the tense environment around you you didn’t care as you were finally with the one person you came here for.

As the conversation continued and talking with the Tsaritsa about policies and what being in their nation would be like all while firmly attached to one of her top harbingers. The cryo archon couldn’t help but quietly laugh behind her hand and take in the sight of someone who’s always been very cruel be the victim of your affections.

“Then it is agreed. I look forward to welcoming you to Snezhnaya, Divine Creator. You seem very attached to the Balladeer here, would you perhaps be open to him accompanying you as you come to our homeland?” The question snapped him out of his grumbling and embarrassment, eyes widening at the suggestion that his superior gave and internally sighed when he already knew your answer. “I would be most grateful if he came with me and I’m sure i’d feel so much safer with the mighty Scaramouche by my side if something was to happen.”

The ride back was uneventful as some harbingers chose to go with you as well for security reasons just in case other people or Fatui gave you a hard time. As time passed on the boat ride your entourage embarked on to the nation of cryo the weather grew colder, waves crashing against the side of the ship and winds whipping the sails in several directions.

You were situated below deck for comfort and safety just incase a storm rolled in, laying on your plush bed and looking out the window near you. The violet haired harbinger was still with you and tense but part of him had softened. Scaramouche had us experience with gods and how they treated everyone else poorly sometimes but you seemed different, not caring about your prestige but mainly having fun and enjoying others company. Even as he tried to analyze you for deception, all he could see was a fun caring person who finally felt welcomed and at home.

Maybe he could open himself up to you.

A strong gust blew through the ship and sent a shiver through him that didn’t go unnoticed by his companion. “Scara, are you cold? How about you get under the blanket with me?” Lazily you lifted the soft fabric and glanced over to him, hoping he’d indulge you one more time. “Your grace, I’m honored you want to spend time with me but respectfully please stop coddling me.” He grits through his teeth as you sit next to him and lay your head on his shoulder admiring his eyes and just perfect everything.

You wrapped your hands around his small waist loosely, in case he felt uncomfortable and wanted to get out of your hold, “ What do you mean? I’m not coddling you. I like you. I’ve been dying to meet you since i got here but sorry I took such a long time.” You paused briefly. “Call me Y/N.”

Scaramouche figured it wouldn’t be the worst if he indulged himself and embraced his emotions, allowing the swelling love where his heart should be to influence him. He laid back and closed his eyes, guiding you head to his chest and softly smiling at the moment. “Kunikuzushi. Call me Kunikuzushi.” Smirking when the realization that the divine creator came all the way here for him and just him, maybe for once he could be proud of the divine creator snuggling deeper into his hold.

[hiraya-rawr]

Everything Feels New in Mortal Form (SAGAU)

cw: ...sfw masochism? crack....... dumb ditzy reader. im sleep deprived okay (._. )

Creator!Reader descending to Teyvat in human form, excited to experience everything there is about mortal life because what better way to be a divine ruler than to know what your own people go through?

Creator!Reader who never had a physical form before because in their heavenly realm, they existed more as a spiritual, magical whisp or something. So everything is new and exciting.

Creator!Reader who wobbles their first few steps when they landed in Windrise, unsure of how to use your legs and muscles. Venti had to catch you as you tripped and you laughed — you quickly learn how much you love the sound of laughter.

You shiver with every gust of wind, your body having never built a resistance to the cold. When Diluc notices and humbly offers you his coat, his gloved hands brushing your shoulders as he places it on, you notice how warm the pyro user is.

You clasp his hands in yours, looking up at him saying "So this is what warmth feels like! It's so comforting!" as you place his hand on your cheek. Poor Diluc, his face turns the same color as his hair. He quietly thanks whatever gifted him a pyro vision.

Clinging onto Diluc and Amber as you relish in the newfound experience of warmth. Klee also becomes your cuddle buddy, just hugging Klee as she sits on your lap, talking about dodoco! What convenient walking furnaces!

Alternatively, you also learn to enjoy the cold in hot summer days by glomping Kaeya. He chuckles and holds back on a teasing comment. You hope they'll start to treat you more as a friend eventually — after all, that was your purpose of descending.

Creator reader who genuinely loves the feeling of feeling! You want to experience everything and oh, when you discovered pain—

It was an accident, really. Zhongli was just so tall so when he stood next to your sitting form, arranging tea for you, his elbow knocked on your forehead.

He's panicking and profusely apologizing as you clutch your comically bruising head. He's offering to get you some ice, or perhaps ointment when you look up at him with sparkling eyes.

"Do that again!"

Archons, poor Zhongli, he thought of it as some heavenly punishment. Was this a test? Retribution for his unforgivable sin? Must he be forced to hurt you, his most revered being, as the price for his-

"How unique! Is this what pain feels like? It hurts very much!"

Zhongli's stuttering as he realizes how you genuinely want to experience pain. He's holding onto you before you try and lunge yourself off a staircase.

"Your holiness, please don't do this to my old heart-"

Creator Reader — now a masochist!creator!reader — discovers how pain can be caused by a number of things and now everyone's overly cautious of what you do.

Kokomi and Barbara panicking because you cut your fingers while cooking and they're trying to heal you but you're messing with the cut, talking about how much it hurts.

"Y-your holiness! If it hurts, please let us heal you already!!"

Following Xiao when he goes off to Dragonspine. You notice how he scoops a pile of freshly settled snow, chomping into it.

Your eyes glimmer with an idea, taking your hand to scoop a big pile of snow and biting into it—

"Ah! It's so cold in my stomach-"

Zhongli promptly scolds you and Xiao, he's frantic as he explains stomach aches and unhealthy diets. Xiao nods attentively while you try your best to understand, but all you can think of is how ice would taste even better mixed with syrup!

"Your holiness, are you listening?"

"Yes grandpa!"

Dear archons, please help the geo archon.

masterlist || continuation (elemental reactions)

note: if any of you have a brainrot with this concept, please don't hesitate to share because I love this dumb ditzy creator version but im too tired to think right now hahah

[hiraya-rawr]

Diluc and Dendro MC where visions are physiologically reactive—

Imagine the beginning: you introduce yourself, extending an arm to shake and he grabs it only for you to flinch away at the scorching heat.

You look at your palm as the skin withers away like scorched leaves before it heals as quickly as it was burned.

"My apologies, I didn't realize you wielded dendro." Diluc says, rushed, feeling guilty.

"A-ah it's alright! I should've been more careful. I didn't know the bartender was pyro." You reassure, waving it off.

Despite the obvious incompatibility, your friendship blossomed and you find your heart skipping beats around the pyro user (you double checked, there were no electro allogenes causing it!)

You're playing with fire. Quite literally— with the way you would lean over the counter, trying to get close, attracted to the warmth you know he radiates.

He would walk you home some nights, both your hands swinging in between, so so close to touching but you don't. It would scorch you and Diluc is all too aware of that, so he pulls back from swinging, hides his hand in his pockets.

Then the fire resistant gloves arrived, made with only the best quality to 100% ensure that even a petal could survive in his palm.

He tells you this casually—

"Ah, I've had gloves made. They're customed to make it easier to deal with the dendro or cryo customers."

He doesn't say that it's because he wants to hold your hand, or cup the soft of your cheek. Instead, he throws the bait, waiting for you to get an experimental idea and—

"That's amazing, Master Diluc! Would you care to test it with me?"

—caught.

He extends his hand over the counter, watching you as you place your own over his palm. He's as warm as you expected, even with the glove on there's nothing quite like his pyro reacting to your dendro.

You grip his palm into a handshake, this was only the beginning.

bonus : diluc getting a pyro resistant coat and throwing it over u, turning u into a blanket monster, then he just hugs u. big glomp. just full of longing.

[primojade]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐀 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 | three times the wanderer tried balancing the books, and the one time he accepted something, free of charge.

𝐂𝐖 / 𝐓𝐖 | gn!reader x wanderer; reader is some sort of healer; tooth-rotting fluff; non-graphic depiction of injuries; slight suggestive at the end; let me know if I missed anything!

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 | This was actually inspired by Nahida's small dialogue in the Interlude Archon Quest where she told Wanderer that not all relationships are about "balancing the books". It gives a lot of insight about the Wanderer's character and possible development in the future so here we are HAHAHA.

Also, this monstrosity of a fic had reached 3k words 💀 I hope you enjoyed! Lmao.

masterlist

1.

Your first meeting with the elusive Wanderer isn't exactly one to be called pleasantly memorable. Though it was one that you would remember for the rest of your 'pitiful mortal' life—as he mockingly tried to put it numerous times.

One bright morning that you expect to go as mundane as any other day, you were met with an injured man near your doorsteps. He was unlike any other you have met before, as beautiful as a porcelain doll, he has the presence that commands both respect and intimidation, though his crude remarks leaves something to be desired.

Wanderer, as he strictly called himself as, irritatedly told you that he had no need for your help patching him up. All he need was a proper rest for a few hours, a quiet place away where your rants and lectures won't reach his ears, so his stupid injuries will heal itself. You have to fight tooth and nail (read: stubbornly convince him to stay) just to ensure that he will not exhaust himself further and possibly make his injuries worse than they were.

"—shut up, mortal."

"Wow. Is that how you should talk to your doctor, now, Wanderer?" Sarcasm bled to your tone as you tried cornering him in the nearby wall where he situated himself away from you. Glaring at you, there was a prominent scowl on his face that you start to think of as a permanent side effect of his crude personality. 

"I have told you I don't need your help. Especially offering it for free?" He scoffed. "Such selflessness does not exist in this world. Tell me, what do you want from me?"

"Are you seriously this pessimistic?" You groaned in exasperation. "It's only natural to help others in need, you know."

"Heh, so you don't need anything in return?" There was a mocking grin on his face that started to grate on your nerves, but you forced yourself to calm it down. It's not the first time you have to deal with stubborn patients after all.

"Yes," you said earnestly, hoping that he would finally get the hint.

"Well, no. First, I don't trust you. Second, I don't believe in such a sweet tale of sickening selflessness and third, I do not want to be in your debt. It would be an eyesore if you demand absurd compensation later on."

"You…"

Archon's forbid. You could only facepalm at his haughty words as he looked like he's fully convinced to himself that you were up to no good for him.

It took you a few more hours of convincing his stubborn arse to finally, finally, let you help him. You have a feeling that he wouldn't budge no matter what, but at your wits end, you manage to bargain with him. In return for your help, you told him that he could just clear out the monster camps near your place since you have no time to do so with your busy schedule. That should be enough to not make him feel indebted to you, no?

With a little reluctance, the Wanderer agreed at last. Though his potty mouth is still grating your nerves and testing your thinning patience, he would now give you permission to help him heal his injuries faster than 'letting it heal itself'. You noticed he tends to shy away whenever your skin brushes against each other as if you had burned his flesh, or he would scoot away if he deemed you too close to his comfort.

He wasn't doing it consciously though, and it appears that he himself didn't realise he was doing it either. From your perspective, it seems that the Wanderer was agitated at the prospect of touching others. Now, you wondered silently, why is he so averse in physical touch? 

2.

When you thought you wouldn't see him again after he was completely healed, the Wanderer made his appearance once again. Repeatedly, in fact. One time, you were relaxing in your garden, enjoying the fleeting tranquility when he stormed through your abode, dropping a heavy bundle of tea set on the wooden table in front of you. 

With an arrogant cock of his head to the side, the Wanderer told you that an 'annoying acquaintance' gave it to him and since he had no need for it, he would offer them to you for he's feeling rather gracious today. In exchange, you owe him a cup of tea—with demands that it had no sugar and milk.

That same day, you found out he's not fond of sweets, especially of dango, and he very much prefers bitter foods and tea. 

The other time, you offer him a place in your home to stay for the night. It was raining down hard, and you doubt any travellers—or wanderer, in his case—who have a working brain wouldn't be stupid enough to brave it by themself. 

Though a part of you knew that he would demand to balance his debts tomorrow, even for something as small as giving him a towel to dry himself, it was rather endearing to watch him awkwardly stand by the fireplace whilst waiting for you to do anything and break the offensive silence.

"Dry your hair properly, or you might set yourself for a headache—or worse, a cold—later." You started to scold him when he made no move to dry himself with the towel you gave him earlier. He was just staring at it with obvious disdain, before rolling his eyes at you.

"Don't bother yourself with that." He sneered and tossed the towel back to you. "I don't get cold anyway."

"You stubborn little…" You sighed and before he could say anything villainous that would pissed you off that you would want to kick him out in the rain, you marched towards him and forced him to sit down on your couch.

"Hey! What do you think you were doing?!" 

"Sheesh. Just sit still until I'm done with you." 

"How dare you order me around—"

Standing behind him, you chunked the towel to his head and started to dry his surprisingly soft locks. Your hands slowly and carefully worked their way to massage his scalp, ruffling his hair to ensure that it was dry enough, before your fingers ran through the tangled tresses carefully to avoid hurting him.

The Wanderer let out an approving hum, so quiet and low that you almost missed it.

"Does it feel good?" You grinned behind him, and you saw him jostle a bit as if he snapped out from whatever reverie he found himself in.

"Hmp. Don't get too cocky on me, mortal. But I will tolerate this for now." He harrumphed arrogantly as if to cover his initial embarrassment of being caught off guard that made you laugh. "If you aren't exercising that mouth of yours over something so trivial, you have some uses after all."

"I will pretend I didn't hear you antagonising my person again and believe what you mean by that is a 'thank you'."

"Did I tell you to stop?" He ignored your complaints and motioned you to continue playing—drying—with his hair like you were some sort of servant at his beck and call. "Do it again until I tell you otherwise, and don't you worry, I will return the favour soon. I hate being in debt to you, of all people."

Just as he told you the night prior, the Wanderer returned the 'favour' to you by procuring rare flowers and herbs that you need in making medicine. You didn't know how he knew you needed such things, and when did he get the chance to get them because they were just that rare, but the satisfied quirk of his lips when you told express your surprise and gratitude was, in a sense, enough to say that, yes, the debts have been balanced once again.

Though you were no stranger to bargaining in the market, the steady continuation of your relationship with this peculiar wanderer just tends to grow a bit more stranger—and incredulous—as time passes by.

3. 

Sometimes, you would ask the Wanderer about the wonders of his travels around the world. If he's in a gracious mood, he would indulge in your curiosities in exchange for a bitter tea. With a seemingly detached nonchalance, he would tell you about the lush rainforest and the rich desert of Sumeru, the bustling streets of Liyue Harbour, and even the regaling tales of Mondstadt. 

He never talks about himself once, nor his hometown, and you never asked him about, well, him either. You have a feeling that asking that would only put him in a foul mood, or worse, he wouldn't show himself to you for months. Besides, maybe he would tell you something about himself soon, when he deemed you 'trustworthy' enough—whenever that was. You are more than willing to wait for him to open up.

Over time, you come to respect his boundaries and the fine line he drew between you and himself, one that he was reluctant to cross, and even if you silently wished that he would at least take a single act of kindness for free, without negotiating and demanding a full price in exchange, the wanderer was too stubborn and hardheaded to reason with that you decided to simply bargain these little moments with him.

You noticed that the Wanderer seemed to be in a daze lately, and judging from the noticeable black circles underneath his eyes, it also appears that he isn't resting well enough either. You didn't know what kind of job he was doing, nor did you have any heart to ask such a personal question, but knowing him for quite some time now, you knew that he's probably overworking just to reach his impossibly high standards he set for himself. 

It hurts to see him this way. 

But you didn't know what to do to make him feel better without being intrusive and nosy to his business. The least you could do now is to silently stay by his side, offering him bitter tea and a cosy place he could always return to when the world outside becomes too much for him to bear.

You just wished he would actually let you in, see some vulnerable parts of himself for you to hold and cradle at night. But that was too much to ask for such an arrogant gremlin.

"—you should be asleep, dimwit." 

You wisely ignored his insult and sat yourself next to him on the couch. "You should sleep, too, you know."

"My body is able to withstand at least a week without sleep. I could manage myself just fine." He rolled his eyes, stubbornly crossing his arms on his chest.

"Maybe you don't need them physically, but that doesn't mean you can't be exhausted mentally and emotionally, you know." You smartly replied, patting your lap. "Come. You can lay here if the bed is too uncomfortable for you."

You were only half-joking, really, didn't think too much of what you were doing but with the way he sported a complicated expression, a little hopeful, but you knew him well enough that he was thinking of a way to balance his debts once again.

"Name your price, then." The Wanderer replied, narrowing his deep purple eyes at you. 

"That's new," you raised a brow, interested. "Usually, you would already know how much lying on my lap is worth?"

"We're using your body as a place of negotiation, it's only natural that you name your own price, dimwit." The Wanderer said in a matter of fact tone.

You pretend to not heat his insults. "Your choice of wording leaves something to be desired as usual. I feel like I'm selling my body to you or something."

He snorted at your scowling expression. "Hurry up and decide already. I'm not feeling very patient today."

"Geez, you and your obnoxious demands." You sighed, before your scowl melted into a grin as you thought of an idea. "—How about giving me a hug?"

"A what now?"

"A hug! You know, like wrapping your arms around my shoulders or my waist, and I snuggle to your che—"

"I know what a hug is, you stupid human!" There was a scarlet tint on his ears that you find truly adorable as he glowers at you in confusion. "But why do you suddenly want a hug now, of all times?"

"You ask for a price," you shrugged, smiling mischievously at him. "I gave you my price. Take it or leave it."

It's not as if you were that oblivious to his buried knee-deep intentions. In fact, you knew him well enough to realise early on that you were being courted in the most clumsiest, ambiguous, and awkward of ways known to man. 

Perhaps his life-long philosophy of 'balancing the books' and transaction relationship had played a great part in this entire charade. Whereas if he gave you something, you would give him something in return. If he didn't leave you, you wouldn't leave him in return.

As much as it was endearing at first, the strange exchange system going on for who-knows-how-long now had to stop. You have to make him realise that any other relationship—whether it was friendship, familial, or being a lover—wasn't all about give and take. It will take time, but you are more than willing to wait for him.

4.

It was in the far future, where the fine line between being strangers to friends and then being more than that begins to blur. Where the lips that drank bitter teas tasted like sweet cherries and apples as it carefully clashes into your own. A pair of porcelain hands cradled your cheeks awkwardly in the face of gentle caresses reserved only for you, as if he's afraid he'll crush you like a piece of glass if he wasn't being careful enough.

The Wanderer's looming figure above you made you feel more at ease and safe rather than being afraid, as one would normally feel. But with the way his doe-like eyes stared at you with unmasked adoration made your heart flutters in your chest, twisting and constricting in his ever demanding gazes. 

Why is it much easier to deal with him when he's being a bratty little bastard than when he's being so…adorably loving?

"...Let's make a deal," the Wanderer said, reluctantly detaching himself from your lips that made you groan in frustration, much to his amusement. 

"Are you seriously asking that now?" You sulked, glaring at him. "You freaking ruined the romantic atmosphere. Ugh."

"I am being serious, dimwit." He rolled his eyes but before he could say anything more, you interjected with a grounded tone.

"I am not charging you with anything anymore, Wanderer. I already give you anything I could give for free, and I won't accept any payments if it's not yourself you were paying me."

When you thought he had more snark to say, his soft voice made you do a double take. "Even your heart?" 

You blinked, and that same heart he was asking you skipped a beat at his hopeful gaze. He was looking at you like you were the cure to his fears. The unobtainable paradise just beyond his reach, and yet, he dared to hope that this time, maybe this time, you will stay.

You felt your throat run dry, but you forced yourself to say the words, anything, that could stabilise him to yourself. "...Why are you asking for something that has been in your hands this entire time?"

"And I have no heart to give to you," there was a slight bitterness in his tone that vanished as fast as it came. "But I could offer my undisguised, honest self to you, if you are willing to have an incomplete puppet like me."

"If that was the case," you tried blinking the tears away, feeling his never ending sadness and insecurities behind the grandiose curtain of his colourful words. "I'd like to gift-wrap you with a blue ribbon and a name card with my name on it. So, deal?"

"Not the blue ribbon part, no, otherwise yes, we could reach a compromise, I guess." There was a childish wonder in his gaze, a slight twinkle of unmasked happiness in his eyes, as he dived in to claim your lips into his own once again.

And you let him. You freely let his tender caress do the talking, a year's worth of pining and hoping and dreaming condensed into a crystallised moment.

TAGLIST (let me know if you want to be added in my future works!): @samarill , @maehemthemisfit , @chocogi , @rvoulte , @luvwukong ...

[wanderersbell]

when he lets you wear his hat

wanderer x gn!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: dark humor (just in the beginning)

word count: 1168

a/n: i am a firm believer that scara loves dark humor yes i might be projecting but nobody can change my mind ( ˘ ³˘)♥ enjoy!

your unwavering patience is something you’ve always taken pride in. 

there have only been a few instances where you’ve lost your cool in the fleeting years of your life, always feeling a certain kind of superiority in situations where you can hold your own even if it would be reasonable to let go for a moment. 

but now, after weeks of nonstop backhanded comments and complaints from your traveling companion, it is through sheer willpower alone that you haven’t turned around and tried to bite his head off every time he opens his mouth. 

“you seriously can’t swim?” the wanderer asks from somewhere behind you. “didn’t you ever have fun as a kid?”

you bite the inside of your cheek and keep up your brisk pace while he snickers to himself like it truly is the funniest thing in the world. the unforgiving desert sun is hot against your back and the fine grains of sand that keep finding their way into your shoes feel like they’re rubbing your skin raw, leaving you sweaty and miserable. 

the one traveling with you doesn’t share these sentiments, hardly even taking notice to uncomfortable sensations anymore, and thus remains entirely unbothered, much to your annoyance. 

he almost seemed understanding at first, suggesting you take a dip in a nearby oasis to cool off before you overheat, but one insignificant mention of your swimming skills, or lack thereof, had turned into him making fun of you for it before you could even begin to regret bringing it up. 

the wanderer doesn’t relent even when you keep ignoring him. “surely it’s not because you’re afraid, right? what’s so scary about water?” 

“quit it.” you warn him sharply, gritting your teeth so hard your jaw begins to ache. of course, you’re already expecting him to do the opposite. 

“wait, don’t tell me.” he starts, jogging a bit to catch up to you. “nobody bothered to teach you? mom just too busy to make time for you?”

this has you freezing in your tracks, coming to a halt beside him, and before you can even process the thought going through your head-

“at least i actually had one.”

the silence that follows is deafening as you snap your head up to stare at him, his expression of shock mirroring your own. guilt starts twisting around in your stomach as soon as the words leave your mouth, but the joyous laughter that erupts out of your traveling companion the next second chases it away as he hunches over and cackles.  

“that was incredible,” he gasps out. 

you narrow your eyes at the sight but you can’t help the smile that starts tugging at your lips seeing him thrown into such a genuine fit of giggles, the sound melodic and tugging at your heartstrings. “why are you laughing?”

he lifts an arm to wipe the sweat off of his forehead as he starts to calm down, leaving you with a bundle of conflicting emotions tangled together in your chest. 

“i never thought you had it in you.” he explains, sounding almost… proud? there’s an undeniable glow of satisfaction on his face, and it’s only then that you realize, this entire time, his goal was to get you to play along. 

“looks like you really can teach an old dog new tricks,” the wanderer shrugs, his usual shit-eating smirk returning to his lips. 

“i- wha?” you sputter incredulously. “haven’t you been around for centuries? and you’re calling me old?”

he makes a noncommittal sort of hum as you two start walking again. a comfortable silence falls over you both, the man beside you finally silent after getting what he wanted out of you. however, the heat isn’t any less forgiving than it was moments prior so your pace inevitably slows until you’re forced to stop and lean down to rest your hands on your knees, each inhale of hot air offering absolutely no relief. 

when he realizes you stopped walking and turns around to send you an unimpressed look it’s quickly replaced by poorly masked concern that shows in the furrow of his brows and the tight line of his lips. it’s only then that he remembers the bottle he watched you pack earlier that morning. 

“drink,” he says as he reaches into your bag and pulls out a full flask of water. you grab it from him gratefully and can’t help the sigh you release at the coolness of the liquid from being inside of a metal container. 

the wanderer watches you wordlessly as you twist the cap back on and turn to put it back in your bag, and the second you look away the feeling of something being placed on your head as well as suddenly being enveloped in the shade catches you by surprise. when you whip around to meet his gaze he avoids yours and walks a few steps ahead, arms crossed and hat mysteriously missing. 

when it clicks, your jaw drops a fraction and you reach up to slide your fingers along the gold metal leaves, finding them hot to the touch from the scorching sun. 

the wanderer never lets you touch his hat. not even as his trusted companion. every time you’ve tried in the past, he’s quick to step out of your way or slap your hand back whenever he sees you going for it. there’s a sparkle of joy in your eyes when he peeks out of the corner of his to take in your reaction and scoffs when he sees the awe on your face. 

“come on, let’s keep moving.” he huffs, tone sounding irritated. 

unused to the weight of the wide hat balanced on your head, you catch up to him on wobbly feet, one hand still holding onto the rim so it won’t tip off. how the wanderer manages to jump around and run without it sliding everywhere is beyond you, because it feels like it could fall off at any moment. 

this does not go unnoticed to the man next to you, but you’re too busy trying to stand straight and walk without tilting too much, so you’re not prepared for the gust of wind he flicks at you that tips the hat up and off, saved from falling to the ground only by his hand that shoots out to grab it and put it back the way it was before. 

“hey!” you pout indignantly, sending him a look of annoyance. when your meet eyes meet his, his vibrant indigo irises are swimming with mirthful contentment, and a small smile rests easily on his face. it’s not an expression you get see on him that often, but like always, it causes pitiful flutters in your chest. 

your frown softens despite yourself and you avert your gaze to the horizon where the sun hangs high in the sky, feeling thankful that you can just blame the flush staining your cheeks on the heat if he points it out. 

what a truly insufferable travel companion you have. 

[abyssruler]

can’t stop thinking about scara who wakes up from his slumber much much later than he did in canon. traveler!reader, who’s looking for their siblings, aether and lumine, stumbles upon innocent!scara during your time in inazuma and he just. follows you along like a lost puppy, practically imprinting on you at first sight as he decides, yes, this is the person i will be following for the rest of my life.

you teach him about this world, showing him little tricks using multiple elements and laughing when he gets all pouty after you tell him that wielding multiple elements isn’t possible for him. you like protecting him, even though he says he doesn’t need protection, but you never fail to remind him about that one time he cried after getting burnt by a pyro slime. he gets all red in the face and shy whenever you bring it up.

he does worry, on nights when you’re asleep and the only company he has is the stars, that you’ll leave him someday in your pursuit of finding your siblings. and it’s inevitable, perhaps, but he’d like to cling on to this small slice of happiness, pressing himself closer to you and ignoring your sleepy protest about how his toes are too cold.

you won’t leave him, he’ll make sure of it. he just has to convince you, is all.

[jinkicake]

Gentle Love

Tending to him while he is injured.

Diluc, Kaeya, Scaramouche, Xiao x Reader

A/N: My sweet diluc came home (again) within 20 pulls and then scara showed up another 30 pulls later… I call that a win, this is for them! my babygirls! Also, i may be falling for soft!scaramouche oh no!

WC - 2.0K 

~~~

Keep reading

[touyyes]

the four horsemen of the apocalypse

[catchymemes]

[memeclassheroes]

[carrottoast-deactivated20230722]

unedited,

bakugou who says 'I'll do a circle around the parking spot, I'll be here when you're done' as he hands you his card and a peck on the cheek as you go pick up the food you've both ordered late at night.

you don't use his card, only nestling it into your pocket and fishing your own to swipe and pay. you've never used his card through the hundreds of times throughout the years where you run in a small business to fish out an item, his card always placed in your pockets.

it's years after once he realized this, the numbers aren't adding up and he notices that he has more money than he should. it send him into a frenzy, did he get promoted? did someone hack into his account and start randomly giving him money?

hes muttering when you sneak behind his home desk. "hi," you peak at his phone and watch as his fingers move quick to see every transaction he had concluding in 'food & drinks'. bakugou hums and rubs against your cheek, grumbling about how 'f'king weird' something is in his bank account.

"what's up?"

"did you use my card when we went to go pick up that sushi from sunday?"

your heads are facing each other now, he's got a pout on his lips and you ponder before shaking your head, "no, why?"

"huh? what'd ya pay with?"

"my card?"

and he's genuinely upset about it the entire month. having not realized that every time he's sent you to go pick up the food the two of you've ordered, you've never used his card once.

bakugou never let's you go in by yourself now, telling you to be quiet as he spends an extra 5 minutes looking for parking for you to walk in, his card in his hand and the other gripping yours.

"y're telling me that y've been paying these past years when i give you my card? to use?"

[delibunni]

Anya tackles her biggest challenge yet:

The looming threat of Yor’s cooking…!