welcome to the land of dreams! I'm stella. let me guide you ・ﾟ⋆ ☾
she/they/18+. please note that unless I state otherwise at any point, I do not take requests. however, my ask box is open if anyone wants to talk to me! I am open to discussing any of the fics I have posted, or simply chatting about characters ♡
I write for whatever fandom I feel like at the time. current main interests: bungou stray dogs, genshin impact, hsr, wuwa
fic tag: #story unfolding
headcanon tag: #headcanon hours
asks/non-writing posts: #message from the moon
Masterlist here
Notes: feral cat reader who cannot accept affection is very important to me thanks. anyway I haven't stopped thinking about scar for a month. get him out of my head
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You grit your teeth. It's getting tiring, the way he kept doing this. No, it is stressful. The way he goes around taking people you care about or causing mass destruction to get your attention. You worry that he's going to end up killing someone before you ever get there to confront him. Someone could get hurt, and it'll be your fault, because he's only targeting them because of his obsession with you. You wish he'd just come after you directly instead of doing all this. You don't like these little games he plays.
It's a typical but no less frustrating sight to show up to fire everywhere and screaming and him waiting for you expectantly. His head tilts. “What a coincidence. I've been expecting you.”
“Don't call it a coincidence when you did this on purpose,” it comes out scathing, sharp. He only smiles pleasantly.
“Why stop doing something that brings results? You should stop giving me what I want by showing up. You're conditioning me~”
“You can't-” you look away, trying not to simmer in your own guilt. It's stupid. You know it. He'd caused chaos before you and he'd do it whether you came or not. But you still feel as if it's your fault. If you could manage to stop him then these things wouldn't keep happening, but he always seems to get away after he has his fun. “What do I have to do to make you stop, then?”
It's worth a try. Maybe there's something he wants. Something you can get for him or… you don't know. Anything.
“Stop?” he laughs, as if the very idea is absolutely hilarious to him. Some thin thread inside of you snaps. You can't do this anymore. This cycle of violence. Innocent people getting hurt. The feeling of being helpless against it all.
“This is about me, isn't it? Then come after me. You want to fight? Then I will fight you. You want to hurt someone? Hurt me. Leave out the extra steps to get my attention. You don't need to involve anyone else.”
He's silent for a long moment as he stares at you. It's unusual for him to stop talking. But there's some sort of interest. That's what you're betting on.
“Do you have any idea what you're offering?”
“I'm offering whatever you want.”
The expression that spreads across his face sends a shiver down your spine, his grin razorblade sharp conflicting with the strange infatuation in his eyes as he steps closer, heat radiating as he steps into your space. You resist the urge to step back. “You. Be mine for the night, and everyone here gets to run free! Isn't it a fair deal?”
There's all kinds of implications there that you don't like. God only knows what exactly he plans to do. Giving him free reign over you for even a night is a terrible, terrible idea. But does your safety really matter in comparison to that of others?
It doesn't.
“...Fine. It's a deal.”
“You've made an excellent choice, little lamb. Let's not waste time,” the portal opens before you are given even a single chance to second guess, a hand on your shoulder coaxing you through. “Come, come. We'll have a good time, I promise. You'll want to join me when I'm done with you~”
☆
You're so tense. You always are. It's one of the easiest things to notice about you. Though it's rather troublesome when what he needs from you is for you to trust him, let him get into your head.
“...What do you want me to do,” you ask the moment you're both through the portal, not even a moment to get your bearings. Straight to business.
"Patience, dearest," Scar murmurs, hand still wrapped around yours in a one-sided grip as he leads you through the maze of halls. "First, we must prepare. Sometimes in order to experience the best in life, you have to shed the old.”
Your silence is uneasy, terse. You're waiting for the other shoe to drop, he can tell. It's like you think he's going to do something awful! As if he would, now that he's finally gotten a chance to get his hands on you in a way that isn't a mere fight. You simply don't appreciate how much effort he goes to just to get you to look at him. You act as if he's always out to torment you for the sake of it.
Which he's not. His intentions are so clear! How haven't you realized it yet? The obliviousness is as endearing as it is frustrating. It's because you don't think of anything but the weight of the world. Stupid, overly self sacrificial little lamb. Not tonight.
He tugs you through his bedroom to the connecting bathroom. You stand in the corner watching warily as he sets the faucet on the tub running, debating which of the oils he wants to put in. What would you like? He knows so much about you but not such simple things. If only you weren't so resistant. He puts in what reminds him most of your perfume after a long moment of contemplation. Then he moved to light some candles. Too dark in here. Scar paid attention to every detail, setting the mood for the evening.
The water steams as he shuts off the stream. He turns to you expectantly, then moves to guide you over himself when you don't come over. “Well?” If you're not going to undress yourself he has no issue helping you along.
You look at him. You look at the water. You look back. Suspicious. Hmph. You think a simple bath is an attempt to drown you, is that it? What a warped imagination. He's never met someone so overly cautious. “Little lamb, it's just a bath. You've got ash on you from all that chaos earlier, hm? Get in, come on.”
You look no less defensive over it, movements stiff as you obey regardless, clothing neatly folded as it is removed before you sink into the water with the kind of hesitance that feels entirely out of place for what is supposed to be a moment of relaxation. That's all it is. He just wants to ease the tension. That's it!
He thinks that it's a good thing the tub is big enough for two, as he strips and slips in behind you.
"Little lamb, relax," Scar's voice is quiet, his hands on your shoulders, kneading them. All the while, you remain stiff, a contrast to the warmth of the water. You really think he's going to harm you, don't you? Skittish. Perhaps that's not so surprising, but.. He lets out a soft sigh. Adorable, but so difficult. “Enjoy it. I’m not the grasping hand all the time, dearest.”
“You're a violent maniac,” is all you say in response.
“And you're too tense,” He feels a bit like he's coaxing a feral cat into accepting affection. It's as endearing as it is pitiful. Do you even know how to relax, he wonders? With how much you burden yourself with things he wouldn't be surprised if the answer was no. You almost seem more distressed when he's here being gentle with you than when he tries to attack you. As if it's all a complete and utter shock to your system. “It would do you good to let go of things. You can't can't carry so much weight forever, you know.”
You let out a quiet huff, but are otherwise silent. Is the idea really so preposterous to you?
A little of the tension starts to ease from your body under his attention eventually, though. The slightest bit. But it is a step in the right direction. He's got his work cut out for him if he ever wants to get you to love him back, now doesn't he?
“This isn't a battlefield. I don't intend to hurt you tonight. Alright? I just wanted some alone time with you. You can calm down. You've got to give me a chance, dear~”
You tilt your head to look back at him balefully. “Maybe if you stopped causing me stress…”
“Poor little lamb,” he coos, hands still rubbing over your back. “Does it upset you that much?”
“Yes.”
“Alright. Then I'll break into your house next time I want to see you. Then you can't complain. Yes?” Let it not be said that he can't compromise.
“I- fine. Whatever. Just don't attack anyone. Please.”
“Please? Are we pleading now? How cute. But alright,” Scar leans down to kiss the top of your head. You tense again. “Shh, shh, let it happen~ Don't go all stiff again now.”
“What do you want.”
“I want you to be mine, of course. But I'll accept it if you stop acting like I'm going to stab you in the back every time I touch you, for now.”
“...A tall order.”
“We have all night.”
You sigh. “Try your best, then,” it's all the acquiescence you will offer to his intent. But Scar will take it.
He has you in his grasp now. It's only a matter of time before he gets your heart.
Notes: it is 7am and I have not slept <3 anyway hurt/comfort hours
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There's something about you, Kaeya thinks, that is a little too giving.
You're everywhere, doing everything, for everyone. You have built up a reputation for always being eager to help, to advise. You will solve any problem brought to you. They all know this, so you are burdened with tasks and favors and little troubles to solve. He notices the way you scurry around doing these things, the way sometimes you come back late in the afternoon only to finally do the paperwork and other tasks that you had set aside for the sake of helping around town instead. He doesn't quite know how you manage it all.
Well, that's not true. You manage it all by setting aside your own needs. He doesn't think he's ever seen you pause to take a break, to eat or drink or sleep. You do not turn away any requests and you do not ask for help.
You're as bad as Jean in this regard, it seems. Maybe worse.
But he's passed by your office at night, when it's late and you don't think you'll get caught showing the signs of exhaustion, the way you hunch over the desk, head in hands. He's seen the amount of caffeine you down just to push through everything. He's seen that haunted, desperate look in your eyes. And he knows.
Sacrifice sacrifice sacrifice. You give up everything of yourself, passing away pieces of your sanity heedless of how it may leave you nothing but an empty shell.
Kaeya does not intervene. How could he? He's seen the way you brush off any questions about yourself, the careful distance you keep between you and everyone else. You hold the secrets of those around you, yet no one truly knows you. It is something he can only see because he recognizes that sort of thing all too well - he, too, knows what it is like to keep one's guard up around others. He simply doesn't know what your reasoning for it is. He would imagine it's for the simplest reason. That you do not wish to burden others when you are too busy trying to help them. You are too kind and too desperate to please.
He would like to tell you to stop trying to fix everyone else when it seems that you need fixing yourself.
He does not tell you this.
It is all going to end in a spectacular trainwreck one day. There are many things like that in Mondstadt. Many people who may one day bring disaster. Himself included.
No, no. He does not intervene. But he does spend more time around you, watchful. Intrigued. He drags you along with him for drinks sometimes. Pokes at you at work. Makes some of your paperwork mysteriously disappear (he steals it while you're out doing a favor for one of the knights, and then does it himself).
It's two years before this routine changes at all. Two years of the steady process of trying to tug down your walls, two years of you giving and giving.
It's on one of those late nights, everyone else gone home, when he finds you.
(He remembers the one time you'd gotten drunk enough to let anything slip, the way you'd said to him that you needed to be needed because it was the only thing that made anything worth it. He had never been able to pry that much honesty out of you before or since.)
That sort of mentality could only be a terrible burden. It's obvious that it must be, now, as he finds you breaking apart all alone in your office.
Kaeya has never seen you cry. Any glimpse of an expression beyond that calm smile was few and far between, seen only by accident. This was… he had to pause for a long moment as he tried to settle on a course of action.
Your eyes catch his somewhere between panic and desperation, reflecting a delude of emotions, and the choice is made almost without thought as he finally moves forward. There's no further hesitation as he tugs you into his arms, where you really should have been sooner, he thinks, but that doesn't matter at the moment. There's a sort of tension in your frame, rigid, breathing unstable, like you don't quite know how to react to the development.
Kaeya wonders when you were last offered comfort, rather than the other way around?
Then the dam breaks again, and he hushes you soothingly as your tears soak into him, the weight of everything collapsing down upon you. His own heart aches more than he'd expected it to. In his attempts to unravel your mysteries he must've gotten more attached than he intended. Perhaps that's not a bad thing. Everyone needs someone to watch over them. He's been the only one to do that for you, so it only follows that he would be here now, holding you and your pain in his hands.
He keeps you there until your tears slow and you pull away. He lets you have a minute to collect yourself, though not too long. There are words that need to be said here, before you start trying to distance yourself again.
"Feeling better?"
A stabilizing breath. "...Yes. Thank you."
"Mhm. Of course," You're going to reject the offer, but it must be said anyway. "Maybe you dislike the idea, but you can rely on me, you know."
"...I'm not supposed to need anyone else."
And who convinced you of that, hm? Mysteries for another time.
"Says who, hm? I think my words should override everyone else's, don't you? And I'm saying you can always come to me."
You shake your head, jaw clenching as you look away from him. "I-I don't… it was a moment of weakness, I'm-"
"You're fine? Playing it off that way doesn't work so well when I just caught you crying, snowflake."
There's a long, silent pause. You can't deny that. You both know it. Kaeya does not intend to let you break yourself down for the people around you without someone to build you back up again.
Your eyes meet his. "Why do you want to help me?"
"Hmm. There's multiple answers to that... Let's just say I've been keeping an eye on you for a while, and I don't think you should push yourself as much as you do. I'm invested in your continued health, so you won't be escaping me anytime soon…~"
"I only push myself as far as I need to."
"Oh, now, we both know that's not the truth."
"...I don't want to burden you with anything."
He tilts his head consideringly. He's got you now. "It's not a burden if I offered."
"Well…" It's fairly clear that you're conflicted. That you do want his help, but you don't want to accept it even then. You're going to, in the end. He didn't spend these years coaxing you into trusting him for nothing. "...Alright. But don't feel obligated."
Kaeya smiles. Despite your hesitance, you smile back.
Maybe not everything necessarily needs to end in disaster.
your fingers run over the open thorax of something too distorted to be called human. it once was. it isn't anymore, corpse twisted beyond repair. you feel as though the very contact with the cursed flesh corrupts.
you let out a sigh. exhaustion weaves through your bones until you're heavy with it, eyes tired and half-lidded.
it isn't the first transfigured human you've seen. it won't be the last.
it means you can ignore your thoughts. it means you can fall back on precious routine, taking the scalpel between practiced fingers. it means you can start cutting without feeling your stomach churn with unprecedented unease - they were once humans. all the bodies that landed on this very dissection table once walked the streets as you did.
now, this corpse? it's a mess of mangled flesh and bones mingled together in a twisted work of art. nothing human.
"hi-"
your muscles tense, scalpel now a deadly weapon in your hand, pressed against the intruder's throat.
you take in just who stands before you, with widening eyes. there, hands raised before him in an appeasing gesture, bright smile over a stitched face, is mahito.
"so much for a heartfelt welcome! i'm almost hurt, you know?"
you glare at him, pressing the sharp little tool against his throat. he lets you.
"that's the point of having a blade at your throat."
you wonder how you can still speak in the calm tone of a veteran practician. you wonder why mahito stands before you, ashen strands of hair falling ever so graciously before mismatched eyes. how he's gotten past master tengen's barrier is beyond you. granted, he wouldn't be the first.
he leans in closer, unbothered by the scalpel at his throat, by the subtle flare of your cursed energy. he takes in your scent, nose almost brushing your cheek. you supress a shiver and tell yourself it's disgust.
"smoking is bad for your lungs, you know? you should stop."
"blame it on the idiot who gives me more work."
"aw, you're so mean."
you watch with savage satisfaction as a droplet of blood sips through the cut you left on his flesh.
it doesn't matter. not when he lowers your hand, fingers gently circling your wrist, the sharp end of the scalpel leaving his throat. not when he removes your gloves, long, slender, dangerous fingers slipping under the latex to reach your palms beneath.
you glare at him. his touch has harmed your flesh by the past, palm heavy on your heart as you writhed and gasped, cursed technique gowing overtime to keep you alive.
worse. he hurt your brother, precious, beloved yuji who you practically raised.
"it must be so hard, this position of yours."
you clench your teeth. he takes your chin between his fingers, tilting your head back, mismatched eyes boring into yours. you can't look away - that he won't let you.
his breath lingers on your lips.
"you want me, don't you?"
"yes."
he could kill you. use idle transfiguration, and you'd be nothing more than a twisted mess on your own dissection table. would shoko-san even recognise you?
the blade falls to the ground with a metallic cling.
he doesn't kill you.
he kisses you.
you let him. you let him press himself against you, deadly hands heaving through your hair. you take a step back, then another, until your back his the autopsy table and you hiss.
There's something off, about you. Not cold, exactly, just... Empty. Not a single speck of light or emotion swirling in those eyes.
Hiding feelings was one thing, but it was almost as if you lacked them entirely. Perhaps you were simply that good of an actor.
Whatever the case, it's intimidating to others. It doesn't matter how many lives you have saved or how you have never once said a bad word to anyone. That near inhuman lack of expressiveness drives everyone away. Except for one person.
He certainly makes a nuisance of himself.
Gojo makes it a habit to poke and prod at you, follow you around, be a general annoyance. All in an attempt to get you to react in an interesting way.
He doesn't have much luck, of course. Still, he's stubborn. He'll break through that shell of yours one day, he's certain of it. So he tells himself.
Arguably he's the one that ends up getting more frustrated than you, when you're the only one he can't provoke at all.
It's two years after your first meeting before he ever gets to see anything but that blank expression. The mission had been fairly simple - they'd even sent you out alone, something he'd call them out on much later. The curse could force a person into reliving their worst memories over and over. It shouldn't have been an issue for someone like *you,* right?
Wrong. By the time anyone realizes you haven't come back, by the time he makes it over to where you'd been sent -
Suddenly he wishes you really were incapable of feeling like everyone said you were behind your back. That would be better than having to see you crying, entirely shattered apart in a way he had never once expected.
It's a shocking enough sight to distract him for a moment. Not enough of a distraction to keep him from destroying the curse with an amount of force that isn't quite necessary.
You're practically inconsolable. The curse had really done a number on you. He isn't quite sure how to deal with you like this. When you're this shaken, he finds he feels shaken.
"Hey," he says carefully, "It's alright now. Let me take you back, okay? You're hurt."
"...Okay," he's never heard your voice sound so small. If this is what it's like when you're emotional, maybe it's for the best that you're usually not. He's not sure his heart could take it.
Of course, he accompanies you back to jujutsu tech, and Shoko shoos him away while she treats you, and everything is normal again.
If there's something lighter in your eyes when you look at him, something softer in the way you treat him, after that, only he needs to know why.
Geto
He's the only one who picks up on it. You're good, he'll give you that - the way you put on such a good act, smile so brightly, only to go completely blank the moment you turn away. Like a mirror that only reflects what is in front of it.
Geto reasons that he doesn't really need to understand why you are the way you are, not so long as you remain loyal to him. There are a limited number of sorcerers willing to follow his cause, after all. He cannot get hung up on your mysteries.
That doesn't stop him from being intrigued. Can he be blamed?
He keeps an unnecessarily close eye on you. If nothing else, observing you is a fun pastime. It's like his own little secret, being the only one who realizes the disconnect between the acts you put on and what you're like when you think no one is looking.
Though watching from afar gets boring. He makes excuses to spend more time around you - who's going to dare question him about it? - carefully prying at that polite mask you wear. He wonders how long it'll take to crack in front of him. He wonders if even that hollow expression is merely another layer on top of something deeper. Who knows how much there is to peel away?
You're not stupid or naive. You realize his game eventually, and when you do, it's as simple as that. When you're alone in his presence, the facade drops. There's something fascinating seeing it up close, the way your smile falls and eyes go dull. Having conversations with someone so distant is a new experience.
"People all have a specific sort of behavior they want from others," you tell him, once, "it's easier to reflect that for them. It keeps the peace."
"And what do you believe I want?"
"I'm not sure, yet."
It's a couple of months after that interaction that he catches you smiling in the middle of one of your little talks. Whatever he was saying suddenly stutters to a halt, uncharacteristically. Geto can't even recall what he might have said to provoke such a reaction, only that it's there.
The best part is that it's entirely involuntary on your part. He's seen your fake smiles enough to know the difference between that and this. It's even more obvious in the way you don't realize what has happened until he pauses just a moment too long.
As you try to figure out what to say, he beats you to it, leaning in closer conspiratorially. "I prefer this, you know. Your real smile is prettier."
And then he's walking off again. As he does so, he finds himself thinking that he quite likes being the only one to ever see all these sides of you.
Warnings: Dottore is his own warning, tbh this chapter is fairly tame
Notes: FIELD TRIP. Sorry for the wait on this part I have been severely ill yay chronic illness
( part 4 )
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He brings it up after an experiment, when you're lying on the table still covered in your own blood, not entirely paying attention to anything. You don't quite process that he's speaking, for a moment.
"...Repeat that…?"
"We'll be going on a trip."
It's enough to snap through the haze. "A trip?"
"Indeed. To Sumeru."
"I see. You're going yourself?" That would be quite a ways away. Wouldn't it be easier to simply send one of his segments? And it seems he intended to bring you, too, which is highly unusual.
"It is a matter that requires my personal attention," he tells you, fiddling with a vial on the side table. "You can assist me. Rather, I don't enjoy the idea of leaving you here for a trip that will take weeks."
Hmm. Interesting. You don't fancy the idea of being left here alone for that long, either. "You'll have no arguments from me."
"Of course not. You never argue. Now, stay still. Since we're leaving soon, we're on a tighter schedule. There's some tests I need to complete before then," he leans over you, lab light haloing him like some sort of unholy angel, and slides the needle under your skin. The world blurs.
☆
A week later, the two of you have boarded the ship with the crew and set off. It was going to be quite a while before you made it to Port Ourmos. A long stretch of time where there was little to do. Perhaps you'd get some reading in, you thought, peering out over the ocean that night. It stretched on for an eternity.
You wondered, if you fell in and let yourself sink, how would it go? Would you drown over and over deep in those depths forever, unable to surface but unable to give into the water in your lungs completely? Would the waves ice over above you, pyro entirely useless to help you as the water snuffed it out? Would you die of the hypothermia caused by these cold waters before anything else could get you?
…You didn't quite feel like testing it. But the idea of it was intriguing.
"Deep in thought, I see."
The voice over your shoulder nearly startles you into falling in then and there. You glance up at Dottore as he settles into place next to you.
"...I've never been outside of Snezhnaya."
"We'll be in quite a different environment. I hope you're prepared."
You shift away from the ship's railing. "I suppose a change of pace won't do any harm. We're too far out for me to question whether I'm prepared, regardless."
"True," his gaze lingers on the water. "Perhaps if we remain on schedule we can arrange some sightseeing."
"Pleasure on a business trip, doctor?"
He smiles, eyes glinting with mischief under the moonlight. "I'd like to study the reactions of the locals to a harbinger wandering around."
"Mm, sure you would," but you know him better than that. He's finding an excuse to spend time with you. As if he doesn't do enough of that in the lab.
It's these sorts of things that truly make you wonder what he feels about you. His patient, his companion, his assistant. You place yourself into whatever role he needs. Does he realize how deep your own feelings run? Despite his intelligence about the body, he's lacking in his ability to read the mind. But so too are you in your ability to read his.
Whatever you were, you belonged to him, so the specifics didn't really matter. But you'd still like to know, one day.
☆
The rest of the boat trip was uneventful. The interesting part was when you docked.
Sumeru is different than everything you are used to. Brighter, louder, and much, much warmer. You quickly found you had to shed your coat and long sleeves for something cooler. It was strange to feel so bare without copious layers to cover you. Ironic that the heat affected you so deeply, when you were a pyro user.
Dottore seemed entirely immune, wandering about in his usual outfit. Above it all as usual.
You don't know how the man does it.
Nothing much gets done that first day. Even Dottore takes a moment to settle in after traveling, apparently. You wouldn't know. It was the first time you'd gotten to go along with him on such a long trip, after all. Perhaps this was a learning experience for the both of you. Mainly you.
You have dinner together, check into the inn he has arranged for the night, and part ways. You lay in the bed and stare at the unfamiliar ceiling above you for a long, long while.
Then it's back to work again. You're not sure of the details of everything he's up to here, though you piece together enough through the files you organize for him and the experiments you oversee. He has some meetings with people that you're not allowed to attend. Some sort of authority figures. Perhaps the sages are like the harbingers of this nation? What matters is that you're there for a couple of weeks before the harder parts of the little operation come into play. Namely—
"It's been a while."
"Damn. He brought you with him, did he? I shouldn't be surprised," the man who betrayed the Fatui a year ago shakes his head.
"He brings me everywhere. Though I didn't expect you to be here, either."
"He didn't tell you anything?"
"No."
Scaramouche scoffed. "You'd think he'd just love explaining his crazy experiments to the only person who tolerates him enough to listen," which wasn't wrong, you think. Usually he did… "...I'm going to become what I was meant to be."
There's an edge to his voice that you can't quite pin down. Some sort of longing that you yourself have never once felt. You think that where there's something empty inside you, there's something ravenous is him. Something that he is desperately trying to grasp. The gnosis….? He already stole that.
You let the pieces fall into place as you look at him. So that's it. No wonder Dottore hadn't mentioned what he was doing. It was certainly something to be secretive over.
"A god?"
"Exactly."
What did Dottore think he was doing with this whole project, hm? He'd be lucky if the wrath of the gods wasn't brought upon him. Ah, but he loved taking risks. Always had. This wasn't all that different from usual.
You supposed it was even that rarely expressed reckless side of him that drew you in. You think he would sacrifice anything in the name of science. It was a strange sort of devotion, that reach for knowledge and power. To create and destroy.
It was good, then, that you were unable to be wiped out by the tides of his obsession.
"Don't you hate him?" You ask, finally. "I wouldn't think you would let him drag you into something so risky."
A laugh fell from his lips. "I hate everyone. He's nothing special. If I have to work with him to claim what should always have been mine, so be it. Necessary sacrifices."
You hum. You consider all you know and all his words imply, and decide perhaps it's best not to tell him that none of this will return what is lost to him.
Dottore's two favorite experiments stand and gaze up at the behemoth of a machine, and wonder what fate has befallen them.
cw: hybrids, specifically panther!getou, biting, a smidge of predator/prey with a chase dynamic, smidge of blood. jarring tense changes bc im too lazy to figure it out and it's just a drabble
suguru is large; all broad shoulders and a wide rib cage, tall and strong. he acts languid but you can tell, even when he’s still, how incredible the muscle beneath his skin is. more than that, he's beautiful. inky dark hair and ears to match, silky to the touch beneath your hands.
which he nudges his cheek into often, your palm, your knuckles. sometimes, he does in a way that makes you push up against his lip, just so you can feel the blunt side of one large fang, perhaps his gum. you can't tell if it's a affection or–
you were terrified of him
you are terrified of him.
he's never harmed you, technically. around you, he is lazy, relaxed, and rather bothersome. he likes to keep you tight to his broad chest, no matter how much you squirm and fuss, it's easy for him to hold you to him. like a mouse in his clutches, all you can do is squeak and twist in his arms.
his purr is dark and low, rumbling like thunder.
you learn to find a strange comfort in it, a reluctant, uneasy kind. you think it'd be better if you didn't. if you were scared of all parts of him.
sometimes, he flexes big hands around your hips and thighs, kneads carefully so you barely feel the indent of his claws, like a suggestion of them. you think sometimes he wants to sink them into you. you don't know why he doesn't.
you've tried to run a few times, escape him, heart knocking around in your chest, squeezing itself into an unsteady rhythm. there'd been a time when the rain had been slick and heavy and you'd hoped it would disguise your scent from him, give you a far enough lead.
it hadn't.
he'd dropped down in front of you and despite how large he was, he'd been lethally silent.
your blood had gone cold.
you'd known not to run then.
no, he loves a chase and you could see it in his eyes that night, the violet flash in the dark.
but surprisingly, he'd been gentle when he'd brought you back.
which is almost worse than if he'd harmed you.
it's always worse when he's gentle, huge and careful with you, but not careful enough to let you think he isn't a predator. it is never enough to think that you shouldn't be scared of him.
the first time he sinks his teeth into you, right at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, you are pressed firmly on you belly. his chest to your back, caging you, pinning you with all that weight and strength.
you'd fussed and fought a little and you think it triggered something in him, to feel you squirm like that because suddenly the quick snap of his jaws had been on you, bearing down. blood bursting sweet as he rumbled out a growling purr, the sound of it going straight down into your marrow.
both threatening and affectionate. both vicious and content.
you'd keened in pain but–he'd stilled you. felt the way he loomed and sheltered you, felt the lines of his body to yours, felt that he'd been–
you'd tried to move, get out from under him, but his jaws had tightened. and this time you bleated in pain, short and sharp and high.
he'd forced himself to unhinge his jaws.
you'd tried to move again and he'd growled, "don't move. or i'll do it again."
but it wasn't a threat. it was a warning; he couldn't control it.
you'd sniffled and he'd cooed, "stay still. just stay still."
you hadn't moved except for the frantic rise and fall of your chest.
he'd ducked his head down again and you'd winced, but he was gentler now, sweeter. nudging into your temple, setting his tongue to the bloody bite mark and cleaning it. tender, almost.
and you, despite everything inside of you, had stayed still.
and you, despite everything, would always stay beside him.
Different anon but I was wondering, is there any reason in specific you don't take requests? You don't gotta answer if you don't want ofc!!
hfkfjdhs I get burnt out and stressed when I focus too much on writing for other people so I prefer to just write whatever I want !! To be honest I only made this blog because I used to keep my reader insert stuff in my drafts and it felt like a waste to write and never post it
Hi, can you do a Cyno x reader where we get kidnapped and tortured by the akademiya? Probably takes place during Sumeru Archon quest if that isn't to much to ask?
◇ tags ◇ mostly fluff, slightly suggestive on some, petnames (dear, little one - zhongli | bunny, babe - childe | puppy - ayato)
◇ a/n ◇ is this an excuse for me to imagine getting into a position to worship zhongli? yes. yes it is-
𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡
zhongli, ever the gentleman, frowns at seeing you sit on the hard cold flooring and caresses your cheek gently, his other hand settling on your shoulder.
“that must be uncomfortable, dear. come rest on-”
he blinks, brows furrowing when you tell him that you want to stay down there by his feet. the protests die in his throat at the reverent gaze you give him, and something stirs in his chest. a nostalgic feeling that takes him millennia back; to the olden times when he was a feared deity of a more… disagreeable temperament.
“…. very well. but at least sit on a cushion, please,” a flutter of his long eyelashes, and for a moment you catch the shadow of his former self behind his amber eyes, “if you are so intent to worship me, who am i to refuse, little one? you already do look the part of a devoted worshipper….. hm... why don’t i teach you how to do this properly.”
al haitham glances away from his book to raise his eyebrows in amusement toward you.
“what are you doing?” he asks plainly; several possibilities pop up in his sharp-witted brain, but he would rather hear your intention from your own lips rather than blindly guess what your unexpectedly unique mind has concocted this time.
you hum nonchalantly and grab the free hand that isn’t holding his book, insistently tugging on it when he doesn’t budge. with a sigh, he lets you maneuver the appendage so it rests against the top of your head. with a roll of his eyes and a slight redness to his ears, he starts to tend to your hair, blunt nails scratching against your scalp every now and then in a way that you always praise him for doing.
“you’re a strange one, [name].”
hey, they do say birds of a feather flock together, right?
tighnari gives you a look. you know. that sassy side eye and a crooked smile threatening to lift one corner of his lips?
“am i not the one who’s supposed to be given headpats and pampering?” he asks teasingly, slightly moving his feet to nudge on your sides.
your boyfriend laughs at the playful glare you give him, and he releases the pen from his fingers to give you your much-needed pats. his eyes soften at the way you lean onto his touch, and he slumps backward onto his seat, exhaustion starting to settle in after hours of working on those reports and manuals.
“ten more minutes, and then it’s my turn.”
childe blinks owlishly at first, lips parted in surprise when you just decide to do this while he was just chilling on the sofa after a long day at work. his expression quickly turns into a teasing boyish grin, however, and he opts to squish your cheeks with his fingers.
“awww, seems like someone really missed me, hmm?” he leans down to place a quick kiss on your puckered lips, “why don’t you climb onto my lap, bunny? i can give you all the attention you’ve missed~”
he frowns when you refuse, and his clear blue eyes darken when you insistently hug one of his legs, your cheek pressing onto his thigh.
“be careful there, babe. you might start something if you keep that up.”
“what…. is the meaning of this, if i may ask?” cyno asks, flustered, the cards in his hands forgotten.
just seconds ago, you had pushed away the album containing his tcg cards from his lap and replaced it with your pretty head. while he doesn’t mind the sudden change at all - he can always sort out his cards later, you always come first, of course - he’s both befuddled and unsure of what you wish for him to do when you give him those pair of puppy eyes with this unfamiliar arrangement.
he follows your gaze that is locked onto his hand, which prompts him to discard his cards on top of the album and place them on your cheek, calloused thumb slowly drawing circles as he gives you a silent questioning gaze.
when you close your eyes in bliss, he chuckles, and he moves his other hand to settle on your other cheek before leaning down to kiss you on your forehead.
“how is it that you get more and more adorable the more we spend time with each other?”
kaeya raises his eyebrows, the hand swirling the glass of wine stopping its movements completely as he feels you hug his leg and place your head on his lap. instinctively, his free hand brushes against your cheek.
mischief colors the tone of his voice as you lovingly kiss his knuckles and give him those doe eyes he adores.
“my, a free leg warmer? how kind of you.”
he laughs in response to the playful slap you delivered to his thigh.
“so, are you planning to climb onto my lap anytime soon, or?”
another slap, another laugh, and kaeya leans down to place a kiss on the crown of your head.
“i have to ask - does this leg warmer come with the service of a wine glass holder? hmm? how about a-” [lines redacted to keep this sfw]
“wha- g-get up! you shouldn’t-” xiao splutters in embarrassment, trying to grab onto your shoulders to pull you into a standing position.
his shock is quickly overwritten by utter confusion when you protest and insist on staying where you are. he ceases trying to move you from the spot, but he decides to ask, “-i… don’t understand. isn’t it uncomfortable? what are you hoping to gain from this?”
the yaksha is still at a loss even after you answer. it’s illogical, he thinks. if his attention is what he wants, why would you choose to have this discomfort when you can just sit beside him and achieve the same thing? does this position have a special meaning to mortals? he’s only seen it on the illustration of that silly romance novel written by an apparently famous mortal from inazuma that you were reading about a week ago, telling a story about a deity and his favored subject- oh.
“…. you’re so weird,” he grumbles, suddenly avoiding your eyes as redness begins to creep onto his cheeks. he is most definitely not a being worthy of worship….. but he supposes if it’s you… he can indulge, right? just for a little….
“oh dear, it seems like someone’s bored,” ayato chuckles, not even looking down from his paperwork as he repositions his legs on his plush armchair, “unfortunately, puppy, i am currently working and unable to tend to your whims.”
his smile only gets wider when he hears you whine and tug on the sleeves of his kimono. what a greedy little thing; your adorableness truly knows no bounds, he muses in amusement. but it is true that he might have been quite neglectful of your needs the past few days…
but it’s no fun to just give in that easily.
ayato gives you a glance and two short pats that are far too brief to your liking, before he returns his attention to his papers, but not before saying with a teasing edge to his tone, “stay like that for an hour while i finish my work, and i’ll give you all my attention after, alright?”
wanderer smirks and crosses his arms before leaning back on his chair, clearly amused and pleased at the sight. he attempts to move his leg away, and when you whine and chase after the limb, the puppet barks out an amused laugh, mirth dancing like electric sparks within his eyes.
“look at you, so needy and desperate for my attention,” he rolls his eyes in fake exasperation, though he doesn’t bother hiding the pleased toothy grin on his expression, “what? what do you want?”
he parries your hand away when you reach out for him, a disbelieving huff of breath escaping the ex-harbinger. the flick on your forehead is playful, and the same tone carries to his next words, like a fleeting wisp of breeze cheekily grazing your skin.
“you think you can order me around as you please? think again,” his voice lowers into a darker and softer drawl, “aren’t you already in the correct position? beg, and then, maybe i’ll consider fulfilling your request.”
Late night yandere thoughts - Kaveh, Zhongli, Yelan
☆ ☾ ☆ ──────────────────
Kaveh
I worry severely for his ability to be a proper yandere tbh
By which I mean he struggles so much with not just letting you go the moment you plead with him to. He's really too emotional for this - rather, he folds too easily, and is almost more likely to be manipulated than to manipulate you.
It's that very same quality that has the power to guilt trip you into staying, though. It almost feels more like taking pity on him rather than being kidnapped, with how clingy he gets when you tell him to stop this nonsense…
(Of course, he is not entirely oblivious to this, either. He knows what he is doing is wrong, and that he wouldn't have the heart to harm you if you tried to fight your way to freedom. However guilty he feels about playing on your emotions to get you to stay, though, isn't it for the best? You're safe with him. He will not lose another person he loves, so this is better for you both. Anyway, if you'd loved him before, can't you love him while stuck here, too?)
He'll take good care of you, he promises!! Pretend he hasn't put security measures on every exit and everything will seem normal.
Don't expect Alhaitham to help. It's too much energy to get involved in Kaveh's affairs. He'll leave you alone as long as you leave him alone.
Kaveh honey can you even afford to keep a person. Where are you getting the money to do that from.
Zhongli
Dragon. Possessive. You see where this goes.
He doesn't follow any sort of human morals. He has been above such things for centuries. Even living among them, his polite demeanor is partially an act. He would like to blend in with society, and does not feel any particular bloodlust. But he feels no remorse for being swayed into taking you.
Likely manipulated you into signing a contract that effectively placed your life into his hands. Who knows what it was… All that matters is that he has you now, and by Liyue laws, you agreed to it. No matter if you try to fight after the fact.
Will keep you chained up if he must. It will be much easier on you if you cooperate, however. Zhongli would like you to be able to move around your shared home freely. Keeping you bound to a single place is much like locking up a beautiful treasure in a box - a useless endeavor. Pretty things should be enjoyed, so do behave yourself.
Also not above training you to behave. Don't test him.
He might even let you have little outings once he knows you won't bolt from his side the moment the door opens. Wouldn't you like a romantic dinner out? <3
It's very simple with him. Be good and get spoiled, or don't, and face consequences. Either way, you will be his until the end of your life.
Yelan
Another possessive one. In a different way, though. She won't kidnap you, but she will always be watching. Best get used to the prickling of eyes on you.
That, and her sudden appearances. The unexpected way she appears behind you while you wander the local market, leaning over your shoulder to point out which produce to buy (someone was looking at you for a bit too long, and she had to make certain her claim was stated), or when she climbed in through your window late in the evening (she was overly concerned about you being targeted because of her. Better to stay the night just in case she needed to protect you. She dealt with dangerous people each day, after all).
There is that paranoia - that you may get hurt due to your connection with her. Or in some way entirely unconnected. The mere thought that you could be taken from her is enough to make her arms tighten around you, for her to spend time resecuring the house after you're sleeping, to guard over you even more.
You're kept in the dark about the trail of bodies that follows you. Anyone she deems a threat, anyone who bothers you or irritates you. Gone, just like that. You will have peace and safety, without disturbance from any criminal scum. And then you will come back to her happily without an inkling of the blood spilled for your sake.
Wife that loves you enough to kill people for you what more could you want.
He could get this done much, much more easily and quickly on his own, but there is something far more charming in the sight of your shaking hands on the gun. There's an anxious yet determined set to your frame. Fyodor does, of course, enjoy how pure and untouched you are, but it's equally as compelling to destroy that purity with his own hands. Rather, what he will make your hands do for his sake.
A lamb forced to become the slaughterer. Not that you would consider it to be forced when he had so carefully coaxed you into it.
"Now, now," he chides, hands coming up to take yours as your aim slips. "It won't do to let our target get away. Keep your aim steady and pull the trigger. It's quite simple. You can manage it."
Your pulse beats rabbit-quick under his touch. Fyodor lets the moment draw out, seconds ticking by in tension. There's the tiny, minute shift of your grip tightening. The slight, trembling breath that leaves in an exhale. Then your finger curls around the trigger-
It's a flash of light, an end tangled in red, a final bang.
And then he's taking the gun before you can drop it, startled by your own actions and the sound and the weight of it all. That thin thread of tension has snapped, as if you're a marionette whose strings have been cut.
"Good. You did very well for me," you should appreciate the praise - Fyodor is not a man who gives it out freely. That it is laced in satisfaction is irrelevant.
"Did I?" There's uncertainty in your tone, eyes blown wide as if the shock of it still has not left you. The shot had been close enough for the spatter of blood to reach the both of you. Messy. He reaches to wipe the blood off your cheek.
"Of course. We'll have to work on the shaking, but that can be for another time."
It's both promise and threat - that he will make you do this again, and that he will be there to guide you through it. Fyodor lets you cling to him as he takes you from the scene, hushes you softly, and savors in the slow loss of innocence.
