talk, talk and talk again but you're never gonna break my spirit! ⊹ ࣪ ˖
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first class character artist shata-chan [name: shata (she/her)] at your service. Ive been in the service since i was 7 (thats 10 years of service baby!! [im17])⋆˚꩜｡
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Summary: The Captain has lost much in his long, long life, and he hates to grow attached, but there once was a time...
Warnings: spoilers for Capitano's backstory, suggestive elements, mentions of NSFW, by scrolling past this point, you have agreed to read whatever is below
Notes: time for me to crawl out of the depths to post about my fictional husband before I disappear again for the next year.
In the quiet darkness that greeted you as you opened your eyes, you swore you felt something behind you as you lay in the large bed you and your lover shared in the house you two owned. You felt warm breaths puffing against the nape of your neck, and then noticed the weight of a large arm around your middle. It was only after thinking for several long seconds in the pitch blackness that you realized it was not something, but someone- your lover.
"Thrain?" You asked hesitantly, reaching back in the darkness for him. You felt a nose, mouth, chin, jaw, cheek, forehead. You then felt a hand- calloused and rough, but oh so gentle- wrap around your wrist.
"That's my face. What are you doing awake this early?" He asked, his voice a low, tired tone that held a slight rasp. He always talked like that when he first woke up. You'd definitely woken him up just now. You were inclined to tell him you hadn't meant to wake him up alongside yourself, but then you realized that he was supposed to be on patrol.
He seemed to realize that you came to that conclusion before you could get a word in.
"Relax, I have today off." He said.
You just nodded, rolling over to face him more fully. "Good, I was almost worried you'd chosen to skip work to spend time with me. While I would say that I am flattered, my love, I'd prefer it if you stayed on task so you could get promoted to Captain of your regiment." You said.
"Captain. What a ludicrous title for me to bear." He replied, sitting up- at least you assumed he was- before he lit the lamp on the bedside table.
Sure enough, the low light from the lamp illuminated the room, and there he sat. His hair was all messy, the long, black strands slightly tangled in some places. Then again, you blamed yourself for that one, he did say not to hold back with tugging his hair last night. As you kept examining him, you saw the bite and scratch marks littering the fair skin of his chest. Perhaps you'd gone a little too far. You were hesitant to voice those thoughts to him, despite knowing he would be the last person to judge you for how you felt.
"Are you-"
"I'm fine, I've wanted last night for a while now." He replied when he saw the uncertainty marring your face. He didn't like it when you were unhappy. He preferred to see your face brightened by a smile. Or, like last night, flushed crimson as he held you in the throes of blissful pleasure. He thrived on making you, his love, feel good, whether that be with words or actions.
"I'm just glad you were able to keep up, and so eagerly at that." He added, resting his forehead against yours as your cheeks flushed that adorable shade of pink he loved seeing on you. He found you irresistible, and longed many an evening to have time to have you to himself, but the times he actually had you to himself for more than an hour most evenings were pitifully few in number. He had patrols in the evenings, ones he couldn't afford to miss for fear of losing his position and his chances of being promoted to a higher rank in Khaenri'ah's armies.
When he got this promotion, however, he was sure to have more time with you, more time to spend doing your favorite things, maybe even trying that recipe you received from that Mondstadter friend of yours who had come to visit Khaenri'ah last month. You'd mentioned wanting to try making it with him.
You leaned against his broad chest, smiling as he held you. "This one's new." You said, pointing to a scar on his chest that looked recently healed. You couldn't help but giggle when he gave you an unamused look and sighed deeply whilst he pinched the bridge of his nose.
"It is, Dainsleif decided that I ought to spar with him earlier this week. Apparently, Vederfolnir thought the same, and to cut a long story short, Dainsleif misstepped and ended up slicing across my chest with a chipped blade after knocking it against the wall by accident." He said, watching as you gently traced it with your hand.
"Always Dainsleif doing this stuff. I'm not surprised that Vederfolnir encouraged him, though. It reminds me all the more that those two are brothers." You replied, focusing on the scar.
He gently stilled your hand, guiding it with his own to rest over his heart.
"I know you worry, you know. I can see it in your eyes." He said after a few seconds of silence as his blue eyes met yours.
"How can I not? You're not immortal, Thrain. It's not as if you can't die." You said. "I just want you home safe."
"I know. When I get this promotion in rank, I promise we'll have more time together every day. I won't have to do night patrols anymore, and I'll actually be able to eat dinner with you instead of the leftovers and extra portions you make for me that are cold by the time I arrive home." He said.
His lips curled upwards in a smile when yours slowly did the same.
Summary: The Captain has lost much in his long, long life, and he hates to grow attached, but there once was a time...
Warnings: spoilers for Capitano's backstory, suggestive elements, mentions of NSFW, by scrolling past this point, you have agreed to read whatever is below
Notes: time for me to crawl out of the depths to post about my fictional husband before I disappear again for the next year.
In the quiet darkness that greeted you as you opened your eyes, you swore you felt something behind you as you lay in the large bed you and your lover shared in the house you two owned. You felt warm breaths puffing against the nape of your neck, and then noticed the weight of a large arm around your middle. It was only after thinking for several long seconds in the pitch blackness that you realized it was not something, but someone- your lover.
"Thrain?" You asked hesitantly, reaching back in the darkness for him. You felt a nose, mouth, chin, jaw, cheek, forehead. You then felt a hand- calloused and rough, but oh so gentle- wrap around your wrist.
"That's my face. What are you doing awake this early?" He asked, his voice a low, tired tone that held a slight rasp. He always talked like that when he first woke up. You'd definitely woken him up just now. You were inclined to tell him you hadn't meant to wake him up alongside yourself, but then you realized that he was supposed to be on patrol.
He seemed to realize that you came to that conclusion before you could get a word in.
"Relax, I have today off." He said.
You just nodded, rolling over to face him more fully. "Good, I was almost worried you'd chosen to skip work to spend time with me. While I would say that I am flattered, my love, I'd prefer it if you stayed on task so you could get promoted to Captain of your regiment." You said.
"Captain. What a ludicrous title for me to bear." He replied, sitting up- at least you assumed he was- before he lit the lamp on the bedside table.
Sure enough, the low light from the lamp illuminated the room, and there he sat. His hair was all messy, the long, black strands slightly tangled in some places. Then again, you blamed yourself for that one, he did say not to hold back with tugging his hair last night. As you kept examining him, you saw the bite and scratch marks littering the fair skin of his chest. Perhaps you'd gone a little too far. You were hesitant to voice those thoughts to him, despite knowing he would be the last person to judge you for how you felt.
"Are you-"
"I'm fine, I've wanted last night for a while now." He replied when he saw the uncertainty marring your face. He didn't like it when you were unhappy. He preferred to see your face brightened by a smile. Or, like last night, flushed crimson as he held you in the throes of blissful pleasure. He thrived on making you, his love, feel good, whether that be with words or actions.
"I'm just glad you were able to keep up, and so eagerly at that." He added, resting his forehead against yours as your cheeks flushed that adorable shade of pink he loved seeing on you. He found you irresistible, and longed many an evening to have time to have you to himself, but the times he actually had you to himself for more than an hour most evenings were pitifully few in number. He had patrols in the evenings, ones he couldn't afford to miss for fear of losing his position and his chances of being promoted to a higher rank in Khaenri'ah's armies.
When he got this promotion, however, he was sure to have more time with you, more time to spend doing your favorite things, maybe even trying that recipe you received from that Mondstadter friend of yours who had come to visit Khaenri'ah last month. You'd mentioned wanting to try making it with him.
You leaned against his broad chest, smiling as he held you. "This one's new." You said, pointing to a scar on his chest that looked recently healed. You couldn't help but giggle when he gave you an unamused look and sighed deeply whilst he pinched the bridge of his nose.
"It is, Dainsleif decided that I ought to spar with him earlier this week. Apparently, Vederfolnir thought the same, and to cut a long story short, Dainsleif misstepped and ended up slicing across my chest with a chipped blade after knocking it against the wall by accident." He said, watching as you gently traced it with your hand.
"Always Dainsleif doing this stuff. I'm not surprised that Vederfolnir encouraged him, though. It reminds me all the more that those two are brothers." You replied, focusing on the scar.
He gently stilled your hand, guiding it with his own to rest over his heart.
"I know you worry, you know. I can see it in your eyes." He said after a few seconds of silence as his blue eyes met yours.
"How can I not? You're not immortal, Thrain. It's not as if you can't die." You said. "I just want you home safe."
"I know. When I get this promotion in rank, I promise we'll have more time together every day. I won't have to do night patrols anymore, and I'll actually be able to eat dinner with you instead of the leftovers and extra portions you make for me that are cold by the time I arrive home." He said.
His lips curled upwards in a smile when yours slowly did the same.
but when you do? god, it makes everything around you go still.
his real laugh.
not the huffs. not the sarcastic snorts. not the amused breath through his nose.
the real one. the one that escapes before he can stop it. bright and careless and beautiful.
and this time, it bubbles out of him fast, catching on the end of his sentence like he didn’t mean to let it out. he covers his mouth too late, shoulders jolting slightly as he leans forward, eyes crinkling in a way that makes your heart do something stupid.
you’ve been around him long enough to know when he’s holding back and when he isn’t. and this? this is pure. unfiltered.
a sound you want to keep hearing for the rest of your life.
he’s still laughing when you say it, soft and stunned and entirely honest:
“you have a really pretty laugh.”
his breath catches mid-laugh.
and then it hits full force. the weight of your words, the sincerity behind them. and just like that, the laugh dissolves into something quieter, more flustered. his cheeks tint pink almost instantly.
“shut up,” he says, voice cracking halfway through the word, eyes darting everywhere but at you.
you grin. “i’m serious.”
he covers his mouth with his sleeve like it might somehow hide the way the blush is blooming across his face, delicate and pink and unavoidable.
“it’s not... i don’t... why would you say that out loud?!”
“because it’s true?” you shrug, teasing, but still a little breathless. “it’s… i dunno. it suits you. 's cute.”
he side-eyes you, expression caught between offended and embarrassed and that quiet, cracking amusement you’re addicted to. “what does that even mean?”
“i mean…” you trail off, eyes on him now. his lashes, the curve of his smile, the flush spreading across his cheeks like blooming petals.
“i mean, you’re always so... guarded... or something. like, you're very serious. or stoic." you say, grappling with the right words. "and then you laugh like that and it’s just... soft? and bright. and it makes people want to hear it again. it puts me in a better mood!”
he blinks. then quickly looks away.
“…i hate you.”
you laugh. “no you don’t.”
“i might.”
you watch him try to hide the way he’s still smiling. the way the pink deepens near his ears. you want to press your thumb against his cheek just to feel the warmth there.
he exhales, shaking his head. “you’re so annoying.”
you lean in a little. “so are you. but at least you’re charming when you laugh!”
his eyes flick toward you. something unreadable behind them. and then, finally, a soft reply:
“…you’re the only one who’s ever said that.”
you blink. your chest aches.
then you say, “well, i’m right.”
and when he looks at you again, that blush still lingering like cherry blossoms in the spring, he doesn’t deny it.
Choso might be 150 years old, but we gotta remember that he’s only been awakened in human form for a few months. Boy doesn’t know too much about humans and their normal life.
So Yuji has to teach him stuff obviously but then you come along and now he’s clinging to you, playing the “I’m just 3 months old card, what is this?” And making you explain EVERYTHING to him about humans and human lifes. Even if he already heard it from Yuji
Why? Because he loves to hear you talk, he loves when you love him 1000% of your attention, he’s basking it in
~ Nanami flowershop anon
LOVE THIS SO MUCH YESSSS
any excuse to be around you more and talk to you more. i swear he’d take it as far as making you wash his hair for him bc “what’s shampoo??” even tho he’s already established his own three step process…
you’re teaching him how to use the microwave or how the quarter insert for a cart at the grocery store works and sometimes you hold his hands to guide him in doing things ((duh because you’re crushing on him too and you gotta take every chance you can get)) and choso is doing very bad at keeping a mental checklist of things you’ve clearly taught him before
and OF COURSE you notice when he’s repeatedly asked you which button on the remote is power again so you’ll lean a little closer to show him but… what can you say you’re simping just as bad so you fall for it every time
so i tried drawing on a display tablet and the colors look so good on my tablet but when i saw it on my phone/pc, it's completely different and weird!! wtf.
In almost every universe, there live deities that thrive in nature. This one is no exception. There lived two brothers, their stories already intertwined within the universe’s aged history. The oldest of the two, aptly referred to as “Dream” by their followers, had a hidden strength that drew from the sunlight. It is said that whenever he used his powers, there would be an unfathomable energy of positivity that radiated through the entire village. Everyone loved him, and thus revered his kindness.
His younger brother, on the other hand, thrived under the moonlight. And while the moonlight is known to be forgiving, it didn’t stop the people from noticing the darkness that grew from his use of energy. It is said that the people who did witness it, felt immense negativity. The sky looked as if it was shrouded in darkness. It was then when the people named him, “Nightmare.”
The two brothers went on to protect their most important treasure— the Tree of Feelings. It was years later when tragedy struck, leaving the death of the tree and the imprisonment of the older brother. It was a desperate attempt to save everyone and everything he loved, and yet the final thing he ever saw before being turned to stone was his brother leaving him behind, encased in a horribly broken and twisted body.
In the present, whispers say the older brother is now free, while the younger one keeps spreading his negativity throughout the universe, leaving nightmares in his wake. In this day and age, most people will find it difficult to believe that a deity would be walking on the same ground as them. But in this vast multiverse full of endless possibilities, there may be a day when the sun and moon cross paths under this peaceful sky once again.
acts of love, starring: VARKA ☆ being the wife of mondstadt's famed grandmaster is akin to taking care of a big and clingy dog! but you won't trade it for the world. SFW!
varka adores you. he loves loudly, selflessly.
everyone he's ever met, even from all the way to nod-krai and inazuma, know about you. varka is an irritating chatterbox when it comes his wife, to the point it's become a defining trait for him. whenever he gets a chance, he makes sure to sneak in an anecdote about you. . .even if it doesn't have any connection to the current discussion.
the people of mondstadt are endeared by it. always amused by the ruckus he makes when his beloved is involved, and the way he fights for your name during those "who's the most beautiful in mondstadt?" debates in taverns? it's hilarious.
varka took those questions so seriously, got soo heated, that everyone had to add a specific rule: 'with the exception of the grandmaster's wife, of course'.
after that, he wasn't too interested in those drunken debates anymore, laughing in earnest when asked – who is the most beautiful in mondstadt? sometimes he says rosaria just to tease her when she's around, other times, he says barbatos for the heck of it.
"fools, all of you!" varka slams his pint of dandelion wine down the table, brows furrowed in irritation, "my wife is the sweetest and most beautiful lady there is! how blind can you be to suggest anyone else?" his voice booms all throughout the tavern, making people turn their heads.
"u-uh but grandmaster, let's be realistic here, you—"
the poor guy is now being glared at by the grandmaster of mondstadt, a living legend, a knight recognized by the great wolf boreas and the anemo archon – a smitten, wife-loving, hunk of a man who's willing to forgo all dignity in order to defend his wife's honor.
varka clicks his tongue, and it quickly shuts the soldier up, knowing who he's against but it's too late to stop when varka suddenly speaks up again:
"realistic, you say? you sayin' my wife ain't gorgeous, that it?"
older, veteran soldiers are now looking at the new recruit with pity in their eyes. they've known their grandmaster for years, have fought alongside him, and are even willing to lay their lives for him, so if they know one thing about varka, it's that you never speak negatively about his wife. don't even dare imply it.
a loyal dog may bark but a smitten one will bite.
"that's not it, sir!" the young soldier quickly tries to make amends, stuttering in the process but the only response he got was a small huff from varka.
the other soldiers circle around their table, snickering to each other, "now, now, you know your wife is never included in these kinda' stuff. we wouldn't dare speak of the grandmaster's beloved that way."
"damn right, she's above these petty discussions! AHAHAHAHA!"
he's actually hopeless when it comes to you.
a truly unorthodox man, he is. hard to understand but terrifyingly easy to trust and admire. adored by many despite his ruffian-like demeanor. a slacker yet somehow the most reliable knight there is in the people's eyes. a person of contrasting qualities.
varka of mondstadt is said to be a 'man amongst men', chivalry comes to him like second nature and his list of admirers could fill the favonius library's record book, literally.
but they're in tough luck, the grandmaster only has eyes for you after all. it is no secret how smitten the oh-so-great knight of boreas, varka is for his wife.
no one even tries to approach him with romantic intentions anymore after he's made it very clear where he stands, which is forever next to you. many women, early on in both of your relationship, have tried to swoon and seduce him but they're met with very firm rejections. if there's anything he's strict about, it's this. and he expects the same treatment others give him with you, meaning if someone ever tried flirting or oh lord barbatos – make you leave him, they're getting the harshest talk ever, from varka and the people of mondstadt. 'cause the vendors are your biggest fans after all. though just him would probably be enough, do you know how scary varka is when he's serious? it's more than enough to make a grown man cry.
that's only if you can't handle it or the person is too persistent and you might actually hurt whoever this is. varka's there as a middle man, and hey if he pushes a little too hard while trying to create some distance between the two of you, who's to say it's not a complete accident? he's not exactly a saint of patience, particularly when your safety and comfort is compromised. he isn't the grandmaster of the knights of favonius for nothing.
he's like an obedient angel towards you though, if the angel was over six foot and had a frame huge enough to become an umbrella during hot days.
like a dog wagging it's tail, he beams immediately when he sees your figure from afar. suddenly, he's standing despite jean's protests and kaeya's exasperation, jumping out the window (even though he's on the third floor) and jogging over to you.
"hon! over here!"
you try to walk faster, hoping you heard wrong. because if you did, that means varka is slacking off again and you have to force him to go back to jean, lest she actually pops a blood vessel this time.
"hey don't ignore me!" he catches up to you in no time, barely even taking twelve steps before making it to your side.
you look up at his hulking figure, "go back to work. jean looks about ready to drop dead. or drop you dead." you can spot her angry expression from here, shouting a stern 'grandmaster varka!' but varka pretends to be deaf, focusing on you.
"puh-lease!" he scoffs, laughing boisterously with hands on his hips, "jean dropping dead, hah! you're hilarious. that girl's tough as nails! plus, those look heavy – ah, here let me.."
varka takes your shopping bags from you, carrying three bags in one hand while he interwines his other with yours.
"cookin' up a storm, huh?" varka glances at the ingredients in the bag: some vegetables, fruits, spices, and heavy cuts of meat. no doubt for him and his big carnivorous appetite.
he's smiling in that gooey, lovesick, way again. varka has always been a smiley person, but with you, it was more of a devoted sort of smile – one with less teeth and more wobbly, licked, lips where he gets an itch to scream ' i love you ' on the top of his lungs – letting it echo all throughout teyvat to make sure everyone knew.
eh, he does the same thing anyways with the way he chatters about you to every person he's met. talks and talks and talks until the people are listless, for hours if he could.
he escorts you home, hand in hand. cuts the vegetables as you get the stove started. sings a tune of windchimes and cliffs in that raspy tone of his while he helps with the peeling and heavy work, places chaste kisses on your cheek while you giggle.
jean can't get too mad at that, but she can at least nag varka until his ears fall off.
varka hates writing, hates paperwork all together. can't even stand the sight of paper in the office, always dreading the mountains of it stacked on his desk.
he'd rather be out fighting monsters, training recruits, or having a drink at angel's share. there are a million better things to do than boring ol' paperwork, like bothering people and smothering you with his love. he really, reeeally hates writing!
but he loves you.
he only likes writing when it's to his beloved. it's rare for the grandmaster to actually smile whenever he picks up a pen, usually he does so with a grimace. scowling like a petulant child while he twirls the pen in his hand, sighing every second while he stares at the documents on his desk. however. . .
it's different with you, it always is.
fredwinn is looking at the grandmaster with a suspicious and concerned gaze, it's really odd to see him so happy. . .
while writing.
he's getting weirded out, enough to ask others why such a massive and well-known loafer is actually writing with so much delight his smile looks about ready to split his face. he's met with small knowing grins and giggles from the other soldiers instead. he'll figure it out soon, they say.
he takes a peek over at what varka's writing, met with over two pages of words, small doodles of things they've fought in the margins of the paper – and how the hell is it colored? did he seriously buy crayons just for this? it's badly drawn though if he were to be honest, looks like a child made it. but the amount of words written baffle him, he's never seen the grandmaster write this much.
sure, it's starting to look a bit like chicken scratch because of how fast and how much he's writing but varka's never been one to be happy while writing something – he barely even wrote! like at all. even if he did, he usually made others do it in his stead. the man's great at fighting but he's not exactly a sit in a chair and write reports sort of guy.
perhaps long expeditions change people.
or, maybe he's an idiot who rambles too much in his letters – as long as they're addressed to you. fredwinn soon learns of this after a while, spotting the name of the recipitent in every letter, always followed by a heart. because varka's sappy like that.
varka loves you to the point of blatant favoritism, although he's never been strict with his soldiers, he does dish out punishments when needed. makes sure they learn their lesson too, 'cause what kinda grandmaster would he be if he doesn't?
you could never do wrong though, simply not a concept that exists in that empty head of his.
his wife made a mistake? ah, no biggie, he'll take care of it. you accidentally set the favonius headquarters on fire? oh no! don't worry, he'll handle it, just make sure to get to safety. you ripped his coat to shreds while washing? haha! so funny, anyways did you hear what razor learned today? that's right, its how to write yours and varka's name! isn't that so cool?
you can slack of more than him and he'd still call you the most hardworking person he's ever met. you could never ever do wrong in varka's eyes, it's like telling him the sky is brown or alcohol is bad.
. . .wait, you hid the alcohol? honey, dont be like that! he'll cry, seriously.
you're an exception to many things, and for a good reason, a simple yet profound reason, and also the main reason he fell in-love with you in the first place: it's you. beyond being his wife, his other-half, and varka's closest confidant – you are you, that in itself is already enough for varka, even without the prior accolades.
with both of your legs entwined with each other, your face in his chest as you rest on his bicep. it feels like a rock is under the side your head from how firm his muscles are, but you've gotten used to it, now it just reminds you of home.
because varka is home, and you'd never get homesick if he's around.
"does it not bother you?" he hums, chin propped on your head. you can feel the rumble in his chest when he speaks, makes your head all woozy and sleepy. being surrounded by his scent relaxes your tired body, and you let your eyes clos in response.
"what do you mean?" you ask, nuzzling in his chest further, his clothes smell freshly laundered, with that familiar detergent that you use.
varka keeps quiet for a few seconds, wondering if he should even say anything, "the way they address you as 'grandmaster's wife' instead of your name."
you can only mumble an answer, something varka can't quite catch but he assumes the worst.
he sets a small kiss on your forehead, wrapping you in his arms, "i'll tell them to stop, don't worry."
finally, you jolt awake, "no, no! it's really okay, i don't mind it."
varka looks at you with a complicated expression, finding it hard to believe.
"i like it...being called your wife, being known as yours." you flush, hiding your face. honestly, whenever people greet you in the market as 'grandmaster's wife' or 'varka's lady', it makes you giddy, heart-racing like a girl being teased about her crush.
the people don't mean anything malicious, you know that much and he knows too but it makes you grateful that he's still asking how you feel about it. always so considerate, treating your heart like porcelain. varka's like that, you're pretty sure his worst nightmare is making you upset.
varka has been completely quiet for a few seconds now but you can hear the loud thump, thump, thump of his heart within embrace. you don't have to look at him to know he's just as, if not more, flustered than you.
"alright, if you say so." he buries his face in your neck, curling in himself to be much closer to you.
"i really like it too, when they call me your husband. gets me all happy, y'know?" he mumbles gruffly.
you already know that, because he goes beet red whenever the vendors tease him. it's really obvious. but he's always been obvious with his devotion, you love that about him.
varka loves you, he's loud and clumsy with it but who cares? that just comes with the package.
#it's-your-captain-ari-speaking ☆ ....yes the phainon to varka pipeline is real and its coming FOR YOU. accept your fate. ive been obsessed with this man like holy shit. take this short drabble hehe.
