"one More Kiss~"

“hey, xiao?”

he hums, so quiet and relaxed you almost don’t hear him. this sleepy state is not new to you, but he’s so vulnerable and pliant under your fingers it’s overwhelming. his head rests against your shoulder, back against your chest as your fingers press lightly against his stomach, hands crossed loosely. he sighs, then, head lolling to rest the bridge of his nose against your jaw - a silent question.

you smile, kissing his forehead. the warm night breeze that blows through the roof of wangshu inn agitates the leaves, some falling down. the noise is soothing and the adeptus in your arms twitches, an indication he’s not really sleeping, not quite yet, but he’s close. he glows softly, ethereal in the moonlight. you rest your cheek against the top of his head and he leans more into you.

“thank you for trusting me.”

I DON'T KNOW JSDGHJSDG MY BRAIN ISN'T WORKING

did someone with a degradation kink get turned on when they join for military training

Goodbyes II

• A silent goodbye in form of calming them down when they’re dying. feat Diluc, Xiao, Ayato • Genre: Angst • Warnings: major character (implied) death, mention of blood.

•   DILUC; The Dark Side of Dawn

He never wanted to lose someone close to him, not again - the only loss he had to witness first hand left him broken, with a permanent scar that had healed but never disappeared. Diluc made sure to never have to go through this again - but why seeing you taking this role hurt even more? 

Desperate, fist clenching; fingernails biting the skin, only adding more blood onto his body. Survival instinct was silenced, secondary to his need to see you again; one last time - reasonable side added. Burning desire couldn’t always be enough though, especially when it was already small and weak, burning out as Diluc collapses right by the first line of grapevines. 

That was how you found him, bleeding and pale, mumbling “I’m home.” when you cradled him - head resting on your shoulder, his arms loosely holding your sides, ground dirtying your knees. 

Diluc wanted to hold you closer, skin to skin to feel your warmth, so close it would be suffocating as if his breath wasn’t shallow already. Despite his fire getting dim, why did it feel like he was the one losing you? Only now it dawned on him how little time he gave you - always making sure you had money to spend, a roof over your head and safety in Mondstadt, in any creek and mountain. His side of the bed was always cold, leaving you night after night just to return at dawn with the softest kisses - you felt his warm lips against your neck, followed by cold tears. 

“I’m so proud of you.” Your voice soft and gentle just like your embrace - wound on his chest not allowing you two to be as close as you would like to. “You worked so hard, you deserve to have a day off.” Diluc doesn’t answer, but you feel his lips bending into a smile. “Let’s get some grape juice and rest at Windrise.” Yes, he would like that. Just one day off, just one more day to spend by your side… 

The first rays of the sun sparkle in your tears.

•   XIAO; Vigilant Yaksha

Yakshas were fated to suffer, sooner or later, during or after war, alone; with others. There were many ways Xiao expected to die, only unsure for who or what he will sacrifice himself - seeing your tears-stained face brought him solace, knowing he threw away his life for you. 

“You should go.” His voice was stern as always, but there was no strength left to force you to leave - all Xiao could do was lay on your tights. He loved you, so, so dearly. Your strength, your smile; even when tears flew across it. 

“No, no, I… I’ll stay with you.” There was no more danger, only Xiao’s spears filled the field, slowly disintegrating into black-green particles. It was beautiful - playing with the wind, sparkling in the evening air, but for you, it was nothing compared to Xiao. His golden eyes still open, wanting to look at you as long as he could, and many wounds, seeping with mist, hurt body shimmering with deep green. 

Your thumb ran across one of them, Xiao doesn’t flinch nor groan; only leans into your hand. Your lover was always hard to understand, what he was feeling and needed, but you always knew how to calm him down. 

“You really should—” You shush him, and he complies, seeing how your smile wavers, breaking. 

“You know your karma can’t hurt me, I’ll stay with you as long as you need.” and Xiao allows himself to fall for this lie, blatant but so sweet. He didn’t want to die like his friends - alone, maddened or by a comrade’s hand, he wanted his last minutes to be by your side.

Your humming was like that blessed music from years ago - comforting, warm.

•   AYATO; Pillar of Fortitude

If the roles were reversed, several heads would fall for the mistakes of Shuumatsuban; incompetence, negligence. You could already imagine seething Ayato, whenever his anger would show as a mad storm or petrifying calmness. You would rather experience this than his tear-filled eyes and desperate grip on your clothes. 

“You’re safe… you're…” He whispers, his hand grabbing any part of you, moving frantically as if you were the one splattered with blood. As if you were the one that littered the forest’s path with bodies of Fatui. His body was a collection of angry red lines, most of them invisible, but eager to show by blooming like red flowers on snow. 

“Yes, I… I’m safe.” His head falls on yours with a sign of relief as he hugs you closer, blood mixing with your wet clothes; his technique still creating rain and beautiful water flowers. Although you couldn’t awe at them like you always do, your face was hidden in Ayato’s chest that was moving slowly, heavy. 

“Kamisato… the clan and… and… Ayaka…” You could barely hear what he was saying, his speech slashed by deep breaths and the haziness of his mind. 

“I’ll take care of everything, my love.” Caressing his back, brushing his hair; his body becoming heavier and heavier. “Clan is… is strong now, and I’ll stand by Ayaka and help her.” You sounded confident enough to calm Ayato’s nerves. How will you tell Ayaka? How will you help her when others attack? Ayato worries, unsure if he did enough, if he… 

“You raised Ayaka well, you deserve to have a bit of rest." 

"Just a… just a little…” He mumbles, the same thing he said every time you urged him to bed. Just a bit of sleeping, a moment, just a second - having you by his side enough to lull him to sleep. 

The rain stops as Ayato’s eyes close.

this was going to be all angst but i wanted comfort sooo.. i still want to write angst though lol

albedo is easy to be around. he's attentive and understanding, slowly navigating what it means to love with each waking day. his teal eyes are almost always filled with warmth whenever he looks at you, gentle smile curling upon his lips as his hands reach for yours. he's perfect, like a prince, ready to sweep you off your feet whenever you desire and whisk you away on an adventure that will probably take place up in the snowy mountains of dragonspine.

he's warm when the snow blows around you, snowflakes nipping at exposed skin and the wind howling in your ear, threatening to throw you into the midst of a snowstorm without help. but albedo is there, hand tangled with yours as he tugs you in the direction of the cave where his works are filed away. his arms move to wrap around you, body pressed close to yours as he mumbles sweet nothings in your ear and offers comfort as the sun sinks into the shadows.

he's bright and teasing, a familiar smile warming your heart as his eyes light up at the sight of you. he ignores the teasing words of kaeya as he sweeps you up in his arms, face tucking into the crook of your neck as he pulls you close to him. he asks about your day, intrigued by the little jokes and side stories that seem to distract you. all while his eyes never leave your face, as if he was trying to memorize every little feature.

but archons, albedo can be hard to love. there are days when you wish that he wouldn't compare every little thing to an observation. relationships aren't an experiment, they're not something that can be documented on paper with hypotheses and data, bound together by a conclusion at the end of the day.

he's uncaring stares as you try to pull him away from his work, tone bland as he tells you to stop worrying about him. he'll spend hours on end, his time spent on his work now bleeding into days spent locked up alone in his office, poring over notes and observations from his previous expeditions. sometimes you won't hear from him for a week before he's pushing open the door to your home, tired footsteps dragging along the floor before he collapses onto the bed to rest.

he's sharp words and half-hearted apologies when you try to confront him about the thoughts that are clouding your mind. he doesn't quite get why you're upset that he's only allowed sucrose to visit him in his office, nor does he understand why his chest flares with annoyance whenever he sees you walking through the knights of favonius headquarters with a bright grin on your face as kaeya pokes fun at you. arguments with him are hurtful and cruel, bringing you to the verge of tears before you're slamming the door and grumbling that he can sleep on the couch for all you care.

and yet, for all the stumbles along the way, the tear stained cheeks and petty words, you can't find it in yourself to pull away from him. because with each argument, each slammed door and muffled cry, albedo once more, learns what it means to be human, to love as a human, to allow that little blooming feeling in his chest to blossom and wrap around him.

he still makes mistakes and so do you, but at the end of the day, there isn't anyone you'd rather love, than albedo.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3

it's so hard trying to find cute drawings of tan girls

EX WIFE??? SINCE WHEN DID YOU TWO GET A DIVORCE

did someone with a degradation kink get turned on when they join for military training

ASHHHHH THAT THAT THAT VENTI OST YOU JUST MADE PLEASE CAN YOU SHARE MORE

this post was just a blurb i wrote out randomly hehe but here’s a few hcs about it!

venti doesn’t actually know the future in the sense that he sees what will happen, no. what he has is knowledge of all songs regardless of its time and place of origin, whether it’s from the past present or future.

now, he normally wouldn’t pay much attention to songs written in tribute to a person, but your case is a little… different. where there’s thousands of people who’ve had songs written in their honor, you have thousands of songs written for you alone.

he’s never sung them out loud before, not until the time is right, but he finds himself drawn to the songs about you, retelling stories that have yet to happen about your journey in this world and the impact you will have on teyvat. you’re very much like a certain traveler who will one day land in this world, but you’re an even greater mystery than the traveler. you’re a person beyond worlds and dimensions—or at least, that’s what he’s gained from the songs that will be made about you.

it’s only when he’s a thousand years older after the fall of old mondstadt, his singing more refined and his tune more established, like an artist developing a signature art style, that he realizes that more than half of the songs written for you will be made by his hand.

he wonders and wonders and wonders for the next millennia if he will adore you as much as he seems to adore you in his songs, but… maybe he doesn’t have to wonder. even now, having only known you through songs and tunes, he finds it in himself to leave a space for you within his heart.

a thousand years pass, and he continues to be lulled to slumber with the hymns about you crooning in his ears. when he awakens, it’s to a different song this time, a new one. he laughs, the winds quickening in time with his beating heart. finally, the seeds of wind has changed.

he feels your presence before he hears your voice. “venti!” you shout before tackling him in your arms. and this, this is something he has dreamed about since he first heard your songs, wide-eyed and young and unfamiliar to the ballads of this world, and so he lets himself feel elation and excitement as he embraces you. thousands of years of waiting finally over.

and when you smile at him, claiming how much you adore him and how you’ve always wanted to meet him, he finally understands. ah, he thinks, it seems he’s not the only one who’s been longing to meet someone they’ve never met.

Capitano darling being his pen pal and poor dear has no idea of his identity

I'm very sorry, I don't know if your requests are open but I can't get enough of Capitano content.

For the Harbingers, I'm open for anything. Also, @bye-bye-sunbird, come and get him! 👀😼

Exchanging letters with your mysteries pen pal became the absolute highlight of your week. You'd pour your heart and tears into the words your hand would oh so excitedly write down, sometimes even actually crying with the sheer excitement of knowing that somewhere out there, there was a person, an actual person, who cared about you. This person cared about you, they liked you, that is why they sent you their first letter to begin with. The letter itself was short, curt and simple but that did not stop you from writing back and hurriedly giving your reply to the mysterious messenger that appeared on your doorstep one fine summer morning.

Hours upon hours would be spent constructing the letters, sometimes you'd say whatever was on your mind while on other occasions you'd stop yourself and fix your choice of words, promptly going for something much more eloquent and refined, a quality that your mysterious partner seemed to exude in spades.

Their handwriting was neat, clean and proper, you imagined they must be singing papers often if they had such pretty handwriting. You would let your curiosity sway you and there were times when you wanted to know what your dear stranger did for a living but they were oddly mysterious about their occupation, which was strange considering just how intimate and open they were about other matters such as what kind of tea they drank in the morning, general preferences and hobbies, silly things like that made you even more curious about your darling stranger. You did manage to get somewhat of an answer out of them one day though, but it was still as vague as it possibly could be.

"I feel bad about hiding things from you, but to put it in the best way I can, I work for the military. That is the best answer I can give to you at the moment."

Ah, so you were talking to a military personnel? How interesting!! Again, curiosity got the better of you and you persisted with your questions, but more careful as you fared you'd offend them. You were under the impression that your dear stranger wanted to say more to you but was holding back for whatever reason.

Months flew by, almost a year, you were done holding back yourself.

It was time for everything to come out into the light, you thought to yourself.

You wanted to meet the person who made you feel so good, you wanted to see them, him, in the flesh.

It wasn't hard to decipher that the sender was a man. The smell of sharp cologne and pine wood still lingered on the letters you kept hidden in the drawer of your desk and the strong choice of words at time were a strong indication that this man was not willing to deal with anyone's nonsense, aside from indulging himself in yours.

Under the moonlight and with a flickering candle right next to you as your only light source, you wrote to him, you wrote to him your longest letter by far. Mistaking your curiosity and infatuation with the beautiful feeling of love you proclaimed your feelings to him and boldly announced that you wished to meet him, to see him for who he was.

"When you see me, I wish for you to kiss me, kiss until I am sick of it."

Never before had he replied back with such downright monstrous speed. He sent you but a piece of paper, with just one sentence on it, blood red ink sticking in your memory as you read it out loud in the comfort of your room.

"You wish is my command."

Overjoyed would be an understatement with how you were feeling at that moment. As you danced around your room while clutching the letter tightly to your chest, you never stopped to consider just how the two of you were going to meet or how he was even going to find you, let alone kiss you breathless. Alas those worries never even crossed your starstruck mind as you eagerly awaited to be swept off your feet by your Prince Charming. Living in a fairytale is charming but it would have done you well to stay intact with the real world too.

Whispers of lingering shadows and Fatui soldiers started to plague your village, several of your neighbors constantly felt the need to remind you to keep vigilant and to lock your doors at night, do not ever trust the Fatui.

Never open the doors for anyone, never.

Looking back on it, you regret spacing out in the middle of their monologues.

The seasons had passed and winter had come, a thick layer of pure white snow decorated the earth below you as the strong wind and harsh snowflakes found their way inside of your home due to the powerful wind that was bellowing all around you. A few snowflakes even managed to lose themselves inside of your clothing and hair but their icy chill was nothing compared to the large, gloved hand that lovingly caressed your chin.

Standing in front of you was a man, a man with whom you had never crossed paths with in your whole entire life. His entire aura, his being was radiating absolute control and calm. The dozen of men behind him kept their distance but it was obvious that they were ready to charge in if need be.

What was a Fatui Harbinger doing at your doorstep?

His face was much closer to your own now and it was Impossible to read him. His entire body language was rigid and firm, it left no spaces for speculations, especially the daunting mask that he wore on his face. Aside from the few strands of ebony black hair on the sides this man revealed nothing about himself to you, cornering you not only in your own house but in your own mind too.

What was he going to do to you?

A sigh escaped him, hot air came out of his mouth as he stepped closer, his feet nearly crossing the threshold of you home.

You didn't even see that you were shaking like a leaf.

"How long do you want us to stand here in the cold, dear?"

He spoke, he said something to you but your brain hardly registered it. But his next words were something you could most definitely not ignore:

"I came here to fulfill my promise to you..."

The lower part of his mask had been removed, his pale lips on full display. They hovered over your own for a few moments.

"Hoe about we finally share that kiss?"

Before you could even think about answering, he pressed his lips on yours, claiming them for himself as he made sure to swallow every single little sound you made.

You always dreamed of living in a fairytale, of finding your own prince. But how could you have forgotten that not all fairy tales have a happily ever after?

Delicious

he’s overly possessive ft. dottore, pantalone

f!reader┆canon┆wc. 1.2k┆navi┆like or reblog┆

il dottore [the doctor]

“you called for me, sir?”

dottore looks up from the flurry of experiment-related notes on top of his desk and finds you standing by the doorway of his office, looking nervous. if he stared at you for a moment longer, he’d point out that you resemble a scared little lamb. it was possibly the very first time he encounters the sight of you so high-strung.

it excited him.

“i did,” he affirms with a devilish grin. without another word, he raises his hand then beckons you inside the room, and to sit on the stool in front of him.

you were first recruited as another lackey for the harbingers to do their bidding. the other harbingers were utterly lost on what it was about you specifically that drew him to you. you hadn’t done anything special to stand out from the rest and yet you somehow became the object of his obsession.

the harbingers were having their annual meeting to discuss important matters such as the latest orders from the tsaritsa when you entered in the middle of their conference to deliver the reports detailing the month’s expenses to the man sitting next to him.

it was nothing out of the ordinary for a subordinate to bring off their duties not a second later. however, the rather mundane act seems to be enough for you to be the apple of his eye. by the next day, you were briefed of your transfer to his division and given the title of his personal assistant.

from then onward, his fixation on you persists. whether it is romantic or not didn’t matter—it was evident he was deeply infatuated with you and that should’ve been a glaring forewarning to any fool who took an interest in you. it didn’t didn’t need to be announced, it was obvious to anyone with working eyes that you were his and his alone.

the many disappearances of fatui underlings and the recent increase of his test subjects weren’t a timely coincidence after all. to his great frustration, there was a pest who didn’t get the memo and managed to pathetically worm his way in your life—something dottore keenly disapproved and detested.

“it’s mandatory for those involved with the fatui to remain a strictly professional relationship,” he informs, eerily polite. it was a blatant lie, but you didn’t need to know that. if it were any other individual sitting across him and below his concentrated gaze, they would’ve shivered at the gesture or started praying to their pathetic archon that he spared their life.

you didn’t.

you merely look back at him unafraid. and perhaps that was one of the reasons why he was drawn to you.

“is it, sir? i’ve read our policies and the mighty tsaritsa never mentions such a rule.”

his jaw clenches. you were a mouthy little minx, aren’t you? he internally sneers, his eyes narrow at you, guess he has to fix that later.

“it’s a new policy.” his tone was firm. it stresses this was the end of the matter. you either take what he says to heart and comply or you face the consequences of your disobedience. “understood?”

“yes, sir,” you gulp and it creates a small smile to emerge on his lips.

“good girl.”

pantalone [regrator]

having a harbinger for a lover was an affair you didn’t intend to happen. it was too outlandish. you envisioned yourself to settle down with an honest man and live a modest life in the countryside and yet here you were, happily dating the most affluent, and cunning, harbinger.

whenever your family sent you letters, they consistently ask you about him and if he was treating you right. as usual, they were bewildered to read how different he was from the murmurs in town. pantalone was a sweet and gentle lover—he cares for you like you were his most prized possession. it was made obvious when he spoils you with everything your heart desires.

he didn’t ask for anything—only for you to follow his request of seeking his permission anytime you wish to meet with your friends or relatives, remembering the very early curfew he gave you, and cutting off those he disapproved. although it highlighted his possessiveness and overprotectiveness, bordering on sheer paranoia, you didn’t see anything wrong with it. you were fully understanding of his strange requests since you knew you were both taking a huge risk of having a relationship.

regardless of what others try to say, he had adversaries who were ready to attack him the second he showed any sign of weakness.

hence, you found yourself in a big dilemma when you chose to disregard his rules and went out with your friends, whom he made clear he disliked, without telling him. he told you one of them harbored feelings for you and it left him feeling annoyed to know you were around someone who wanted to pursue you. you were his; majority should know that by now and find another poor soul to pester.

one thing you were frequently told by those around you was how unsettling your lover could be at times and you weren’t able to see what they saw until tonight.

“where were you this afternoon?” pantalone lazily swirls the wine glass in his hand before taking a long, agonizing sip of his drink. you stay seated across him visibly impassive while you feasted on the meal prepared for the evening.

“what do you mean? i was at home the whole day.”

the air went still.

you were naive enough to reckon that everything was going to be all right until you were harshly faced with the reality of your actions when you heard the noise of a chair screeching and footsteps approaching you.

you feel him tuck your hair back. he must’ve been leaning or kneeling down because you suddenly felt his breath against your neck. “i asked you a question, little one. i expect some respect from you to tell me the truth.” his voice wavered on threatening. it was chilling to find the man you normally run to for solace become the reason why you’d come to him for comfort.

“i-i, um… i went out with my friends,” you manage to stutter out and he went quiet again, “i’m sorry that i… that i-i didn’t tell you. i didn’t know it was going to be a big deal!”

he simply scoffs at you and your eyes soon water at what he might say next. you were close to the verge of crying.

“when you agreed to be mine,” pantalone starts, “you made a promise that you trust me and do what i say. i told you not to leave without telling me and what did you do?” he pauses, waiting for you to respond. it was condescending to have him gaze at you like a disappointed parent whose child was in trouble.

“i-i left without telling you,” you sniffle. his demeanor swiftly changes when you started to cry. he removes his hand from your face and pets your head, calming you down.

“i’m sorry, little one…” he murmurs, “i must’ve really scared you there, didn’t i? but you do understand why i was mad at you, right? there are people out there who want to take you away from me and i won’t let that happen… not if i can help it.”

prompt: cooking with them + "show me where it hurts."

STARRING. cyno

requested by: @1eaf-me-alone | MODERN AU | warnings: cuts, blood, written before cyno and sumeru's release

NOTE. thank u for the request, raine!! lovesick cyno is the best cyno also yes i am on hiatus but whenever i say that i am i usually write right after

cyno considers himself an adequate cook.

as in, if he's left alone, he can survive off of a few banger instant noodle recipes and combinations. however, that's only a few, and cyno isn't keen on testing his luck.

but he supposes this is nice.

this, as in, being with you. he supposes that sharing his slightly-cramped kitchen feels better than having it all to himself, and he also supposes that the view of your furrowed eyebrows and concentrated eyes look especially... comfortable?

it just feels right. it feels right when the sound of knives hitting chopping boards resound through the apartment, it feels right when a comfortable silence envelopes the two of you because oh, words aren't necessary when it is just the two of you.

cyno likes this. he likes being with you, he likes basking in your presence and in the present because this, this could be his future, too.

archon, how he hopes it is his future.

his breath hitches when he hears you hiss, and all of a sudden, cyno's facing you fully. vermilion eyes scrutinize your form as you hide your hand behind your back, a twitching smile taking over your lips.

"[name]," he says sternly. he doesn't even need to add anything else, because the way he declares your name—barely above a whisper—serenades the silence with a gentle question of, "what happened?"

you, however, know better than to tell cyno about your slight mistake. he's going to overreact, you think. as level-headed as he usually is, cyno is quick to worry whenever you're involved—it's a habit of his.

it's also your habit to downplay these situations, brushing them off with the slight excuse of, "nothing."

and then, cyno narrows his eyes. he takes a step closer, your waist now pressed against the kitchen counter as he glares at you chillingly. somehow, those warm irises ice over and make you wonder, has the arctic always been red?

"show me where it hurts," he states blandly. cyno is quick to deduct what happened—to him, it's obvious in the way you frown slightly and the way you cradle your hand behind your back.

the more he thinks about it, the more he worries. what if you're bleeding a lot? why aren't you showing it to him? so many thoughts whirl around his head as he tries to ease them because oh, you're hurt—you're hurt.

"it doesn't hurt—" you get cut off by his intimidating stare, your figure drooping before holding out your hand for him to examine. cyno lets out a sigh of relief once he sees your fingers properly.

his own hand comes to hold yours, digits avoiding where blood seeps as he rushes to find the first-aid kit.

truthfully, the boy was worried you had cut your whole hand off (he doesn't have very high expectations when it comes to you, injuries, and lying) but thankfully, it's only a minor cut on one of your fingertips.

you're still not off the hook, though. just because it's not as bad as he thought doesn't mean it's not bad—cyno absolutely detests the roses that bloom across your skin, the scent of metal sweeping over his senses instead of delicate dew.

"why'd you try to hide it?" he asks, not looking up at you. his hands carefully disinfect your fingers, actions hesitating and stalling whenever he hears or feels you fidget because he hates it—he hates your uneasiness, your pain.

"it wasn't that big of a deal," you mumble, and cyno's fingers come to grip around your unscathed palm; he squeezes it lightly, glaring at you with his seemingly indifferent irises.

"don't say that."

and then he resumes working.

deft hands bandage your cut, lacing themselves in between your other fingers as cyno leans closer towards you, narrowed eyes making themselves even more present as the boy merely huffs.

"you're kicked out of the kitchen," he says, breath tickling your face.

you gasp in offense.

"hey! i can still work!" you exclaim, but cyno's hands are already on your shoulder, ushering you outside to sit at the table instead.

"no."

that word alone shuts down all of your protests as you merely pout, resorting to your second option: have a pity party until cyno gives in! however, the boy is completely immune to this!

still, as you slump into your seat, cyno returns to the kitchen before sparing you one last glance—and ah, his smile, his lovely smile, engulfs his face in a tide of taken because he, he is so, so taken.

the way he looks at you speaks measures once the comfortable silence devours the kitchen and empty stomachs whole.

you're my future, huh?