ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʜᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴡꜱ

Blooming ✤ 4NEMO

B l o o m i n g

A/N: The amount of time I took to draw that (^) banner just to have it for 4nemo ficlets— a-ah, I love how it turned out anyway soOOO- anyway! This is sort of 4nemo’s… origin story? At least my take in how the group was built. 

There will be three parts to this, Blooming, Falling, and Loving! (And a bonus angst because it won’t be me without angst, Withering)

✤ she/her

Words: 4.1k

≿————-　❈　————-≾

A dream is a wish your heart makes—isn’t that a saying from a fairytale? 

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Tokyo Revengers incorrect quotes: (Haitani brothers)

Ran: *running towards Rindou with open arms* Rindou: *moves out of the way* Ran: Hey, why’d you move?! *inserts offended face*

Rindou: I thought you were going to attack me. Ran: I was going to hug you! Rindou: Why would you hug me? Ran: WHY WOULD I ATTACK YOU!?

❀ dulo ng hangganan | the itchyworms 🥛 — sanzu haruchiyo

❝binibigkas tanging pangalan mo, hinahanap ang mga yakap mo. pag-ibig ko, bakit lumalayo. pag-ibig mo, tila naglalaho.❞

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Folly ✤ Scaramouche

A/N: This takes place in the same universe as 'Devilry' (aka the crackfic), where MC is the previous Sixth Harbinger dubbed as 'Mistress Fiore'.

✤ Mentions of death

✤ There's nothing wrong with indulging in dangerous follies every now and then, especially if that folly is nothing but that fascinating defector.

Words: 2.1k

Within the expanse of the temple draped in a frosty twilight gathers a handful of dignitaries, all with a single purpose; to grieve for the fallen.

Well, their grieving may be a tepid act—after all, one cannot overlook the possibility that their hearts are more bristling than mourning. The fact remains that it is still only a mere assumption, though.

Despite being... comrades in arms, not one of them truly knows what the other bears inside their chest. Aside from the obvious mutual belligerence, of course.

“Who invited the mistress here?”

The voice rises amid the frigid air, biting as though it carries frost in its tone.

Naturally, everyone's attention is piqued. It's a question that serves both to distract themselves from the loss of an ally and to ascertain the reason for the arrival of an unsought guest.

But is the aforementioned person truly uninvited?

“You wound me, can I not be present to send my own farewell to the Eighth?” you speak up with faux umbrage, stepping beyond the shadows of the pilasters.

Far from being disconcerted by the number of eyes nipping at your profile like tiny cicins, you lift your head, meeting the faces of those you previously deemed comrades. Now mere... 'acquaintances'.

“Besides, don't you think it's only expected for me to fill in the blank slot that the Balladeer left open for this moment?”

It isn't like you're going to take back the position afterward.

The knowing hum settles an air of brewing resignation, tinged with a bit of vexation that seems to come to the group naturally.

Tartaglia clicks his tongue from his place at the pews, voice amicably austere. “Calm down, it was I who invited Fiore.”

His answer dispels most of the lingering bafflement in the crowd and the ceremony carries on without delay and reluctance.

Although, you huff in disbelief. It's more of a business meeting than a funeral ceremony.

You decide not to speak against it, however, aware of your standing in the place. Instead, you've taken to observing the varying expressions on their faces. They're all so impervious as ever.

The plan not to opine fails later on though, following the ludicrous decree about the momentary pause of business and other affairs as well as Pantalone's opinion about it.

“Half a day's holiday?” you find yourself giggling, though it's crystal clear that you're far from being amused. “Careful, your gracious facade seems to be slipping, mister disingenuous mayor.”

Pulcinella crinkles his nose and adjusts his spectacles with a sigh.

“Hm, I'd rather not open my ears to the words of an ex-Harbinger. Do be content that we allowed you to stay.”

You whistle, finding no reason to deny the latter portion of his statements. It's irking how he seems to dismiss your previous rank as the Sixth and denigrate your current status, though.

As if sensing the subdued venom beginning to rise from your throat, another voice cuts in.

“Can you cease the farcical banter?” Arlecchino gives her fellow Harbinger a pointed stare, scrutiny evident in her eyes. “[Name] may no longer be in the official ranks, but she was the only one who ever sought camaraderie between you half-hearted dignitaries.”

Her concern for this shoddy, half-hearted excuse of a holiday is thus valid. Is the underlying message.

You cup your cheeks with a pleased smile, drawing out a long, grateful sigh. “My, thank you, lady Arle. Ever the justiciar.”

Her auxiliaries are anticipated, yes, but you didn't think she'd actually support you. But then again, she seems to be the only one who genuinely grieves the death of Signora. Apart from Pantalone and Pierro—and maybe even Tartaglia.

The Knave transfers her look towards you. It's nothing short of perfunctory, perhaps even a bit scunnered.

“That does not remove the fact that you are no longer one of us. You've only until the end of condolences before you are to leave.”

Of course.

“Oh, the woes of being unwanted!” you bemoan, holding your head for a melodramatic show.

You can tell that doing so has earned you a couple dirty looks and though you feel a tad awful—borderline catalyzing the enmity when again, this is no place to start a fight—you do not apologize.

Well, not to them.

It's an indecent, immoral act, but you like to believe that you're the lesser evil in the room.

With a step forward, you ascend a few inches into the air, moving past the Harbingers and hovering over the intricately gilded cenotaph. No one stops you.

Caressing the marble surface of the tomb makes you note how it's a lot colder than the atmosphere.

Unfitting for the Witch whose heart only knew how to be set ablaze.

But if you consider the Delusion she's been gifted, then it is appropriate; for a blazing heart to freeze and shatter, unable to rekindle its loving warmth.

“Looks like I am only as transient as a minute here, Rosalyne.” there is silence in the temple. Not one voice overpowers yours.

Maybe they have finally gotten self-conscious? It's funny to think that someone who is no longer a Harbinger is the first to send her farewell. What ridicule!

With a silent, single clap, you expel a breath and hum. Your time here is done—you'll have to thank Childe sometime for the official invitation.

Pierro is just about to say something- business talk, maybe. Whatever it is, it does not include you, and to be honest, you'd rather not be included, either.

You vanish into a myriad of snowflakes before anyone can raise a word, leaving only your final murmurs resonating within the temple.

“May your soul find peace in the embers of that which you burned.”

Your next destination leads you to the familiar lands of Liyue and to the terra that stretches past its borders.

The swift travel from the icy nation back to a more tropical one has depleted most if not all of your stamina, so you stayed at an inn for a little while to recuperate.

Although you do have an objective in mind, you aren't in a rush. It's safe to say that you are one step further than the Fatui Harbingers, hence the insouciance.

Besides, like some magical work of nature, you are far attuned to the presence you're seeking, so searching doesn't come off as difficult. In fact, you are able to find him merely two days after staying at Wangshu Inn.

Conspicuous even without trying to, the violets and reds of his attire are emphasized amid the drying greens of the environment. He's dwelling in discreet places, however, managing to shroud himself in the shadows and not make a sound.

Any traveler—not the blond one, though—will fail to see him. But unfortunately, he sticks out to you like a sore thumb.

“For once, you are trying to be discreet.”

The defector stills with a muted hiss, swift to register the arrival of someone as well as the lack of additional weight on his head.

His buttons are already pressed, but annoyance and genuine indifference aside, he's at least thankful that he's found by non-Fatui first.

“Mm, but the hat's still remarkably ostentatious, don't you think so?”

Not like being found by Harbingers poses that much of a problem, he'd simply fight them. That said, he's this close to flicking out his catalyst, too...

“Scaramouche.”

He doesn't, though, and decides to just humor the person who's managed to trace his steps from Inazuma.

Immediately, he meets a pair of gushed [c]s and the usual smile he's seen—unwillingly—far too many times to count. Clicking his tongue, he grumbles.

“Tsk, Fiore.”

No sort of communication has transpired between them in the past months, not after the research about the meteorites and the godawful luncheon shared between them along with Signora and Tartaglia.

So, he isn't going to lie and say that he's not surprised to see her in front of him.

'Fiore' sighs hyperbolically, the theatrical action quick to make the man roll his eyes. He expected nothing less.

She starts with a spin, showing off her apparel that although carried a few similarities from her previous Harbinger attire, looked more... liberated.

In the sense that it's unique, a style that screamed 'Fiore' instead of the nations in Teyvat.

“You misunderstand, Balladear, I'm not Fiore, but [Name]. I'm a free woman. I'm in no organizations.”

That's new, for the last time he saw her, she was still rather attached to the organization. Or perhaps that's her way of supervising him, the one who had taken her place.

He must've been scrutinizing her appearance with a silence that lacked his usual aggro—because before he knows it, the lady leans forward with a wink.

It sends a chill down his back.

“Nor in any relationships, if you catch my drift.”

Bitter Archons above-

“Get the hell out of my sight.” Scaramouche snarls with pinched brows, turning away in disgust after snagging his hat back.

He really doesn't know what else to expect of her, but he's a little relieved that she hasn't grown out of that preposterous charm of hers. Still devilishly annoying, but he's not one to talk.

Uninterested in the laughter that rings behind him, he continues his trek toward the neighboring nation of Sumeru. At the moment, there's nothing but the crucial need to get away.

An impossible thing—for the Fatui always manages to catch up, he knows that better than anyone—but that's a headache for another day.

He already has one just seeing this woman and the humid air is not helping alleviate it. Sweat is rolling down his temples and it's only the nice cover of his hat that prevents him from melting into mush under the raging sun.

A cold gust of wind blows through him, the discordant chill amid the otherwise dry area implying that it was done with the use of both a Vision and Delusion.

Perceptive as always, that girl.

“The Tsaritsa is rather upset, you know?” she calls, voice steadily growing closer.

He was about to address her use of Anemo and Cryo—maybe slot in an impossible thanks—but that's thrown out of his mind a second later.

The Tsaritsa?

Huffing, he doesn't bother stopping and facing her, wary of his growing headache 'cause damn. “Two-faced liar, so you were with them.”

“To pay respects,” the response is quick, as though his censures were foreseen. “Signora was a nice comrade. A little haughty, but nice.”

Nice. Scaramouche almost laughs. Signora, nice.

Perhaps her competency with taking the Queen's piece, yes.

But only someone with a loose screw can ever describe the pile of ash as nice, but then again, this is [Name]. If devilish isn't her middle name, then perhaps eccentric is.

“They will be coming after you. You are aware of that, aren't you?”

Exasperating works, too.

“What do you take me for? An idiot?” he finally stops, unable to hide the offense on his face as he swivels with a glare.

Is he being disparaged? Him?

The venom on his tongue is milliseconds away from coating the words he's about to convey, but he receives an answer before he can do so.

“A renegade with a bounty over his head heading to Sumeru. I hope you weren't blinded by what you sought.” [Name] answers with a shrug, her pretty [c]s fixated on the glimmer of violet peeking behind the overlays of fabric.

On the defensive, Scaramouche lifts a hand to cover the glow of the Electro Archon's Gnosis. He does this even though he's aware that [Name] has no intention of stealing it from him.

In any case, she's much more likely to steal his damned hat again.

He scoffs once more. “I'm none of your business.”

Leave me alone.

The message needn't be said when it's already so obviously implied.

Having uttered what he wanted, he resumes his pace, thinking of feasible plans for the coming few days. He has no doubts that a Harbinger is going to be sent after him.

Eyes forward, he walks with his chin tipped high, confident and unfaltering of what lies ahead. There is nothing to fear, nothing to be bewildered over.

The macabre art of war comes to him naturally and there aren't any qualms about death, he is used to such things. But if there is one thing he isn't used to, then...

“Do you have a death wish?” he halts and asks this, genuinely lost in a confusion that he won't admit out loud.

Only the sound of his feet against the terra is heard a minute ago, but he isn't oblivious to the following figure at his back, levitating as always. Nonchalant as she can possibly be.

“What you're doing is nothing but utter folly.”

Why are you still here?

He doesn't even need to turn around to see [Name] shrug. As if she isn't at all deterred by the fact that she can die if she continues to follow him.

“I know.” she answers, sounding insanely delighted.

Scaramouche clicks his tongue again.

If there's anything he isn't accustomed to, then it is the devilish [Name].

“You're mad.”

Only a giggle answers his words as he begins to walk again, making no move to stop her any longer and letting her float around him with a bunch of jests rolling past her tongue.

He's irked, but that's alright.

He's fond of pretty and exasperating devils, anyway.

a/n: mm, nothing like scara pretending not to care that mc decided to stick with him when in fact he's actually all "aw ye" about it deep down lmao

@cherryflushz @e7t3 @scarlet-halos @lordbugs @nebulaera @annoying-and-upset @hanniejji @applepi1415 @tjjjrsj @azirajane @hey-comrade-hold-stil @limelightsuperhero @chloeloe @loptido @windyventi @nejibot @ganyuqrt @justrinnn @yasunamilk @alana5021

you wear another man’s clothes

f!reader┆canon┆wc. 1k┆navi┆like or reblog┆

ayato [綾人]

he wasn’t a jealous man, but it’d be a tremendous lie if he said he didn’t experience it. his jealousy didn’t stem from insecurity or low-self esteem. his tendency to get jealous was sowed in petty, childish annoyance over anything else

jealous? debatable. possessive? of course. the need or obligation to uphold a facade around others made it a fun challenge. it forced him to act sneakier than a fox when it came to showing his true feelings and intentions

he was so smug about it. sure, you didn’t know he was behind it but he didn’t mind. the reactions people had towards you compensated for it

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6 ways to handle negative thoughts

1. Be concious of your thoughts. When you realise you are thinking about something negative, distract yourself.

2. Keep busy. Keeping your hands and mind occupied helps keep your mind off negative thoughts.

3. Avoid triggers. Avoiding negative things can help to keep you sane and positive.

4. Get rest. Lack of sleep really affects your mood and can cause your mind to wander back to those negative thoughts.

5. Listen to music. Listening to your favourite music for 30 minutes a day can have a positive effect on your health and day.

6. Talk about it. Sharing these thoughts with someone you trust can help prevent your mind from thinking about them.

— 5wirl kissing you to shut your trap

pairing : 5wirl (aether, venti, xiao, kazuha and heizou) × gn!reader

genre : hard-core fluff | scenarios

word count : 2.4k (0.4 - 0.8k each)

pov : first person point of view

summary : just 5wirl trying to calm you down or shut you up with a kiss because they cannot think of anything else.

author's note : please do not murder me for ooc heizou. written before character release.

"You're trying to kill me, aren't you?"

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It was wrong to believe that the adepti could endure everything. It was even more wrong to believe that they never bled. I stood beside the conqueror of demons on the Wangshu Inn's balcony, being loath of my inability to admire the landscape it evinced in the darkness.

It was preposterous to be in love with nature when your friend was bleeding beside you. I couldn't help my eyes from darting at the cuts and gashes all over his arms, dripping with shimmering golden liquid— ichor. Adepti weren't more Gods than they were humans but they still possessed the divine blood in their veins. Sometimes, it made me a little jealous of them. Despite being half adeptus, my blood was the generic red of humans.

"Are you sure you don't want me to patch you up?" I asked, for what must be the fiftieth time of the day.

"No," he grunted, "Go away."

"Not happening, " I shook my head. I was used to Xiao and his blunt hurtful remarks to be affected anymore," Not unless you get your wounds taken care of."

"Hmph," I could feel his patience running thin, "Adepti do not have the human tendencies to be taken care of. Nor do they need such assistance. Do not mistake me for a human."

It would be a lie if I said I wasn't expecting this as a response. Xiao was as reserved as an owl and as prideful as a lion. It wasn't an easy task to tear those traits away in an instant. And bleeding wasn't as gothically romantic as writers often describe them to be. I couldn't just give up and let his divine blood go to waste.

"Look here, Xiao," I tried again, "I'm not trying to make you look human even for a second. But you need to understand that the thing you're doing is not right. You might be super strong and super great but that won't matter if you bleed to death. Let me help you, yes?"

He glowered at me, the kind of look that was supposed to incinerate me to leave nothing but ashes. But there I stood, whole and scowling at him as if he was an annoying little kid. He turned away.

"You would be deluded if you think you can't die," I dared to say, "So if you don't want to regret this—"

The rest of my words were drowned in Xiao's mouth. Both his hands snaked around me, pressing me to his chest as if he were trying to mould us both into one being. His lips tasted like the brightest of sunny days dipped in the essence of the darkest of nights, revealing the most vulnerable of nightly secrets. At that moment, I knew I would want for more when this was gone, want for it over and over and over again.

He pulled away from me, our noses only millimetres apart as he stared down into my soul, "Just this once. Do whatsoever you must like."

I must have interpreted his statement wrong since he clapped his hand to my mouth when I tried to close the distance between our lips again.

"You're trying to kill me, aren't you?" he rasped.

And that was when I realized he was allowing me to tend to his wounds. I could feel a smug smile growing on my face at the thought that I affected him in a similar way he did to me.

"My heart was always yours to begin with."

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The legs of the chair screeched against the cobblestones of the floor as I pulled it toward many of my shelves lined with ancient relics and figurines. I climbed on the wooden seat to dust the artifacts on the very top. At that moment, the bell to the door of my shop jingled, signalling the arrival of an antique-loving customer.

"Welcome, dear customer, what relic must I present to you?" I recited without even looking, the words stitched to my heart.

"The attention of the shop owner, if you please."

It took less than a second for the corners of my lips to tug into a smile. It was an unforgettable voice— softer than the wind tickling your face, smoother than a clear creek washing over the stones.

"It would be my greatest pleasure," I hopped down from the chair, the duster long forgotten on the ground in my longing to embrace the one I loved.

He wrapped his hands around me with the familiar warmth I was so deprived of for so long. "Been long, Kazuha," I sighed aloud.

"I'm aware," he rubbed his hand over my back, " I'm not leaving anymore, now that it's over."

"I hope not," I nuzzled my head on his chest.

He kissed the crown of my head, "I won't, sunshine. Do you need help with cleaning?"

I parted from him and nodded. He leaned against the counter as I went to fetch another duster, watching me. When I returned to hand him one, I saw a faint crease between his eyebrows.

"What's worrying my sunshine?" I posed, worried about him.

"They didn't return your vision yet?" he asked me, climbing on the chair to dust my figurines.

I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth to stop my frustration from breaking free. The Vision Hunt Decree was over and the Shogun had promised to hand over all the visions she had confiscated. I got mine back as well, just as promised. But getting it back didn't mean it was in the same condition as before.

"You're not answering me?" Kazuha's voice was gentle.

"They broke it," I said flatly, trying to keep the anger away from my voice,"They returned it to me with an unfeeling apology. It was in shambles."

I pulled out a wooden vase to wipe it clean. Kazuha paused, unable to collect the words that would make me feel better.

"Sunshine, I'm sorry—"

"It's alright," I looked at him," It's not your fault. Sometimes, I wish I had run away with you. Staying back was the worst decision I've ever taken. Now, look where it's gotten me to."

Guilt rose in my throat. I didn't want to lose my cool and make him feel bad just after his return. But here I was, letting everything out that I had been so meticulous in bottling up.

"They pinched a hole in my hopes and dreams and stole half my heart with that broken vision," I complained, "They just don't care—"

Kazuha yanked me to him, covering my mouth with his. His hands rested on my jaw as if he were afraid I would disappear. My heart was a flower, dripping with the sweetest nectar in this world as it rolled down to my stomach, satiating the butterflies dancing within.

He pulled away, just to brush his lips on the space between my eyebrows, both my eyelids and the tip of my nose. I could feel the heat dominating my skin, licking at my throat and ears.

He smiled, seating me on the chair while his hands rested on my shoulders.

"Don't you worry about them stealing half your heart," he said, with all the gentleness in this world," You can have mine. My heart was always yours to begin with. As long as you have me, I'll sew your hopes and dreams together. "

That was the problem with Kazuha. His eloquence was evil dipped in innocence which always made me want to cry. His words had the tenacity to shred me into pieces only to sew me back together in a way that made me see him a little differently everytime.

His words were nothing if not curses which made me fall deeper into the chasm of his love, something I was sure I would never escape.

"That ought to do the trick, don't you think?"

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It was a glorious day under the huge tree in Windrise. The breeze was sweet, carrying soft seeds of dandelions and the dignified strum of a lyre. But it did nothing to make my heart dance to the joyous nature.

"C'mon, Y/N!" Venti called from a branch on the tree, his fingers sliding over the strings of the lyre,"It's okay to lose a book. Lisa won't have your head!"

I let out an exasperated sigh,"That is not what worries me. I am flabbergasted at my own irresponsibility. I can't even take care of a book."

Lisa loved her books. She trusted me enough to let me borrow one and I ended up disappointing her hopes of taking good care of it. Indeed, Lisa was scary when she came to collect overdue books, but that wasn't an excuse to hide my mistake.

"What do I even say to her?" I continued, pressing my hands to my head,"She'll be so upset."

"Y/N, listen to me, it's—"

"I should probably buy a new one to replace it," I decided,"That should do it or maybe—"

"Y/N—"

"— I must look for it more. She obviously holds her copies very dear—"

I heard a soft thud on the ground beside me and then I was rendered speechless. Venti pressed his mouth to mine and all my words died in my throat. His hand slid behind my waist to pull me closer. As if my hands had minds of their own, they cupped his soft cheeks on instinct.

My heart was a tangle of strings on which he played a merry tune with that kiss. With each strum of my heartstrings, he seemed to suck all my worries away.

He pulled away and rested his head on mine, smiling, "That ought to do the trick, don't you think?"

"I'll do much, much worse than just kiss you!"

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I had been sitting atop the outstretched palms of the Anemo Archon's huge statue, lost in the world of the book I was reading. I had not realized that I was staring straight ahead of me until Aether took it upon himself to snap me out of my reverie.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked me, voice dripping with innocence.

I, on the other hand, felt annoyed at being called back from my own world. So I decided to test his patience.

"What else?" I said, as if it were very obvious, " I was thinking about Captain Kaeya."

"And what about him?" I could practically hear him frown.

"What ain't there to think about him?" I pretended to be surprised, " He's the knight in shining armour everyone dreams about. He's tall, beautiful and everything out of a fairytale book."

I gave Aether a sideways glance. He was playing with the fabric of his gloves, utterly downcast. I felt guilty for my relishing this torturous experience I was putting him through. I couldn't help but snicker a little.

"Oh, just imagine him smiling at you," I spoke in my dreamy voice, trying to impersonate Donna, " Or the cruve of his lips on—"

Aether didn't let me finish my sentence. He put his lips on mine, washing away all my words with the sunshine within him. And I hadn't realized how much I would want this. He was oxygen I was dying to breathe. He was the sweet I was dying to taste. It was an eternity so short-lived, giving me nothing at all but everything all the same.

"Don't you think about Kaeya ever again," he growled at me with his cute voice.

"And what if I do?" I teased him.

He gave me the you-are-insufferable look and balled his fists together, saying, "I'll do much, much worse than just kiss you!"

At that, I was sure I wouldn't have any more witty rejoinders anymore. He was so adorable and I was dying because of it.

"You don't have to be perfect all the time, babe."

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Heizou lounged on a straight-backed wooden chair, his feet propped up on the table and crossed at the ankles while his hands cushioned his head, serving as a makeshift pillow. A pair of moths fluttered around the single yellow lantern dangling down the ceiling as he sat watching me.

I was sitting with my back to his bookshelf, troubled at my recent failure with a case. It had been quite simple if I'd thought about it harder, then, I wouldn't have embarrassed myself like that in front of everybody else who expected so much from me.

"Y/N," he spoke softly, "It's alright. Even the best of us need help sometimes."

"Not with a petty theft case," I shook my head with belligerence, " Especially not when the thief is right in the line of sight, doing a good job to blend in with the crowd."

I heard him sigh aloud. I knew I was annoying him quite a lot. But I still couldn't fathom the stupidity that brought him down along with me. What worried me was that he considered it to be next to nothing. But for me, who called myself a detective with a keen eye, it was a big deal.

"Y/N, chill out," he drawled. It was a miracle that he hadn't given up on cheering me up yet.

"You don't understand," I whined, raking a hand through my hair," If I were worried about my dignity, I would've locked myself in a room and isolated myself. But I'm not. I just managed to bring your reputation down in an instant and I can't believe you're so cool about it."

"We caught the thief," he tried to reason with me," We're good."

"But still." I shrugged, "It's always going to be there in the back of my mind, poking me like a needle all the time."

The chair scratched. Heizou pushed himself out of the sitting position only to come and crouch down in front of me. He tucked a single strand of hair behind the shell of my ear," It's alright. All is well that ends well, yes? According to that logic, we're grand."

I parted my lips to object but found myself obstructed by the force of his mouth on mine. The way he was kissing me, it was as if I owed him complete access to my mouth, whensoever he must want. If I could bottle up that feeling of his lips on mine and get drunk on it every night, I would do it all the time. Oh, wouldn't anybody?

A smirk stretched on his lips at the sight of my face which I suspected was a gradient of red.

"You don't have to be perfect all the time, babe."

Never had I realized that his words could ever make my heart stutter that way.

© mxplesyrvp 's work 2022, all rights reserved. reblogs are highly appreciated. Do not plagiarize, take heavy inspiration or translate.

Picture credits to the rightful owners.

hi lovely people its 4am and xiao is pesterin me so im makin it ur problem as well mwahmwah | pls dont pay attention to the spellin mistakes its 4am okay 😔😔😔 | college au!!

boyfriend!xiao who drives you to and from college on his motorcycle everyday, thankful to the fact that you can't see his cheeks turning red and ears flushing because of the way you cling to him, a small smile gracing his face when you claw at his waist when he speeds up (something he does on purpose just to have you cling to him).

boyfriend!xiao who brings you your lunch everyday, kissing your forehead softly before stepping out of the cafetaria, leaving you to deal with the teasing of your friends (that you successfully flee from after bribing them with free drinks).

boyfriend!xiao who worries about the fact that his piercings might hurt you when he kisses you and, even when you reassure him that it's not as painful as he thinks, he removes them once you're back in your shared apartment so he can kiss you without any worries.

boyfriend!xiao who despite his fear of hurting with his piercings, can't seem to stop biting you whenever he can; you'd often find yourself blankly staring at the marks he left on your shoulders and neck and cheeks, wondering how foundation could hide your boyfriend's cannibalist habits.

boyfriend!xiao who looks all tough on the outside with his leather jackets and dark clothes, with his expensive motorcycle and his piercings and the red rimming his eyes but happens to be the softest and most caring person you'd ever got to meet.

boyfriend!xiao who teaches you how to skate, using it as an opportunity to have you cling to him, his hands resting on your hips to "stabilize" you while your hands gripped his shoulders as he screamed internally at how adorable and squishable you are (he eventually bit your cheeks to death that hu tao was worried when she noticed the bandaids on your face).

boyfriend!xiao who loves you to the moon and back and who says the cringiest, cheesiest things ever, but he doesn't care because if it's for you, then nothing else matters.

reblogs are highly appreciated!

ka(eya)bedon

(the third time)

⋅⋅⋅ w/ kaeya

The goal is simple: attain a title among the Knights of Favonious. Like all leaders, do your responsiblities, be honest, and always place Mondstadt’s safety first. So it perplexes you how Captain Kaeya attained the status as Calvary Captain. He’s only good at neglecting official duties, lying, pinning you against the wall—wait what?

or 3 times kaeya kabedon-ed you. the first in jest, the second to apologise, and third for keeping your focus only on him.

⋅⋅⋅ 3.2k words

⋅⋅⋅ more info

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you hold your breath.

there no sound coming from the captain’s office, so everything should be fine, right?

you twist the door handle, slowly widening your entrance into his private territory.

(or as private as an office can be. despite stumbling on his notes about dragonspine, he didn’t leave a single trace of his plans to make use of you.)

there’s a slight lump in your throat when his chair comes to view and it’s empty.

it grows when this scene sparks the memory of the night you worked together with him—the moment everything spiralled.

still, you steel yourself, taking a step into the room because duties were duties at the end of the day.

ambitions, goals, and will. no emotions can stand in its way.

yesterday, you were promoted. a bit more and you might become the first knight in history to have a leadership position in such a short period.

as you settle down on the table, a little yellow note slips from one of the documents.

congratulations.

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