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depollute me, pretty baby—eijirou kirishima.

concept: eijirou comforts his significant others in their moment of insecurity [based on leith ross’ we’ll never have sex demo].

pairing: pro-hero!eijirou kirishima x afab!black!reader.

word count: 1.2k

warning: body image issues, insecurity, suggestive?, [non-sexual] body worship, praise, caressing, NO SMUT.

clo said—honestly, i’m having less than satisfactory thoughts about myself and wrote about my feelings and what i need. this isn’t meant to glorify any kind of negative body image or eating disorder, i truly just wrote about something i could relate to. i understand that this could be extremely triggering so don’t feel pressured to read this. i hope none of you have gone through this and if you have, i hope you know that i’m here for you. happy reading.

depollute me, pretty baby

suck the rot right out of my bloodstream

y/n sat on the floor of their bathroom as they stared at their body in the mirror, a few stray tears escaping their eyes. it was a bad habit of theirs to check their body and make mental notes on the areas that they could lose weight in. they sometimes even went as far as to plan how they would lose said weight, only for them to forget within the span of three days. they only did this when they knew eijirou would be gone for a while, fearing what he would say if he saw them like this. he was big on positivity and it’d kill him if he saw his significant other sitting on the floor, having less than positive thoughts about themselves.

‘another twelve pounds. what happened to wanting to lose weight, y/n?’ they thought to themselves.

y/n was so caught up in their thoughts that they didn’t hear the front door open and they didn’t hear when he called out for them twice. that’s how kirishima found them staring off into the mirror with a wet face and frown, quickly putting two and two together. he stepped behind y/n, snapping them out of their thoughts when they saw his figure in the mirror. they grabbed his their discarded shirt and quickly pulled it on before turning to look at him.

“i thought you’d be home late,” y/n said, embarrassed as they stood up and walked to the sink, hoping to wash their tear stricken face. before they could reach the porcelain appliance, eijirou pulled them towards him.

“i’m glad i came home early. otherwise, you would’ve been left completely alone with your thoughts. i’m sorry i wasn’t here,” kirishima mumbled, disappointed in himself for not noticing how you felt.

“it’s not your fault, eiji. i didn’t want you to worry,” they mumbled into the crook of his neck as they felt fresh tears pool in their eyes. this is exactly what they didn’t want. kirishima had his own bad habit of blaming himself for things that he couldn’t control. y/n didn’t want to add additional stress on top of his hero duties and figured that this was something that they could handle on their own. this isn’t how they wanted him to find out if he ever did.

“are you hungry? i bought us dinner on my way home from the agency. i noticed that you didn’t write anything on the calendar about dinner for today and figured i could bring something home,” he asked as he pulled back enough to see his lover’s face. he noticed the new tears and brushed them away only for more to come. “it’s alright, love. let it out. i’m here for you.”

“i’m so sorry,” y/n sniffled as they cried harder. kirishima rubbed their back as he led them back into the bedroom.

oh, you kissed me

just to kiss me

not to take me home

he carefully laid them down on the bed before laying next to them, wrapping his arms around their frame as they faced each other. he held them tightly and let a few of his own tears fall at the sight of his distressed lover. his brightness was so dim as he held them in his arms.

“talk to me, doll. i’d like to help you if you’d let me,” he whispered. y/n looked at his face before letting a few more tears fall.

“i just… i don’t feel beautiful, eiji. i know that you call me beautiful or gorgeous, but i can’t bring myself to feel that way. i feel like i embarrass you when we’re seen in public. i’m not slim like those pro-heroines and i’m definitely not as beautiful. i gained twelve pounds whilst on a diet. i love my complexion, but the beauty standards here insult it. i try so hard… just to not receive good results. i just want to feel pretty, eiji. i want to feel pretty so bad,” y/n sobbed as they confessed their worries to him.

eijirou was lost for words. he never imagined that his usually upbeat significant other felt like this. he never would’ve suspected them being insecure or body conscious because he knew they were beautiful. his friends and co-workers even recognized y/n as gorgeous externally, so their doubts were surprising.

“can you look at me, darling?” he asked softly. he didn’t want to force them to do anything. he was elated when y/n met his gaze. “you’re absolutely beautiful. inside and out. i didn’t know you felt like this because in my eyes, and many others, you’re stunning. i know my words aren’t enough to soothe your worries, but i meant it when i said you are the most attractive person i’ve ever laid my eyes on. ‘m not just saying that because i’m your man, but because it’s true. there aren't enough words to express how beautiful you are.”

there was a short silence between the two before kirishima leaned in and kissed y/n’s lips. “please let me show you how beautiful you are,” he requested, planting soft but meaningful kisses on their face.

if i said you could never touch me

you’d come over and say i looked lovely.

“i don’t wanna have sex tonight,” y/n said, hesitating in case they disappointed him.

“sex isn’t on my mind tonight. i just want to worship you like you deserve. if you don’t want me to, i won’t and i’ll just hold you,” he tightened his hold to show y/n that it was truly up to them and that they were in control.

“go ahead. i’d like it if you helped me.”

at their approval, kirishima re-situated himself between their legs before pushing their shirt up above their chest. he looked up y/n to receive their consent once more before placing a few kisses on their collarbone. he moved slowly, traveling to their sternum and down further to the pudge on their stomach. y/n hummed at the feeling of his hands running over their body.

“i wish you knew how beautiful you are. if you need my help in any way, please come to me. you can always lean on me, love. it hurt to see you closed off in the bathroom, judging your gorgeous body,” as he whispered, he left longer kisses on a more intimate place of their body. he hoped that through his actions, he would be able to convey his feelings.

he ran his hands over their plush thighs, massaging them slightly as he looked down at the beautiful human being under him. his motions soothed their body and some of their insecurities, showing them how beautiful they truly were. washing their sorrows away when he left those lingering kisses.

he ceased his motions when he reached their face once more. he maintained eye contact until y/n closed their eyes with a small smile. he pressed barely there kisses along their cheek bones and on their forehead. he took their face between his large hands and kisses their soft lips with enough emotion to bring them to tears.

“thank you, eiji,” y/n said, wrapping their arms around him, cuddling deeper into him.

“of course, doll.”

it was simple

you are sweetness

let’s just sit a while.

© all rights reserved to yuzuhablvd. do not repost, plagiarized, or falsely claim my work. likes, comments, and reblogs are welcome!

If you don’t mind could I request some Shouta Aizawa x Female Reader headcanons? Thank you so much!! :D

Shouta Aizawa x Female Reader HCs

You're one of the few people who get to see his softer side

He loves to softly kiss your cheeks and forehead when he's tired or stressed

The first time you held his hand, he kept a straight face for all of two seconds before he became a blushing mess

He may not take the best care of his skin, but he's always there to remind you to (ie. taking off your makeup after a long day, wearing facemasks, washing your face, etc)

His hero costume doesn't really show it, but he loves incorporating bright colors into his wardrobe. He actually tries to color coordinate with you!

He still has a great terrible sense of fashion. Nothing you say or do can change this

If you have long nails, he'd ask you to scratch his head like a cat. Its actually a huge comfort of his to have your fingers in his hair

He really enjoys you playing with his hair in general

He's actually quite stingy when it comes to lip kisses. He believes that they should be saved and treasured.

His favorite nicknames for you are "kitten", "cutie", and "beautiful"

He could listen to you gush all day. He generally doesn't want to talk when you're talking because that would stop him from hearing your beautiful voice

He might come off as uncaring around you to the untrained eye, but he's actually just shy and he tries to cover that up with acting "cool"

He's a total dork though

The two of you own at least two cats together

He really likes physical affection. He'd be very polite though and ask you for permission for the smallest things. He just doesn't want to overstep your boundaries!

He has bought you multiple frilly, cutesy dresses and skirts because he thinks you'd look extra cute in them, even if you only wear them in the house

SHARING A BED WITH THE GENSHIN BOYS.

genre. fluff, boyfriend au cw. none. pairings. xiao, kazuha, zhongli, childe x gn!reader.

all rights reserved to me. do not repost, translate or steal.

— xiao

xiao would be absolutely postively freaking the fuck out

he wouldn’t show it, obviously, because the last thing he’d want you to see are the reddening of his cheeks and his stiffer than normal stature

he would grumble a lot but deep deep deep deep x2 down he genuinely was so excited to sleep with you for the first time because it was a new step in your relationship

it takes him like 10 minutes after you fall asleep to lay down and then for like two hours (Absolutely No Exaggeration) he stares at you like a dog on the kitchen floor when you’re making food

it would take a couple times of laying together for him to finally bot get flustered anymore

— kazuha

kazuha would be so sweet and nice!!

he’d ask if it was okay for him to lay with you like twenty times because he was scared to even get near you or make you uncomfy

he’d also offer to put a pillow wall between you both and was literally hanging off the side of the bed despite putting it up

we all know how he is

he’s def the type to talk your fucking head off the the max at night like every time you’re on the verge of finally falling asleep he speaks out snd scares the living hell out of you

the pillow wall didn’t even prevent anything when you woke up the next morning he was attached to your side sleeping peacefully with a little smile on his face like ( ◠‿◠ )

— childe

a whore

100% absolutely planned how laying with you for the first time was gonna go weeks prior to the actual night

he put on cologne, brushed his teeth 5 times, sprayed that mint mouth spray, and put on his fanciest pajamas

he wouldn’t be like xiao or kazuha at all like not even similar in the slightest bit he wouldve jumped beside you the moment he was able to… which is exactly what he did

you didn’t even have time to register what was happening when you felt a gush of air and a head full of orange hair wiz past you and you were being forced to lay your head on his chest

he kept sighing dreamily every 5 minutes and asking “isn’t this just amazing”

despite this though he is very respectful and keeps his space if you want it but if you’re a cuddler he will not let you go unless you are blue in the face so dont even try asking

— zhongli

the gentlest gentleman

he would offer to sleep on the floor and actually wouldn’t take no for an answer because he felt like it was inappropriate to lay with you when you’ve only been dating for a month

but he might’ve underestimated how… hard the floor actually was in comparison to the comfort of his mattress and literally couldn’t sleep at all

so he decided to get up and lay on the couch instead…. but then there u went and called his name

as much as he doesn’t wanna admit he was hoping you’d ask him to lay with you bc the couch was as hard as a rock too… and luckily for him you did

like childe he would absolutely give you your space but if you wanted to hug him or him to cuddle you or anything he wouldn’t say no and would more than happily oblige <333

complimentary

➶ kageyama tobio x reader

➶ fluff

The last time you saw Kageyama was exactly one week ago. It had been around 11 p.m. and you were cleaning the dishes that you had used to reheat some leftovers. He had turned up to your apartment in an impeccably designed suit, with his hair gelled back in a way that made you look at him for a second too long.

You had to remind yourself that he’s just Kageyama Tobio. A family friend. A childhood friend.

After he left, you had pulled out old photographs of your school graduation to confirm that he’s just the same gawky yet endearing boy that you’ve known your whole life. Had he always been this dreamy? Or was this a recent development? Whatever it is, you silently hope that either his newfound charm or your tiny crush goes away as soon as possible.

The doorbell rings. Clad in a flannel pajama set and eagerly expecting your food delivery, you open the door. The man standing before you is holding food but it’s not the one you ordered.

“Kageyama,” you say, slightly taken aback. “What are you doing here?”

He makes an awkward attempt at a smile before holding out a nondescript paper bag. Standing on your tiptoes, you peer into it and notice the top of a pastry box.

You take the little bag from him and wave him in. Your apartment looks somewhat presentable, although you spot a few items out of place and quickly clear up the area as he stands like a statue near the counter. He looks absurdly out of place, a towering figure that's bending slightly to avoid the overhead kitchen lights.

He clears his throat before saying, “I got you something from the event I went to tonight.”

You hum, a curious lilt at the end.

He pulls out the square box. “It’s tiramisu. You like it, right?”

You laugh. “Yeah. But you don’t need to bring me stuff every time.”

The previous visit had been to drop off a complimentary wine bottle from that night’s event. You notice the half-filled bottle on the countertop and the image of his reddened wine-tipsy face from that night arises. Both of you had spent the night sipping on the expensive wine and chatting, before he left in a cab.

“But you like tiramisu so I thought I’d give it to you,” he frowns.

You raise your hands in surrender at his flawless logic and walk towards the kitchen cabinets. Pulling out a drawer, you find two spoons before shutting it with a swing of your hips.

You hold one out to him. He takes it with a quiet murmur of thanks. You’re suddenly aware of the unfamiliar domesticity of this situation. You don’t make any mention of it. The silence continues as you help yourself to the treat, and you realize that you don’t mind it at all.

After a few bites from both your sides, the box sits empty except for a few brown crumbs. You pick the box up and scoop the remaining crumbs, determined not to waste even a bit of the appetizing dessert.

Outside, the usual sound of traffic has died down. You realize that he’s watching you intently.

“Don’t stare, you weirdo.”

The tips of his ears match the shade of your pajamas. He doesn’t even attempt to defend himself.

You don’t think your heart can take any more of this casual hanging out. Maybe Kageyama just thinks of you as a good friend, and you’re the one who’s overthinking. You really hope that’s the case. Okay, maybe if he thought of you as a really good friend who’s moderately attractive, you’d be fine with that too.

“I should go. I’ve got practice early in the morning.” He shuffles his feet, glancing up at you with an unsure look in his eyes.

You ignore the disappointment building up in your chest and just nod. You barely register the fact that he’s discarded the pastry box and is now slipping on his shoes, until he’s ready by the door.

He waits for a beat. You feel like this is where you should say something.

He surprises you by speaking first.

“I can never figure out what to say. So, uh, thanks for not minding that.”

You let out a flustered chuckle. “That’s okay.”

He unlocks the door and steps outside but you stop him before he gets any further.

“You don’t have to bring anything next time.”

Kageyama shakes his head slowly. “It’s nice to have an excuse to see you.”

Your eyes widen. He can’t possibly know what he’s implicating, can he? He has unintentionally made your heart race numerous times, but this deliberate wording might cause your heart to accelerate at record speed.

“You don’t need an excuse,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

His breath hitches. Before you can realize, he’s leaning towards you before he stops halfway. You tear your gaze away from his steel-blue eyes to look at his lips.

It takes only a second for you to close the gap, with Kageyama’s touch impossibly light against your jaw. The kiss is slow and tentative, characteristic of what you’d expect from him. Gentle touches and soft kisses to your lips cause a warmth to bloom all the way to your fingertips. You pull away to see him gazing down at you, flecks of adoration reflected in his dilated pupils.

You sigh into his neck. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while now.”

He sputters out a “Really?” before letting his arms come to rest at your waist.

You hear footsteps coming from the staircase down the hall and quickly detach yourself from his enticingly warm hold. A delivery boy comes into view. He takes one look at Kageyama’s imposing stature and hastily hands over the food to you before scampering away.

You giggle at the bewildered look on Kageyama’s face.

“I’ve kept you here for too long. You need to wake up early, right?”

He nods, lips still parted and glistening under the dim hallway light.

“Oh yeah. Um, goodnight.” He pecks your cheek and begins to walk away from your door.

You try not to laugh at how dazed he seems.

“Do you wanna come by tomorrow?” you pipe up. “If you’re free.”

He turns around while walking, so he’s now doing it backwards. You watch the stunned expression on his face dissipate into a sappy smile.

“Yeah, I’ll come over. And the night after that?”

“If you're free, then sure. And you don’t need an excuse to drop by.” You match the grin on his face.

“And I don’t need excuses,” he repeats with finality.

You can’t stop grinning, even when he’s no longer in sight.

everytime you're out on the street —or anywhere really— you hear that small bell jingle near you. at first you thought it was just your mind making it up, but that was just not possible after hearing it for so long. then, you decided it was the loudness from outside, which ended being false when you still could hear it while the streets were empty. your last option was blaming it on some cat that lives around, but the problem is you have never seen the cat that seems to follow you everywhere.

one day you wake up in rush, you're late. you stayed up all night thinking where could that sound come from, and now you're tired, sleepy and late. curiously you didn't hear that particular jingle today on your way, so you were able to forget about it all day until you where walking back home. you're walking peacefully, and suddenly you hear some meow at your feet. it was a cat. it purs and rubs on your leg, you immediately crunch down and start petting it, praises and loving words leaving your lips for the adorable animal.

“that's such a cute cat” says a voice near you. your head snaps towards the stranger that appeared seemingly out of nowhere. he was rather —really—cute. he tilts his head at you, his earring making a much familiar sound of a little jingle. “are you looking for a kitty? i'm pretty sure there must be one out there that wants you to own them” you feel somehow weirded out by his choice of words, or just him in general, but you just politely answer him. “i think i would like to get one” he smiles widely and his eyes get crazed spark in them. “oh? that's good to hear. well, bye now” he leaves abruptly. you're kinda relived he did. you keep walking home and go on with your routine.

but then, when you're about to sleep peacefully for the first time in a long time, you realize that little jingle that has been haunting you non-stop, came from him. from his earring. the cat wasn't wearing a collar. it was him.

you hope he really was talking about kitties and not other things.

GENSHIN MEN & DOING CUTE AUTUMN THINGS .

characters. zhongli diluc kaeya childe neuvillette alhaitham kaveh x gn!reader genre. romantic fluff. an. happy almost october. which means happy almost christmas | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

zhongli

autumn, with zhongli, is sitting around a bonfire together. his hands are tightly wrapped around you, with you leaning against his shoulder – liyue never had seasons like these, so experiences like these came far and few. it was lovely all the same, sitting nestled in the leaves with you.

diluc

autumn, with diluc, is helping him with the autumn harvest. carts of grapes, pumpkins, cantaloupes, tomatoes, and more were filled to the brim, with two satisfied smiles on your faces after as he pushed the cart back to the manor. a sweet tradition, always ending with a glass of the harvest's finest wine at the end of the day.

kaeya

autumn, with kaeya, is always filled with baking and your household smelling like the grand mixture of cinnamon, butter and nutmeg. pumpkin pie, apple pie, cinnamon rolls, pecan bars, apple crisps and so many more left no more room for actual eating at the kitchen counters – time to host another soirée!

childe

autumn, with childe, is always competing to gather the biggest pile of leaves outside to jump into, within the coziness of your backyard. some years, the children eagerly watched the you go against each other, only for childe to tackle you into your pile of leaves. you always forgive him, though – you can't stay mad at your favourite ginger.

neuvillette

autumn, with neuvillette, is taking a stroll through the cold gardens of fontaine. the air seems to whisper and flitter about, and the melusines skip around as happily as ever. neuvillette forgets about all his worries the moment his hand slips in yours so perfectly – it seems as if your hand was made exactly for his.

alhaitham

autumn, with alhaitham, is booking an isolated cabin in the woods – and spending your most favourite two weeks of the year there. the air is sweetened with the scent of cinnamon biscuits and browned butter. you and alhaitham finally get to take a breath away from the bustle of sumeru city, and curl up within each other to read and live.

kaveh

autumn, with kaveh, is booking every single haunted house and maze you can find on the sumeru websites. you laugh as you watch your boyfriend's face turn from pleasantness to a horror-filled shock, the most high-pitched squealing and shrieking you've ever heard extract out of his body when the jumpscares start. he may have grabbed your hand too tightly, and now there's a red mark.

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reblogs w/ tags & comments help me lots !!! if you liked this, consider dropping me a follow as well :-)

𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒

ft! kei tsukishima , ryuunosuke tanaka , rintarou suna , && kiyoko shimizu ! 

˗ˏˋ aka : how they say i love you.  ˎˊ˗  

⋰˚☆ KEI TSUKISHIMA !

━━━━ the way he speaks to you in a softer tone than he has for anyone else; ruffling your head when you make a joke; sending links to playlists he made for you, and only you, at midnight; helping you study; saying that you’re his idiot; reading to you in his room as you head rests on his chest.

Keep reading

GENSHIN IMPACT: SMALL THINGS THEY DO WHEN YOU’RE DATING PART 1

includes: kaeya, diluc, zhongli, childe

trigger warnings: none

a/n: hello peeps!!! i’m back after not posting for super long and hopefully will be way more consistent now :D

KAEYA

kaeya will pinch you just to see you squirm

he uses his cryo vision to make his fingers extra cold

he finds it hot when you glare at him afterwards, swearing to all seven archons that you will kill him the next time he does it

kaeya will then try to hug you while you give him the silent treatment - but it doesn’t last long

you give in and accept the warmth of his embrace and the kisses he gives you as an apology for his stupid prank

beware, he will totally do it again

DILUC

diluc will go out of his way to make you a hot drink every morning

doesn’t matter whether it is coffee, tea, hot cocoa - you name it and he will have it ready in no time

he doesn’t care that he has maids at dawn winery; he will still always make it himself

it’s his way of expressing his appreciation for you

he also loves the way you hold the warm mug first thing after waking up - warming up your hands against the sides

ZHONGLI

zhongli is very old fashioned and will kiss the top of your hand every time he sees you

he adores the blush that graces your cheeks every time he does it

he just wants to treat you like the royalty he believes you are

tease him by pulling your hand away and he will give you the cutest pout, before lacing his fingers through yours

CHILDE

childe’s love language is gift giving - don’t even try to argue with me

while he loves to spoil you with expensive gifts, he also appreciates the simplicity of gifting you random objects that make him think of you

he sees a cool flower? he will pick it. funky rock lying in his path with cool little holes and swirling colours? you bet it’s yours.

you’re his sunshine, so nothing is ever too hard to get for you

if he ever catches you looking at an item while walking past a stand at the liyeu markets, he will secretly buy it for you - nothing slips by him

masterlist

a/n: i forgot how much I love writing these!!! who’s your favourite genshin character? i will do more parts with this prompt with other characters (all with adult characters)

In Life and Death / 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

♡ read the prologue here :D

♡ When everything you know is shrouded in light, it’s often hard to remember to peek into the darkness. Your family has long since been a part of those who avoid it, choosing to hide comfortably amongst the high ranks of Mondstadt’s nobility. Your father, the King, has fought hard to keep it that way, especially following the Queen's unfortunate death. However, with a sudden push from the Fatui, certain old wounds are quickly reopened.

It's why upon tragedy striking, you aren’t alone in the assumption that the foreign nation is to blame. But when unseen circumstances quickly push the question of the culprit's identity over to you, you find that the situation is much deeper than meets the eye. Between the mysterious nature of an unknown killer, familial doubts, and the 11th Harbinger launching himself into the scene by making an attempt on your life, you think you're completely in over your head.

Even if Childe claims you have the picture all wrong.

And so, in a gruesome twist of events, you're faced with a choice -- trust Childe's convenient involvement and get to the bottom of everything together, or risk becoming victims yourselves.

♡ warnings: violence, mentions of choking, blood, and knives.

♡ word count: 7.3k

You had long learned to never trust a man who is no more than his glare, because even the most innocent of dogs will still bear their teeth. And inside the walls of Mondstadt’s gates, this ideology very well may be known to many -- because from the darkened alleyways to busy courtrooms, there will always be those who show more than they are ready to give.

Unfortunately, the same can often be said of the king. 

You are as much of a stranger to his dealings as he is, though the difference in you lies in your capability of being disappointed. The King is extremely lucrative when he can be, handling his power in a way where those around him are left in a constant state of wondering, when will he strike next, and how? The answers are often underwhelming.

Of course, you know better than them. Each side-eyed glance and nuance of a threat is always held, but sometimes you suspect that behind your father's guarded eyes, there's nothing more than a man paralysed with fear. It's why your first reaction is to write him off when you get to thinking about the person you'd lost -- however much you want to blame him for it. His inherent innocence is the entire reason that the concept of a murder on the royal grounds terrifies you so much. 

You hadn't ever been extremely close to the Chamberlain, but news of her death shook you like it would anyone. Because she had been a pleasant young woman, certainly no one that deserved to meet their end in such a way.

This does not mean Mondstadt is crime-free, of course. Pickpockets and murderers alike dwell in the deepest corners and behind closed doors, but none have ever dared to show themselves in such a fashion. Though, a sizable bit of the population in these parts do tend to include fatui agents from outside the nation, perhaps entrenched in the only ways they know how. 

Someone other than the king had dealt a life-ending blow to someone of no consequence -- bearing their teeth, so to say. It was done as if they had known they could get away with it. The offence was haughty, too confident to be considered a crime of the usual degree. Hence, in your opinion, the large possibility of a fatui agent testing the waters.

But with nothing being confirmed, the question of the sudden nature of events remains. And despite the warning bells in your head, despite any disapproval the king may have, you would be better suited trying to uncover the mystery with everyone else than just sitting around. In fact, that's exactly how you managed to see the effects of the situation in the first place.

It was more difficult than usual to sneak around, but upon arriving at the ugly leftover scene under the guise of a maid, you almost change your mind. 

There was no major evidence left behind, no trace of a second person besides a ring of purple around her neck, the indentation of thick fingers settled heavy in her skin. Apparently mere choking had not been enough to subdue the woman, too — the main offender is much more striking.

An injection had ultimately done her in, the pin-prick small but only noticeable thanks to the crystallised blood surrounding the wound. Much like the odd suit of frost covering her skin, it was unusually cold to the touch.

But, you had been discovered and ushered out of the room before you could unearth much more. As much as you’d like to do something with the information you’d snuck by, other clues are not so readily available. You'd expected as much, but to be shunned so quickly? It was almost too odd to overlook the convenience of it.

Left with nothing to process, you are steadfast in your blaming of the foreign Snezhnayan officers. But whether any truly useful information exists or not, you hadn't been allowed around long enough to find out. 

Grave events such as this one are debilitating, they shake normal life in a way usual events do not. But just as the king is well aware of the fear that envelops the royal court, he is also in tune with the mechanics of the city he rules. He will take all means necessary to confine the circumstances, to avoid pressure from Snezhnayan diplomats if nothing else. 

 So, you know well that the lack of information provided is entirely intentional.

The Chamberlain's death had occurred three whole days ago, and you still haven't heard a thing. Not even the town gossips are aware of the turmoil that drenches the castle, and the maids are equally tight-lipped. 

Tapping a pen against the mahogany of the wooden desk, you sigh. The writer’s callus on your dominant hand is tinged with blue ink, darker in the low light of the library only you populate. The usually bustling halls have been noticeably empty within the past few days. However, it is a good side effect -- with less to see your actions, the more freedom to investigate you are given. 

Though, any so-called ‘investigations’ you’ve completed thus far have been nothing more than quick brainstorming sessions, wherein the same vague points are turned over and over again in your head. Sighing at the blank sheet of paper in front of you, you slump in your seat. 

It frustrates you to know that in these moments, you are often royalty in title alone. You are a woman of title, a person of royal blood, are you not? Yet, because of a single wave of the king’s hand, you are kept in the dark just as every courtier and servant is, inevitably leaving one amongst you vulnerable to repeat the same unfortunate mistakes the chamberlain had. 

However, you are not a courtier. Not a servant. So, why dangle such information above your head, why withhold any greater power your status holds? The reason, your father will likely never share, but your lack of knowledge in any event is undoubtedly purposeful

It may just be for your protection, though his intentions are never so simple; he thinks like a king, not a father. 

But, albeit his strange tendencies, bits and pieces of the father you want to see remain in every stroke of his lacquered pen. He is the puppet behind only your menial troubles, and it would be unfair to pin much more than a daughter’s bitterness on him. Perhaps this is just his out of touch way of protecting you -- like you need it.

“My lady,”

A soft yet firm voice bids for your attention. There is an immediate regret that blooms in your chest as you stand up abruptly, feet pushing you out of your chair only to meet the patient eyes of a maid. You offer her an apologetic smile as you will your heart to slow.

It’s not your place to be jumpy, not when there are those who work soundlessly to ensure your protection.

Perhaps they’re a bit too soundless, though. 

“My apologies.” The old woman bows her head slightly, leaning a careful hand on your shoulder. “You startle very easily lately, are you feeling well?”

You nod, gaze anywhere but her as you search for an escape. “Yes, yes, of course. Just nervous, is all.”

The maid watches you as you gather your things, eyes lingering a moment too long on the shaking hands you fail to conceal. You clutch the notebook and pen to your chest, offering her an awkward smile.

“Everything will be alright,” She assures you, gesturing to the rest of the empty library. “Extreme measures are being taken to protect anyone else in the castle from succumbing to a similar fate.”

As you nod wordlessly, the calmness in her voice does not dissipate. You feel almost scrutinised under her polished gaze — it is gentle, but concerned nonetheless. Your fears are merely surface level affairs to the familiar woman, despite how deeply you attempt to hide them. 

Offering her a nod as you duck past her, you mumble a quiet goodbye. The maid’s eyes remain stuck to your back as you begin to walk away, patient.

“I had tea prepared not long ago.” You stop at the doorway, hand coming up to ghost over the wooden frame as your head turns back. The same unwavering smile adorns your sight. “Enjoy your night, my lady.”

You respond with a quick smile, fastening your grip on your belongings as you hurry from the room. The particular woman’s kindness truly runs deep, though you can’t help the discomfort you experience under her weighted gaze -- she studies you as if you are translucent, hungry eyes searching for fears to quell.

As your shoes click on the hard floor, you grimace. Of course, her intentions are nothing more than those of a dedicated caretaker, and guilt pokes at your inside unnervingly for pushing her innocent concern off. There is a part of you that wants to confide in someone, whether it is a maid or someone entirely different -- but, for reasons unknown to even you, it’s not something you’re willing to do. 

On your worst days, you fear someone will attempt to face your emotions head-on, regardless of your wishes. And while such a person is bound to appear, it’s instances like these that you learn to stave off those indulgent enough to get too close. It is only practical, after all, as a member of the royal family to keep your troubles close.

Your mother had been a wonderful example of what compassion could do to someone of your status. Evident in every generation, in every string of events, there will always be someone looking to take advantage of such raw trust. So, while cowardly, it is a caution that no one can fault you for.

It is a truly vile way of thinking, yet in this walk of life, it is unfortunately necessary.

You have long stopped wondering what others think of your fears, though simultaneously, you have recently found it harder to maintain a cooler composure. No action seems just right, no demeanour enough to please everyone. Your honest desperation is heartbreakingly truthful, and you can only hope it's enough to excuse the way you act. 

The low evening sun passes over your face through the windows of the hall, decorating your body in an array of warmth. And whether the world sees fit to tease you or not, you don’t mistake the oddly timed shiver that runs through your body. Shaking your head, you wish tiredly for nothing more than everything to be over. 

The crystalline doorknob to your personal chambers is slippery beneath your clammy grip, exhaustion seeping through your veins as you stand there without luck. The tiny inconvenience tests your patience extremely closely. Luckily, the halls are empty around you, void of anything but yourself and guards stationed some ways away. 

Offhandedly, you wonder if you could get away with sneaking off. Perhaps it’s an action you may need to take eventually, but with the steady droop of your eyelids, you surmise it can wait. Even your tired mind can discern that there is little you can do in your state.

Moments later, you find yourself sitting on your bed, the tricky doorknob locked shut behind you. You have little desire to do anything but to crawl under your covers and move on to the next day. But, the commentary-scribbled notebook still weighs lightly in your hand. 

With a narrowed gaze, you consider stuffing it into your pillow case -- what could be a better hiding place than directly beneath you? Your eyes are heavy as you carry out the action. The process isn’t meticulous by any means, but you decide it will work well enough for now. 

Still in your day clothes, you let your body fall on top of the comforter. You’re briefly freed of your anxieties as you will your mind to go blank. You forget about the murder, about your deathly curiosity, even about the mug of tea that continues to go cold on your nightside table.  

Your worries may encompass dire things, they may not. But at the end of the day, they can only be worries.

“I don’t understand.”

The spring air is sweet in your nose, but for all that it’s worth, it’s easily outshined by the distinctly rotten taste that grows in your mouth. Mornings in the castle are usually filled by the former; golden sunlight within the deserted halls, the chirping of bluebirds heard from beyond the cracked windows, bowls of fresh fruit carried by passing servants -- but today, you find these peaceful things to be stifled.

You’d been called on during the early hours of the morning, long before you normally even rise. Perhaps it was a precautionary action, perhaps the particular subject just made your father restless, yet in any case, the first hour of your day is spent moderately.

“This is by no means a complicated thing to ask of you.” Your father says this, and while he may be right, he should be one of the last to consider giving you such an order.

You shake your head slowly, trying not to let your distress shine through. “No, it’s not, but it’s not necessary, is it? Someone is dead. I’m only expressing discomfort in my own way.”

“...Your coping mechanisms seem awfully dangerous.”

Avoiding his eye, you yawn into the back of your hand. Call it what you like, but coping mechanism be damned if it’s the one thing that makes you feel secure living as you do. 

“I don’t see how trying to figure out what happened is dangerous,” You say, taking in your father’s demeanour. It’s an early morning for him as well, but you know better than to push his limits on purpose. “Please. It’s only a personal reassurement. I’ll be sure not to take it too far.”

He shakes his head. “I’m not concerned about you taking things too far, because I know you’ll do that regardless of what we agree on today.”

You’re silent at that.

“I just don’t need you getting hurt because someone chooses to see you as a threat, not when there are more capable people to be assessing this situation.”

Your lips and patience both simultaneously thin. “If there are more capable people available, then where are they? I would be more than happy to hand things over to them.”

Your father’s head tilts slightly, voice raising an octave or so. “I'm in the process of gathering help. Are you questioning me?"

Dread begins to ferment in your stomach as you shake your head, words heavy in your mouth. “No. I only urge you to take this more seriously. I think it would be the better choice, knowing what has happened when we let our guard down in the past.”

His eyes narrow as you turn your head away, avoiding his eye as casually as possible even while your heart thumps loudly in your chest. There is not a day that goes by wherein your father does not honour your late mother in some way. But, you do not understand the reason he chooses to push aside an event so similar to the one that has affected him so greatly now.

“I recommend that you visit the tavern this afternoon.” If your jab has ignited anything in him, it’s lost in the moment he turns to take a thin binder into his hand. You accept it warily as he continues. “The sister celebrations are quickly approaching. Despite the unfortunate events that have taken place recently, we must prepare as if on a normal schedule."

You quirk a curious brow. “Aren’t we on one already?”

“Yes, as of now.” Your father sizes up your expression before hesitantly continuing. “But, if things do get worse, I’m afraid we might have to postpone the events.”

Eyes widening, you stand up.

“There’s such a thing on the line, and still no one is investigating anything yet?!”

He says your name in a tone of warning, voice stern. “I'm handling it, but you must understand that there is not much to work with. I’m sure you know this as well.”

You try to meet his eyes, but they never quite meet yours; they follow his actions behind his desk, your fidgeting, but never anything else. You do not take it as a truthful promise, yet under his attention, all you can do is nod and believe that he will do as he says -- hope that he will listen to the concerns of the only family he has left. 

You move to leave, keeping careful note of the binder in your hand as you grumble a muffled goodbye. You can only guess its contents, but aren’t too keen on stopping to read it under the stifling atmosphere you’ve created. At the door, you pause as he calls your name. 

“Do not mention your mother to me again.”

His words settle with you as you disappear into the morning haze, the inkling of a frown pushing at your lips. The King had said that he was in the process of gathering help, but given his past, you aren't too inclined to believe him.

The conversation gets you thinking -- in the reality that he does end up finding someone to handle the situation, would you give up so easily? You aren't quite sure you know the answer. Especially not if the sister celebrations are in jeopardy.

It's why, when the afternoon comes, you are more than willing to pay the tavern a visit. As you’d discovered on your meandering walk back to your chambers, the binder your father had handed you is composed of nothing but numbers -- all necessary information for the numerous courses set to be available at the day of Ludi Harpastum and its most beloved partner, titled Dies Luctus.

A commemorative event by title alone, Dies Luctus is a masquerade that takes place yearly that exists to pay respects to those who have passed -- though in recent years, it has become more of a prologue for later festivities to the unseasoned eye.

Small details here and there exist to remind you of its history, in the dark masks that are given to attending patrons, or the waves of silence that occasionally pass over the crowd, even the single flowers provided as offerings to those who have lost someone. The most menacing of these signs, however, remains to be the empty throne at the king’s side. 

Your hands are clammy as you trek to the tavern. Be it a masquerade or a way to respect the dead, you will sooner be a part of those honoured than let a petty murder be the reason the world is not reminded of your mother’s existence once again. 

Angel’s Share’s bell chimes from high above as you enter, but no one looks in your direction even as the door slams shut behind you -- at least, save for the bartender. Trained vermillion eyes find yours in an instant, surprise melting through the depths as he beckons you over with the rag in his hand.

You can’t help your smile as you slip onto the stool in front of him.

The bar is polished finely, though maybe even more so than usual due to the presence of Master Diluc. His appearance at the bar is rare these days because of the looming dates of Dies Luctus and Ludi Harpastum -- but since the unfortunate passing of his father five years ago, the responsibility of coordinating the technicalities of the two events has since been passed to him. 

You know firsthand that it’s a lot of work, but there is no one you feel safer leaving the job to than the man in front of you. He has proved time and time again that he is steadfast in all he does. 

“Look who’s finally decided to show themselves.” Diluc nearly puts down the glass that he’s cleaning to ridicule you, a sure sign of his irritation. “I’d almost forgotten what you look like.”

Exhaling a light laugh, you shrug. “You know it’s busy up there. I barely have time for myself anymore, much less to come here.”

He shakes his head as if the explanation is so-so.

“You were never bad at sneaking out here before.” He quirks a brow, trading in the dry glass for another. 

“That was before someone was murdered in the place I’m sneaking out from.” You point out, taking gratification in the way Diluc lets out a resigned sigh. “Of course, it hindered me a bit.”

You place the notebook on the counter as you speak, not missing the way Diluc’s eyes land on it briefly.

“Right.” He nods thoughtfully, lips thinning. “I hope you’re doing well. In that case, it’s better to stay where you can’t be hurt.”

“Glad I have your approval.” You nod, eyes trailing back to the menu board behind him. There is a good reason why the Dawn Winery is widely regarded as the finest winery in Teyvat -- Angel’s Share’s menu has remained consistent with classic favourites that have served multiple generations well. 

“Here,” He nudges your usual order to you, and in a haze, you realise you must have spaced out. Mumbling a soft apology, you take the cold glass in your hands. 

Diluc releases a quiet sigh, nudging the notebook with his knuckle. “Is something wrong? Do you need my help?”

“Kind of.” You admit, shrugging. He opens the binder with a curious hand. “It’s the catering needed for the sister celebrations coming up. It was given to me this morning.”

Diluc skims the pages silently, but you get the feeling he’d finished doing so long beforehand. He has always been so reserved, so thoughtful, even when you were children. His perseverance after the death of his father was something that you could never accomplish on your side of things, not even with time. Even as you stumbled behind, he grew capable -- capable of returning to see that you went in step with him, to the end. 

“I… had assumed the festivities would be postponed at the very least, concerning the recent events.” He admits, eyes flickering up to meet yours. “Is that not the case?”

“What?” You scoff, gesturing to the book. “Of course not. The king probably gave me that to deliver because he’s sure to have a solution by the time it comes around. He wouldn’t dare miss it.”

“Do you believe that?”

It’s a harmless question with a simple answer, but it stops you short. To see Diluc, such a powerful man, so unsure sometimes leaves your hopes exceedingly low. You train your eyes on the wall of alcohol behind him in hopes that he will not notice your hesitance. 

“...Fine. I don’t know what you’ve been told,” Continuing quietly, you’re suddenly acutely aware of the patrons near you. “I know that the longer it’s covered up, the worse it will get. But the issue will be gone by the time Dies Luctus starts, even if I have to make sure of it myself.”

“We’ve had problems before, but we’ve never missed it. And we won’t this time either.”

Diluc nods silently, your unspoken message reaching him clearly. Since your mother, the queen’s, murder almost six years ago, you have not once missed Dies Luctus -- the event is a memorial for the dead, but it is much more to you. Out of the three hundred and sixty five days a year, it is the only one your father will ever acknowledge that the queen is gone. 

“Then I’ll do what I can to help.” Diluc leans down on the counter on one elbow, all so that he can come closer to your face. It’s as if he believes your distance will affect how clearly you remember his threatening concern. “You need to tell me if anything else happens, okay?”

You can’t help a smile, leaning back. “So you will accept my request this time, Master Diluc?”

He shakes his head, fighting a smile. The jab of sudden formality is something that you will never let go of, even if he refuses to use your own title in return.

“I hope I won’t have to.”

You fear many things. darkness, the unspeakable acts spoken of in rumours that reach the castle’s halls, occasionally you even let your imagination fill in the blanks -- but not even the stormiest nights can compare to the dread that ferments deep in your bones in this moment. 

A cold sweat breaks out over your neck as you lay still, waiting, praying for the movement outside your door to still. There are two guards stationed outside your door on a typical night, and you have learned their schedules and how to recognise their gaits gradually over the hours of sleepless nights. Such an abundance of interruption is definitely rare. 

They are ordered to stay still so as not to disturb you, but the sounds that reach your ear are distinctly unnatural, and unnervingly close. Surely, you're just paranoid. You can only hope.

The curtains are drawn halfway shut across the room, letting the only source of light in through tiny gaps and slivers. It paints a suspenseful image as muffled noises come to a stuttering stop outside your door. Your breath catches as you’re shocked back into attention by a large thump against the wood. Abruptly, you sit up, clutching the sheets in a grip that has your knuckles turning white. Something is wrong.

Suddenly, someone steps carefully into your room. You eye the man warily. Because your guards rotate in shifts that change in the early morning, you cannot recall ever seeing the faces of the men who guard you while you rest. 

Breath stumbling, you ask, “…What’s going on?”

The guard shakes his head silently, face hidden beneath the haze of the night that blankets the room. You swallow thickly.

“You aren’t my guard, are you?” You say quietly.

A thousand thoughts run through your head. Is this perhaps your karma for pursuing the killer? It may only be your luck that has brought them to you, a harbinger of death is certainly a disposition that would find you eventually. But no amount of self pity or regret could overtake the fear that seizes you. 

“Clever.” When the fake finally responds, his voice is deeper than you had expected it to be. “I was told that you weren’t able to recognise your guards. Though, I presume that isn’t completely true, am I right, Your Highness?”

The man is quick and virtually soundless as he crosses the floor, all but for the way his boots occasionally clink together. Your heart sinks as his supposed plan comes together in your head.

“Don’t.” You order him sternly, putting out a shaking palm that betrays your voice. “How- how close do you think my other guards are?  I presume you weren’t told how quick their rounds are?”

It’s a complete and utter lie — no matter how close any patrolling guards are, the ones you mention are hours away from arriving. But you notice it when his body stills for a moment anyway. In slight panic, you throw your covers back and stand in a helpless attempt to gain leverage. 

“Don’t move.” He warns, putting out an empty hand. “You have the choice to make this a lot easier for the both of us.”

You scoff quietly, the sound broken. “...And let you kill me?”

You frown, trembling hand reaching for the abandoned cup of tea on the nightstand with a vengeance. But the man follows your movements too quickly, coming close and tearing the ceramic from your grip. The cold liquid splashes harmlessly back onto him.

He is faster than you in every sense. The late hour muddles more than just your mind, leaving ample opportunity for his hand to wrap around your collar and bring you closer. You half expect to see a creature of nightmares -- a mangled face, soulless eyes, but instead you’re met with the blank canvas of a black masquerade mask. Not even his eyes are visible through the tiny gaps. 

The cold edge of his knife presses into the skin of your neck, the same wide hand pulling your back to his chest. Your eyes grow wide at what little patience the man seems to have. 

“...Who are you?” You breathe, grimacing as the blade presses farther into your skin. It’s cleverly positioned, deep enough to draw blood yet still shallow enough to lift most of the pressure from your voice. No words pass between you as he looks over you from the depths of his mask, silent and patient. 

“Did you take the chamberlain’s life like this, too?” You choke, gasping for air as you begin to feel the gash on your neck slide open further with each word. “Or were you kinder to her?”

A small groan of pain leaves your mouth hanging open as he jolts the metal -- it’s not enough to hurt you a large amount, but it quiets you nonetheless. You wince when he says, 

 “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’ve killed no one yet.” He says, breath hot against your ear. “You should worry about yourself.”

Unwelcome shock ripples through your chest. Of course, he must be bluffing, but you can’t quiet your mind long enough to focus on the implications of his words. It’s fairly obvious due to the burlesque way he holds onto you, but you suspect if the man put any amount of his normal strength forward, you would stand no chance. 

Brashly, you hiss, “Are you dragging this out on purpose?”

You can hear the smile in his voice as he speaks. “Only if you’d like me to, Princess.”

“…You say pointless things.” You grumble, trembling hand shooting up to latch onto his clothed wrist. Most of your willpower goes into keeping your voice still, but any semblance of control you attempt to fake is lost on your body. Though, he pays no mind to you. 

You’re even almost certain he mirrors your look of irritation as he finally dares to make a calculated slash across your neck. Gasping in pain, your legs falter. It is exceedingly thin, barely noticeable for all but the way you bleed. The wound that opens across your neck meets the cold air all too fast, hot blood ghosting across the mess of hands at your collar.

He seems to think his warning will convince you to secede. 

Hesitantly, you speak, nearly gagging at the sensation of blood that drags down your throat. “Do you enjoy holding my life in your hands?”

Your captor doesn’t respond, circling you to your front cautiously. He keeps the knife to your throat as a precaution before finally allowing the mask he wears to slip over the bridge of his nose. Chilling blue eyes stare back at you, clean and free of emotion. For a moment, these eyes seem hauntingly familiar -- but you force yourself to quit dwelling on the man that holds a knife to your throat. 

“And if I do?”

The challenging words ignite a sense of desperation in you. You have little ability to fight back, fearing your delicate wound opening into something more; your blood already makes a mess of anything it can reach, and you doubt you can withstand it for much longer. 

“Then,” You’re breathing heavily as his eyes narrow. “Try your best.”

You had first learned how to hold a dagger beneath the shade of a grapevine on your thirteenth birthday -- it had been a drab thing, metal worn and rusted from years of disuse. Yet, Diluc had sworn to you that it was as good as any. With his skills, maybe that was true, but as you took the handle like you would a kitchen knife, you knew immediately that you would have a different experience. 

The concept was at first no more than a way to have fun, intended for an impossibly different future. Though, you’ve always had a sneaking suspicion that Diluc took his role as a teacher seriously -- he almost embodied the position as he guided you, solidifying your once meagre skills.

Then Diluc received a vision. 

Pyro and matching his once upbeat personality, the fifteen year old that had received it was delighted. Quickly, he lost the need to know how to throw a knife, and how to utelise it as an effective weapon. He had many other things at his disposal that were much more interesting, after all. 

And yet, he stayed with you. He continued to teach you everything he knew, even as he began to forget it himself. You make a mental note to never admit that you’re the same, that most of his words from back then are lost to time. But, as frustrated tears well up in your eyes, you’re suddenly unsure if you’ll ever get the opportunity to see him again. 

Because in truth, you are more human than you give yourself credit for. You pale in the face of danger just as anyone else would, losing your reason just as fast as you may lose your blood -- but the difference in you, is that you will seldom let people say they have bested you. 

With a staggering breath, you back away suddenly, wincing at the slight grit of metal releasing skin as you move. There are no easy countermeasures to take, no hidden weapons tucked away for situations like these. The man points his weapon at you easily, threats materialising in his gaze as he takes a step forward. You take a step back in return.

“If you come quietly, I’ll make it hurt less”

The same dreaded pattern continues until the back of your knees hit the bed.

“And if I don’t? You’ve had ample opportunity to take my life, and yet you haven’t.” You say bitterly, hiding the way your hands shake behind your back. The knife he holds still shines red with the tint of your blood. “If you’re trying to hold me for ransom, I’d save your breath.”

He seems amused, but there’s a flicker of genuine interest over his face. Thumbing the knife in his grip, he asks quietly,

“And why is that, Your Highness?”

You don’t respond. Turning quickly to slip the notebook from beneath your pillow, the weighted canvas is heavy in your hand. His eyes widen as you swing it over him directly, and though it misses the target you had intended, you’re able to knock the dagger from his unsuspecting hands. 

But, you’re too sloppy as you dive for it. The man catches up to you easily, taking the window you struggle to pull you back into his chest as the knife clatters to the floor. You cry out as he forces your neck upwards, tears rushing to your eyes.

“Not so fast.'' He clenches his jaw, grip tightening over your throat as tears rush to your eyes. “I’ve heard how good you are with a knife.”

Fighting the darkness that threatens to invade your vision, you croak and claw at his arms. “If- if you didn’t kill the chamberlain, why are you here?”

“Cooperate, then I'll tell you.” The man grits. You let out a desperate groan.

In a hopeless attempt to gain leverage, you jump – he’d made the easy mistake of letting your feet touch the ground, giving your flailing limbs enough time to push into him. The nauseating sound of bone hitting bone suddenly resounds in the quiet room, though it’s moderately covered by the obstinate curses of the man behind you. He releases his grip on you reflexively. Coughing furiously, you shove your weight back into him with all of your might.

When he staggers, you take the opportunity to tackle him down, forcing your weight on top of him before he can counter. Now, as your legs straddle him, you hold the knife to his throat with one hand, the other holding one of his arms above his head.

Your captor’s body is completely relaxed, and though you know it’s a plot to get under your skin, it still scares you. 

“Name your price,” You rasp, voice still weak from being briefly cut off. “Or I’ll kill you myself.”

The man says nothing, hair mussed and breathing heavy. His reason for breaking in must be so clouded that it blinds his own reasoning. In your mutual struggle, his mask has started to slip further beneath his eyes, though it saddens you slightly to know you have no free hand to reveal the man’s identity completely.

Your jaw locks as you push the blade into his skin. It catches you off guard when you notice his face shifting into an incredulous smile.

“I would never take the money of a fake King."

You push him into the ground, taking note of the way he grunts in response. “Be quiet.”

The man’s short laugh splits the air, the beginning of a bruise blooming on the underside of his chin. 

A beat of uncomfortable silence passes between you. But, before the man can goad you any further, a shaking hand brings the knife away from his throat. In the most simple way, your thoughts are a jumble of wires – the shells of countless new plans that will never be anything more than inklings. 

Consequently, you barely think anything of it when you decide to turn away, nothing more guiding your panicked aim than your wildly beating heart. 

Even the man below you seems confused at your thought process. But as soon as the decorative vase sitting by the door shatters over the hard tile, he is competent enough to know that despite your compromising position, you are the only one of you who believes that you are fighting for your life. 

You half expect the noise to set him off. But, the incoming danger does nothing more than make him attempt to break away from you. 

You shout for anyone nearby before mustering the courage necessary to push him further into the tiled floor, cementing your palm into the nook of his wrists until he grimaces. A glimmer of something close to understanding rushes through his eyes.

“If you wanted to be close to me so bad, you could’ve said so.” He teases, though the fear in his voice is raw. It almost manages to catch you off guard.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you.” You spit, voice shaking as he attempts to fight back. Though you want to pride yourself in your ability to keep him down, something seems suspicious about it --  he had no problem overpowering you before, so a simple change in position shouldn’t be as important.

By now, you’ve certainly noticed the cerulean vision strapped to his hip, signifying his power threshold. Though, you’re unsure of whether his disuse of it frightens or relieves you more – he has certainly only been delaying the inevitable, but why?

It’s as if something had flipped in his mind. He’d certainly thought of something in his time since entering the room, but whether it was previous plans or an entirely new one, you don’t know.

Swallowing your doubts, you push more of your weight onto his arms. The man grunts.

“I don’t know what you want,” You breathe, force evident in your voice. “But you won’t get it.”

He conveniently manages to break out of your grip just as the door to your chambers slams open, a group of masked guards rushing in unhindered. You fall back onto the ground hard. But, as the man searches for a viable route of escape, one of the braver guards rushes forward to your side and yanks you out of harm’s way.

In their grip, you’re nothing but a bag of bones being strung along, stunned into silence. 

The criminal’s mask has since been adjusted back to its normal position, and yet, you still feel the depths of his sheathed gaze when it finds yours. A frown is evident on his face. 

“You’re going to regret this.” He speaks to you as if you’re still the only two in the room, focus inconveniently centred even as the guards in front of you begin to crowd him. A heavy hand comes up to ghost over the afflictions on your neck. The pain is fresh, blood adorning the shallow slit as well as a tightness that rests in the skin he had grabbed you. It will likely bruise. 

But, you can’t find it in you to take pleasure in the way that he fends off the guards – he seems a decent match for them, an excellent fighter in his own right, but he plays the same wretched game and only you are aware of it. The man’s punches are too sloppy to be natural, his footwork too elementary to belong to someone who had quietly replaced a guard without issue. 

Much to your chagrin, he’s soon placed in handcuffs. A jumble of threats courses through the room on the account of both parties. Though, you have to admit: however fake they may be, the man’s promises are certainly creative. 

But most of all, you take great pleasure in seeing the guards at last pull back his mask, revealing his face to the full extent.

You gut twists as stunning sapphire eyes meet yours in full capacity for the first time. You can’t help but shudder at the sense of familiarity his appearance lends you, despite his plain clothes and foul mouth. Even more surprising, though, is the way he immediately seems to recognise your train of thought – his gaze cuts deep into you even without the handicap of a physical blade.

However, the words he attempts to convey are lost on you. And rather than feel dejected, you find comfort in your inability to understand. Because when you see the scratches up his arms, and the bruise that blooms dark on his chin, you don’t let yourself forget that in the end, he has lost. 

He merely lets himself be pulled upright. Even if his eyes allude to pain, the man makes no effort to resist, nor to even elaborate as his form disappears beyond the doorway. He leaves almost entirely unscathed as you stand rigid in the scrapping he’d left behind.

You release a throaty cough, finally allowing yourself to sit up straighter from your tense position on the floor. There is very little you can do beyond touch the skin on your neck gingerly as the silence of the night begins to fade in. 

It’s only now that you notice the guard that had originally caught you has hung back, silently waiting for the right moment to act -- a patient approach, but unfortunately, not a helpful one. Your lips thin in a strained frown as tears finally begin to spill over your cheeks. 

The knight reaches out an armoured hand, concerned but mechanical -- this is merely his duty, not his want. You turn it down shakily, reeling back from his worry even if you want nothing more than for someone to be brave enough to look past your fear. 

“My lady--”

“Find Master Diluc. Now.” You choke out, gaze turning on him as you stand shakily. “I- I will make my way to the infirmary--”

They reach out a hand once again, but this time, when you see it coming, you freeze. 

The floor is hard against your body, and so, so unbearably real. You are not the farthest from death that you’ve ever been, but remembering the feeling of cool steel against your skin, you can’t help but wonder if it was closest. The gravity of the situation hits you all at once as the adrenaline drains from your blood.

The guard’s voice is distant as a mindful hand finally makes the jump to support you. Yet, as you choke on blood that you can’t touch, as desperation rises to your eyes, you realise you don’t have it in you to respond. You can do nothing but turn your painful gaze on them before you come so close to losing everything once again.

© tartaglicious 2022, please do not repost 

Selenophile

-> a person who loves the moon

Bakugou x fem! reader, fluff, domestic, angsty,

The night was calm, the birds were asleep, the sun went to bed as the moon took over watching down on everyone. Here you and your boyfrind Katsuki sit underneath the stars as you take in the moment. Currently, you were both in a little feild watching the stars on a mid-week date to clear your minds from the busy hero world.

"Do you think it's lonely up there?" You ask quietly to Katsuki as you catch him out of his daydream, he looks down at you with a queryful look as he waits for you to continue. When he realises you too are immersed in the tranquility that that stars above hold, he asnwers

"In the sky?" He asks making himself sound so stupid, you laugh a little at his cute answer,

"Yes, the stars look so close yet so far apart" you ponder as you lay down on the soft grass. Katsuki follows your movements as he brings you close against him for warmth.

"The moon keeps them company surley" Katsuki takes part in your little brainstorm, he loves when you explore your childlike curiosity when it's just you and him, nobody to shame you for "silly questions"

"Hopefully, do you think the moon feels left out when people on wish on stars to fulfill their dreams?" Katsuki didn't expect you to have put so much thought into your little question, but he still finds it so cute how curious you can become with the simplist of things.

"Well, What's the moon good for? It only gives us light" katsuki wasn't sure what answer you were looking for, but by the way your eyebrows scrunched up and let out a tiny huff, he knew it was the wrong answer.

"We could wish for something" you say cuddling up to Katsuki since he naturally is warm. Katsuki lets out a little laugh at your cute antics, nonetheless he indulges into your childish antics.

"Waddya' wanna wish for?" He asks waiting for you to think of something.

You look up at the full moon, thinking of something to wish for, may it come true or not you will never know until it happends, so you want it to make it count.

"Happiness" you say calmly

"Happiness?" Katsuki asks back to you to make sure thats what you really want to wish for.

"Yes, everyone deserves happiness in their life" you say smiling into another hug against Katsuki's warm side, Katsuki give you a squeeze back.

"Sure thing, how do we wish to the moon?" He asks as he leans his head ontop of his arm resting underneath.

"We can close our eyes and wish in our heads" you say as Katsuki closes his eyes as he follows your instructions. As Katsuki closes his eyes tighly and wishes for happiness in his life, he wished for you to have happiness in your life. You deserve it more than anything.

***

"Daddy! Daddy! Look the moon is out! Can we say goodnight?" Katsuki's son says as he sees the moon shining brightly from his bedroom window. He always tried his luck at bedtime trying to push bedtime back by just a few minutes. But, Katsuki knew his son too well and he knew how much saying goodnight to the moon meant to him.

"Alright, alright, watcha' wanna tell mommy then hmm? Katsuki asks as he leans down to the young boys height as he thinks hard about what he wants to tell to mommy.

Whenever Hoshi, your son, seen the moon he was reminded of you. He had so many things in his everyday life to remind him of you, but this was something special to him. Since he was little, Hoshi was told to tell all his worries to you , the moon, because you'll have it sorted out so he won't have to worry anymore.

"So? Any idea's little man? Your bedtime was 5 minutes ago" Katsuki says reminding the young blond that he is staying up past his bedtime, which was rare with Katsuki.

"Do you think mommy gets lonely up there all by herself?" Hoshi asks worriedly at his dad, Katsuki knows how much Hoshi misses you, as does he, but for now he needs to put his emotions aside and asure his worried child.

"No, she has all the stars around her to chat to, don't worry bud" Katsuki assures Hoshi as he gives him a little hug and a squeeze.

"I want to wish something to mommy" Hoshi says, he wants to tell you everything about his day in private, instead he opted for a small wish to help him sleep better tonight, something that has been on this young boys mind for a while.

"Okay kid, what is it, tell mommy" Katsuki says in a gentle voice as he awaits Hoshi to tell you his wish.

"I want mommy to be happy" hoshi says with a big smile mirroring yours you once use to shine at Katsuki.

"Mommy is already happy, Hoshi, she has us" Katsuki says as he holds Hoshi a little tighter then before, he knows how hard your death was for him, so he wants him to know he's always there for him if he needs comfort.

"Is that why she's smiling at us?" Hoshi asks, by smiling he means shining, but to him and Katsuki, thats you smiling down on them.

"Of course bud, the biggest smile, she's happy"

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