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hermitcraft-8 · 6 months

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Deiforms, Chapter Two: Bullrush (Part Two)

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To be completely honest, Sean was kind of hoping he'd wake up in a hospital, with his mother holding his hand and weeping, a vase of flowers beside his bed. He'd flutter his eyelashes open, press a hand to his head and say "how long was I out?" just like in all the movies.

Instead, he opened his eyes to the back of Madi's car.

It was on, a low hum buzzing through his body from the engine, Terrible Lie by Nine Inch Nails quietly playing through the radio, which seemed like a strange choice for setting. He was leaned up against the window, the cool glass bliss against the left side of his face, which was throbbing. He lifted his gaze, finding himself to be sitting in the exact place they'd parked earlier, across the street from the Capsum house, and Madi, Dean and Lillian were standing around the hood of the car, arguing passionately about something.

No, that's not true. Madi was arguing, throwing around her hands, spitting and snarling, while Lillian rolled her eyes and Dean held up his hands in surrender.

Sean opened the car door and stepped out.

The argument stopped, but no one moved to help him, everyone just standing there, watching him.

"Your sister's coming to pick you up," Madi said, dryly. "You've got a cut on your face, but it's not bad enough that it'll need stitches, so they just put some bandages over it."

"You feeling alright, man?" Dean asked, gently.

"Yeah, I-" Sean frowned. "What happened?"

"Ash swung a knife at you," Madi said. "And then you fainted."

Sean had the feeling she was not happy about this. In fact, she seemed a little disgusted, or embarrassed. Like she usually was.

"It's okay," Lillian said. "It was scary."

"I thought he got your eye," Dean piped up. "I was so sure you'd go blind."

"No, I, uh-" Sean blinked. "I see just fine."

"Good."

Madi scoffed, running a hand through her hair.

"Where'd Ash go?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out. The second your head hit the deck, he, like, sprinted for the back door. The cops are still questioning Miki and his other friends," Dean said. "I don't know what they'll charge him with, but I heard them mention suspected arson."

"Of course he did it," Madi scoffed. "Who calls themselves Ash if they're not going to be an arsonist."

"But-" Sean shook his head. "Why would he set his best friend's house on fire? And how'd he get out? Lori said he was in the bathroom, and they couldn't open the door."

"He climbed out the window, obviously."

"The basement bathroom doesn't have windows."

Madi huffed, rolling her eyes. "I don't fucking know, Sean, it doesn't matter."

"It does-"

A car pulled up next to them. It was old, beat up, but it was clean. A pipe cleaner man hung from a little noose on the rear view mirror. And then it just sat there.

“Your ride is here,” Madi pointed out, dryly. “Goodbye.”

“Madi-”

“Goodbye.”

Genny and Sean were the kind of siblings who no one ever asked if they were siblings. They had the same nose, the same lips, the same freckles. They both wore clothes that didn’t fit- although while Sean wore mostly tees that were too small, all of Genny’s clothes were fashionably baggy. Genny didn’t have as many piercings as Sean- just a septum and her ear lobes, and her hair was down to her shoulders, but even then, she still looked so much like him that it was hard to refute their relationship as siblings.

She watched him get into the car, reaching over to pry at the bandaid on his cheek. He slapped her hand away and grunted.

“So… what happened?” She asked, putting the car into drive. She had a very particular way of driving where she got as close to the wheel as possible and peered upwards before moving the car. Sean never got it, but he never asked, either. It was just one of those things.

“They say Ash set the fire, and then he attacked me with a knife.”

“Wait, Ash did that to you?” She said, surprised. “Isn’t he, like, your bro?”

“Yeah, he was, like, my bro,” Sean sulked. “But he also attacked me with a knife.”

“And set a fire.”

“And… well, actually…?”

“You don’t think he did it?” Genny inquired. “Why not?”

“It’s Ash, man,” Sean shrugged. “I just… it doesn’t seem like him to risk everyone’s lives.”

“Maybe he just snapped?”

“Maybe,” Sean stared out the window. “I don’t know. Hey, can I tell you something weird?”

“What have you ever told me that wasn’t weird?”

“Genny.”

She exhaled through her nose. “Yeah, alright, what’s up?”

“When Ash attacked me, for a moment, I saw… I don’t know, myself? And he said some weird, cryptic shit, and then I woke up.”

“Did you hit your head?”

“I don’t think so.”

“The cut isn’t anywhere near big enough for it to have been a near death experience… maybe your consciousness is trying to tell you something?” She sounded shockingly serious. “Or a guardian angel? Or…”

They sat in silence for a bit before Sean registered that she was done talking and glanced at her. She was leaning back, her head tilted to the side as she stared at the road ahead.

“Or what?” He asked.

“No, it’s just, like…” She hissed out a breath. “I had a weird dream a couple nights ago where I talked to myself, and I thought it was, like, a holy premonition when I woke up, which is, like, weird, because-”

“We’re not religious.”

“Right.”

Sean sighed, letting his forehead rest against the window again. It was the wrong side, and did nothing for his burning face.

“This sucks.”

Genny hummed.

The Capsums lived sort of out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by woods, and the road to get back to town was winding and complicated, so Sean elected to let Genny focus while they made their way down the mountain, and just stare out the window.

“Did you hear that?” She asked abruptly.

“Hear what?”

“I just-” She shook her head, hard, like a wet dog. “Hold on, hold on-”

“Gen?”

“...It’s gone,” She said, frowning. “I don’t know what… whatever.”

“What was it?”

“I don’t… know how to describe it… I think it was just the AC or something.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah.”

They didn’t speak for the rest of the drive.

By the time they got home, it was early afternoon, and Sean’s stomach was starting to twist with hunger. He didn’t even make it to the kitchen before his mother swooped down, though, clucking and cooing and fretting over his eye while he tried hard to pull his head away.

“It’s fine, mom, I can see alright.”

“Oh, they should have given you stitches, oh-”

“Mom, it’s fine.”

He finally escaped to his room, hungry and defeated, feeling like today had been officially a god awful day. It was just starting to get late, the sun just licking at the horizon, and he gritted his teeth. He had school the next morning, of course, because that was just his luck.

He sunk into his bed with a groan, closing his eyes tight, trying to relax.

It worked for a bit, and he started to slip under, started to doze off, but his stomach felt tight and sharp, and his face was still killing him. He did his best to ignore it but it only worked for a few more minutes before he found himself pushing his body upright, slinging his legs over the side of the bed and groaning.

His body felt weirdly sore, as if he'd been laying there for ages longer than he had, but his room was still painted with dusk, so it couldn't have been that late.

He stood, running a hand through his hair and limping to the bathroom, shuffling through the medicine cabinet for painkillers. He finally found the bottle, pulling it out and shutting the cabinet. For a moment, he struggled with the lid.

And then something moved in the mirror.

His head snapped up, and it took a few seconds to understand what he was looking at.

His hair was long- past his shoulders, and brown. His bandages were gone, his cut leaking blood. His clothes were different, leaving him standing in a tank top and jeans. And strangest of all, his face was completely still, eyes peering at him calmly even as he wrinkled his own face in confusion.

It was all wrong.

“What the fuck,” He whispered, looking down. The reflection followed suit. Sure enough, long hair and a tank top splattered with blood. “What the fuck?”

“I told you,” His voice said, issuing from his mouth, just as it always did. “I wasn't a fan of the buzzcut.”

He jolted backwards, his head whipping around. “What the fuck, where are you?”

“You're the one talking to yourself,” He responded, amused. “But, if you really need something to gawk at-”

The reflection leaned forward. “-I can do that too.”

Sean slammed the door open, sprinting out, stumbling to the kitchen. His mom was gone, probably in bed already, but being in the large, well lit room was better than the cramped bathroom. For a second, he heaved breaths, looking around desperately. Nothing moved, nothing changed. His hair felt strange on his shoulders.

“I'm not sure what you were trying to accomplish with that,” His reflection in the window said. “There's a lot of shiny things in here.”

“Go away,” Sean begged it. “I don't know what you want, but I-”

“It's not what I want,” It said. “It's what I have to do.”

Sean's stomach plummeted. “What do you mean?”

“I have to make you a god.”

#al's writing #deiforms story tag #deiforms

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zukotheartist · 1 year

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Chapters: 1/1 Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Additional Tags: Miscommunication, Getting Together, Sexuality Crisis, Awkward Conversations, Bisexual Jonathan Samuel Kent, Bisexual Damian Wayne, Bisexual Tim Drake, He/Him and They/Them Pronouns for Damian Wayne, Damian Wayne-centric, Oblivious Damian Wayne, tim is a good brother, Fluff, Short One Shot, One Shot, Sibling Bonding, Canon Universe Summary:

Sequel to my fic Stuffed Animals (from my series Awkward conversations with your brothers) but can be read as a standalone.

After the confusing gender crisis they went through years ago, Damian thought he was done questioning their identity but turns out he’s not quite done yet. When they suddenly get a crush on his best friend and roommate, Damian will have to turn to their brother Tim for advice.

Damian and Jon are both college students at Gotham U during the day and vigilantes by night.

#damijon #jondami #al's writing #al's post

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silent-mysteriousguy · 1 year

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hey ya boy did something

#octopath traveler #al's writing #a double sided coin #fanficton #self advertising

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berriblossom · 7 months

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X fem reader, btw

Imagine your husband gains baby fever. He sees how you hold children, how you're so gentle and careful with them. How all your friends have children and talk about the joys and happiness they have with their little babies.

Imagine how he sees your disappointed smile about how you two don't have a little one yet.

This leads him to imagine what it would be like to have a little one around, how'd they cling onto you and their cute smile. How'd they look like a perfect mixture of the both of you. His perfect girl and his perfect child.

This leads to everytime he fucks your sweet pussy, he stays a little long before pulling out and spilling his hot cum onto your tummy and chest, whenever his cock is pushing into your womb he pushes his hand onto your tunny for you to feel him fucking your cervix and promising he'll give you that baby.

How many nights he'd have you ass up, face down as he fucks your pussy, pleading to you to let him get you pregnant. How sometimes in the middle of the night he'd eat you out in the middle of the night claming "he needed a taste before he filled you up again". Its so cute when he begs and pleads that he loves the look of your cunt leaking his cum.

How greedy he'd get when you cockwarm him, his thick, long cock throbbing just to fill you with his cum and get you pregnant. How'd he fantasize about your swollen tummy, your milk-filled breast just leaking your sweet milk for him to taste.

Goodness when you finally beg him to fuck a baby into him, hes already planning his next vacation at work for the next few weeks to give you that baby.

:WRIOTHESLEY, Ayato, ZHONGLI, JING YUAN, Blade, DAN HENG, Welt, THOMA, NEUVILLETTE, Childe, Luka, DILUC, ALHAITHAM

Its not a problem if i don't admit its one

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zhongrin · 23 days

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honey, can you… oh shit wait i forgot we’re not dating (yet)

✼ characters ┈ zhongli, al haitham, wriothesley, neuvillette

✼ tags ┈ gn!reader, fluff, non-established relationship, potential secondhand embarrassment, boyfailure neuvillette (/aff)

✼ a/n ┈ zhongrin uploaded 3 weeks in a row?! madness!!! utter madness!!!! /silly i feel like i've been writing too much cutesy/sfw stuff lately.... i want to write 'darker' types of stuff but my brain doesn't seem to want to cooperate ugh pain

ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ) ✼ ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ) ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

zhongli watches your reaction closely, at first.

when he deduces that you were self-aware of your own oversight and are evidently panicking about it, he gives you a warm chuckle and shakes his head gently, “there is no need to apologize, and please do not feel mortified in any way. it really is fine.”

if you continue to not believe him, the ex-archon will be as patient as ever with his words of reassurances, and he does not mind repeating them until you feel comfortable enough to ask him the real errand that you wished to bestow upon him.

... but not before he gently places a hand to the small of your back to lead you to walk a little closer to him due to the increasing crowd on the streets, his voice a tender caress to your ear, “coming from you, i certainly did not mind the nickname.”

al haitham raises his eyebrows and shuts his book, “what a fascinating blunder. is that how you view our relationship subconsciously? or perhaps it’s an innate desire you’ve chosen to suppress but accidentally slipped out in a moment of unawareness?”

the scholar has the decency to wait for your answer betwixt your embarrassment, but he eventually sighs when you failed to form a coherent answer that satisfied his inquiries.

“you seem to have the impression that i am displeased at your err. i’d like to inform you that your assumption is yet another mistake - which, i would theorize, was made in the rush of the moment as your nervous system kicks into gear, therefore clouding your judgement. i would suggest you take a few moments to reanalyze my stance based on this new information. i’ll wait.”

and with that, he opens his book once more.

.... um.

congratulations, i guess?

wriothesley takes the opportunity and replies with a cheeky, “yes, honey? what can i do for you, sweetheart?”

he relishes in the utter embarrassment that quickly spread across your face that’s akin to water faced with his cryo elemental energy (though secretly he’s also dying inside at the cheesiness of the situation) and throws you a boyish grin before ruffling your hair.

not a man to let an opportunity escape, the duke decides to leverage the moment to take his metaphorical shot and goes immediately for a straight jab, like an experienced boxer that he is, all the while praying to the hydro archon so that this would be yet another match he could flawlessly win, “you know, my schedule’s particularly relaxed today… i wouldn’t mind staying longer if you want to make it a date?”

neuvillette blinks owlishly, his pale cheeks blooming with warmth as the situation starts to sink in. you, the apple of his eye, whom he treasured dearly and had taken great care to court, had just called him with a term of endearment that he had always dreamed of hearing.

wait, was this a dream? his gloved hands quickly found purchase on his blue horns, before he brought his hands in front of his eyes. okay, he had two horns and ten fingers, still. so he must not have daydreamed this. ah- wait, you’re staring at him. oh, now you’re giggling. and now you’re calling him silly. oh, it should be a crime to be so breathtakingー

it’s not until your expression changed into surprise that he realized he had said that thought outloud.

your teasing “if it’s a crime, are you going to put me on trial, monsieur?” elicits a darker blush on his pale cheeks and an awkward cough out of him.

.... this must be how the young ones flirt nowadays.

“perhaps after a proper date? if it’s not impertinent of me, may i be allowed to take you out on dinner tonight?”

✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ) ┈

@abyssmal-skies ! @hamdehlesmis ! @sunnshineflxwer ! @queen-belial ! @silentmoths

@dustofthedailylife ! @marina-and-the-memes ! @mixed-kester ! @lordbugs ! @anonymousficreader

@irethepotato ! @sassy-cat-in-town ! @syrenkitsune ! @smokipoki ! @cakeboxie

@crystalflygeo ! @ciexuvia ! @illaasya ! @celestewritestoomuch ! @pams-comfortzone

@spidermanluvr444 ! @ourstrawberryclouds ! @ryuryuryuyurboat ! @hrts4hanniehae ! @fiannee

@frosts-intuition ! @florapocalypses ! @genshin-impacts-me ! @scarasmood ! @hellcatinnc

@beloved-brynn ! @malachitemischief101 ! @average-yandere-enjoyer

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli x reader #al haitham x reader #wriothesley x reader #neuvillette x reader #zhongli #al haitham #wriothesley #neuvillette #rin writes #honey can you…

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tendermimi · 9 months

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Bilal Al-Shams, Sacrifice

#bilal al shams #poetry #poem #words #writings #excerpts #quotes #arabic poetry #arabic literature #sooo Agustín Gómez-Arcos

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glow-in-the-dark-death · 4 months

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Cujo

"Cujo where in the world do you keep finding all these things?"

Danny looked down at a very proud looking Cujo who had recently returned from his trip.

On each trip he brought back things that he liked, lately Cujo was bringing back the most curious things.

From pillows and toys to weapons and weird clothing.

One time even bringing a golden lasso.

This time it seemed to be a sword and a jar filled with liquid with what he was pretty sure was a human organ.

"Cujo please don't take peoples organs, I don't want to get in trouble"

A sentence he never thought he would be saying,

What a day.

Alfred: "I seem to be missing my favourite pair of socks?"

Wonder Woman is questioning who was brave/stupid enough to steal her lasso from practically under her nose.

Damian: Father! Who took my weapons away, I haven't even been grounded!"

Lex Luthor: "Where's all the kryptonite I just bought?!"

Ra's: *squinting* "Something just happened."

Sorry this one is shorter than usual I'm in the middle of class.

Bye!

Just an Idea

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apolunee · 2 years

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#THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING #alhaitham’s supreme logic is nothing in the face of kaveh’s unstoppable stubbornness #there’s a reason why kaveh went into architecture instead of writing papers #kavetham #genshin impact #kaveh #alhaitham #al haitham #I FORGOT TO DRAW THE HEADPHONE CORD

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platitudinalteen · 1 month

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More memes based on my wip, because it's fun, lol.

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basic-bitch-alkali · 11 months

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You were like the Sun, bright and happy. And I was the Moon, calm and quiet. You made me shine like the Sun makes the Moon light up. Now look at me, dark and alone.......like the moon without her sun.

-Alkali

#al shitposting #writing #al's writing #small writing #love poetry #short poem

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hermitcraft-8 · 6 months

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A Hole In Your Heart

a brontel story

Brontel did not have a sad childhood.

That was something a lot of people who knew him as a child seemed to dispute, for some reason or another, but it was simple as that. He did not have a sad childhood.

He didn’t remember much from his early life- he remembered his mother putting him on stages in little dresses and having him dance for her friends, he remembered her lavishing him with praise and affection, giving him anything he wanted, propping him up like a doll and letting everyone pet him and coo over him. He loved it- of course he did, what kind of child didn’t love being treated like a princess?

But then things began to change. He didn’t lose any of his baby fat, didn’t get slimmer. In fact, as he got older, he just got bigger and bigger. Obviously, no one else minded- a fat dwarf was a healthy dwarf- but his mother started to complain. She stopped showing him off, stopped parading him around. She’d put him on diets and workout regimens, talk about how he was starting to look more like a hill dwarf than a mountain dwarf, talk about how he needed some muscle underneath all that padding.

His father never said anything. He was complacent in all of it, a sort of dull, dry, resignation to everything he said. When Brontel ran to him crying because his mother called him a pig for eating too much, he would sigh and run a hand over his braided beard and tell him to grow up.

And then Brontel and his mother started to fight.

Mostly verbal arguments, but they’d often dissolve into his mother bashing at his ear, or folding him over a table to spank him until he stopped talking, or locking him in his room for whole days at a time with no food or water. They’d be over little things too- him wanting a cookie with dinner, her insisting he didn’t need the fattening, or him wanting to visit his Aunt, a tiefling, her insisting he was already strange enough.

That was something Brontel never understood about his mother. She couldn’t stand the tourists, or even the dwarvish immigrants. She complained incessantly about hill dwarves and even mountain dwarf adventurers, and insisted that anyone who chose to leave their city, to mingle with humans and elves, was clearly out of their mind.

For someone who hated elves as much as she did, Brontel always thought it was strange how much she loved elven clothes.

That, at least, was something they could agree on. The elven silks and carefully woven patterns that the adventurers wore were stunning, and some of Brontel’s favorite moments were spent sitting in the square with his mother, watching the high elves swirl from booth to booth. Sometimes his mother would scoff and make snide comments about the adventurers, but oftentimes she just sat in silence, only speaking to point out a dress or a tunic she thought Brontel would like.

So, no, Brontel did not have a bad life. Even with the arguments, even with the constant shame and embarrassment, his mother was not cruel. She’d buy him things, and they’d go out for lunch, and they would laugh together.

He had a younger cousin on his father’s side, Gortimer, a half dwarf, half orc, who his mother forbade him from seeing. Of course, he did anyway, visiting her any time he could and talking to her about everything, up until his mother heard about it and threatened to never let him leave the house without her present. Then and only then, he stopped.

When he was twenty-five, she started throwing parties. It was mostly for friends and family, but every once in a while, some stranger would find their way in, and she’d spend the evening by Brontel’s ear, picking them apart. Brontel didn’t mind- it was amusing, and he himself was not immune to gossip.

And then, one day, at a party, when Brontel was 34, still so young in dwarf years, he met Expen. Expen was one of those strangers who found their way in, and, to Brontel’s mother’s disgust, she was half elf, half dwarf.

And she was beautiful.

She had the height and beard of a dwarf, but with the ears and face of an elf. She was lean and muscular, and had a little scar on her eyebrow.

Brontel smuggled her up to his bedroom, where they spent the night silencing themselves for fear of Brontel’s mother hearing. The next morning, Expen snuck out a window, and Brontel never saw her again.

That was not the last time Brontel snuck off with the strangers of the party. Some were older than him, sometimes by a lot. Some were dwarven, some were not. Perhaps it was an act of rebellion, perhaps it was just a desperate plea to get the attention his mother no longer gave him from anyone who he could get it from. Either way, every single person he propositioned agreed passionately, and, slowly, Brontel came to realize a few things.

First, he was desirable. Clearly, everyone wanted him. He was well proportioned, despite what his mother said, and he had really nice hair and shining eyes. He was beautiful.

Secondly, he still cared what his mother thought. He couldn’t bear to let her even know he was talking to these strangers, much less taking them to bed.

And lastly, his father was right. He needed to grow up. Dwarves reach maturity at 50. Brontel decided he was mature at 40. He certainly looked like a proper adult, and no one would argue with him if he said he was.

When he was 43, he met Liren.

Liren was yet another stranger, yet another handsome face- full mountain dwarf, for once- but this time, he insisted on sneaking out with Brontel, taking him down to his apartment in the poorer side of town, which he shared with his younger brother.

The next morning, when Brontel stepped out of the bedroom to get breakfast, he came face to face with that brother.

It was love at first sight, he’d say later.

He was wearing a bonnet, his crooked, splotchy, pimpled face set in a scowl, wearing a baggy tunic and loose silk pants, his feet bare against the cold floor. When he saw Brontel, he paused, scowled deeper, and said, “You guys were loud.”

Brontel giggled- he couldn’t help it, he was head over heels, and everything he could have said would have been the most charming thing in the world.

Onim was two years older, he discovered, and him and Liren were from another city- Luurianrogh, around a hundred miles away. They’d moved here to be closer to their aging adventurer parents, and set up their own lives- Liren as a stone cutter, Onim as a jeweler.

Brontel kept visiting. Liren was kind, and took pity on the younger boy, letting him hang around their apartment all he wanted in a desperate attempt to stay closer to Onim.

Onim didn’t care about Brontel, it was pretty clear, and that was something that ate Brontel alive. He needed to be seen, be praised, be appreciated, and Onim didn’t do that for him. He would visit Onim’s little jewelry store to preen over the necklaces, putting them on and trying to get Onim to give him a compliment. It never worked.

And then one day, when he was 51, after nearly a decade of failing to win Onim over, he walked in on Onim laying on the floor of the living room, staring at the ceiling.

“Hey cutie, whatcha doin’ down there?” Brontel asked, curiously.

“I’m trying to decide something.”

“What?”

“If I’m going crazy.”

“Oh,” Brontel sat down on a chair, leaning over so his head was in Onim’s way. The man’s dark brown eyes landed on him, and he thought the pupils expanded ever so slightly. He wasn’t sure what that meant. “Well, lay it on me.”

“I think I’m in love with someone, but they’re the most irritating person I know, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

Brontel squealed. “Oh! Oh my god, you’re in love?! Who is it, is it someone I know?”

“You could say that.”

“Is it a shop regular?”

“Yes.”

Brontel giggled, excitedly. As much as he loved Onim, he loved gossip ever so slightly more. “Oh my god, you should ask them out, duh!”

“I don’t know about that,” Onim said, rolling over and pushing himself up on his elbows, peering up at Brontel. “Like I said, they’re the worst person I know.”

“But you love them?”

“...Yeah, I guess I do.”

“So, walk up to them, kiss them dramatically, and announce your love.”

“Really?”

“Really really.”

“In that order?”

“Of course!” Brontel clapped. “That’s how it’s done.”

Onim hummed, before standing up. He towered over Brontel, now that he was standing, so Brontel stood too. For a second, they stared at each other, Brontel smiling, Onim scowling contemplatively.

“Well? What’re you waiting for?” Brontel nodded at the door. “Go get them.”

And then Onim surged forward, grabbed Brontel’s face, and pulled him into a kiss.

Onim still didn’t show Brontel quite the affection he craved, even while they dated, and it wasn’t until Brontel begged him for it that he asked why he wanted it so badly.

And that’s when Brontel told him about his youth, about being dressed up and paraded around, about his mother’s harsh punishments, about sneaking off with strangers. He even explained his conception, how it was an attempt for his mother to get his father’s attention. His whole purpose in this world was to be praised and loved and cherished, and if he didn’t have that, he had nothing.

Onim stared at him for a long time, a sad look in his eyes, and then he nodded. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Brontel never quite figured out what he’d meant by that. None of what had happened was anyone’s fault but Brontel’s. None of it happened to him, it just happened. Life happened. That was how it was. And it wasn't even all that bad, either, it's not like he was ever scared for his life, or even uncomfortable for more than a day.

At least Onim finally started paying attention to him. He’d pull him into his lap while they cuddled, and would compliment him and praise him for the little things.

And Brontel got worse.

Suddenly, not having Onim around felt like a suffocating emptiness, felt like he’d die without Onim’s hand in his. When he went home from Onim’s place, his house felt too big and too cold and too empty, not having praise at every second made him feel worthless.

So he introduced him to his parents.

His father seemed to like him, calling him a smart young man, and his mother was at least polite- at least up until Onim mentioned being an immigrant. Suddenly she was cold, distant, and when Onim left she grabbed Brontel by the hair and dragged him to his room.

“Never marry a wanderer,” She spat. “Or you’ll be just another thing they leave.”

A decade later, Brontel and Onim stood at an altar while her seat sat empty in the congregation.

Life with Onim was easier that anything Brontel could have imagined. He was smart and kind and courteous and took care of Brontel, and most importantly, he never had to fight for compliments or praise. It came as easily as breathing to the other man, he thought.

Before he met Onim, Brontel felt vain, felt that all his pride was undeserved. Now, though, he knew it was all correct. He was really as beautiful as Onim said, was really as smart and strong and wonderful.

They lived in an apartment over the tailor shop that Brontel worked in, and would eventually own, and every night, they'd hold each other and whisper plans for the future.

There were little bumps in the road, like when someone asked for Brontel’s pronouns and he froze like a deer in the headlights until Onim stepped in and told them. And he was right, of course, Brontel used he/him. So why was he disappointed to hear it? He never told Onim about this, and he never hesitated again.

There was an ever present emptiness, though, a sort of lingering question he didn't know the answer to.

And then The Revelation happened.

Another thing about Brontel was that every once in a while he’d have a conviction- something he believed with his whole heart to be true, only to years later look back and realize it was ridiculous. As a small child, he believed his neighbors would watch him change, no matter where he was or whether his curtains were drawn. As a young adult, he believed for a period that he was unkillable. After him and Onim got married, he didn’t really have one of these episodes for a while.

And then, one day, someone brought in a silk gown to his tailor shop.

It was beautiful, beautiful in a way nothing else he’d ever seen was beautiful.

Rion, the tiefling who brought it in, told him they’d gotten it from a trader who described a land of True Beauty.

And just like that, Brontel had a mission.

The Revelation was not a conviction. It was not a misguided belief in something made up. It was real.

It’s not like he hadn’t thought of going on adventures, it’s not like he hadn’t fantasized about traveling the world, but this was something else. He had to find True Beauty and bring it home.

Onim gave him all the jewelry he had, to sell on the road, and then, late one night, almost morning, Brontel left.

He traveled with Rion’s group, and then a group led by a man named Pavis, and then another, and then another. He learned to fight, learned to survive, and through it all, he wrote letters every single day, and kept his wedding ring on a chain around his neck.

He gained weight, his hair and beard got longer, he got a slight limp. It was hard to live without Onim's compliments, especially on the road where he couldn't get letters, but he made do with flirting with strangers until they fed him praise, and then he'd move on.

Adventure didn't fill the void, didn't fix things, but it helped distract him.

And then he met the last party, and something told him he was even closer to Beauty, he was almost there.

It was in Maya’s hair, so soft and long and shiny, and Sunny’s eyes, all fierce and kind and passionate, and Tearn’s stance, all proud and regal.

Even when he got scarred, and Tearn abandoned them, and Sunny’s little boytoy started to get irritating, Brontel could feel in the pit of his stomach that they were getting there, that they were figuring it out, that any second now, he’d find True Beauty.

When Maya was caught in the barn, for a second, he forgot about it. For a second, he didn't care about his own safety, about Beauty, about anything. All he wanted was to get her out.

At dinner that night, he kept glancing at her, as if expecting her to go transparent, like Saphra, or disappear altogether. She didn't. She was still there.

That was something he realized a bit late- he did really like Maya. She was new, nothing like any adventurer he'd come by before. Secretly, Brontel wished he was more like her, in ways he couldn't quite put his finger on.

And it's not that he didn't also like Sunny- he found the tiefling fascinating and wild, an exciting change from anything before, but Maya was different in some strange way.

(Brontel wasn't sure what it was until later. The word he was looking for was envy.)

That first night in the canyon, he had a dream- yet another one he’d never remember.

All he remembered was that in his dream, he was a woman, and she was with Onim and his party, all together, and True Beauty didn’t exist. And she was happy- happier than he’d ever been. And then he woke up.

For a moment, he stared at the sky, at the budding daylight, and then abruptly, he realized what the hole was. He realized what he'd been missing.

And she smiled.

#al's writing #brontel woldrock #the dating sim campaign

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zukotheartist · 1 year

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Additional Tags: Fluff, Short One Shot, One Shot, No Plot/Plotless, just pure fluff, Silly, Post-Canon, set around their senior year in hs, suzie's only mentioned but her relationship with dustin starts this story so i tagged the ship, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship

Summary:

Quick one-shot for Bylerweek 2023. It’s literally just some short plotless fluff. — “Dustin, over here, seems to think that Suzie’s cooler than Will.” He dramatically added, “Years of friendship down the drain just like that.”

“Okay, that is not true. I value our dear cleric as much as anyone. I’m just saying… Suzie is, you know, the coolest girl ever and she’s my girlfriend and yeah Will’s cool too but he’s not Suzie cool, meaning… my partner’s cooler than yours,” he ended with a shrug.

“Woah, hold on,” Max stepped in, “if we’re talking coolest partner, I vote Lucas.”

AKA the party discusses who has the coolest partner (based on that scene from s4)

@bylerweek2023

#bylerweek2023 #byler #will byers #mike wheeler #byler fiic #stranger things #al's writing #al's post

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perfectfeelings · 2 months

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Never have I dealt with anything more difficult than my own soul, which sometimes helps me and sometimes opposes me.

Imam al-Ghazali

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bboricha · 1 year

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y...yes, sir! anything you say, sir! || bori's 1k special - part 1

➳ pairings: al haitham, ayato, baizhu, childe, cyno (separate) x subordinate afab!reader ➳ part 2 with diluc, heizou, tighnari, venti, and zhongli coming soon! ➳ cw: not proofread, a bit of power play (duh... they're your boss), oral (m and f!receiving), dry humping (on a shoe lol and mattress), exhibitionism, deep throating, swallowing, face fucking, dumbification, mentions of impregnation (ayato), marking, mentions of tying up hands, overstimulation, unprotected, aphrodisiac (baizhu), kinda dubcon, fingering, you're a cicin mage in childe's blurb, mention of marriage in ayato's, lmk if i've missed any...!

➳ synopsis: what would happen to you as their subordinate...?

al haitham x secretary afab!reader

you’ve met al haitham several times before… the whole mess all the sages have gotten themselves into. it was only natural, being the grand sage’s secretary and all, you would often deliver documents and knowledge capsules between the two of them. you never really thought too much of the man and neither did he think anything of you. sure, he was, well, younger than some of your colleagues, a vision holder, and… undeniably attractive.

maybe that’s why you’ve found yourself in this position. underneath the grand sage’s desk with a mouthful of the acting grand sage’s dick. you cannot believe the amount of control this man has talking to a matra with a straight face and unwavering voice despite being balls deep into your throat. not to mention, he keeps fucking his shoe against your clothed cunt and you’re absolutely sure that both his shoe and your panties are drenched at this point. you moan on his cock, the vibrations seemingly doing something for him as you hear his voice audibly hitch and his hand fly immediately for your hair, tugging at it as if to warn you.

it wasn’t your fault, it really wasn’t. if he would just stop using his shoe on you, order the matra to leave, and finally fuck you on his desk, you both wouldn’t be in this predicament. you’re almost led to believe that maybe he likes the idea of being caught, but then it dawns on you that he just actually likes seeing you anxious. this asshole only likes seeing you in this predicament, because he couldn’t care less about what others think about him. caution to the wind, you guess, and gulp down another whine, swallowing and stretching your throat out to make room for him even deeper as he digs the tip of his stiff sole against your clit.

you’re so close and you can feel that al haitham is too. with the way his dick is twitching in your mouth, you decide to speed up your ministrations and apparently so has al haitham. you tune in a bit, noticing that their conversation is about to end as he hits a certain spot, noticing you falter and begins to abuse it. it’s becoming harder and harder to stay quiet with how his shoe works itself so well against your cunt, your slick aiding in the feeling. you’re about to pull out to cover your mouth when you hear the door click shut as al haitham pushes your head, your nose hitting his abdomen with ropes of his cum sticking to your throat. you’re shaking at the feeling—at the fact that him using you like a fucking sleeve made that coil snap and you spill your essence all over his shoe.

he yanks you up from your knees before the cogs in your brain could generate another thought, forcing your mouth open by pushing down your tongue with his thumb, making sure you’ve swallowed every last drop.

“you’re a competent secretary, by the way. i can see why you were kept around—your services are much needed everyday in my office.”

kamisato ayato x retainer afab!reader

you grew up with the kamisatos, your family serving them as their retainers. your parents served the former heads while you were taught from a young age to serve their heirs. when the former kamisato heads had passed, your parents began to serve ayato, until he had dismissed them—told them they should retire and enjoy themselves—something he had wished his parents had the chance to do as well. and so you inevitably became his personal retainer again. not that you were complaining, no, but it was different from when the two of you were children. things like helping him bathe, get dressed, and aiding him at the crack of dawn—it just wasn’t the same anymore.

especially considering that tending to his nightly duties included him being balls deep inside of you. face down, ass up, your kimono disheveled and almost in tatters, ayato muttering something about how he’ll buy you a new one, one that he’ll personally pick out—to him, it’ll be a sign of ownership. he kept his focus on plowing into you, gripping your hips so hard every night that you’re afraid you might find indents of his fingers one day, your insides already having molded to the shape of his dick.

you’re biting his sheets, trying so hard to not make a noise when he pulls out, maneuvering you over onto your back. he slips a thumb into your mouth as you suckle on it, much to his enjoyment, as he tells you to not muffle yourself. he pushes his length back inside, bottoming out when he caresses his hand over the bulge, admiring the sight and drags his hand back to your hips (where it belongs) and begins thrusting yet once again. you’re full on moaning now, relishing in the way ayato hits every place that makes your eyes roll back with his fingers playing with your clit, making the coil in your stomach tighter and tighter with every thrust.

when your orgasm hits, your hands fly to your face in embarrassment, blocking out any sounds leaving your mouth and covering yourself so ayato doesn’t see what a blushing mess you are. he tsks to himself, one that you can hear, but quickly throws whatever thought he had away, replacing it with the idea that he has all night to rid of those hands that’s hiding your beauty from him. perhaps maybe with your obi, or maybe a bright, red rope? how about both? what other sounds will he be able to hear tonight, what cries will he be able to coax out of you, he wonders, melodies that he can’t wait to hear.

his cock twitches inside of you at his own imagination. he leans down, his body almost flush against yours as he kisses your temple, placing a hand on the top of your head as his thrusts suddenly increase in speed, signaling him close to release. you’re whining at the overwhelming sensation, biting into his shoulder to help muffle your moans when ayato stills, pushing himself as deep as he can reach as he cums inside, his warmth filling you up.

“if this sticks, maybe this will give you a reason to finally marry me.”

baizhu x assistant afab!reader

you’ve been baizhu’s helper since he saved your life a few years ago. he had found you battered up and injured when he was visiting qingce village. it was only after he took you back to bubu pharmacy to take care of you, a complete stranger, were you able to recover. you didn’t know how else to pay him back, nor did you really have anywhere else better to go, so you asked for him to take you in, and he obliged, greatly appreciating the help. he especially appreciates your help in aiding him develop a new medicine.

one that involves his hand in your underwear. he coated the “medicine” on his tips of his fingers before shoving it down your pants, caressing it against your clit, massaging the substance in your insides. he pushes a finger to your entrance slowly, coaxing it in as it begins to make you tingle, your body heating up. you’re starting to get needy, grabbing at baizhu’s wrist when he keeps going agonizingly slow, and to your surprise, he lightly pushes your hand off. he says you have to be patient, that he’s making sure you’re properly absorbing the medicine, that he doesn’t want to hurt you, telling you all of this with a grin, not showing any hint of concern.

he finally pushes in a second finger, making you cum instantly around his fingers to his delight. it’s working beautifully on you, perhaps a little too well when you grab the hem of his jacket as he’s about to pull away, asking for more. he wasn’t actually going to stop, it’s not like he went in this purely for research purposes, but the way your cheeks are flushed, beads of sweat dripping down into the crevices of your shirt, the rise and fall of your chest from him riling you up—it’s enticing. he’ll just have to make a mental note for later and tend to you now, after all, it’d be cruel of him to leave you like this when you’re asking so nicely, right?

he tells to come to the edge of the bed, enough so that your ass is almost hanging off as he peels off your underwear, watching how it clings to your messy cunt, sticky with your cum and slick. he wets his lips in anticipation, wondering how well your essence has soaked up the aphrodisiac as he licks a stripe up your pussy, groaning at the taste. he can already feel it getting to him as well, the residue or whatever was left on you, he figures, is still doing its job. either from the high of knowing how effective his medicine is or the effects really kicking in, he starts to eat you out with fervor, lapping up everything you have to give him, the noise so obscene that they bounce off the walls of his room.

you don’t have the time to feel ashamed by how loud it is, your hands going to tug on his hair as he grunts in response, the vibration of it ripples against you making you moan. he focuses his tongue on your clit, licking and suckling the tiny bud as he shoves two fingers into you, saying something about how you’re still tight even after an orgasm and his drug combined. he’s rutting himself against the mattress of his bed, his clothed cock desperate for any sort of friction as he feels you tightening up around his fingers for a second time tonight.

he curls his fingers, thrusting them in and out as he watches you unravel on his tongue, the sight one to behold. he gently fucks you on his fingers through your orgasm as he cums against his tight pants, slurping up your release as he stands up, unzipping himself to reveal his still hard length.

“there are still more tests to run, i’m afraid, before i can put this medicine on… our shelves, you see.”

childe x cicin mage afab!reader

you, a regular cicin mage, have been assigned to work closely under the 11th harbinger, tartaglia, your immediate response being nothing but a simple “fuck.” you’ve met the harbinger before and you immediately didn’t know how to feel about him. he was so… odd? so… kind? compared to the other harbingers at least, and on the contrary you actually felt the need to be even more wary with him. your first couple months working under him were quite fine. in fact, he was a great boss, he was kind and understanding and after a bit, you’ve completely adapted to being by his side.

that is until he drags you to a harbinger meeting, forcing you to sit next to him as he places a hand on your thigh, dangerously close to your crotch. he’s stroking the soft flesh, his pinky occasionally brushing over your clit, covered by your leotard. you’re lucky that the other harbingers can’t see what’s going on, though, they seemed to not care for your existence and presence at the meeting anyways. you try to brave up, attempting to push his hand away when he doesn’t relent, completely ignoring any signals you’ve been giving him, participating in the meeting as if he’s absolutely unfazed.

he goes from being subtle to shameless rubbing the nub, not hiding his intentions whatsoever, especially when he pushes your leotard to the side, playing with you skin to skin. your hands cover your mouth, not caring about what the other harbingers might think at this point when tartaglia dips a finger inside your entrance, slowly coaxing it in as he watches your expression, choosing to put in a second. the stretch is divine, two of his fingers already proving to be larger and deft, feeling better than whatever you might be able to do to yourself, and you’re confused. how is he touching you so skillfully? as if he’s already familiar with your walls and every crevice, curling the tips of his fingers to hit your favorite spot with every thrust.

you’re unaware of the obscene noises the two of you have been making, painfully unaware of how the jester has already brought this meeting to an end, some of the harbingers completely ignoring you both as they exit, others shaking their heads in disgust. you’re resting your head against your arms on the table, trying your best to hold in your moans despite having no reason to do so at this point while tartaglia gets more bold with his movements, ripping your leotard for better access and movement.

the squelching sounds and your heavy breaths bounce around the walls of the wide hall, ricocheting back towards you, only adding to your nearing release. tartaglia can feel the way you’re tightening around his fingers, fastening his ministrations until you cum. he groans at your pussy convulsing against him, the bulge in his pants growing larger and larger as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“darling, i think you’re gonna have to… work overtime tonight, am i clear?”

cyno x matra afab!reader

you’ve never really been a good subordinate, always skipping out on meetings as you deem them unnecessary, opting out on drinking with your colleagues, never listening to cyno. it’s not like you can help it, honestly. you have your own way of doing things and you still manage to get the job done regardless, so is there really any harm to your methods? technically no, and cyno has yet to really do anything substantial that could threaten your position, so you decide to test his patience.

his patience that apparently isn’t limitless, you’ve figured out. by…well, you know, the way he’s fucking you against the shelves in the house of daena. he’s keeping you captive, trapping your body with his as it takes all of your willpower and concentration to not make any noise—to not attract any attention towards you both. his chest is flush against yours, his cock fully submerged within you as you grip the shelf for some sort of purchase with one hand, the other desperately covering your mouth.

you can feel his breath, hear every groan that escapes his lips right next to your ear, the sensation only turning you on even further as his hand finds its way underneath your shirt, choosing to play with your nipple. he gives a particularly sharp thrust, as if he’s trying to elicit some sort of noise from you, saying something about how he’s been needing a reason to punish you, about he’s been waiting for this “opportunity” for a long time. his words are lost on you, could you not comprehend simple sentences anymore or was he spouting pure nonsense? you’re not sure, your head foggy from how slow he’s going, how he would suddenly snap his hips against yours, how sometimes he’d suckle on the nape of your neck or bite your shoulder, the figure eights on your clit, everything is driving you absolutely insane.

the general mahamatra, someone you figured whose sex drive was nonexistent, is throwing you for a loop today. someone who is more well endowed than you would’ve imagined, someone who’s filling you up oh so perfectly, the head of his dick kissing your cervix in ways that makes stars float right before your eyes.

at this point you’re tempted to place both of his hands on your hips, to urge him to fuck you right then and there in the house of daena, and you do, but all he does is grip your hips tightly, not budging an inch as he smirks against your shoulder.

“this is a punishment, remember? have i fucked you so stupid already that you’ve forgotten?”

➳ an: wow look at all those tags! also i literally have no idea why childe's banner thingy is so fkn blurry compared to the others... akhdkahsd

if you liked this, consider leaving me a tip!

#bboricha*:･ﾟ✧#bori writes*:･ﾟ✧#bori genshin*:･ﾟ✧#milestones*:･ﾟ✧#genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #al haitham smut #al haitham x reader #ayato x reader #ayato smut #kamisato ayato x reader #kamisato ayato smut #baizhu smut #baizhu x reader #childe x reader #childe smut #cyno smut #cyno x reader #genshin impact smut

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zhongrin · 5 months

Text

festered wounds

— when you’ve never been the first choice your whole life, it’s hard to accept the possibility that you could be loved.

✼ characters ┈ zhongli, al haitham, wriothesley

✼ tags ┈ gn!reader, this is more of a vent drabble, hurt with comfort, reader with massive insecurity issues, implied past trauma, slight blood & gore in the portrayal of ‘hurt’

✼ a/n ┈ this…. got really personal, haha. i wrote this in a bad headspace, so apologies if it got depressing or if it’s of a low quality. i didn't want to have this in my drafts and i certainly don't want to bring it to 2024 so i'm just posting this now.

ᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴍᴇɴᴜ (ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ) ✼ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ (ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ)

“i’m sorry.”

zhongli’s heart dropped at the words escaping your lips. this was certainly the most unexpected response you could give to his confession, seeing the promising recent developments in your relationship — and so celestia forgive him, he had to pause to gather his thoughts. this made you fidget even more under his gaze, and so you succumbed to your frazzled nerves to continue in a more panicked voice.

“i’m sorry, mr. zhongli, i know you’re not the type to resort to deceit or find joy in toying with people’s feelings, but i’m just— i can’t—” you trailed off, feeling your chest tighten in pain.

“please, hold your tongue for a moment,” the refined man held out one of his hand to settle onto your shoulder comfortingly. his expression was a mixture of worry and confusion, eyebrows furrowing in a sign of distress. “are you saying that you… do not believe my words? you think i have malicious intentions?”

“….. i’m sorry, i’m just not used to- i’ve never-” you stumbled over your words and squeezed your eyes shut, “i’m sorry….”

zhongli watched you for a moment, observing the smallest ticks and the story behind your body language. you looked so vulnerable, like a scared animal instinctively cowering at some invisible threat. you looked as if someone had stripped away a bandage that had been haphazardly wrapped around a wound left unattended for so long, it had festered into an abomination, eating away at you slowly, even now.

belatedly, he realized that ‘someone’ was himself.

zhongli inhaled deeply, his palm leaving your shoulder. this time, he took his hands to tenderly grab your fingers, lifting them up to silently plead for your attention. your eyes were troubled and full of storms, the rain and lighting reflecting on your expression as a solemn flutter of your eyelashes and sorrowful downturn of your lips. the slight tremble of your body reflected the silent call for help from a blemished heart that never had the courage to forget.

“my dearest. i see the pain you have gone through. i have yet to know the tales that had marred your heart, but i want you to know that i am willing to be the pair of ears you tell your grievances to, and you can be rest assured that they will be safe with me. i know my words will not be enough to convince you otherwise at this moment… however, you must forgive my impatience, for it stems out of genuine love. i simply must humbly ask once again—”

“— please, give me a chance to heal you.”

“a-are you sure you want me?”

out of the 18 different responses he anticipated, al haitham did not expect this. however, his surprise merely manifested in the rising of both of his eyebrows and the subtle shift on his legs.

“unlike the consensus the public seemed to have one-sidedly agreed on, i am not foolish enough in the matter of romance as to confess to someone i do not hold deep affection and great care for,” he said in the same tone as the moment he asked if you would consider taking your relationship into the ‘officially dating’ phase, “is it not obvious? kaveh claimed i was ‘laying it on thick’ and cyno had noted of how i treat you better than how i treat the dendro archon.”

“oh….”

“….”

you thought you had gotten used to al haitham’s stare with how much you both had been hanging out, but right now you couldn’t seem to lift your head. the scholar crossed his arms, waiting patiently for your response. you were both gratuitous and dreading his resilience.

“i-i still think you could do better, though. i mean, look at you! you’re so fit, so wouldn’t you feel better if your partner is more of the sporty type? and you’re the top graduate of the haravatat darshan, so you would pair better with someone smarter…. a-and someone like me will just drag you down; aesthetically speaking, i… uh, leave much to be desired while you’re… you know…”

you spoke of such illogical assumptions and erroneous advices that he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. you spoke of belittling yourself as if you were used to riding on the rails of insurmountably low dip of the self-esteem cliff for years. you spoke of these things as if you were repeating words someone told you at least once in your life.

and it angered him.

but he wasn’t angry at you. he was angry for you.

funny how empathy wasn’t his strong suit, and yet he jumped on the bandwagon as easily as an otter taking off into the waters the moment it came to you and your emotions.

“i care not for such shallow qualifications when it comes to seeking a partner. your presence triggers the relevant hormones that make me feel relaxed and comfortable, and my mind spontaneously seek for your attention. it’s only logical that i seek for an arrangement that would ensure these pleasant things to happen and develop further.”

“you’re the best choice for a partner, simply because i wish to spend the rest of my life with you; and i think that's enough.”

“i don’t think i’m a good choice for you…”

wriothesley looked as if you had pinpointed his weak point in a boxing match and delivered a straight jab right onto it. his lips slacked open and his body froze as he tried to process your words, the meaning behind it, the—

he inhaled deeply and punched his own fist into his palm, stretching his jaw with a growl before a darker tone took over his voice.

“alright, who’s been talking shit? let me at them. it won’t be manslaughter if they don’t die, right?”

he watched as your nervously fiddling fingers stopped twisting around each other, your eyes widened in shock and alarm at his words. briefly, he praised himself inwardly for being able to switch your mood at the snap of his fingers. now if only he could do that, but instead of surprise-and-horror, it could turn into surprise-and-joy instead…

“what?! wait- no! no one said that, i ju—”

“then is your own head telling you that?”

“it’s—” you gulped, gaze slowly breaking away.

he sensed a secret kept safe under the heaviest chains and locks. pain that had nearly torn up that warm heart of yours, shoved into the furthest part of you in a desperate attempt to save yourself; to silence the damned screams and the river of curses that would have made you self-destruct. he saw the remains of the thousands of needles that had embedded itself deep inside your worn heart a long time ago, and yet still it beat and struggled to not bleed out and drown you in its venomous blood.

he saw a heart as scarred as his skin, and he understood.

“..… alright, sweetheart, listen up, and listen close.”

the man’s hands suddenly cradled your cheeks, his icy blue eyes penetrating your clouded gaze. his whole demeanor had shifted into gentle and loving, as if he was holding his entire world in the palms of his hands. he resisted the urge to kiss you when you couldn’t help but lean onto his touch, instinctively seeking comfort.

he would do you better. he would give you the kind of love you’ve yet to experience. there were so much he wanted to say, but he chose to speak of the reassurance he thought you needed most at this moment.

“i say you’re the perfect choice for me. let me prove it to you.”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #al haitham #al haitham x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #rin writes

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