Hmph.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ Masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

>> Selkie Kaveh . ݁₊ ⊹ Since when has helping a stranger at the bar lead to marriage? Kaveh x reader, no preestablished relationship, fluff

>> Moze x medic!reader . ݁₊ ⊹ You'd long since fallen into a routine at night, one he seemed set on disrupting. You're nothing if not adaptable however. Moze x reader, pre-established platonic relationship, fluff

>> Self-aware Anaxa . ݁₊ ⊹ It was just a game, nothing more nothing less Anaxa x reader (one sided), drabble

anaxa doesn't seem like the type to call anyone by anything other than their name, but there's definitely a difference in the way he says your name compared to everyone else's. your name rolls off of his tongue fluidly, almost gracefully; he says your name like a prayer — with the utmost reverence. for a notorious blasphemer who shuns the gods, one would think that you were his god with how preciously he treats your very likeness.

if he were to use some sort of pet name... i think he'd settle on "my dear" or "dearest." it's nothing extravagant or exceptionally creative, but it's not lacking in affection.

"thank you, my dear," he'll murmur. anaxa speaks in hushed tones around you, as only you are worthy of seeing him in such a vulnerable state.

"enlighten me, my dear," he'll chuckle. he'll fold his arms over his chest during impromptu debates, his uncovered eye twinkling with mirth and curiosity as you explain your reasoning.

"good night, my dear," he'll whisper. in the dead of night when he thinks you're asleep in your shared bed, he'll slide in beside you and whisper an apology if you stir. "go back to sleep, dearest," he'll tell you if you begin to wake, his fingers brushing over the exposed skin of your waist beneath the sheets.

@mushroomwoods

how my brain picks a new favorite character who sucks

I was talking about moze with a friend and then this spiralled from there - still not quite sure how I managed to write 800 words in less than a few hours but ykw, I'm very happy with how this turned out.

Masterlist

Another late night, that’s all that this was meant to be. Struggling yet again to fall asleep at a rational time, you’d decided to abandon the comfort of a warm bed to return to the medbay. The routine was familiar to the whole express by now, as you’d become accustomed to one of the other members, they’d never given away who it was, or even if it was multiple taking turns, setting down breakfast on your desk in there for when you awoke after unfailingly falling asleep either in the patient bed or desk chair. 

Tonight was shaping up a little differently, or a lot differently in all honesty, because there was a man, bleeding, sitting in front of one of the cabinets, attempting to bandage himself while at the same time trying to clean up some of the blood. You couldn’t recognise whoever it was, considering they were facing the other direction, coated in blood. Getting Himeko or Mr Yang would be the best course of action; however, when you turned to leave, he spun around faster. 

“Moze?” 

He stayed silent, granted it was hard to tell if that was due to his demeanour or the head injury he’s sporting. Thankfully, now that you knew it was someone familiar it was a lot easier to decide what to do rather than continuing to be frozen in panic. 

“You’ve got to stop dropping in unannounced like this.”

The crow-feathered weirdo is silent as you flick on the lights, then move over to his side. A pin drop could be heard between the two of you, but ignoring that to go through the motions is easy enough. Moze had been dropping in with injuries more frequently recently, but his wound is shallower than any prior. First, help him onto the bed; then take off his hood, giving yourself better access to the injury.

It’s not until you step away for a brief second that he speaks. His voice is quiet, something that you have to strain to hear over the tap while scrubbing at your hands. 

“I’ll deal with the mess I left.”

You sigh, and if you wash your hands slightly more aggressively than needed, nobody will have to know. 

“That isn’t any of the things that I’m even thinking about. Why did you even come here?”

Maybe that sounded ruder than intended. 

“I mean, why didn’t you go to Jiaoqiu or the alchemy commission?” 

The silence returns after that, leaving you to gather some basic medical equipment to deal with the wound that’s been continuing to bleed the entire time. He barely flinches when you apply antiseptic and bandage it. The injury itself is nothing, something that looks far worse than it really is, which makes his appearance here even stranger. 

“You could have treated this yourself.” 

Still not a word and it’s almost infuriating this time. At this point, messaging Jiaoqiu is becoming an appealing idea; something you don’t consider much before reaching for your phone. Thankfully, you have the healer’s number; sadly, Moze seems against you doing so.

“Don’t.”

“He deserves to know you’re injured.”

“I came here for a reason.”

“Oh, I’m aware that there’s a reason behind this.”

Of course, as far as you’re aware he came here to hide the fact that he was injured. It was all too easy to see that’s what he was doing, but that doesn’t explain anything else. You know that you won’t get an answer either, so instead of dwelling on it, you return to the original goal you had for coming here so late. 

His eyes are glued to how you’re moving around, keeping yourself busy. Cleaning in a similar manner to his own habit, not stopping even as exhaustion starts to tug at you. There’s a small scoff as you sway on your feet for a moment, looking like you’re about to pass out on the spot. 

“You should sleep.”

“If I were able to, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“You’re more tired than before.”

You send him a small scowl at that, nothing with malice, just mild annoyance. But was that a hint of a blush when you turned to him?

“I suppose as a shadow guard, you know some techniques to help fall asleep fast?”

“Perhaps.”

There’s a hand on yours moments after that, tugging it gently away from the supplies you were mindlessly sorting and resorting over and over. You let him, wanting to question why he’s acting like this, but being painfully certain you won’t get an explanation. Just as he refuses to explain the reason why he keeps coming to you, keeps coming to the express with increasingly minor wounds. 

“Sharing a bed with a partner improves sleep.”

He’s not being overly affectionate. Opting instead to pull you down next to him on the bed, putting his arm over your side before you can even kick off your shoes. 

“Is that supposed to be a confession?” 

No response. 

You can live with that. Because for once, he’s staying to recover rather than disappearing into the shadows again. 

This is a routine you could get used to.  

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Moss, 20, He/they

This blog features drabbles and short fics in various fandoms; currently focused on Honkai: Star Rail and Genshin.

Requests are open - please see the rules before sending any in, I'm also always open to talk about brainrots and ramble, so feel free to drop by!

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Had this idea since stumbling upon this post, and couldn't get the idea of kaveh being the selkie out of my mind. Will I probably end up writing more of this? Perhaps, but setting up the scenario was fun.

Masterlist

You still weren't entirely sure what you'd gotten into last night. A small gesture, something most people wouldn't have even thought of after a couple of seconds, yet here you were with a person who you'd barely spoken a complete sentence to, awkwardly trying to propose. 

It was simple, really, a small favour that hadn't even been thought through. Not even paying attention to the person when you saw their expensive looking coat had fallen to the floor while you were walking past. Pausing with drink in hand to pick it up, tapping him on the shoulder and passing it back with a murmured, “Excuse me, I think you dropped this.” 

Honestly, he was cute, tall, well built, blonde, with freckles that decorated his face in just the right way and the most striking ruby red eyes you've ever seen. You didn't speak to him, and he didn't say a word in return. He simply stared at you like a deer in headlights for long enough for you to find it awkward, so you gave him a smile, a wave, then returned to where your friends were talking in the bar. 

You hadn't known the significance of what you'd just done. 

Not until now. With Kaveh, that's what he said his name is, looking rather flustered as he's attempting to get his words out. He gives up after a moment, passing you a small velvet box that feels quite expensive to the touch. After staring at him for a moment more you carefully open it under his anxious gaze. 

“Is this - This is a wedding ring.”

After a second of tense silence more you tear your eyes from the - admittedly beautiful - wedding ring to look back up at the man. 

“I- Well, yes - yes it is a wedding ring. I thought since you uh… well since we - considering you-” 

He pauses in the midst of his stammering, evidently struggling to phrase why he's giving you, a stranger, a wedding band. A small groan of embarrassment and a hand ran through his hair later and he's finally managing to get his words out properly. 

“I thought you'd appreciate getting married by human customs as well, in all truth I've wanted a wedding because watching shows with them and seeing people getting married? The parties and the fact you can choose between such beautiful venues and how you can decorate them-” 

Kaveh continues rambling for a few moments more, but you've already tuned him out. Your ears ringing as the weight of his words set in. How were you married to him, you'd spoke perhaps seven words? 

“Wait, wait no go back a second. Married?” 

The man blinks owlishly, his jaw clicking shut mid ramble as you say that. If there had ever been a better example of someone mentally blue screening it would be hard to find it. 

“Yes, well it's an old tradition. Not everyone follows it now but I've always wanted a partner for life and it's still a very respected practice.” 

“I'm sorry, but I don't know what practice you're talking about.” 

His face doesn't show disappointment if there is any; he still looks utterly besotted by you, staring like you hung the very stars in the sky. He takes your hand into his as he speaks, clasping it around the ring box all while not breaking eye contact. 

“You gave me back my coat.”

There’s no choice but to follow his movements as he lets go, only to shove the coat you had picked up off the floor yesterday back into your face. It’s expensive looking, but unless it’s a family heirloom with the tradition he mentioned attached to it, there’s no reason that returning a coat, that’s honestly more of a cloak the more you look at it, should mean that you’re married to him. 

“You didn’t try to keep it to yourself, you just handed it back.”

“I still don't know what you mean, that's just basic courtesy -” 

You can't find the will to finish that sentence, not with how he's looking at you. Of course, you still want an explanation, some kind of reason, some kind of answer as for why he's acting like this. However the way he keeps shoving the sealskin cloak in between you like it answers everything isn't enough for you. No matter how much he'd like for it to be one. 

Your confused expression seemed to be enough to get him to relent somewhat, lowering the cloak and quietly muttering a sentence that makes his attitude understandable. 

“I'm a selkie.”

Oh.

Selkies and other beings that could be described as mythical aren't entirely rare where you currently live. At least not rare enough for some basic information for them not to be known. You just didn't connect the dots, missing the fact of what he was entirely.

“That's why you…” 

He nods, taking a moment to carefully drape the sealskin - his sealskin over your shoulders adjusting it with slightly trembling hands. A stark contrast to the confident, almost blinding smile on his face. Your unfinished question doesn't get answered verbally, the way he so freely gives you an item many would steal to keep him acts as one. 

“You don't have to follow the tradition, if you didn't know what it would mean the I'm not - I can't bring myself to hold you to it.” 

There's a moroseness to his tone, one that gives away more about kaveh than he probably would ever want to reveal. It screams of how he's used to getting hurt, of having to set his hopes aside, or worse yet, of being hurt by those very hopes. For what it's worth he doesn't seem like a bad person, but you can't just throw yourself into marriage with a stranger. 

“What about a compromise then?” 

“..?” 

“A compromise. I'm not comfortable with being wedded to someone who I don't know. However, you don't seem like a bad person. I'd like to get to know you before committing.” 

You’d never seen someone light up the way he did because of those words.

“Thank you, thank you, I'm glad you gave me a chance. I promise, you won’t regret it.”

Shout out to characters who want to be used. Shout out to characters who are so desperate to be worth something that they'll endure anything. Shout out to characters who build their entire self worth around being useful, being a tool. Shout out to characters who don't care how they are treated, as long as someone pays them any attention at all