Genshin Men Crushing Is My Life Source

Genshin men crushing is my life source <3

genshin men crushing on you !

SCARAMOUCHE who instantly thinks you want to be him when you enter his office. He who blushes intensly at your every physical touch. Once caught blushing, he immediately pulls up every excuse in the book. He denies his clear favoritism of you, pouting and crossing his arms, hoping you would get the memo to pinch his cheeks and let him see your smile.

ALHAITHAM who suddenly has every free time in the world when you arrive. He thought following you around in the city everywhere you go would send a clear message that he likes you. Purchasing anything you may need in every stall, making sure you were filled with items and hoping you will remember who bought them. Who cares about work anyway?

KAVEH who makes a future house for himself once he moves out, but can't help to add your favorite antiques and favorite designs dreaming that you would live with him in a domestic paradise. The way he includes you in all parts of his life, from eating fruit that reminds him of you, to romanticizing fantasy that he was a different person, unflawed and brave, whisking you away into a world only both of you know.

DILUC who always acts like a gentleman to everyone but cold statue to you. He just doesn't know how to act or feel, he was afraid of saying the wrong words or send a wrong message. But once relaxed he acts like a companion—an angel who comforts you in your lows and sometimes smiles and claps in your highs. He didn't need to try to make you fall, he just needed to be Diluc.

KAEYA who becomes a delusional man when you're around. You said hi? That means "I like you". Everytime he sees you staring at him, he would think it was intense stare of yearning even if it was just for a second. But once you try and approach him, all his confidence about your mutual feelings disappear. Does he look good? Did he say the right thing? But as he blushed and you laughed softly. He immediately thought. Are you in love with him?

CYNO who saw your presence in his TCG match and instantly beats his enemy in like 2 rounds. All of his premium jokes are to be said only around you, the basic unfunny ones can go to everybody else. They don't matter. Collei and Tighnari had enough about his gushing over you. It even went to how your exact shade of lips matched a random item he owns meaning both of you were soulmates. He needs help.

Arataki Gang Hcs

• I head-canon that the Arataki Gang all live / constantly visit Granny Oni. Like her house is pretty much their hideout

• Granny probably makes them snacks while they’re beetle fighting

• Granny Oni definitely loves Kuki like a daughter

• Major family dynamic

• They started getting in trouble with the tenryou commission on accident but now they’re kinda’ trying to annoy them on purpose.

• They totally host mini beetle fighting and TCG tournaments between the members.

• For sure have movie nights at least three times a month.

• They all chip in to by pizza and snacks for movie night.

I honestly love this group so much <3

I’ve been simping since I was 6 years old.. I guess you could call me a professional at this ✨😎

Best advice I’ve heard all my life. <3

“Why complicate life? Missing somebody? - Call. Wanna meet up? - Invite. Wanna be understood? - Explain. Have questions? - Ask. Don’t like something? - Say it. Like something? - State it. Want something? Ask for it. Love someone? - Tell it. We just have one life. Keep it simple.”

— Unknown

I don’t think high fives would work with Inosuke.

If you ask this boar boy to high five you he’s gonna think it’s a challenge of “who can the hit the others hand harder” 🤩 You’re gonna end up with a broken hand at least.

Lets not even mention if you try to play one of those hand clapping games with him, like concentration for eg. Inosuke is gonna assume how hard you hit the other players’ hand is part of the game. (My father did this 😵‍💫)

The Art of Sharing a Meal | Giyuu Tomioka

Word Count: 4285

Setting: Giyuu Tomioka x gn!reader (reader is a slayer), mutual pining, SFW

Content Warnings: no warnings here, just fluff all around

Summary: a day off is normally something to treasure, but for a work-a-holic like Giyuu, it's quite the struggle to navigate, as well as what to do with his spare time: music, gardening, sparring, and even cooking can be quite the challenge unless you're by his side.

[The artwork belongs to Koyoharu Gotouge!]

Steam rolled in waves off of the fire, the pots of the kitchen hut and modest. The care of the meticulously maintained cookware evident to have withstand the test of the pillage the kitchen had endured.

Pots placed throughout counters, knives awkwardly stuck in the chopping boards; peels of produce abandoned across the surface, forgotten in his enthusiasm. Chunks of daikon misshaped and awry, clearly abused and awkwardly handled in their preparation. The chunks uneven, and prepared at uneven temperatures due to the varying thickness. The pungent odor of kombucha seaweed miscalculated, and left on the stove for far too long. The remaining parts stripped of any potential savory umami, and left to wallow and slimy as the earth worms that he had met this morning. The seaweed containing the same degree of appetizing as the garden crawlers. Although unlike the soil caretakers, the kelp had long lost its benefits, seethed right from its properties. The distinct sear of overcooked salmon burned his nose, caught on the revealing hues of whites that it offered when he had sliced it. The skin awkwardly marred despite his best attempts, curiously dry despite the broth it soaked in. Composed of soy sauce and ginger far too overbearing and unbalanced and settled awkwardly and disproportion in sake. The rice wine oozing of booze and oppressive against the taste buds. Chalky on the tongue, and disappointing as the flavor punished his palate. The pucker of his lips as he forced down another bite; the disappointment evident on his features.

His meal had been in good company; afforded the rare day off at Ubuyashiki’s insistence. The leader had expressed his concern for the Water Hashira, expressed that Tomioka was well known for his adamant nature, overworked, and the man had suspected that such lifestyle choices had begun to bare on him. Weighted, and affecting his performance, he had reminded Giyuu that such decisions could impair is battle tact, reminded him that an early grave could be the result. One that very well, could belong to another rather than the Hashira, himself. A fate that Giyuu wished to avoid at all costs, and so, he had begrudgingly accepted Ubuyashiki’s care.

                The dreaded reality of having a day off in the unusual opportunity to relax had weighed on him. The morning hours spent awkwardly wandering about the mansion, no longer contempt to stay in his room and play his usual games. His voyage leaving him displaced and a float. Tomioka had become increasingly aware… that he really did not know how to relax. The dawning conclusion had led him through a variety of paths, determined to seize his day off in a way that would benefit his work performance. Sharpen his mind, and ensure the safety of those under his care.

                He had begun with Gyomei. The Stone Hashira had towered over him, eyes a wide and clasping his prayer beads as he regarded his peer. His features strained and stoic, had reassured Giyuu that such a rest was necessary from time to time as the foreboding man prepared himself for an upcoming mission while attempting to ponder Tomioka’s inquiry. Pressed a smile one that appeared to be sculpted from boulders itself, his steps heavy as he crossed the room. His shifting amongst belongings practiced, and precise as he found a flute and presented Giyuu with a book alongside it. His voice telling, as calm as any father figure could ever hope to be, he devlved to Giyuu that he had purchased the instructions in the hope that the hobby would bring Genya peace—the younger slayer had often been known to enjoy his playing, but as time had taught the Stone Pillar, he was uninterested. The book left with little choice to collect dust. The man had made the suggestion born of his own hobby, and the peace it often brought him, and so, the Water Hashira had set off to attempt sahkuhachi.  It should have been an obtainable goal, at least the building blocks instructions Gyomei had left in his care before Giyuu had departed. The directions were formative, intended for small children beginning their journey, and yet, despite the effort Tomioka had placed into the flute, he had become aware that it was not working out well at all.

                The yank of the instrument from his fingers, his eyes pressed together through forced breaths, the younger Shinazugawa had seized his opportunity, and forced the woodwind from Giyuu’s grasp. His eyes agitated; the scowl permanently etched into his features. He resembled his brother far more than he had his adopted father. The newer member to the corps had found him in the garden, drawn by the clear dismay of passing maids and kakushi who could be heard lamenting about the dying animal they had overheard. Informed Giyuu that his performance was hopeless unless he had intended to utilize it as some form of punishment in slaying. The bamboo strains threatening to snap between his fingers as he lectured his superior. Tomioka’s down casted gaze having shocked the man into an awkward apology, that sounded more like a backhanded compliment. Stumbled from fallen words, Genya had suggested something less detrimental to the health of other members, perhaps gardening. He had shared his own fondness for tending to bonsai trees. Work beckoning the young boy away, and leaving Giyuu to consider his suggestion.

                Tomioka was not entirely unfamiliar to the world of gardening. Under Urokodaki’s care, Giyuu had the understanding of the basic necessities of farming. In the mountains, they were left with limited resources, and so Sabito and he had nurtured a vegetable garden, and even learned to identify wild vegetables in the forests and mountain sides. With such knowledge at his disposal, he understood that starting a garden would be a tall order for a single day off, and his efforts would be met with disappointment when he returned from a long mission. The Water Hashira’s garden would not survive without his care, and to expect other members of the corps to carry the weight was a burden he would not request, nor a task he would push off to the kakushi. Fist clapped against his hand; he knew what it was he needed to do. He had filtered through the mansion’s library, thumbed through various manuscripts, and care guides before locating what he needed. His feet carrying him as his eyes glanced amongst the pages and instructions before stopping before delicately maintained bonsai trees. Ones that Genya, the very slayer who had suggested the past time to him had cultivated. Just as Giyuu would struggle to maintain a garden, he had considered that the younger Shinazugawa likely faced the same obstacles in his cultivation and care. It would be a great show of appreciation to care for his trees in his wake, after all he had suggested such a pass time in the first place. Pages pressed between firm fingers in his left hand, sea drowned eyes that skimmed the instructions and eyebrows drawn. Clippers captured in his right hand, far too rigid for the proper technique. These instructions, much like the ones Gyomei had provided were intended for beginners, and surely something he could accomplish in a timely manner. The diagram had made it seem so easy. Snip after snip, the realization began to settle upon the demanding bellow. The familiar rage he had elicited as fast as the breeze. The demands to know what it was in the seven hells he was doing, or at least, what he thought he was doing. The seething anger that radiated from the Wind Hashira as he wretched the clippers from his hands, offered Giyuu another perspective in which Giyuu could appraise his work through, and… it wasn’t good. Quickly registering that meticulous was far more complicated he had been prepared for, and the evidence was left in bare branches. Jutting leaves at odd angles, and the once proud bonsai seemed humiliated at its appearance. Leaving the Water Hashira with the conclusion that… this was not the pass time for him before he dared to ask the older Shinazugawa what he would recommend. The query had landed as a challenge rather than a question. The Wind Pillar rash to act on his urges, the fist that claimed Giyuu’s top and yanked him to his feet. Eye to eye, curse after curse, threat after threat, the Water Hashira was at a loss. No matter how he approached the angle, he could not comprehend how a threat had been made, the pondering only eliciting further rage.

                The commotion of feral growls met with confused bland statements shifted the kakushi from sight, quick to escape any damage that a sparring match would be sure to result in; the Wind Hashira was renowned for his fury. Their scrambling down the halls drawing the interception from Kanroji. The Love Hashira met them with concerned, immediately offering her assistance. She was well practiced in mediation. Her bounce in step as she intruded upon the pending scurry drew immediate dismay from Sanemi. The red of his face burning and horrified at the way she had pressed herself between them, determined to separate the two other pillars. Her affectionate smile revealing how blissfully aware at the way she had squished the agitated man. The flush of his skin staining the scars that danced across his face. Only able to manage another curse before departing down the hallway, leaving a storm in his path just as the one he had provided at his arrival. Left alone, and obviously confused at the Wind breather’s pardon, Kanroji tilted her head at Giyuu. Her eyes wide and affectionate, quick to inquire if the Water Pillar was alright, and when met with the nature of his dilemma, she had beamed. She cooed his praise, sung compliment after compliment at his hard work, and reassured him that Ubuyashiki was in fact correct. This would be wonderful for him. The smack of her hand meeting his back, intending to be as affectionate as the words she threaded together were met against the curve of his spine. The brute strength she bared completely slipping from her mind—she had nearly tumbled him over. His back ached, he had concluded. He was beginning to lose faith that a day off was relaxing at all, as he considered the woman’s parting advice. She had always enjoyed a meal best, on her day off. Although Giyuu suspected Kanroji always enjoyed her meals, she had assured him that food always tasted perfect on a day off.

Yes, his meal was in good company. A stewing match of disappointment that rolled into overbearing flavor rather than the subtle gentle one he had craved. The salmon pressed against his teeth, an uncomfortable chalky texture that dragged as he chewed. He struggled to throw it away, it seemed such a waste to simply toss it. He couldn’t imagine a proper reason to squander such use of ingredients, he had made this wreck. Giyu had determined... It would be cruel to offer it to Kanzaburo; he should be the one to eat it. He also imagined that… his old crow despite its withering age, would not accept it from the scent alone. Not that the swordsman could fault him for it. There was also the reality, that Giyuu neither had the resolve to request someone else prepare the meal, not that any kakushi were available today. Pulled away for various work tasks, the Water Hashira had been left to his own devices, lulled into a false sense of security. He had been familiar with the basics of cooking. Urokodaki had ensured he had the capabilities to prepare for food for himself; the demands of his work had ensured he was capable of securing food in the wilderness. His onigiri were simple, but edible, easily fitting into his pocket. He had been known to catch his own fish, and prepare them over a fire when missions led him far from towns and villages. He had truly thought of all the tasks, this was the one he would succeed at. His face drawn, eyes facing the mess before him, he had gathered the courage to press on. It was not as though he was at risk of poisoning himself—he was confident in that, and so, he steeled himself for another bite.

The mansion had been deserted for the most part upon your arrival. The halls devoid of the usual bustle, only the occasional kakushi rushed pass you, eager hands determined to complete their task in the wake of their comrade’s absence. Too determined to accomplish duties to properly acknowledge you, not that they had been disrespectful by any means. They were simply enthralled in their obligations to offer more than a nod in passing, their feet pattering hard against wood floors. Your report had been filed to the head of the household. Had ensured the details had been properly disclosed. It had not been an especially trying demon, but the demands on your body from the trip were tiring. Nothing you were unaccustomed to—the Wind Hashira’s sparing matched were more toiling, but you couldn’t deny the ache in your bones as you rubbed your neck, your feet a mere echo amongst the noise of the mansion. A lone figure with no immediate pressing duties to attend to. The head, Ubuyashiki had offered you the gentlest of smiles, relieved to welcome you home once again. The touch of guilt that followed was not out of place, he had often borne fatigue upon any member’s arrival. Remorse and regret were known to steal his appetite, and you believed that tonight was no different. On weary bones he rose, his wife the Lady Ubuyashiki quick to accompany his side. His weight pressed against her as he regarded her with the warmth of long-time lovers intertwined by fate and joined at the hits, a sweet sight one that you often relished in such pressing times. You had begun to rise yourself, quick to excuse yourself from the wed couple, who were clearly preoccupied in one another’s embrace, but were paused at the door. Your hand on the frame as you peeked over your shoulder, greeted by Amane’s knowing smile as the leader of the Demon Corps asked if you would be willing to shoulder, just one more burden before retiring for the night. At first, you had assumed that he was requesting tea—the lack of kakushi would mean that not all of his medical needs were priority. He had preferred it that way, but Lady Amane was more the responsive to his needs, often supplying anything her husband required before he had even known himself. No, the pleasant smile was not one that requested any personal needs, but rather, he requested you pay visit to the kitchens, “you will know before you arrive,” he had said with the faintest of chuckles. The disease clear on his throat before he allowed himself to be fully taken by his wife, bidding you farewell for the night.

                He was right. The smell greeted you long before you had turned the corner of the inner rooms. What spices drafted through creeks and clung to furniture, you did not know.. Far more pungent than the fermented and dried fish that frequented some villages. In fact, you would rather welcome the horrible familiar stench of kusaya than face what lied ahead. The rare person you passed just as quick to evade the scene, unwilling to be wrangled into what mess awaited you. The pinch of your nose against your nostrils. The heavy wave of booze that carried as you peeked around the corner. This was where you had found him. Lost in a sea of mangled daikon radishes, askew across the counter. Awkwardly peeled and telling of his unfamiliarity with a kitchen blade. The nicks slammed into the cutting wood slab far deeper than necessary, fluid as his breathing style, and just as lethal. Steam of rice well prepared despite the surrounding circumstances, Slimy folds of unsavory kombu seaweed, unsalvageable. A rare sight for any cooking experience, and the slight burn of fish that had not only been over cooked, but had trodden into smoldered.  Edges revealing signs of over temperature whether of neglect having been too focused on cooking the radishes, or inexperience, you weren’t entirely sure. Nor were you entirely confident that the man who sat with the stoic face upon his features was not in fact intoxicated for how heavily the sake measurement reeked.  Curiously examining his bowl, trying to determine exactly what ingredients he had selected, and the peculiar regard the Water Hashira had for the meal before him. Pursed lips, hyper focused as he dared one more bite. I-It can’t be tasty. Your gaze swept over him, following every line of his face, unsure? His eyelashes fluttering, and there it was. The small bend of his eyebrow. Disappointed. The word was the only accurate description for what you had witnessed. The distant memory of Shinobu sharing her “disgust” over having witnessed Tomioka partake in his favorite food. Salmon and daikon. His time spent over the kitchen, eagerly attempting to make his own meal, and savor its effort. Only to eagerly disappointed. The queasy way he regarded his bite. Chopsticks having secured it, resolving… no, willing himself to partake another bite despite the illease on his features.

                You could not stop yourself. Perhaps it was that your body had not yet settled from your fight out in the field, or the dinner before you had awakened your adrenaline. Preparing you for another battle, the chance of self-poisoning certainly seemed possible in the state before you, although whether you cared to face the sneaking suspicion, or not, his lapis lazuli eyes captivated you. Washed from the deepest shades of blues stranded at grape hyacinth hues. Straight face, and unwilling to crack, but the surprise somehow was evident. You would chalk it up to instinct, born of that adrenaline rush, and nothing more. “Ah, Welcome home,” he had stated, monotonous despite the way your thoughts whispered that you had caught him off guard. His eyes beginning to drift to your hand, having caught his own within their grasp. His own hands warmed from the kitchen while yours touched on small touches of the inclined weather that awaited the outdoors. The realization you had grabbed him so familiarly touching your ears and drawing your eyes to the corner of your lashes, releasing him. Warm and embarrassed, as you bit your lip. Studied the ruins of produce spread across the counter. Suspected that he had intended to clean as soon as he had finished his meal.

                “You’ll give yourself food poisoning,” you returned.

                His eyes catching yours before inspecting the bite between the chopsticks. Rotating his wrist in an attempt to determine the risk. Unsure of how to proceed, the Water Hashira was not exactly known for his conversational skills. Nor quick to admit that he needed assistance. You had been well aware of that for your time working together, his often-incompatible nature often setting awkwardly against the other members of the Corps, you were often partnered together. Not that you had ever minded, in fact, you enjoyed the small moments together. Enjoyed the small wrinkle he would get in his brow when he concentrated, the wiggle of his eyebrows would reveal when he was embarrassed. Likely a result of feeling he had pressed too far, inconvenienced you in a way. The first time you had witnessed it, was when he had caught you. Your footing met awkwardly against the mountain side, and the blood loss from a demon inflicted wound had grown too heavy on you. Dulled your senses, and caused you to slip. His grasp had been firm. Resolved to ensuring your safety, he had gritted his teeth when the wound was made. Revealed a level of rage you hadn’t recognized beneath the calm façade of his, and at the moment he dared to embrace you, his eyebrows twitched. Anxious, the smallest tint shift in his features as he searched your reaction. It had ended in you accepting a piggy back ride from him. Far closer than either of you two had ever dared to cross, much like now. Some part of you daring to push, after all, Ubuyashiki had requested your assistance. There would be nothing… more to meeting them. Just like there had been no underlining meaning to him carrying you to the Butterfly Mansion that day.

Through pursed lips, shy and unwilling to accept the weight at your chest, and the way it fluttered as you wielded a small kitchen knife, you leaned forward. As though you were instructing a small child, one new to the kitchen, and eager to learn. Rotated your wrists, adjusted his hands over the daikon as necessary. You had tossed his failed attempt into the compost bin, reassured him that it would not be a waste this way—his guilt was heavy and noticeable as you laid out the necessary ingredients, and tools you would require to complete dinner. Successfully able to determine that his rice was salvageable, and well-seasoned overall. One less thing to worry about, only the main course needed completing then. Had complied when he requested you show him, noticed the way his ears tinted, the quip of his brow serious and focused in the way that you adored as you leaned over him, daring to touch his hands, and demonstrate the proper technique. Left to simmer, you secured the salmon and laid it before him. Reminded him that unlike his duties, the kitchen blade required a softer movement. One like a stream rather than a wave, and not to fight the gentle ease of his wrist as he followed your instruction. Slice after slice, dropping the salmon into warm water left in the wake of the cooked daikon, and just as quick to retrieve it—you would not allow this salmon to suffer the same fate as the fish before it. In death, it deserved dignity. Not the disgrace the other one had endured. Watched as he transferred it to cold water, leaned over the counter as you tested the daikon to ensure that it was manageable temperature. Perfectly cooked, but able to handle before dropping it to the pot once more alongside an embellishment of seaweed. He had listened eagerly to you explain the importance of moderation in seasoning, his eyes followed your movements as though he were witnessing a kabuki theater. Traced your silhouette, watched as the steam traced you form. Told yourself that it was merely his focus that drew his attention to you. Shy and avoiding meeting his peering gaze, one that threatened to wake the core of your soul and release words you dare not whisper. Distant, hopeful thoughts intrusive and homely in nature. Dreams of a home upon retirement. Time spent in the kitchen just like this. Reveal yourself to him in a way that you know. Together… No, no, focus on the ginger, you hissed to yourself. Your fingers grasping the ginger far tighter than you intended. Not that he hadn’t noticed, but wished to convince yourself he hadn’t. There was nothing more to this, nothing outside of orders you had received, you reminded yourself as you carefully ladled the broth into a bowl. Garnishing with warm slices of daikon that glistened into the light. The delicate hint of ginger that embraced the sake, perfectly balanced. The feeling of GIyuu’s eyes glued to your form, the way he regarded you. New. Soft, and delicate as the way you placed the bowl before him, a side of rice alongside it.

                There, you had told yourself. You would leave the kitchen cleaning to him. It was after all his mess in the first place. You would pick up the necessary, slip yourself some onigiri, and sneak away before he had the opportunity to realize the depth you were carrying. The impending worry that those intrusive thoughts, ones that lingered for his touch. To share in more than just one another’s company. It needed to be avoided at all costs, but his voice had caught you. You had rarely been able to escape his gaze.

                “Will you.. eat with me?” Small, quiet. That wrinkle of his eyebrows that whispered his unsureness to you. Likely questioning if he had crossed the line, so completely unaware that your heart had done so long ago. How weak you were to resist him. How could he ask such of you? Did he truly not know? How would you deny him? What excuse could you offer? How much longer could you pretend that it were merely the duties that had bound you to one another? Nervous bite of your lip and the blush that burned at your cheeks as you nervously secured your own portion, his head turned from your own as you questioned whether you should sit across from him or… beside him? How could he be so unaware?

Perhaps, as oblivious as you were to the smile that caught his lips. The press of your shoulders providing extra warmth despite the cold of the night beginning to settle in. The hush of goosebumps that quivered down his back as he leaned into your shoulder. The salmon and daikon was good. Perhaps, the very best he had ever enjoyed, but the company was even better.

If you are interested in trying Giyuu's favorite meal, I highly recommend Honey'sAnime recipe for a more traditional approach, or Naoko Takei Moore's elivated dish.