victorias-fic-recs

Latest Posts by victorias-fic-recs

nesting (xiao x reader)

1.5k. established relationship. fluff. suggestive but nothing explicit.bird xiao traits tho i didnt lean hard enough into it i dont think so mb ill try again soon.

The first time it happens there’s frost on the ground when you wake up. You have to force the window open. The frost cracks. You wince, half expecting to have broken the window. 

Cold air invades the already drafty flat at the top of Wangshu Inn. 

You cross your arms over your chest. The cotton robe did little to protect from the start of the winter season. Snezhnaya did have a monopoly on snow. All too soon snow would cover the Liyue landscape. There were only a handful of snow days and the sun melted most of it away by noon, but you still shivered as the sun rose.

You strike the flint, restarting the fire in the wood stove. Xiao must have put it out accidentally. It was a common occurrence with his anemo fuelled comings and goings. You didn’t want to say anything, worried your lover would take it the wrong way. This was new. He’d only just asked you to move in with him.

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Fusillade (Wanderer/f!Reader)

written for @illusory-torrent ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡ – ✧)

---

It was a favor for a friend to let the Wanderer find himself while meandering with you. Two sets of eyes are better than one, and what's lost isn't so difficult to locate if you know where to look.

AO3 Link

Wanderer/f!Reader(not the Traveler) 4,954 Words - NSFW Vaginal sex, mild breast-play, mild dacryphilia, unrequited(?) love confession, sharin' a bed-ish.

---

When first meeting the Traveler, they’d been fresh-faced and ready to face the world. Learning their story had been a shock, but not one that you weren’t welcoming toward. Mondstadt was as good a jumping-off point as any, and after a few days together you wished them luck in all their future endeavors as you parted ways. 

In Liyue, they’d been a little more harrowed, a little more hardened. “A lot of things have happened since we’ve met up!” Paimon had explained in lieu of the Traveler’s own words, and you provided a sympathetic shoulder for the two to lean on as you made camp together in the countryside of the Land of Geo. And if they looked a little happier after spending some time talking and laughing with you, then that works just fine, you think. 

Unfortunately, in Inazuma, the two of you were only able to cross paths briefly. With the removal of the Sakoku Decree, it meant you were allowed into the country, and they were allowed out. There’s a certain air about the two - less so Paimon - that leaves you wondering exactly what happened behind the closed borders of Inazuma. 

You find out, much to your chagrin. 

It isn’t until a few months have passed and you’ve meandered your way to Sumeru that you once more meet your good friends - ones you’ve sorely missed. Of course, another catastrophe was narrowly avoided thanks to their intervention, and Paimon was more than pleased to fill in the gaps while you shared a lunch with the two of them at some cafe you can’t quite pronounce the name of. 

In the middle of laughter at something Paimon has said, a shadow casts over the table - similar to an umbrella blocking out the sun. It’s not quite so, rather the wide brim of an ornate hat as a figure approaches the three of you with a carefully neutral expression. First he looks at the Traveler, then briefly at Paimon, before looking to you. 

Before you can even think about introducing yourself, his interest turns back to the Traveler. “Lesser Lord Kusanali sent me to fetch you. Something has come up.”

“Is it urgent?” You know the Traveler is asking only because this means the two of you will part ways once again. Violet eyes dart to you, tensing for just a moment as a thought seems to cross his mind. The neutrality cracks only a little, and he almost looks interested in your presence. It must be an enigma, that you’d be important enough for the Traveler to put off meeting with the Dendro Archon for a little while longer. 

The male moves, placing one hand on his hip as he gives the Traveler an slightly admonishing look. “Maybe I should have been more specific. Something’s come up about that important information you’ve been wandering all over for? Surely that’s not something you want to put off more than necessary. Even for a… friend.”

With a jerk of his chin, he emphasizes that you are the Traveler’s friend in question. Obvious enough, but if he feels the need to make things clear, then who are you to tell him it’s unnecessary?

After a moment of deliberation, and an apologetic expression toward you, the Traveler drops enough mora for all three meals onto the table. “Sorry, this really is important, then. Will you be around the city for a little longer? I’d like to catch up some more.”

“I’m heading out tomorrow morning, but I’ll be around the country - I’m sure you could hunt me down if you really wanted. It’s not like I hide from you.” You lean on your elbows with a grin, pleased at both the prospect of meeting your friends once more, as well as having your meal so graciously paid for. 

The Traveler and Paimon leave with a wave, and the newcomer only gives you an unreadable look over his shoulder as they leave. Only when they round a corner do those eyes finally give you some peace.

---

You do end up leaving before the Traveler can seek you out again. A trip down to Port Ormos takes a few days thanks to a love of meandering, and how easily distracted you are by every little sight and sound of Sumeru. It’s a beautiful country, and you find yourself quickly enamored with it, despite the persistent heat and humidity. 

After you get your fill of Port Ormos, your trip back up to the city proper is a little longer. It’s nearly a month after your first meeting with the Traveler in Sumeru that the second one comes around. Paimon is with someone named Collei, apparently, leaving you and the Traveler to sit in the grassy hilltops surrounding the city with boxes of takeout settled between you. 

The conversation is easy at first, and then almost as if the entire purpose of this meeting was for something a little more heavy, the subject changes as quickly as you can blink. The Traveler has poor skills in segueing topics from one to another, it seems. 

Picking at the biryani in their lap, golden eyes don’t lift to meet yours as they ask, “Do you remember that guy from last time? With the big hat?”

“He’s not easy to forget, that’s for sure. What about him?”

And then it comes tumbling out. Who he is, what he is, and the biggest puzzle piece of all - why the Traveler is bringing any of this up. “You’re staying in the country for a while longer, aren’t you? Do you think it would be possible to have him tag along with you for a while?”

And there it is. Really, you have no reason to say no, beyond simply not knowing who this guy is. But the Traveler seems to trust him, and you trust the Traveler, so logically you can trust him, right? It’s not the most sound conclusion, but it’s the only one that makes sense, so you bob your head in a nod and laugh at the way the Traveler’s shoulders seem to sag in relief. 

The Traveler is leaving for the desert on an extended trip soon, and the Wanderer - Traveler’s name for him, and yours now, too - was staunchly against the idea of traipsing about in the desert despite being largely unaffected by the traits that make it harsh. 

“I’d rather take a dip in a volcano,” is what he apparently told the Traveler. And while the Wanderer was interested in taking some time for himself, away from the Dendro Archon and away from all the reminders of things you haven’t been made privy to, he doesn’t want to do so in a place he hates. That’s understandable - you plan on steering clear of the desert, yourself. 

And all of these situations are what lead you to this - following a well-worn road North out of Sumeru City, a silent Wanderer at your side as your steps fall into an odd sort of synchronization. Whether he is matching your stride on purpose, or if it’s a subconscious thing, you almost find it comforting. 

From the Traveler’s descriptions, you expect him to be sharp and barbed, but he’s been… oddly polite, if not just a little standoffish. When you explain that you have no destination in mind, he doesn’t seem put off, and when you fall into old habits of becoming distracted, he doesn’t complain when those distractions take you off the path. 

At least, at first. 

Eventually, as the day wears on, it seems as if he grows more comfortable. As you push through the afternoon, his voice grabs your attention. “You should take a break, you know.”

“Hm?” Your steps falter a little as you’re brought out of your wandering thoughts. Absently you answer him, more focused on pulling the lenses from your face to rub a smudge off on your shirt - sweat doesn’t cooperate with glasses, unfortunately. “I don’t really need one.”

“The issue with fatigue in humans is once you start feeling it, it’s difficult to stop. Take a break before you’re tired, so you don’t injure yourself,” Wanderer explains. Just like one would explain that the sky is blue, or that Dendro Visions are green, or that there are a multitude of subtleties that differentiate the two of you when it comes to physical composition. 

The Wanderer isn’t human, but he looks an awful lot like one, and you’ve forgotten until now about that important fact. Beyond that, there isn’t much you know about him, and it’s with a bit of slyness that you try to strike a deal. “I’ll take a break on one condition. Every fifteen minutes of break time, you answer a question of mine.”

And he laughs. It isn’t necessarily cheerful, but it does pull his lips up into a smile that seems unpracticed. Or, perhaps it is practiced, but never in this sort of context. Despite lingering cynicism, he answers, “You could have asked without a break - it’s not like I’m hiding anything. But I’ll accept. Now sit down.”

Once you’re settled in the grass, just off the road and out of the way of any other travelers that might come along, the Wanderer sits next to you with his legs crossed, elbow on his knee, cheek on his palm. “Ask away.”

“Oh, no.” Immediately you deny, stretching your legs out in front of you as you lean back onto your hands. “I’m saving those for while we walk. You dictate the length of the break based on how many questions you feel like answering. I think that’s pretty fair.”

A huff of air leaves him, making his shoulders jolt. It could’ve been amusement, disbelief, or maybe even both, judging by his tone. “That’s how it’s going to be, huh? Fine.”

The sun above is warm on your skin, despite the sweat that just won’t wick away thanks to the humidity. You turn your face skywards, observing the clouds and completely missing the way his head tilts just enough to look at you out of the corner of his eye, calculating and quiet. At least, at first you miss it, but the sensation of eyes on you is impossible to ignore after enough time. 

“Something on my face?”

“Sunburn, if you’re not careful.” Sharp words, but softened by the actual meaning.

With an airy wave toward your bag sitting in the grass, you explain, “I picked up a recipe in Liyue for some balm that helps protect against the sun. I’ll be just fine, don’t worry so much.”

“I’m not worried.” Wanderer responds so quickly that it completely defeats the purpose of his denial. His mouth sets in a line as his brows furrow in irritation that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It would just be annoying to listen to you complaining about your face hurting.”

“Mhm.” Is your response as your eyes close and you wait for him to decide that break time is over. It takes longer than you expect for him to get to his feet, and then almost as an afterthought, reach his hand out to help you up. When he looks surprised that you accept it, you don’t remark on that. 

Maybe the astonishment will wear off with your time together. 

---

“I don’t need to sleep.” Wanderer tells you one day, as the two of you are setting up your tent for the night. When you brought up that he sleeps outside rather than in said tent, he gives you that answer quite easily. “But I can, if I wanted.”

“Don’t you want to? Sounds awfully boring to never dream.” You ask, using the heel of your booted foot to push the last stake into the ground, securing the rain cover to ensure you stay dry in the storm that’s rolling in rather quickly.

There’s no fire to be set up, not while it’s about to rain, so once the shelter is pitched you climb inside and hold the flap open. As he turns around, he starts to speak but then trails off. “That’s two ques..tions…”

Wanderer hesitates. In his eyes, it must be odd - an enclosed room, with someone he likely doesn’t quite trust. But then he looks at you from beneath the brim of his hat, conflicted for only a moment before pulling it off his head and stepping into the tent you offered him. 

It doesn’t take long for the raindrops to begin falling, rolling off the waxed canvas and leaving the two of you safe and dry. Not necessarily warm, but you wrap up in your bedroll’s blanket as soon as the two of you settle in the small tent.  

There’s no extra bedding - he hadn’t brought any, and you’re not about to offer your own when he doesn’t seem to care. As you lay down for the night, he sits with his back to you, cross-legged and leaning back on his hands as he stares at the darkening forest through the mesh of the tent’s doorway. 

That’s the sight you drift off to as you carefully set your glasses to the side and out of the way. A smudge of deep blue and white, the gentle chiming of his vision as he mindlessly runs his fingers along the ornament and feather. It’s almost like a lullaby.

And that lullaby is a stark difference to the smacking of raindrops hitting harder against the tent cover, the thunder rolling above, and the surprising chill in the air thanks to the change in temperature combined with high humidity. You hadn’t realized you were shivering until you woke up to the rustling of your blanket being carefully untucked. 

Immediately, you ask, “What’re you doin’?”

“That’s a third question.” Wanderer murmurs, voice low as if he doesn’t want to wake you further. “You’re shivering so hard you’re going to attract a tiger - they’ll think you’re a wounded animal.”

“M’not-”

“Yeah you are. A wounded animal would make less noise. Just go back to sleep.”

The blanket shifts, and your seal from the chilled air is broken just long enough for another body to fill the small amount of space behind you. Squinting into the dark over your shoulder, you're met with violet eyes telling you silently not to say a word. But so far, you've never really been bothered by any of his threats, and you're not planning on starting now. 

If he's going to give an inch, you're going to try and take a mile. So you shift back, aligning your spine with the way the front of his body curves. It's deceptively easy to slot your back to his chest and glean some of the little warmth he gives off. 

Wanderer's chest expands as if he's going to say something, then he holds it back. Rain drowns out the sound of your quiet breaths, your muscles tensed in anticipation for what his next move might be. It's the one you expect the least, but should be most logical. 

Tentatively, his arm snakes around your waist in a quiet acceptance of how his little idea has unfolded. It's thin, but strong enough that he holds you to him with minimal effort. And despite how obviously nervous he is about it all, it doesn't lessen the effect of comfort and warmth he's providing. 

"Thank you, Wanderer."

"Please don't make this weird." His answer is blunt. "I'm not doing this for you."

"It's not like there's anyone else here." Your voice is thickened by your interrupted sleep, and your eyes turn wearily to the dim roof of the tent, occasionally lit by lightning. Wanderer's breath hits the back of your neck as he makes a huff of amusement. 

"I just don't want to drag your body back when you attract some stray crocodile to eat you with all your shivering. The Traveler would never forgive me. And their floating companion would be unbearable."

"Mhm… you're cuddling me because it makes your life easier then? Why didn't you say so?"

The arm around your waist tightens. Wanderer stammers for a moment before letting out an outraged tsk. "That's not-!...You know what? Fine, believe what you want."

And silence falls. Your eyelids droop, your thoughts slow, and you try to ignore the way you're still cold at the front, despite Wanderer's warmth at your back. The sluggish notion barely crosses your mind before he picks up on it and the flat of his hand presses against your stomach. Through the thin material of your shirt, the warmth from his palm seeps through. 

Despite telling you pointedly to go to sleep, he seems almost hellbent on causing problems for you each time you nudge at the threshold of your dreams. When your breathing slows, his thumb starts to slowly move back and forth, just beneath your ribs. And when you get used to that, his whole hand moves instead, caressing circles against your skin that finally have you asking once more, "What are you doing?"

"I don't know." And he means that - he'd hardly admit to ignorance, especially over his own actions. "Want me to stop?"

And what a loaded question that is. Because you certainly don't want him to, but you also don't know where this is going. It's hardly appropriate when his hand raises a little higher, growing dangerously close to the unspoken line about to be crossed. 

Almost as if on autopilot, your brain making the decision subconsciously when your mouth takes a little too long, you say, "No. I don't."

The sensation doesn't register in your mind for a split second. It's only after he lingers do you realize that he's lifted his hand further and cupped one of your breasts in his palm with a tentative squeeze. The two of you pause; you in stunned silence, him in quiet anticipation for what you'll do. 

As your tension starts to release, he gives another experimental squeeze, dragging his palm just enough to rub the fabric against your hardening nipple. A little laugh leaves him, high and breathy, and he murmurs, "You like this, don't you?"

"Don't sound surprised-!" You cut off as his fingers pinch and roll, your voice cracking before you can rein it in. With a spark of annoyance, you rock your hips back and find satisfaction in how he falters. "Ngh-... it's not as if you're not enjoying it, too."

Wanderer's arousal digs into your backside, growing more persistent as you repeat that movement with precision. In return, you get a sharp pinch that makes you whine under your breath. It feels like you've given him a victory, and he gives your chest one more squeeze before taking the prize he feels he's won. 

"On your back." He directs, pulling away enough for you to follow his direction. With both hands, he shoves your shirt to your collarbone, your breasts falling free for only a moment before his mouth catches one, his hand on the other. 

Instinctively, your fingers tangle in his hair, holding him close enough that he couldn't pull away even if he wanted to. With a sharp suck, he takes your nipple into his mouth, rolling his tongue over it in rhythmic motions that match the movement of his fingers on the other. He’s barely even breathing, but rather working himself up into a fervency where maintaining the illusion of being human is pushed away in favor of single-minded desire.

When he gets too rough, you tug his hair, and he lessens the pressure. If he’s lingering too long on one side, a subtle push of his head moves him easily to the other. And all the while, his hips slot against yours, grinding messily as if friction between the two of you is an afterthought compared to how the taste of your skin is making his eyes flutter shut so prettily. His eyelashes brush against high cheekbones, and you fight the urge to sweep your thumb across to see if they’re as soft as they look. 

Instead, you card your fingers through his hair and wonder how it stays so smooth despite how careless you’ve been with it up to this point. In spite of how nice this all feels, it just isn’t enough. And if he’s going to go this far, you’d rather he just go all the way and be done with playing around. 

With a sharp tug, you pull him away from your skin and he looks ruined. Eyes glassy despite his laser-focus on your face, lips swollen, wetness across his lips from how reckless he’d been so far. Before he can question you, your voice comes out - a lower pitch than usual, breathless but still demanding. “I need more, Wanderer.”

Simple enough to fulfill, you think, but his lips twist into a smile that’s almost wry as he answers, “If you hadn’t interrupted me-”

“You know what I mean.” Any annoyance that might have been effective is lessened by the way he’s warmed your cheeks and slickened your skin with his saliva, his fingers still rolling one of your nipples idly. Like he’s not interested in it, like he hadn’t been nipping and sucking and biting you with the sort of abandon belonging to a man starved. 

Starved for attention, affection, simple contact… You’re not quite sure. Maybe it doesn’t matter, in the long run - any of those would be solved if he just stopped fooling around. 

Wanderer does know what you mean, and his tongue darts out to sweep the lingering wetness from his lips before he lifts off you, shrugging enough of the blankets away that there’s room to rather neatly roll yourself once more. From below you, he looks just as pretty as above. Hair against the pillow you’d just been leaning against, skin lit up by the occasional flash of lightning through the trees above, hands digging into the outsides of your thighs as you straddle his lap.

Inhaling sharply, as if he just remembered that perhaps unnatural stillness of a being that doesn’t need oxygen might be unsettling, he takes in the sight of you in the same manner of admiration you’d been giving him. It’ll make more sense in the morning, when the storm has passed and the cover of darkness isn’t enough to hide rational thought. 

Pressing his fingers against your plush skin, leaving little oval marks of red in his yearning, he murmurs, “Take it, then. If you want more, make me give it to you.”

And oh, does that do something inside of you. Setting your stomach afire with a need you don’t bother to control, Wanderer’s challenge is met with your hands on his shoulders, and a slow roll of your hips that wipes the attitude off his face in one smooth movement. 

Arching himself to meet you halfway, he chases the feeling of your heat against his hardness greedily. For someone that wants you to take, he seems awfully eager to give.

But he demanded that you take what you want, that you make him give it to you, so you leverage yourself away to shimmy out of your shorts as quickly as you can. Depriving yourself of his body heat for such a short time shouldn’t feel as desolate as it does, but by the time you return it feels as if those few seconds were the equivalent of a lifetime. 

Despite your partial nudity, you really only give enough effort to reach between your bodies and pull him free. While he’s attempted to seem detached - both in this tent and outside, where the world exists despite feeling as if it’s been reduced to only these four canvas walls - Wanderer’s eyes positively glow with a saccharine sort of longing that threatens to pull you in if you stare at it a little too long, a little too willing.

The first stretch of his cock brings you pause. It’s been too long, certainly for you, maybe for him with how his fingertips grab as your thighs all over again, as if he were searching for something to ground himself in this exact moment. You don’t blame him, gripping his shoulders just as hard; bracing yourself against him, pushing him down into the mess of a blanket at his back. 

“Y-you’re so-!” Spitefully, you cut off his words by sinking just a little further, taking a little more inside. Wanderer learns his lesson, relegating the use of his voice to what could only be considered a whine as you move at your pace, not his. Little by little, agonizingly slow until he has nothing more to give and you’re seated fully on his cock. 

You’re far from unaffected, but a need to maintain the upper hand keeps your face tuned to amusement as you watch the emotions flicker across his face. A great many of them you’re unfamiliar with, but perhaps he’ll give you a chance to learn them after this encounter. Maybe this won’t be the last. 

Finally, he looks at you through cracked eyelids, desperation coloring his voice as he pleads for you to take him. Wanderer tries to spin it as an order, but there can be no authority when he sounds so ruined from simply being inside you - no movement beyond the subconscious way you tighten around him for your own pleasure. 

Taking the smallest amount of pity - and growing impatient with your own teasing - you rock your hips forward, then back, and take note of how his head falls back enough to show the pretty line of his unmarred throat, usually so hidden by the high collar of his clothing. With a shaking exhale, pleased by both the sight beneath you and the sensations inside, you ask, “Does it feel good? You look overwhelmed…”

“I-I’m not, it’s just-...” Wanderer trails off, face twisting in a grimace as you repeat your movements, setting a slow and rhythmic pace that could be enough if either of you had the patience to maintain it. The smallest whine precedes his words, “You feel so good, I don’t think I can… I can’t-”

“You can.” You urge, reaching for his hand on your thigh to pry it loose, bringing it to the apex of your thighs with a purpose he clumsily realizes. Just the thought of having him - normally so composed and closed-off - completely pulled to pieces like this has you thrilled in ways you haven’t managed to feel before. 

That, paired with the obscene feeling of being perfectly filled by him, has you close enough that even if he’s a bit too overwhelmed to be precise with the movements of his fingers, you’re inching closer and closer to what feels like a monolith on the horizon. Swallowing around a moan threatening to tumble free, you turn it into words, “I’m so close, j-just a little more. You’re so good, so good, so-”

“Please,” his begging is hoarse as he tries to match your movements, tries to match the pleasure you’re giving him with offerings of his own, “let me feel you, please.”

Another inhale from him, like something is just on the tip of his tongue, but it dies as you tilt back a little. The change is what you need, the last bit to complement the succession of feelings in every sense of the word, and Wanderer gets exactly what he begs for as you find your release at his behest. 

Your hands lessen their grip on his shoulders as you abandon pinning him in favor of prolonging what you’ve found, and like the snapping of a leash he abandons any sense of submitting to you in favor of gripping your hips and jerking himself sharply upward into you. The sound of surprise you make is undignified at best, downright lewd at its most basic, and that only seems to spur him on as he takes on a short-lived viciousness stemming from unresolved desperation. 

One hand snatches yours, bringing it to his mouth to press a sloppy kiss to your palm - a sudden intimacy just before he takes your fingers past his lips and onto his tongue. A wrecked sound tears from his throat as his tongue twists between your fingers and his teeth graze at your knuckles before biting down with enough force to almost be painful.

By the time you’re coming down, he’s taken your place - pistoning with long, sharp thrusts that are short-lived. The two of you danced on the edge as it was, and he’s freely able to throw himself off of it with reckless abandon and his back arching in such a beautiful curve. His tongue stills, but you’ve gained enough faculties back to drag the pads of your fingers along his taste buds, dangerously close to the back of his tongue where it would make him gag. 

In that moment, his eyes open enough to look at you as he murmurs around your fingers that he loves you. 

Maybe he does, at that moment when the entirety of existence loses its deeper meaning, perhaps Wanderer does feel something strong enough that it could be confused for love. But as you pull your fingers from his mouth and fall to his side, head over his chest where no heart beats, you wonder how he’d justify it if you brought it up in the morning. 

You won’t - and he won’t either, even though he says it the next time, and the one following, each growing more frantic as if he were desperate for you to return the favor. If you do, it won’t be in the throes of passion - you want to mean it. It’ll be said in the sunlight, maybe even spoken with a nonchalance he doesn’t expect. 

His expression of surprise would be rather pretty, you think.

Aurum Covenance IV - Escape

bodyguard!cyno x royal!gn!reader

warnings: mentions of death & weaponry, tension, hurt/comfort, disassociation & derealization mention, reunions, featuring collei & tighnari

the long awaited follow-up for the angst drabble after so many prequel pieces PFFT ur welcome <3 and as always, i can't write fics set in sumeru without including my beloved daughter so ur welcome x2 hehe

When you are so very used to a regular presence, the void they leave behind is a pernicious affair. The steady metamorphosis between two senses of normalcy courses like toxins through the bloodstream.

In the wake of Cyno's absence, everything looks as though it has been washed with grey.

The hazy golden light that paints your bed of a morning has been desaturated and filtered out, all the tender joy of waking each day removed. Dull and lifeless, you float through your routines as though you're perceiving yourself from a third person perspective. As though you've relinquished control of yourself and taken a backseat to the imposter who maintains a sweet smile and gentle tone when you want nothing more than to scream.

Meetings in the royal court with your father are tense and uncomfortable, all curt words and false niceties. He doesn't permit you to roam when you are done, not even to bask in the pleasant afternoon sun that warms the palace gardens. You're escorted by your new guard- an older matra with a sword and a serious scowl etched into their features- and your chambers become both your sanctuary and your prison.

And finally, one day you decide that you have had enough.

Sneaking out of your chambers is no easy feat. Not with your new bodyguard stationed outside the door and the vertigo of a sheer 20-foot drop awaiting you from your windows. Walking to and from the room is out of the question as well, with the watchful eyes kept on you during the entire journey.

Which means your safest- and arguably the least sane- option is to disappear within plain sight. In the middle of the next royal court meeting.

It isn't difficult to send the court into a frenzy of heated debate and conjecture, especially not when you pointedly mention the glaringly obvious flaw in your father's newest law proposal.

No, it is the leaving in the middle of the chaos that proves the most difficult- especially when there are still guards by the door.

"I just need some air," you whisper as you reach them. "I feel ill. I'll stay outside the doors, promise."

And whether the guards have caught on and don't care, or simply remain too focused on ensuring the court do not devolve into violence, they nod and step aside for you to pass.

The echoing tile in the palace halls reverberates through your spine with each and every step that you take, anxiety threading through your veins and firmly rooting itself against your ribcage.

Faster, faster, you pick up your pace until you are in time with the frantic beating of your heart, until you are all but breaking out into a run.

You're unsure where to go when the palace walls are at your back. Having been kept under lock and key for most of your life, and even more tightly in recent weeks, the world outside is unfamiliar and strange.

And yet, you aren't afraid anymore.

You are not so sheltered to have never heard of the sights that face you now, but it is so different to experience them with your own eyes.

All around you, the most vibrant emerald green floods your vision. The rainforest is never-ending, bejewelled with blossoms in shades you fear you may never have had the chance to see before.

And to your left, like a shining beacon of hope in the fading evening light, a small array of treehouses are bundled together.

A young girl first greets you as you approach, jumpy as she recognises you. Something tells you you've seen her once before as well, on a visit to the palace perhaps?

"Your highness!" she exclaims, stumbling over her words. "This is an unexpected surprise. Not that that's a bad thing!" She straightens up as if remembering herself, bowing hurriedly. "My name's Collei, highness, and I'm a forest ranger. Here to help with anything you need. If you don't mind me asking... what brings you here?"

"Can you keep a secret?" you ask, to which Collei nods vigorously. "I've run away. I need somewhere to stay for a while."

"You can stay with us," she says. "I'm sure Master Tighnari won't mind! He's had another guest for a few weeks now as well. Apparently they ran from the palace too."

Those words ignite a fire in your soul, a blazing hope that somehow, some way, he is safe.

As far as you had been aware, Cyno was executed some days after he had been torn from your side. You had spent the days since grieving, inconsolable and empty. To even have a sliver of possibility that you might just see him again... it is nigh on overwhelming.

Collei leads you up into the canopies of the forest, to the strong wooden platforms that link the trees together. "I'll introduce you to Tighnari first and then I'm sure he'll help you sort out a place to rest for the night. We've got a few spare rooms at the moment where some of the rangers are out on longer patrols."

"I wasn't aware the rangers were still allowed to patrol," you say, taking the length of the walk to admire the quaint architecture of this treetop hub. "Father tried to push the matra as the sole purveyors of justice."

"Rangers have never been interested in justice in the same way as the matra," Collei explains. "We're here to help the people, not to oppress them." A sharp cough. "Excuse me if I speak out of line here, your highness, but your father's governance would not stop the forest rangers from protecting the people of Sumeru."

"I'm glad to hear it," you nod. "Truly. I swear to you, when I return to the palace to rule, I will not be following in his footsteps."

"You always seemed really nice," Collei says. "We met when I was much younger. You stayed by my side when Master Tighnari had to speak to some of the doctors."

You smile fondly at her as the memory resurfaces. "You told me about the friend you made in the kingdom of Mondstat. Amber, right?"

Before she can answer you properly, you have reached the top of the stairway.

It is not Tighnari who greets you once you step onto the solid platform. You remember him vaguely now; the dark hair and fennec ears, the polite smile and firm tone in his voice. And he most certainly is not the man who stands before you now.

You're face to face with a ghost in this moment, you're sure of it. Despite the fleeting hope, the reality is a different matter entirely. A million possible reactions parse through your mind in a fraction of a second, countless emotions coursing through your veins.

And all you can do is run to him.

Cyno takes you into his arms on instinct, as if your embrace is his natural state of being and he has been deprived from it for far too long. The pair of you wobble together under the impact of colliding, swaying in some clumsy waltz as you attempt to keep upright whilst never separating.

"Your highness," he breathes against your shoulder. The tension that has wound up in your muscles like a coiled spring eases under his touch.

"Please," you say, "no more titles. We are equals."

You splay your hands out across his back and hold him to you, the feeling of his warmth against yours still not enough to make up for the ice that has permeated your bones in days gone by.

Cyno speaks your name this time. Slowly, as if the syllables are still foreign on his tongue, but with all the tender reverence of someone who has thought about them for a lifetime. "I have missed you."

"Cyno... my love." The world has cleared, the antidote to the poison of your solitude pulsing through your bloodstream. "Your absence has been torturous."

taglist: @x-zho @irethepotato @pochipop @applejuiceistired @falling4fandoms @uchihaeirin (send an ask/dm or check my pinned to be added/removed from the taglists!)

Okay okay! Hear me out! Phone sex with scara!

Reader calls him in the middle of the night because they cant relese without him.

Take your time and stay hydrated~💜

And, if its not taken can i be the 💕 anon?

Have a good day!

i want that big hat man obliterated

tysm for the kind words, i hope you are taking care of yourself as well ♡

also you got it, welcome aboard, 💕 anon!

this is more of a current times au where technology exists and also scaramouche has the mouth of a sailor 💀

sorry i ended this kinda abruptly, btw. i am bad at writing for scaramouche, i think 🙃

warnings: dom!scaramouche and sub!gn anatomy/pronouns reader

phone sex, mutual masturbation (reader fingers themself), degradation and praise 👏, lube usage, orgasm control, slight asphyxiation

you tossed and turned between your sheets, frustrated with yourself.

scaramouche had recently left for another one of his 'business trips,' or so he called them, leaving you alone for the week.

you turned on your back, staring up at the ceiling with a huff. you glanced over at the clock, squinting at the red numbers glaring back at you.

2:37 am.

ugh.

the worst part of it all was the slight, dull, ache you felt between your thighs, causing you to rub them together.

it was pointless to try and relieve it, you figured. ever since you got with scaramouche, he made it impossible for you to come without him. for his stature and soft face, you would've never expected his skill with his fingers and tongue.

or maybe you could've guessed about the tongue seeing as he has plenty of practice in the never-shutting-up department...

you frowned as you reached for your phone, hissing through your teeth as the bright lights temporarily blinded you until you could unlock the screen and slide the brightness down.

you rubbed your eyes with your free hand, grumbling to yourself. your thumb hovered over scaramouche's name in your phone, biting your lip as you considered calling him.

he's definitely asleep...but on the off chance he's awake, maybe he could help?

fuck it, the worst that could happen is you wake him up and feel shitty about it, and then you make it up to him once he comes home, right? yeah...

you pressed the button to dial his number, shocked when he answered almost immediately.

"what's wrong?" he sounded husky, prompting you to turn your volume up a bit to hear him better.

"hi, scara."

scaramouche went silent, sighing into the phone as you heard sheets rustling. "can't sleep?"

"yeah, sorry for waking you up i'm just, well, i was wondering if you could...sorry. i- ugh this is awkward to talk about." you rambled as you heard scaramouche lean over to turn a lamp on with a soft click.

"you're horny at 2 in the morning." he stated, bluntly as your eyes widened. "before you ask how i know, don't be dumb. you're obvious as hell."

"right-" you went quiet, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

"if you want me to help you, we're gonna do it like we would back home, got it?"

"demanding." you teased as scaramouche grunted, sitting up against the headboard of the hotel bed.

"it's gotta be authentic. i guarantee you can touch yourself all you want, but you're not gonna come until i make you."

your lips parted a bit at that, wanting to say something back, though nothing intelligent came to mind quick enough. "okay." you obliged.

"good. take everything off first."

you set the phone to your side, removing your pants first, tossing your underwear with them to the floor. you slowly slid your top off, deliberately brushing it against your nipples to mimic how scaramouche would undress you. well, when he wanted to tease you, that is.

"all done, what's next, sir?"

scaramouche made a low noise from that, untying his own pants and moving them down his thighs. "top left drawer, open it and grab the oil."

you carefully reached across the bed, retrieving said bottle and laying back down. "got it."

"pour some on your fingers." you set the phone down on speaker, thankful you lived in a secluded house as you uncapped the bottle.

you did as he asked, pouring out some and moving your hands to warm it up before scaramouche stopped you.

"did i tell you to do that?"

"huh?"

"use your fingers to spread it across your chest. cold." you shivered at his tone, swiping your fingers over your chest and feeling your nipples harden with every light touch. you sounded breathy, hearing soft, slick sounds from scaramouche's end of the call. "good."

such a small word had such a big impact on you, making you whine lowly as you pinched your nipples.

"slide your hands down your body." you trailed your fingertips lower, leaving a track of oil down your skin that shone in the moonlight. "spread your legs."

you moved your thighs up, indecently exposing yourself to the cool air, feeling it hit your hole as you whined at him through the phone.

"touch yourself."

you slid your oiled fingers across your sex, stroking up and down and in all of the places that felt right as you shifted on the bed, rutting your hips into your fingers.

little gasps and whines spilled from your lips as you played with yourself. scaramouche leaned in closer to the phone, taking a shaky breath as he listened to your noises more closely, stroking his dick leisurely, twisting his wrist when he reached his tip. "you sound so slutty." he commented, hearing you let out a soft moan.

he laughed softly, shaking his head. "ha, i almost forgot, you actually enjoy being degraded. humans are so filthy." he snapped, though his hips chased his hands as he stroked his shaft faster, controlling his breathing. "move your fingers over your hole. you better hope you still have oil on them, otherwise it'll hurt like a bitch."

you moved your fingers to circle your hole, shifting your hips as you smeared the oil and wetness from your sex around it. "ah, scara-"

"i thought it was 'sir' to you?"

"sir, sorry, sorry-" you panted, "can i put one in, please?"

"you sound so pathetic. desperate. you can't even wait for me to do what you asked of me. begging me to stick your own fingers in your greedy little hole. fine."

you sobbed as you gently pressed a digit into your hole, willing your body to relax as scaramouche grunted, hastening the pace of his hand. "fuck- you sound so-" he cut himself off when he dug his thumb into his slit just right, hips spasming. "put another one in. now."

you slid another digit in with the first, oil making it pleasantly slippery as you slowly pushed them in and out, feeling your hole suck them back in. "archons..."

"don't you dare speak of them." scaramouche snapped. "those fools aren't worth your worship. they're not the one allowing you to come, are they?"

"no, sir!" you replied to him, crooking your fingers inside you deeper as your thighs trembled.

"play with your nipples while you finger yourself. you always whine like a little brat whenever i do that, yeah? and don't you dare hide your whorish little noises from me."

you slid your free hand that had been entangled in the sheets up your body, tweaking your nipples as you let out a shaky sigh. you let out babbles of his name and pleas as scaramouche listened to you more intently.

"fuck, just like that. keep going. go deeper, come on."

you reached the digits deeper, pressing and searching for the spot scaramouche loved to abuse to make you writhe and sob under his touche.

you pinched at your nipples while sliding the pads of your fingers in your hole, trembling against the bed as you felt your orgasm start to build up. "s-sir, i'm close."

"hold it. you come when i tell you to."

"but-"

"you asked me to make you come, so i'm doing my job. is that not good enough for you? keep fucking yourself."

you cried out his name, fucking your hips into your fingers and moving your hand to splay across your throat, lightly cutting off your airflow as you let out a breathless gasp.

"please-" you begged softly as scaramouche shifted.

"fuck, are you- are you choking yourself? that's..." he had no words left, fucking his fist until he came over his abdomen, back arching. "come-" he gasped out, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. "come for me, now."

your back arched up off the bed, fingers going slack on your neck as you came, sobbing out for scaramouche until you eased back onto the bed, blissed out. your head felt fuzzy, ears full of static as you reached for the phone with jelly limbs.

"what do you say?"

"thank you, scara."

just a bite.

modern!au vampire!scaramouche x reader

summary: being roommates with a vampire who craves you carnally just as much as he does for sustenance? awk.

word count: 4.6k 

tw/cw: 18+ only, afab reader, drinking, unintentional roommates with a vampire (he kind of just invites himself in. and never leaves), mutual masturbation, sex in exchange for blood, frottage, rutting, bodily fluids, bloodplay, blood drinking, scaramouche isn’t really so much bitter, angry scaramouche or calmer wanderer but more a blend of both? (he’s really just a stray cat who latches onto you), lots of banter, brief reference to suicidal behavior (scaramouche)

–author’s note: happy late bday scaramouche <3

“You’re leaving?” 

While two months ago, you wouldn’t think twice about stepping out to grab drinks with a friend, now things are different. Two months ago, after all, you did not have a half-starved vampire passed out on your doorstep, after trying to deny himself of his one source of sustenance.

Two months ago, after all, you didn’t invite said vampire into your apartment unknowingly, only to find yourself pinned to your doormat, his crazed, crimson-tinged gaze focused intently on your neck. 

Two months ago, after all, you did not have said vampire now lingering in your house as an unofficial guest after said unsuccessful attempt to drain you dry. 

(“You were the only one stupid enough to let me in,” he said drily, kicking his feet up onto your coffee table the day after, when you had awoken after his frenzy. Surprised you’re still alive, he’d said nonchalantly. As if he was not a stranger in your house. As if he hadn’t tried to suck the life out of you like some kind of vertically-challenged tick. He ignored your attempts to swat his feet off, instead crossing his arms and tossing his head to the side. 

Keep reading

when he lets you wear his hat

wanderer x gn!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: dark humor (just in the beginning)

word count: 1168

a/n: i am a firm believer that scara loves dark humor yes i might be projecting but nobody can change my mind ( ˘ ³˘)♥ enjoy!

your unwavering patience is something you’ve always taken pride in. 

there have only been a few instances where you’ve lost your cool in the fleeting years of your life, always feeling a certain kind of superiority in situations where you can hold your own even if it would be reasonable to let go for a moment. 

but now, after weeks of nonstop backhanded comments and complaints from your traveling companion, it is through sheer willpower alone that you haven’t turned around and tried to bite his head off every time he opens his mouth. 

“you seriously can’t swim?” the wanderer asks from somewhere behind you. “didn’t you ever have fun as a kid?”

you bite the inside of your cheek and keep up your brisk pace while he snickers to himself like it truly is the funniest thing in the world. the unforgiving desert sun is hot against your back and the fine grains of sand that keep finding their way into your shoes feel like they’re rubbing your skin raw, leaving you sweaty and miserable. 

the one traveling with you doesn’t share these sentiments, hardly even taking notice to uncomfortable sensations anymore, and thus remains entirely unbothered, much to your annoyance. 

he almost seemed understanding at first, suggesting you take a dip in a nearby oasis to cool off before you overheat, but one insignificant mention of your swimming skills, or lack thereof, had turned into him making fun of you for it before you could even begin to regret bringing it up. 

the wanderer doesn’t relent even when you keep ignoring him. “surely it’s not because you’re afraid, right? what’s so scary about water?” 

“quit it.” you warn him sharply, gritting your teeth so hard your jaw begins to ache. of course, you’re already expecting him to do the opposite. 

“wait, don’t tell me.” he starts, jogging a bit to catch up to you. “nobody bothered to teach you? mom just too busy to make time for you?”

this has you freezing in your tracks, coming to a halt beside him, and before you can even process the thought going through your head-

“at least i actually had one.”

the silence that follows is deafening as you snap your head up to stare at him, his expression of shock mirroring your own. guilt starts twisting around in your stomach as soon as the words leave your mouth, but the joyous laughter that erupts out of your traveling companion the next second chases it away as he hunches over and cackles.  

“that was incredible,” he gasps out. 

you narrow your eyes at the sight but you can’t help the smile that starts tugging at your lips seeing him thrown into such a genuine fit of giggles, the sound melodic and tugging at your heartstrings. “why are you laughing?”

he lifts an arm to wipe the sweat off of his forehead as he starts to calm down, leaving you with a bundle of conflicting emotions tangled together in your chest. 

“i never thought you had it in you.” he explains, sounding almost… proud? there’s an undeniable glow of satisfaction on his face, and it’s only then that you realize, this entire time, his goal was to get you to play along. 

“looks like you really can teach an old dog new tricks,” the wanderer shrugs, his usual shit-eating smirk returning to his lips. 

“i- wha?” you sputter incredulously. “haven’t you been around for centuries? and you’re calling me old?”

he makes a noncommittal sort of hum as you two start walking again. a comfortable silence falls over you both, the man beside you finally silent after getting what he wanted out of you. however, the heat isn’t any less forgiving than it was moments prior so your pace inevitably slows until you’re forced to stop and lean down to rest your hands on your knees, each inhale of hot air offering absolutely no relief. 

when he realizes you stopped walking and turns around to send you an unimpressed look it’s quickly replaced by poorly masked concern that shows in the furrow of his brows and the tight line of his lips. it’s only then that he remembers the bottle he watched you pack earlier that morning. 

“drink,” he says as he reaches into your bag and pulls out a full flask of water. you grab it from him gratefully and can’t help the sigh you release at the coolness of the liquid from being inside of a metal container. 

the wanderer watches you wordlessly as you twist the cap back on and turn to put it back in your bag, and the second you look away the feeling of something being placed on your head as well as suddenly being enveloped in the shade catches you by surprise. when you whip around to meet his gaze he avoids yours and walks a few steps ahead, arms crossed and hat mysteriously missing. 

when it clicks, your jaw drops a fraction and you reach up to slide your fingers along the gold metal leaves, finding them hot to the touch from the scorching sun. 

the wanderer never lets you touch his hat. not even as his trusted companion. every time you’ve tried in the past, he’s quick to step out of your way or slap your hand back whenever he sees you going for it. there’s a sparkle of joy in your eyes when he peeks out of the corner of his to take in your reaction and scoffs when he sees the awe on your face. 

“come on, let’s keep moving.” he huffs, tone sounding irritated. 

unused to the weight of the wide hat balanced on your head, you catch up to him on wobbly feet, one hand still holding onto the rim so it won’t tip off. how the wanderer manages to jump around and run without it sliding everywhere is beyond you, because it feels like it could fall off at any moment. 

this does not go unnoticed to the man next to you, but you’re too busy trying to stand straight and walk without tilting too much, so you’re not prepared for the gust of wind he flicks at you that tips the hat up and off, saved from falling to the ground only by his hand that shoots out to grab it and put it back the way it was before. 

“hey!” you pout indignantly, sending him a look of annoyance. when your meet eyes meet his, his vibrant indigo irises are swimming with mirthful contentment, and a small smile rests easily on his face. it’s not an expression you get see on him that often, but like always, it causes pitiful flutters in your chest. 

your frown softens despite yourself and you avert your gaze to the horizon where the sun hangs high in the sky, feeling thankful that you can just blame the flush staining your cheeks on the heat if he points it out. 

what a truly insufferable travel companion you have. 

By Choice or By Accident (Wanderer/Reader)

Spoilers for Interlude Chapter: Act III Inversion of Genesis

i made the executive decision that the traveler fucks around a bit and takes a good while longer to decipher what scara changed with irminsul and wow, that's a convenient amount of time for him to get real soft on someone huh-

(also i believe scara says he doesn't like sweets only because ei DOES like sweets and he secretly loves them you cannot change my mind, back off)

AO3 LINK

Wanderer/Reader 5,258 Words - SFW Nothing heinous. Fluff, 2 seconds of Angst, meandering narrative, skipping time a little bit, Reader is a candy maker. Very indulgent, don't take this seriously.

---

Despite its status as a hub of commerce, it’s rather obvious when a new face arrives in the Grand Bazaar. Even more so when they’re dressed like that - soft blues against striking azure, a wide hat and carefully placed body armor to show martial skill. 

When the grocer across the way brings home a straggler, your initial thought is to be wary. There’s an unsettled quiet around him as he keeps his head ducked low and his face carefully hidden. The protection on his arms and shins suggests some martial skill, yet there’s no vision to be seen on his person. 

In the beginning, you’re wary - and rightfully so. Then his head lifts and his eyes move around the bazaar before he realizes you’re staring, and something fundamental changes in that split second. The air around him shifts, the guarded expression in his eyes bleeds away, and you’re left staring at excited eyes and a smile that shines with both anticipation and trepidation. 

The grocer’s new stray becomes a fixture. One that you quietly watch from your stall of handmade sweets, your gaze occasionally broken by the excited child or curious adult, all of whom are the sources of your livelihood here. But even your regulars find it hard to keep your attention when something so interesting is just across the way. 

Initially, the first word you’d use to describe him is untouchable. Like something priceless to be placed on a shelf. Only to look at, never to hold in your hands and sully it with your touch. Even as he works diligently at the grocer and displays less than fragile tendencies, you still can’t keep yourself from marveling at the otherworldly sort of perfection. 

Then, just like that, it’s swept away in the span of a short interaction. 

While you’ve overheard his quiet arguments with the grocer about not accepting pay, you know for certain he’s been tipped on deliveries to their customers. It’s what gives him the means to tentatively cross the walkway to your stall, stand a respectful distance away, and let pretty violet eyes wander over what you have on display for the day. 

And they are pretty. A color you’ve never seen before, even in a city like Sumeru where fabrics in all manner of hues are commonplace. You’re not entirely sure that someone could accurately recreate such a shade of purple. 

Quietly, as if to keep from imposing on you, he steps a little closer and squeezes the pouch of mora in front of him with a grip so tight his knuckles turn just a little lighter than the rest of his pale skin. It’s painfully obvious that he’s nervous, but his chin lifts and his chest expands with an inhale, and you’re impressed with the bravery he’s showing to simply peruse a candy stall. 

“Please recommend something to me!”

He says it like he’s about to run into battle - and your heart that was wary at first melts. Any caution is thrown to the wind as your shoulders relax, and a smile spreads across your face, and you ask, “What do you like?”

To your surprise, he clams up for a moment, twisting at the ties of the mora pouch until you’re certain the ropes are going to unravel. The last thing you expect is a quiet, “...I’m not sure.”

Okay. You can handle that, as strange as it is. Going into your usual sales pitch with gusto, you try your hardest not to be distracted by the way he cocks his head and leans in, listening with rapt attention as you point out each little piece, which were handmade and which you had brought him, which were your favorites and which ones most people seemed to gravitate toward. 

“These ones aren’t popular, but I like them. They’re sour, but once you get to the middle, there’s a sweetness that chases it away. Just don’t eat too many, they’ll make your mouth sore!”

“It’s sour, but you say they’re good?” His fingers pinch his chin in thought as he looks at each flavor you have of the small selection. It’s no use keeping a large stock when its audience is few and far between. “Sour on the outside, sweet on the inside, huh?”

“It makes the sweetness that much nicer if you can make it through the tough bit. It’s kind of like life, isn’t it? Once you make it through the difficult parts, the moments that are softer are that much better when you’re in them.”

Violet eyes watch you in wonder, lips gently parted as he mulls over your impromptu advice. With warm cheeks, you busy yourself with straightening the rows, the smallest bit of embarrassment making your fingers shake. They don’t look any neater when you’ve finished.

He picks one of everything you indicate as your preference, carefully counting out the coins and giving a little extra that you try to place back in his hand. But he grasps your wrist until your palm is up, pushing the extra coins there and using his free hand to curl your fingers around them securely. The smile on his face is wider than any you’ve seen, cutting into his cheeks and making the corners of his eyes squint in its wake. 

“Just for being kind, that’s all.” And his touch lingers for a moment long enough to make your heart skip, your fingers itching to grasp at his own so he could stay just a little longer. “Can I come back tomorrow?”

“I don’t think you’ll get through all that candy in a night.” Or he could, you’re in no place to judge him for it. Certainly, children much smaller than him have performed that feat before. 

In return, he smiles sheepishly and focuses on his hands holding yours, his thumb pressing against the pulse point of your wrist. There’s no doubt he can feel your heart racing from his touch and his presence, his soft grin and the slight flush on the apples of his cheeks. “Maybe not. But… just to talk to you? I’d like to know you if you’d let me.”

If he notices your persistent giddiness for the remainder of the bazaar’s open hours, he mercifully doesn’t make any comment on it. He simply returns the next day with praises over what you’d sold him the day before, exclaiming that the sour candies were his favorite, and an earnest question. 

“Could you teach me how to make this?”

And how could you say no? When his hands were fisted at his sides to hide how they shake at the prospect of such a simple question, there’s no way you could deny something so… sweet.

That evening, after he closes up with the grocer, he crosses the pathway that separates you and offers to help you carry your goods home for the day. It’s with great pleasure you gesture to a house just two doors down - your home and workshop all in one. He doesn’t let you carry your goods, anyway.

“It must be nice, living so close. I’m glad to see it.”

“Glad?” You ask, watching carefully at how he carries a box with one arm that you often have to drag across the ground on a nightly basis. He must be deceptively strong. The hat he wears is tucked beneath his other arm, leaving his smooth hair a little mussed after a day of wearing it. 

His head bobs as he watches you unlock the door with a key from your pocket, the hinges groaning as you step inside and urge him to follow as you work to light the lamps. The answer you asked for comes as the room illuminates. “I’d hate for you to have to walk so far at night. It’s not very safe.”

“True, but the bazaar is one of the safest places in the city. And I’ve lived here all my life.”

“Spending your life somewhere doesn’t always make it safe,” he pauses, just long enough to set the box of goods down on the table that dominates the center of your home, “but it’s not really my place to be overbearing about your safety. I’m sorry if that was too much.”

“No! It was… nice. Thank you for caring.” The words strike him into stillness, his hand resting on the lid of the box, thumb curling around the edge to press into the wood. His other hand rubs over his chest, just beneath the dangling ornament and pinion that jingle slightly in the comfortable silence. 

The swallow he makes is audible, a show of that nervousness that comes when he seems to be faced with sincerity he doesn’t know what to do with. To his credit, his voice doesn’t waver, even a little. “You’ve been nothing but nice to me. Of course I’d care, even a little.” And that endearing pink comes back again, barely visible in the lights that are just beginning to grow stronger as the flame catches the wicks.

“You’ve been nice, too. Give yourself a little credit.” 

Outside, other merchants are making their way home. The sound of carts and laughter trickles into the room, breaking the tension that’s somehow formed despite such an innocuous topic. Clearing your throat, you ask, “You know, I don’t actually know your name. You’ve never told me.”

While the tension is gone for you, it doubles down on him as his shoulders clench, and he pointedly looks away. The far corner of the room suddenly becomes impossibly interesting to him, at least compared to how you begin to move closer to unpack the box. 

“That’s because… I don’t have one. I’m just a wanderer. Any name I might’ve had, I don’t remember it anymore.”

“Do you not remember by choice, or by accident?”

You don’t miss the way his eyes follow your movements as you bring the sour candies out. Pointedly, you pull a few from their bag and push them across the table to him. As if he were afraid they’d disappear, his fingers wrap around them and drag them closer. One pops in his mouth, and he waits until the sweetness makes itself known before he finally answers.

“A little of both, I think.” The candy clacks against his teeth, running along his molars from one side to the other, as if he’s preventing a single spot from being scoured by the sourness. Perhaps it’s also a tactic to delay what comes next, something you only realize when he says it. “You should know… I’m not exactly human. I’m-... I’m a puppet.”

“Okay.”

“...Okay?”

Giving him time to ruminate over that, you finish unloading the box before stowing it away beneath the table. It gives you enough time to formulate a tactful response. Palms on the table, you lean to get the weight off your feet from standing all day, and explain yourself. “That doesn’t change anything. I still like you, I’ll still teach you. You must’ve lived a long time then, huh?”

He doesn’t give you a number, and you don’t exactly ask, but the way he exhales until his lungs are empty tells you that in his mind, it might have been a few too many years to walk through. Has he wandered all that time? Alone? It doesn’t feel right to ask - so you don’t. 

Instead, as you begin to lay out supplies for tomorrow’s stock, you quietly make a promise to yourself that if you can help it, perhaps he won’t need to use the term lonely to describe himself ever again. 

—

When you first opened your stall, it was commonplace for you to grow sick after contacting so many people on a daily basis. It was just expected, it came with the territory, and you only needed a handful of months for your body to grow used to it. Nowadays, you hardly find yourself feeling ill at all.

Then there were days like today, where the world is too bright, and your skin feels too hot and too cold, uncomfortable no matter your position. The softness of your bed curls around you, cradling your aching joints as you struggle to maintain a comfortable body temperature. The windows facing the street show that the sun is already risen, though at this time of day, not as much of it makes it down to the bazaar, even at the outskirts as you are.

Wrapped in your blankets in the throes of a cold chill is how the wanderer finds you. His steps into your home are tentative - you’d given him a key, and you thank yourself for the foresight. Looking into your bedroom, his expression goes from curiosity to something that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than fear.

“What’s wrong? Look at me-”

“I’m okay.” Talking makes your head feel thick and muddled, stuffed too full of the meager thoughts it requires to get words out. But he’s kneeling next to your head now, hands hovering over you but not quite touching, like he’s unsure of what to do next. It lightens your mood a little, seeing him fret like this. “Just a little sick - it goes around this time of year.”

“What do you need me to do? Do you need food? Have you had anything to drink today? Hang on, let me get a washcloth.”

And he’s on his feet, moving to your kitchen and out of your ability to call him back. A quiet laugh leaves you as you roll onto your back, snuggling beneath blankets and listening as he sifts through your cabinets to find a bowl, then fill it with cool water to bring back to you. His eyes are more focused on the bowl as he enters, determined not to spill it until he’s able to set it down on your bedside table. 

Before you can say a word, the back of his fingers press to your forehead, and he hisses through his teeth. There’s no need to say that you’re burning up, not with how he hurriedly wrings out the cloth and folds it delicately on your forehead. Even chilled as you are, it feels like heaven, and you all but melt into the blankets as the fingers of his hand linger along your brow. 

“Better?”

“Mm… yes, thank you.”

“Okay. It’s okay.” He sounds more like he’s reassuring himself, rather than you. There’s something haunted in his eyes, something that’s clawing at the back of his mind. Far be it from your place to ask, but the fever has lowered your inhibitions, and you can’t help but lick the chapped dryness of your lips before asking what you wish to know. 

“Why are you afraid? Look at you, you’re terrified.”

The answer is immediate, maybe even instinctual. “I don’t know.” His eyes linger over your face, trailing over the dark circles beneath your eyes and the weariness that lingers. “My mind is telling me terrible things, almost like I’ve… lost someone like this. But I’ve never-... I haven’t been around anyone long enough to care. Not like this.”

He cares. About you. Sure, that was obvious enough at this point, but the fact that he puts it into words so candidly makes your heart flutter nervously. It’s been a long time since anyone would go to these lengths for you in your time of need, and for it to be him… It makes you feel leagues better already.

“I’m… I’ll make you something to eat. And get you something to drink. I’ll be back.”

The words tumble out of him, one after another, with little control. He’s nearly out the door by the time you comprehend that he’d been pink in the cheeks, fingers nervously twirling the golden feather on his chest. He cares. What a novel thought.

It doesn’t take him terribly long to return. Just long enough for your eyes to droop closed and your mind to wander off into dreams of pretty violet eyes and the faint scent of flowers that you’ve never come across before. Soft smiles, a hand running down your arm, a thumb across your cheek as a familiar voice urges you to reawaken. 

“Just a few bites, then you can sleep.”

Easy enough, when the spoon finds its way to your mouth of its own accord. Yet it’s not sentient - it’s held by lithe fingers that guide it steadily. At your back is his arm, helping you sit up so you don’t spill over your sheets. Quietly, you shift a little closer and bask in that faint floral smell that’s like nothing in Sumeru. The only way you can explain it is if you were describing the wanderer himself.

Drinking is an easy affair, thanks to the straw he’d somehow found you, and once he’s satisfied you’ve completed the tasks he’s laid out, so too does he lay you back on your bed. With distance comes a stark loneliness, and you reach for his hand as he stands from where he’d been kneeling. “Stay? Please?”

“Let me grab a chair at least. Your floor hurts.”

You want to tell him to just climb in your bed. To let you curl around him for all the comfort he can offer, greedily taking and taking because he’s always so willing to give. But the last bit of your self-control pulls you back in, releasing your grip to allow him to drag a chair across the floor to sit at your bedside with an exasperated smile. 

“Sleep now. I’ll be here when you wake.”

“Hm… Promise?”

“I swear it on my life. I’m not going anywhere.”

The last thought before you drift off is a quiet murmur of your heart repeating that he cares. About you, about your wellbeing. He’ll be here when your eyes open, hopefully with less of that fear he’s still holding onto. The washcloth on your forehead is changed, slim fingers wipe away stray water droplets, and all the while he hums a tune under his breath that sounds like the sweetest song.

—

The wanderer has only one devastating, debilitating flaw - he’s a worrier. 

Whether it’s after a long day and you’re bone tired, or you were too busy to eat lunch, or even if you’re just feeling a little ill, he has an incessant need to coddle. On anyone else, it wouldn’t be a good look. You’re a grown woman, you can take care of yourself, keep yourself safe and cared for. 

But something about the way he does it soothes any outrage you could possibly feel. Insistent, quiet, offered with a smile that seems almost pleading. And you know that while he’s making you dinner and taking on the duty of meticulously creating fruit-shaped candies for tomorrow’s weekend sale, it’s for his own sake as much as it is yours. 

And so, if it keeps him smiling as he carefully pours soup into a bowl for you, you’re more than willing to let him get away with it. 

Chin propped on your hand, elbow on the table, you let your eyes drift closed as the weariness of the day catches up to you. The festival over the weekend was one of the biggest in a long time, and your preparations were wearing you impossibly thin. It meant longer evenings to finish creating stock, longer days to account for new tourists, and all the stress that comes with it. 

Not to mention the last straggling bits of your illness that had kept you homebound for days, still lingering after two long weeks. Your muscles still felt weak, your head still fuzzy.

But the wanderer had been a huge help, especially as the grocer had all but kicked him out of his stall to send over to yours. The grocer had been trying to foist him off on you for weeks now, and he hadn’t really needed to try that hard at all. 

The sound of ceramic sliding across the table in front of you is the indication he’s dropped your food off, and you crack your eyes open just in time to see the golden pinion of his ornament dangling in front of your face as he presses a kiss to the crown of your head. 

Both of you freeze. 

But he doesn’t pull away, and neither do you. Instead, you reach with a shaking hand to the golden feather, grasping it lightly with your fingertips and rubbing your thumb along the subtle ridges. Your curiosity serves an alternate purpose; it keeps him close, prevents him from backing away from you. 

A sigh breezes along your scalp, humid from his breath, and a shiver from you breaks you both out of the odd trance. 

“I’m so sorry-”

“It’s okay.” You cut him off, already anticipating the unwarranted apology for something you desperately wanted him to do again. Even standing above you, he looks incredibly small as his hands clutch at the opening of his kimono, worrying at the edges without a care for the wrinkles he’s creating. 

Letting the feather drop back to his chest, you reach for one of his fretting hands and hold it tight enough in your own that you can’t tell if the tremors come from you or him. It could even be both. Suddenly you’re filled with anticipation so strong it makes your stomach turn painfully. 

But it’s not bad. It’s welcomed, wanted. The only relief you know of is sought after with a simple question. “Could you do it again?”

“...Again?”

“If you’d like to. If it wasn’t a regretful accident.”

His lower lip disappears between his teeth for a moment, then pops out with a pink hue from the abuse. You’re only allowed a second to admire the shade before the only thing you can see is alabaster and violet, your view of the world cut off as he presses his lips to yours with a clumsiness that is borne from inexperience. 

A thud rocks the table from his palm hitting it, an attempt to brace himself as he leans further into you until he’s nearly climbed into your lap. A whine brushes across your cheek through his nose - a high-pitched, cracking sort of sound that’s sweeter to your ears than any song could be, any candy could taste. 

That evening, the wanderer becomes your wanderer. 

And the world seems more vibrant, the music of the festival is more joyous than anything you’ve ever heard. Your wanderer closes your stall and guides you to the theatre to watch Nilou spin and sway. Her movements are nothing short of hypnotic, but hardly enough to catch your attention as you lean against him and let your eyes follow the cut of his jawline, the brush of his hair against his ear, the subtle pink of his blush as he catches you staring from the corner of his eye. 

For an evening, the entirety of Teyvat feels like it’s in harmony. He smiles down at you, and the stars above shine just a little bit brighter. An arm winds around your waist to hold you closer, and the lyrics to the music lose their meaning, the tune grows meandering and unimportant compared to how he smiles so, so gently. 

If asked, you’re not sure that you’d be able to think of a single thing you wouldn’t give up to recklessly chase after this feeling with him. Safe, warm, loved. It’d been there from the beginning, quietly growing subtle roots until it ingrained itself too deep to remove - as if you’d want to. 

That night, you nearly tell him you love him. Something stays your tongue, but you’re not quite sure what it might have been. Tomorrow, you promise yourself as he brings you to your door and kisses you so sweetly that you can do nothing but melt in his hold. Tomorrow, you resolve as you watch him backpedal down the street, giving you that smile you favor so much. 

Tomorrow, you promise the following day as the market quiets following such a busy event, unwilling to break the peace for a confession you’re not entirely confident he’s ready for. Instead, you prop your elbow on your stall’s counter and watch as he smiles at the grocer. As he squats to the level of a child that’s examining fruits, and offers one of the familiar candies from your stall to him. 

Over the child’s head, he catches your eye, and the placating smile turns to one that’s teeth and pink cheeks, embarrassment at having been caught with such softness but not ashamed enough to stop. In the heat of the afternoon, the quiet murmur of the bazaar, the daylight stretching the shadows long as the sun crosses its apex and begins to descend, everything feels the closest to perfection you could ever achieve.

Tomorrow doesn’t come. 

Or rather, it does, but he’s missing. The grocer mentions he’d stepped out of the city to make a run for sunsettias, then left on an errand with a golden-haired newcomer and their floating companion. The Traveler, you recognize vaguely from gossip through the grapevine. They’d keep him safe, surely, but you can’t help but feel a looming sense of dread when he doesn’t return that evening. 

For the first time in months, you eat your dinner alone. 

—

The tables are turned, for once. It’s you that worries over his well-being, so much so that you close your stand for the day and pace around your home like a caged animal. Certainly he must be fine, but he would’ve mentioned it to you if he were leaving, wouldn’t he? It feels wrong to not be aware of his presence, to not simply turn your head and have him at the corner of your vision as a steady presence. 

The grocer stops by to drop a few pieces of produce off, an attempt to check on you and reassure you of the wanderer’s safety with the Traveler. It does little to assuage your fears - nothing does, until the door opens and it’s filled with a familiar silhouette.

Except it’s… not. 

There’s a different set to his shoulders. A tension that lingers for a moment too long before it bleeds away at the sight of you. But his eyes are still the same, taking you in with immeasurable reverence that doesn’t fade even as he steps into your home that’s dimmer than the midday market outside. One, two, three long strides bring him to you, close enough to yank you to his chest and hold you impossibly tight with both arms. 

“I’m sorry.”

Even the tone is different. It’s lower, more tentative, almost as if he expects you to refuse him. Adamant, you wrap your arms tight around his waist and link your hands together, squeezing with everything you can muster as you mumble into the fabric over his chest. “You should be. You had me so worried.”

“That’s… I’m sorry for that, too.”

“You’re sorry for something else?” Pulling your head back, you look up at him. Nothing could have prepared you for the way his face falls, his lip drawing between his teeth as he takes in the sight of your confusion and weariness. 

There is no stalling further. His hand comes to the back of your head, bringing you back close again as he speaks over your shoulder. “I need to ask you something. Don’t be afraid to tell me the truth. Even if you think it will hurt me.”

“And if it will hurt me?”

“It’ll hurt more if I don’t ask it at all.” His chest beneath your cheek shudders with his exhalation, its wavering shaking you to your core as you realize it’s tinged with tears once he continues. “If someone walked in here that looked and sounded just like me, but they were inarguably an evil person… would you still want to stay with them?”

“Looks and sounds like you…?”

“If you couldn’t tell the difference, beyond the knowledge that for the entirety of their existence, so many of the actions they’d taken were for horrible, inexcusable reasons.”

It shouldn’t be a simple answer. The question he’s posed to you has so many layers despite its surface-level simplicity. But with the way he looks at you - wild, desperate, clinging to the hope for an answer that lets him stay close to you - it only takes you a moment to come to a conclusion that settles into place like a key turning a lock. Smooth, easy, with a satisfying click.

“Whoever that person might’ve been… they’re not who you are now.” His breath hitches, stilling under where you rest your head. Whether that’s the right answer or the wrong, you’re unsure, but you’re too far to backtrack now. “I know who you are. People are allowed to change, that’s just what humans do.”

“I’m not human.”

He’s not. He’s told you so himself that he was created, not born. But it’s easy enough to forget that fact when he’s here in front of you, trembling in your arms and clinging desperately to the normalcy you’ve unknowingly provided. The front he puts up is so convincing that you’re not sure it’s even false anymore - he’s experienced all there is to being a human.

“But you’re close enough, aren’t you? You laugh, and you hurt. You’re hurting right now. And the most important part of being a human is love.” Pulling back enough to look at him, to note the shine of tears and the harshness of his bite on his bottom lip to hide its quivering, you ask, “Do you feel love?”

“Yes. So much, it’s killing me.”

“Ah, you just need to let it out then. Of course, I’d stay with you. If it’s like you say, then there’s a long road ahead, and I’m happy to walk it with you, if you’ll let me.”

Choked laughter leaves him, high-pitched and disbelieving. It signals the floodgates of his tears falling, and he releases one arm from you to rub at his eyes to catch them before they fall. It’s a futile effort, one you’re happy to see, even as he surges forward to kiss you, wetting your cheeks with his own. 

Against your lips he murmurs, muffled and sloppy, “Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou-”

As if you would have left him after coming to know him like this. It only hurts for a second that the thought had even crossed his mind to doubt - and perhaps that doubt will creep back in over the coming days. When things are difficult or when stirrings of a life past-lived come back to rear its head, threatening the tenuous peace he’s found. 

There are times that he looks at you with eyes that aren’t as familiar. They’re darker, edged sharply, but it’s still him. A different facet shining in the light, but if you tilt your head, you can see the core of him that lies beneath. Still the same, no matter how he refracts it. As he comes and goes, it feels as if a new page turns each time - some new, some old. A wildness exists that seeps through, visible only when he holds you a little too tight, kisses you a little too hard. 

Unsteadiness is something he’s worn since the first day you’ve met him, and with the return of memories he’d lost, it doesn’t settle over him as often as it once had. Only when you notice the shift does he avoid your gaze, the sheepish little smile lifting the weight on your heart, and his in turn.

He’s trying. That’s enough, you think.

Desert Rose; a cyno royalty!au

—pairing; cyno x f!reader

The King is missing, presumed dead, putting his unpredictable heir on the throne. It's not in Cyno's nature to let go and he can't shake the feeling that something sinister is stirring. The General Mahamatra doesn't fail. His will never falters. But something is afoot in the palace, perhaps even in his own matra. With the three magi spread to seperate corners of the kingdom Cyno will do what he must, even if it threatens to shake his will and everything he stands for.

—tags; angst, royalty!AU, Cyno Dehya and Candace as the three magi, Al Haitham as King Deshret ig?, Reader is Al Haithams sister?, look it makes sense for the story in my head, just 'three strikes and you die by my hand' cyno being a loyal protector to his princess

—chapter warnings; injury, blood, lots of exposition ig

It was early evening, and the low sun cast long shadows along the ground. With the bitter desert night drawing close, the back of his blood soaked cloak had begun to feel cold and damp against the raw, tender skin of his aching back. The bustle of the markets had reached its peak in the cool respite of dusk, setting Cyno's nerves on edge. It was rare for the General Mahamatra to loose a target, but crowds like this had always proved a thorn in his side. The mass of people so close to the palace disturbed him. It would be all too easy for an attacker to disappear into them unhindered.

It was busy enough that his arrival didn't make a scene. Still, Cyno didn't miss the hushed whispers that followed as he passed, the way their eyes refused to meet his, the way that people scrambled out of his path. Even a disgraced General Mahamatra commanded the respect of the people it seemed.

The palace itself rose above the commotion of Hypostyle like a glistening oasis. The pale stone glistened in the golden dusk and even Cyno couldn't deny the impression it left. His back screamed in protest as he began to climb the grand staircase. He forced himself to focus on anything else than the sharp throbbing. The stone was still warm under his feet from the wrath of the desert sun. It was said the King had spared no expense, importing expensive stone from Liyue and lavish silks from Inazuma. Cyno couldn't understand why he'd gone to such lengths for a palace he never intended to use.

Every part of Cyno ached. Despite the fresh wounds in his back finally ceasing their bleeding, the tender skin continued to throb. The sun was growing low in the horizon, the bitter desert night creeping in. The back of his blood soaked cloak was already growing cold against his bare skin and the glistening bustle of the bazaar that signalled his destination were a welcome sight. casting long shadows, and the glittering bustle was a welcome sight. The bitter desert night not far, the back of his blood soaked cloak was already growing cold against his bare skin.

He had dreaded this day for so many years. Even when he'd shoved those feelings down as far as he could manage, they were never far from his mind. Like dark clouds looming on the horizon, always on the edge of his vision. Even so, he'd never thought it would be like this. The eyes of the minor gods lining his ascent bore down upon him, long shadows cast across their stone likeness making their gaze all the more severe.

The weight of their eyes seemed to lift as he reached the top of the staircase, Rukkadevata's ethereal form smiled down at him from her place atop the Statue of the Seven. The palace itself seemed almost blessed by her, a rich oasis overflowing with green in the heart of the desert's endless sands. Either side of her, water cascaded from the palace walls into two huge pools where common folk milled, occasionally tossing coins into their depths. Manoeuvring around the Statue of the Seven, Cyno passed under a huge archway adorned with hanging buds of purple flowers. In juxtaposition to the markets below, the air here was calm, peaceful even. It did little to settle the pit in Cyno's stomach.

"t-The General Mahamatra!" Kaveh had caught sight of him from across the large courtyard and rushed over, leaving his companion under the shade of the riwaq. Obviously Al Haitham had not had the decency to inform poor Kaveh he was coming.

"Don't panic, Kaveh." Cyno grunted, seeing Kaveh's wide eyed look. "I'm only here as a security measure."

Kaveh's shoulders visibly relaxed with the threat of Cyno's wrath abated. Cyno had grown used to the fear he inspired long ago. He didn't serve as General Mahamatra to be liked. Still, he felt a twinge of guilt for causing Kaveh to stress, the architect had enough on his mind already with Al Haitham's impending coronation.

"Captain Radkani was just here." The blond gulped visibly, finally meeting Cyno's eyes. "I'll fetch him for you"

It wasn't necessary, but Kaveh seemed all too eager to escape Cyno's presence, and Cyno himself was all too eager to delay the inevitable. Seeing Taj would provide a welcome excuse, and he supposed royal orders deserved some sort of display of formality.

The General Mahamatra never failed. His will never faltered. His loyalty was unquestionable. And yet... stood on the precipice to the palace, he hesitated. He might not trust Al Haitham fully, but for all intents and purposes, he was King. Despite his doubts, Cyno new it was their best chance. Their only chance. The very fate of the desert rested on Cyno's every move. Still, his heart protested.

It had been years since he'd last ventured this far west, longer still since he'd last seen you. Never once had he dared to step foot into Hypostyle. Cyno's greatest asset was his will, as recognised by the gods themselves, but something about the sight of the palace... He did his best to will the thoughts away as Taj approached.

Cyno trailed a step behind his mentor as Taj led him through the palace. It was much different than he'd expected, the courtyards filled with gossiping servants weaving in the grass, huge halls of students engrossed in study. Cyno began to understand why the palace had seemed to win Rukkadevata's favour, the whole place was an ode to her; brimming with scholarship in both academics and the arts.

"It is the Heart of the Desert," Taj regarded Cyno carefully, as if reading his thoughts.

"Because of its role at the heart of all trade with Natlan, I know." Cyno finished for him.

Much to Cyno's surprise, Taj let out a warm laugh, shaking his head with a wry smile playing at his lips. "I had forgotten how you could be."

He was quiet for a moment as they continued further into the palace, passing a silent room full of students deep in mediation. Smoke from their incense wafted through the dark room and Cyno turned away from the sharp smell.

"It is the King's Heart, Cyno." Taj murmured quietly.

Cyno wondered wether any of the students could still connect to the King's divine consciousness, making a note to question them later in search of leads.

Wether Cyno's silence gave him away or not, Taj seemed to change the subject. "It is unusual for any matra to have never ventured inside the palace." He began, that wry smile returning to tug at the corners of his mouth. "You would almost have to be avoiding it."

Cyno's gaze shot to Taj so quickly that he gave himself away. Although it seemed his old mentor still knew him well enough that he hardly needed Cyno's confirmation. Taj had that triumphant glint in his eye that he got when his hunch was right.

"Your will is unshakable Cyno, I know that as well as anyone-"

"Enough." He had meant to sound humourless but the hint of panic in his voice shocked even himself.

This seemed to make Taj soften. "Cyno..." He didn't continue, noticing they had reached the matra guarding the intricate double doors. Before Cyno even had a chance to ready himself they had pushed open the doors wordlessly, inclining their heads toward Cyno.

If Cyno had thought the palace was an oasis, he was stunned at the sight before him. Through the warm steam filling the air, green filled every corner of his vision. Crystalflies drifted lazily past his head, above him dusk birds chattered and the air was filled by the gentle songs of frogs and birds. That wasn't wasn't what held his attention. There, in the centre of it all, you were waist deep in the hot water laughing in delight as the hulking form of a sumpter beast frolicked in the water beside you, much to the chagrin of your attendants.

Cyno opened his mouth but the words died in his throat and he quickly shut it again.

Taj had little success hiding his amusement, seemingly accustomed to this sort of occurrence as he watched you rub an array of perfumed soaps and oils into the thick coat of the beast. "Your Royal Highness, I'm sorry for the intrusion-"

"Captain!" Something stirred in Cyno at the way you greeted Taj. "I think I have discovered something Shaggy loves even more than food!" The joy in your voice solidified Cyno's apprehension. Curse Al Haitham. This was a terrible idea.

Taj disguised a laugh as a cough, doing his best to continue. "Your Highness, I came to announce the arrival of the General Mahamatra."

With that your eyes were on his and Cyno was doomed. It was this exact reason he had done everything in his power to stay as far from you as possible. And yet. And yet, there was a part of him that could not remember why he had ever wanted to.

He may have distrusted Al Haitham and all his secrets and rationalities, but you were far more dangerous. One look. A single look and Cyno was ready to throw it all away. The things he would do for a single look, a single smile, a single laugh, a single touch. The General Mahamatra served the King he reminded himself. Cyno though, Cyno would serve you till the end even just to hear your lips form his name.

Al Haitham's plan made sense, logically, Cyno knew it was their best chance. Instead, every fibre of his being protested, demanding he turn away.

Cyno didn't have a choice. It was their only option. Even if it saw him sacrifice his mind, soul and heart.

- affection with the wanderer in the avidya forest

- fluff hehe

a/n: i think it would be funny if scara had to do community service after all the stuff he did to sumeru so i briefly mentioned it in this. anyways scara brainrot go brrrr

- lowercase is on purpose

it started with a simple kiss to the back of his hand: quick and fleeting, just the way he liked it. see, too much affection without prior announcement was a no-go with the wanderer.

but then, when you tried to let go of his hand, he held on tight, almost desperately, and so you kissed his hand again, and then his wrist, all the way up to his neck where his knees began to buckle everytime your lips pressed against the sensitive spot between his jaw and throat.

luckily, no one was around or else he would have never allowed something like this to happen.

a nice quiet walk in the avidya forest was what you both needed after a stressful day of his "community service" that was mandated after the...everything... that happened.

He spoke little to no words during this walk, simply being by your side while your hands brushed lightly against each others. you were the one to initiate contact, sliding your fingers around his pinkie. he merely glanced at your hands and grunted before looking straight ahead again.

eventually you took hold of his ring finger as well, and then his whole hand which led to where you are now.

"what do you think you're doing?" he asks, eyes glaring sharply at you.

with a small smile on your face, you reply, "i think it's very obvious what i'm doing."

at this, he sucks in his breath through his teeth, looking anywhere but at you while he can still feel your warm breath on his neck, until slowly you lean back.

"do you want me to stop?"

biting his lip and still unable to meet your eyes, he swallows harshly while fidgeting with his one free hand, your hand still gently holding his other one.

"if i wanted you to stop, i would have told you already."

letting out a quick hum, you agree and kiss him once again on his neck before making your way to his jaw, the corner of his mouth, and then finally a quick kiss on his lips, barely lasting a second. seemingly dissatisfied, he groans and grips your chin between his index and thumb.

"that was weak," he says, before pressing his lips more firmly against yours, your eyes fluttering shut while he walks you backwards to the nearest tree. your back hits it with a quiet thud and his free hand soon comes to rest above your head while his other still held yours, effectively pinning you against it.

his mouth moved faster against yours, his body pressing into yours as if he was trying to mold himself with you, like he had been craving your touch for the entirety of his very long existence. the fingers of your free hand eventually find his hair, carding them through the strands and pulling softly.

when he was satisfied, he pulled away, his usual unimpressed scowl returning to his face. "if you're going to kiss me, at least do it right."

"oh? would you like me to pin you to a tree next time?"

"shut it."

♪ — BECAUSE YOU’RE SPECIAL

❥ summary: the things they’d do for you and only you

❥ characters: scaramouche ; kazuha ; xiao ; venti

❥ content: fluff, gn reader

❥ note: just some cute fluffy anemo content!! i worked vv hard so pls enjoy!

♪ SCARAMOUCHE

•  he would follow you anywhere, without question and without a doubt, trusting your own judgement wholeheartedly. if you were to say where you wanted to go, he’s on it in a moment; mapping out the best way to get there, making a list of the supplies you need, and writing down everything that you should take note of in a small blue notebook.

•  it’s an amazing experience, traveling the world with scaramouche. he’s truly brilliant and prepared for anything (in his own unique way) and harbors his own sort of pleased liking for these excursions. there’s a strange, sharply thoughtful clarity that seems to be reserved privately for your journeys across teyvat, and it feels almost like a painfully longing love that replaces his usual apathy and discomfort whenever he’s with you.

•  he dismisses all of your suggestions of payment or anything of the like, the only reward he expects for his hard work is the privilege to come with you on your trip. truly, he only wants to experience it all with you, the action of being at your side as you see everything, the ability to point out all you should take note of is intoxicating enough for him. 

•  the dazzled look in your eyes as you take in the awe inducing sight of the glowing dainichi mikoshi, tiny golden crystalflies highlighted by the sparkling light of blue jade, the clanging bells and joyful shouts of hundreds of people passing through liyue harbor, even the bitter, nostalgic familiarity of amethyst bolts of lightning crackling over salty puddles of water … it’s his pleasure, and his payment, to see you encounter it all.

•  well, that … and maybe a kiss too? not that he’d ever voice it, but you can see the pink dusted blush whenever you pay him even a small compliment for his services, archons knows he deserves many more for his services, but he’d do it for free, just to be your companion in these travels and forever on.

♪ KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

•  he collects scraps of paper and keeps them hidden in boxes and folds of his red robes; all the emotions he can’t convey, his amateurish skills of manipulating words not always quite enough to tell you how he feels about you. pages, torn off strips of paper, crumbles of old, dusty scrolls littered with heartfelt words in scrawling handwriting, neatly printed type, beautifully drawn calligraphy.

•  all of it at the ready if you ever were to ask a question he couldn’t answer, silently giving you a note with all the words he doesn’t know how to say yet. someday he can put this aching into words, the way he feels awe when he takes all of you in, your beauty and the way you make him feel complete, how he’s just completely struck dumb by you.

•  he wants you to know, to be able to picture his emotions that are so painfully heartfelt, the earnestness of his innocent longing; how long he could think about you and you and you and nothing else, the way you fill his mind at all times and drift into his thoughts without him even meaning to.

•  some of it you already understand, his pale face flashes into an all consuming blush whenever you speak of, even casually and in passing, your affection for him; he does small favors for you without a second thought and makes sweet, romantic gestures that you return as best as you can, remembers even the tiniest details about you that he references with presents and jokes and everything he possesses to make you happy.

•  but if there’s even a chance that you can’t take in his whole feelings, that you’re not quite understanding how much he really, truly loves you, he’ll do everything he can to show you everything you are to him with these borrowed words that he wants to someday call his.

♪ XIAO

•  adepti don’t eat, but he’d try anything in the world if you asked him to, offering him dishes from all over liyue and even beyond, anything from cake to fruit juice to salads to barbecues. you buy the items from general stores and stalls along the roads, creating your own recipes that you excitedly offer him to sample, or exclaiming delightedly as you taste something new and then telling him to try it too.

•  he experiences all the new sensations in a way not unlike a younger kid trying things for the first time; his face screwed up in a cutely innocent expression as he sips a bitter, golden amber tinted tea, you counting off beats in the background until it floods into a delicious sweetness that reminds him of the refreshing taste of a cold plate of almond tofu and his eyes sparkle just a bit more.

•  he feels almost human, sampling the things you give him, whether you cooked them up yourself or purchased them from a restaurant, you always look excited to see his reaction and full of delight when he grants it a “it’s not for me” or “not bad” or “i like this one a lot”, always sugarcoating his reviews because you just seem so thrilled to hear his response.

•  of course, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it as well, this small experience that teases a mundane life, but it’s for your benefit that he gives such glowing praise; he doesn’t need to eat, after all, but your declarations of how he should even though he doesn’t have to ring with so much sincerity that he practically has no choice.

•  he admires you for how much you care about this, even if he himself has no opinion on it, and almost feels flattered sometimes, with wide eyed surprise that repeats itself every time you come to him with another plate, the disbelief that you’re offering him something of your own accord. he simply wants to see you happy, so if this is a way to make you smile, he’ll take every chance he can. 

♪ VENTI

•  the wind is at his constant beck and call as the anemo archon, and with a wave of his fingertips he can send spirals of breezy flurries through the atmosphere around him and you, teasing cool, cloudy wisps against your skin that make you shiver delightedly and laugh, your voice sounding sparklingly joyful and he can’t get enough of it.

•  there’s a constant, tiny buffet of wind lifting his blue tinted braids gently into the air; the same mild, soft breeze that twirls through your hair and spins your shirt sleeves into billowing puffs, so sweetly cool and constantly present that you can feel it even when you simply weave your hands through the air.

•  it can be soft, gentle, pillowing gusts of smooth clouds underneath you in calmer moments as trees rustle and dandelion seeds whirl through the air, or explosive bursts of furious wind when danger approaches, whipping everything around you into a frenzy as he weaves the sky itself into a weapon to defend, refusing to let any harm come to you.

•  it’s a precious and protective charm of his, the comfort that it brings him to cast you a tiny bit of fluttering gusts that rush past your face in shivery, paradoxical warmth, a reminder of his presence even when he isn’t physically there, a promise that he is still with you even when he is not, so you will always, always be safe.

•  the power of the wind is something he grants to only those strictly deserving, and who have gone through enough for him to decide they shall receive something to better their life with. but it’s beautiful, and it’s playful and carefree, and it fills the world and you with wonder, so to you he gives it freely because it is his power, and what is his power if not an extension of himself to please the one he loves?

thank you so much for reading, and pls leave a like + reblog + follow if you enjoyed!!

helloo!! congrats on 2k! could i request meteor + cyno for the event? possibly some forbidden love stuff… but your choice! im in the mood for angst 😈 thanks!

ahaha u wanted angst u got angst <3 this is another that got away with me, though not as much, it is 1k words hehe. thank you so very much for participating!!! btw for the sake of clarity, this is a royalty au where i have equated the matras to the royal guard <3

[event masterlist] [take part in the event!]

Through the V.E.N, you and your beloved have caught sight of something! A meteor, in a tragic existence never destined to turn out well. In the back of your mind, a glimpse of your future with Cyno springs forth...

“My dear matra,” you complain, “won’t you humour me just this once?”

“You know that is against my status,” Cyno sighs. “I cannot.”

As the King’s only child, you were destined to be married to some other notable royal. They had been picked out since your birth, primed and ready all their lives to provide a tactical union between your families. There was nothing you could do to stop the wheel of a preordained fate from turning. 

And yet that hadn’t stopped you from harbouring an enamouration for the head of the royal guard, the General Mahamatra Cyno, who had been personally tasked with protecting you by the King himself. His eyes are kind, when turned towards you at least, and his stern demeanour is offset by how softly he speaks to you when you are alone. If you were more of a fool, you’d assume that he might just feel the same way about you. 

“How unfair.” You fold your arms against your chest, pouting out your lower lip as far as it can go. “I just wanted to hold it, you know.”

“This headdress is a symbol of my status as your guard,” Cyno objects, before pausing as the rest of your words register. “You wish to simply hold it?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I think you’ll look very pretty without it.”

He clears his throat, a telltale sign that you’ve learned over the years means you’ve successfully flustered him. “That’s rather improper of you, highness.”

And yet his polearm is finally released from his grasp, balanced up against the wall, as he reaches to remove the ornate black-and-purple headdress. Loose strands of long white hair stick up from the residual static, a little unkempt and messy, and on instinct you reach out to smooth them down for him. 

He gently grasps your wrist to stop you, keeping it raised in the air between you. There is a silent showdown for a beat as you stare at him defiantly. 

“You’re so worried about ‘impropriety’ and what people will think,” you begin, “but I fear that you have not been inconspicuous at all in the improper way I catch you looking at me when you think I am busy.”

Cyno’s eyes widen. Your arm is released. 

Taking a step closer, removing what little distance there had been left between you, you continue. “Besides, if there are no souls around to bear witness, are we really doing anything improper at all?”

There is a moment, a mere second of consideration as you lean in closer. Cyno looks as though he will turn tail and run, exit your chambers and resume his station by the door like a loyal guard should. It is the wise thing to do, you think, but certainly not what either of you seem to want. 

You are close enough now to feel his uneven breath ghost across your cheeks, to see the falter in his composure as he finally, finally, gives in. 

Cyno kisses you furtively, one hand reaching to cradle the back of your head and the other holding tight to your waist. A desperate sound escapes him as you kiss back, your arms encircling his torso and clinging to his shoulders. He tastes blissful, lips plump like the ripe Zaytun peaches kept in the banquet hall, sweet just as though you were taking a bite. It is an indulgence you could only dream of, the sensation of finally consuming that tempting fruit that has hung so tauntingly low before you for so very long. 

But there are legends about those who steal from trees they shouldn’t touch. 

Your name is cried out in disgust from the hallway, the booming voice of the King echoing into your chambers and resonating through your entire body. He approaches Cyno with contempt and grabs onto his shoulder, yanking him harshly away from you. 

“Just what do you think you’re doing to my child, general?”

“Father,” you plead. “This isn’t what it looks like!”

“As for you,” the King’s gaze pierces you like a dagger. “You are not to leave this room until the day you are to be wed.”

“But-” you begin, only to be cut off abruptly. 

“I will not hear it!”

You try to share a glance with the man you have grown to love, but Cyno cannot bring himself to look at you as he is kept at arm’s length by your father like the very criminals he has spent his life protecting you from. In that moment, as he is escorted out from your chambers, you swear you can hear the cracking of your heart. Your cheeks are damp as you reach up to touch them, to wipe your eyes clear before you attempt to chase after the now-receding figures.

But your father is faster than you, and closer to the exit, and he slams the wooden door shut behind him before bolting it tight. Through the thick material, he calls back to you one last time. 

”We shall assign you a new guard… and this one will be left for the vultures.”

You pick up the headdress that has been abandoned by the door, running your thumbs along the careful stitching and embroidery across it. Your father would likely come for it before long, as well as the polearm still resting ownerless against the wall, to remove any trace of Cyno from your life for good. 

But for now, for just the briefest of moments, you still have something left of him to cling to. 

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thinking fluffy thoughts about scaramouche.

Keep reading

companion to an almost-god

ft. Scaramouche. Fluff. 1k words. Drabble though.

(HUGE Sumeru 3.2 spoilers)

If you were asked, ten years ago, five years ago, or even last month, on where you think you'd be now, you probably wouldn't reply with, "Archon-assigned friend to a war criminal." Yet here you are, padding up to the Sanctuary of Surasthana like it's your house, as you've done for the past month already.

Now that Scaramouche is under Nahida's care, instead of facing immediate execution for his crimes, he's instead burdened with the responsibility of making a new life for himself. And powerful as Nahida is, she can't always be the one instructing him through everything, from how to do small talk to coming to terms with his past. The sages are no help either, quivering in their boots at the very mention of the puppet that became a god — the living proof of their crime, no less. The Traveler would help, if only they weren't so busy, and old wounds are yet to heal.

So it comes down to you, a humble and longtime follower of Kusanali, to accompany Scaramouche for his stay in Sumeru. Nahida’s blessing would protect you from any… difficulties that may arise. She says that she doesn't foresee any real trouble from him, but you aren’t sure with how Scaramouche acts.

He’s either a grumpy cat or wrath incarnate whenever you’re around. Granted, you’re the one who spends the most time with him, so you’re more familiar with that anger than most.

Today, you bring a special guest to him; one that wriggles in your arms as it looks around the vast halls of the Sanctuary of Surasthana.

Scaramouche hears your approach. He’s turned away from you, curled up in his corner and lost in his thoughts as he usually is. When he isn’t forced to go out to the city and interact with strangers, he can read from the infinite library of the Akademiya. So far, his only request to his stay was an opportunity to use the smithing forge sometimes.

You realize that you’ve been standing still for a while, staring at his back while the creature in your arms wiggles more insistently.

Scaramouche scoffs and turns to face you. “Another miserable task for me? What, do I have to wipe the snot off children’s noses or sing to the flowers? Is the humiliation of my defeat not enough…”

His eyes land on the creature in your arms, and blow wide open in confusion.

“What is that thing?!” He sneers.

You hold it up and let it speak.

“Name is Aragaru. This is purple Nara?”

“Purple?!” Scaramouche balks.

Aragaru shakes its head. “No, not like purple lightning anymore. Used to be like lightning: flash, smoke, faster than fire to destroy trees. But now, Nara like light blue wind after storm: fresh breeze to soothe earth after lightning.”

“What is it talking about?!”

You gently set Aragaru down, and it floats over to Scaramouche. It doesn't seem scared of him at all. Meanwhile, Scaramouche is trying to subtly scramble away from it, staring at it with a mix of disgust and fear.

Aragaru doesn't mind, wearing its goofy, crooked smile. 

"Wind after storm is calm but strays easily, wants to spread across every jungle and pond. Wind will run out if it does this. Aragaru will help Blue Wind Nara find direction for its breeze."

Scaramouche whips around to you. "Hah! Are you trying to use a… vegetable to give me life lessons, like I'm some kind of child?"

You shrug, already falling into the routine of tidying the books strewn about the room. "Aranara are more in tune with the world than any other being. If there's anyone that can help you figure things out, it's an Aranara."

When you try to clean up the books by the exit, Scaramouche suddenly grabs your wrist.

You jump back; he's wide-eyed, but not like the dark madness that he used to have. It's a warm, trembling gaze, as hesitant as a feather on your skin.

"You're– you're just going to leave it with me, like that?"

"I don't see why not. Aragaru's good at this. You know, they fought off the Marana– I mean, the Withering with the Traveler."

Scaramouche gives a frustrated sigh. "No, not the– I mean are you seriously replacing yourself? Where are you going? Are you–"

He swallows.

The hand around your wrist squeezes a little.

"Are you coming back?"

Oh.

A soft smile makes its way to your face and warms your gaze. You gently tug Scaramouche closer to you, just enough to rest your hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not retiring from being your companion," you say. "Archon-assigned job, remember?"

He huffs, but listens to you.

"Aragaru's just here because I think that connecting with nature is a great way to get used to the present. Besides, I've planned a trip for us to the jungle, and we're going to meet quite a few Aranara along the way."

"We're going outside?"

It's amazing how expressive Scaramouche has gotten lately, like clear spring water. The tinge of surprise in his voice is sweet.

You wink.

"You've gotten used to the city, admit it. I think you're ready to expand your horizons a little more. Or did I not catch you so-eagerly listening to the storyteller at the cafe last week?"

A furious blush takes over Scaramouche's face and he yanks away from you. "I did not!"

"Keep telling yourself that."

"The Blue Wind Nara is as bright as Nilotpala Lotus, but shyer than floating blue fungi," Aragaru notes.

"Shut up!"

"Anyway," you cut in, "if there isn't anything else you want to bring, we can leave by lunch. Aragaru will show us the way, so long as you listen to the Aranara life lessons."

For a moment, Scaramouche is silent and flabbergasted, wondering for the nth time how he'd gotten into this situation. From a broken puppet to a god, and now – hostage of the Dendro Archon, subject to punishment of playing with children and part-timing at the cafe to "learn how to live." And now, he's supposed to go on a field trip with a talking, floating vegetable that can't even form complete sentences.

He dips his head and pulls his hat over his eyes. If he looks at your shameless, sunny smile any longer, he might melt. Disgustingly.

"This better be quick," he growls, but you easily pick up on the hidden excitement in his tone. "And I don't want any mosquitoes on me when we're in the jungle."

You dare to elbow him lightly. "That's my Scaramouche."

He scoffs, yet leans into the touch by just a little.

"Hey, none of that in the city." He scolds gently. "You don't know how many old bats have decided to call me their grandson or whatever."

"Sooo, it's fine to call you that in the jungle? What do you want: Scara, Mouche, Mouchey? Ara… like an Aranara?"

"Hell no. Call me… yes, call me… Wanderer."

"Pfft– that's so bad."

"Shut up, it's a good name!"

"Fine, fine. So you're my wanderer, then?"

He rolls his eyes. A touch of a smile at the corner of his lips. He slings a travel bag over his shoulder, hoping that you won't see his face. Hopes that you don't notice him tugging you to his side, protecting you, as you head out of the Sanctuary. Hopes that Aragaru won't point it out.

"As long as you're my Archon-assigned companion, sure."

chaotic confessions

- you rush to heal tighnari in pardis dhyai, but you're met with resistance from him.

characters: tighnari x reader a/n: the new archon quest has me in utter shambles and I literally threw my headset when tighnari was struck. also I brain rotted this in my friends' dms at 3 am so I've basically just copy pasted what I wrote here. warnings: mentions of injury and hiding injuries. reader can 'heal' by taking on the pain themselves. its implied that the reader has low self worth. tighnari is ooc and this is cheesier than a mozzarella stick. no beta we die like scaras OG design soz

“Ugh…no, don’t”

The pained yell startles you and your hands drop  - the glow in your veins fading into nothing once more. Concern washes over you when Tighnari nearly rips himself away from your grasp, the sudden movement sending another stabbing sensation through his entire body. Eyes blown wide in surprise, you reach out to try and steady him but he flinches away from you once more; you hold back a wince, and shuffle further away from him on the floor.

You watch as he maneuvers himself into a more comfortable position with a groan, his eyes fluttering shut due to the pain. His chest heaves, occasionally stuttering, as he tries to breathe deeply. Seconds later, his eyes open to meet yours, only to find that you’re looking down.

You lean back and gaze at your hands sadly; faint swirls appearing under your skin, as if countless incantations were swimming through your veins. His gaze follows yours; narrowing at the sight of the foreign element painting your skin in waves, disappearing and reappearing at your will.

“Did I… do something wrong?”

Your voice comes out meek; Tighnari sighs as you refuse to meet his gaze.

“You really think I havent noticed?” He asks, and your head raises slightly at the question; eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Noticed what?”

“Your…healing, if we can even call it that… I’ve observed it for a while now out of sheer curiosity, and due to its immense capabilities, especially considering you don’t have a vision…but I noticed something was off”

Your body visibly tenses up, but no words pass your lips; Tighnari lets out a sigh and continues.

“In the action of healing others, you take on the pain yourself, don’t you?”

A somewhat awkward smile pulls at your lips, and your eyes fall shut. A decision is quickly made; there’s no point in lying to Tighnari - knowing him, he’s already got plenty of evidence to back you into a corner if he needs to.

“Ah, what gave it away?”

“I first noticed in Gandharva Ville - back when you first arrived in Sumeru, and healed a small wound for the Traveler. I thought it was odd that you seemed to be in pain, but I didn’t really care to question it, since your explanation about using a lot of energy made sense. But when it happened again… I got suspicious.”

“...you’re talking about the gash on Amir’s leg, i presume?”

“Mhm. I saw you wincing afterwards, and you were hiding a limp for a few days. You didn’t even let me take a look at it…”

Your teeth dig into your lower lip as you look away; normally, you were good at hiding the true nature of your ‘gift’, letting people believe that you just needed adequate rest. But, of course that excuse wouldn’t work for long on Tighnari.

“So no, it’s not…you haven’t done anything wrong. I can handle the pain just fine on my own, don’t worry. Like I said earlier, the wound isn’t fatal…” He pauses, steadying his breathing - talking continuously is doing a number on him, you can tell, but he’s taking it in stride. A small smile graces his face at your concerned expression, and he continues, this time softer. “…and to be honest, I don’t want to see you hurt. Not because of me, not because of anyone.” 

You suppress the urge to scoff, and roll your eyes playfully; “Oh, so you do care…” 

Tighnari clearly doesn’t find your remark as amusing as you do; his smile turns to a frown, and the sharp look in his eyes makes you want to take back what you just said.

“You… of course I care about you. Don’t ever doubt that for a second-“ he coughs again, but continues nevertheless. “-Hmph, do you even realise how relieved I was to see you rush in unceremoniously like that, unscathed?” 

“Well, I was playing a pretty intense game of tag with the weather-“ you laugh nervously, reminded of the ongoing thunderstorm outside. Tighnari scans you, his gaze landing on your right arm. His eyes narrow. 

“Yeah, and with the fatui, judging by the wound on your arm…” 

Your gaze softens. “Tighnari…” 

He sighs, exasperated - and clearly still in a lot of pain. You reach out to gently caress his face, hoping that the action will calm him down. His eyes close, and he leans into your hand, almost nuzzling it; you smile.

“Just be safe for me. That’s… that’s all I’m asking for, alright? And stop it with this self sacrificing thing you’ve got going on. Listen, I know you want to help people, and I’m by no means stopping you from doing that, but…taking risks like this is unnecessary. Don’t put your safety into jeopardy like this…” A lighting strike hits the ground right outside the entrance to the greenhouse, and Tighnari’s eyes widen briefly at the noise. His ears fall flat for a second, before he tries to straighten up again. He shakes his head as you open your mouth to speak.

“All life is important - including yours” He pauses again, gaze falling on one of the windows, before continuing with a whisper.

“…especially yours”

Heat rises to your cheeks and you look down, his words filling you with joy, more than you’d like to admit. Yet, it’s bittersweet.

Tighnari sighs when you avoid his gaze, lowering his head to chase yours. 

“Hey, look at me.”

Eventually, you glance up at him. A silent prayer leaves you, you hope that your flushed state isn’t as obvious as you feel it might be. But, judging by the small twitch of Tighnari’s lips, you’re failing pretty miserably at hiding it. He interrupts himself with another pained groan before he can comment, and you jump into action, grabbing his wrists out of reflex, concern washing over your face again. Tighnari gives you a warning glare - though his face softens quickly when you remain still.

“I mean it. You need to stay safe. Cyno, Aether, Paimon, Collei, heh, even Al Haitham needs you to stay safe. I… need you to come back safe.” He slowly pries his wrists free from your hands, grabbing them instead. Gentle thumbs rub your palms, trembling slightly as he continues; “This plan of yours is ambitious, to put it nicely…the last thing I want - or need - is for them to tell me you’re not coming back.”

Tighnari inhales suddenly, and you fear that he’s in pain again - the thought of healing him without permission briefly crosses your mind, deciding that you’d rather deal with the consequences later, until you realize that it’s not the pain from his wound this time. His voice breaks, the next words coming out meek, more so than you’ve ever heard. 

“Please, always come back. I don’t know what i’ll do if you don’t come back”

You finally meet his gaze properly, surprised to see him staring directly at you with narrowed eyes. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, though he’s trying to contain his breathing as you let his words sink in. 

“…I’m sorry, Tighnari. I… I really didn’t realize that you worry this much about me.” You whisper, gaze falling to your hands again.

He scoffs and looks away, voice still unstable.

“Hah, judging by our conversation, you probably didn’t even consider the possibility…you’re more reckless than the traveler sometimes” 

You wince, though you know you can’t argue. Tighnari sighs, leaning back against the pedestal he’s sat by. His eyes close again, the action pushing forward what seems to be a tear. Blink and you’ll miss it, and you pretend to do so - for now. 

“Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to…lecture you like that.” 

“Well, you’re not wrong, so…” 

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t make it alright that I’m lecturing you like you’re some…child who got lost in the forest. I must admit that communicating my feelings isn’t exactly my strong suit…seems to be a recurring theme with us scholars, huh.” 

You chuckle, knowing exactly who he’s referring to.

“I think you’ve done a pretty good job so far - only managed to enter full-blown lecture territory once, besides the odd few remarks here and there…”

Tighnari lets out what you assume is meant to be a laugh - though it’s more of a pained wheeze, followed up by another fit of coughs. You move to sit next to him, shuffling closer and leaning against the pedestal. His hand is still clutching yours as he looks towards the entrance. Another flash of lightning strikes close by, and he flinches, shrinking into himself again. You clutch his hand tighter, heart heavy at the reactions he’s clearly trying to hide.

Tighnari finally looks at you again.

“You really don’t get what I mean by that, do you?” 

You shake your head. You wouldn’t dare entertain the possibility. 

“Heh…you’re so smart, but always lack self confidence…I guess I’ll play along for-“ 

Both of your heads snap to the side when a strong flash of lightning strikes the roof of the greenhouse, the loud noise shocking you both. Tighnari clearly winces this time, and you push yourself off the pedestal, moving to sit in front of him while speaking.

“It’ll pass soon…as soon as the Balladeer realizes that the Traveler and Dehya have already gone on, hell stop the st-“ 

Tighnari gives your hand a squeeze.

“Don’t worry about me, love” 

You open your mouth to protest, but find yourself at a loss for words at the sudden nickname, accompanied by another soft smile from him. 

“Backtrack…5 seconds?” 

He suppresses another pained laugh, leaning slightly closer. 

“I just said not to worry about me, you big lummox, is your hearing really that awful? I’m willing to bet that it’s all of Paimon’s screaming…” 

In any other situation, you’d be wiping the shit-eating grin off his face with your fist (which he’d dodge, probably), but given the circumstances, all you let out is a frustrated noise and a quiet yell of “that’s not what you said”, while he leans back with another wheeze. 

“And stop laughing so much, you’re clearly in even more pain now!”

Tighnari shakes his head with a small smile. 

“Like I said - don’t worry about me, love. Worry about figuring out what I mean instead”

“You could literally be dying right now, and you want me to play guessing games?” 

“Well, we need to pass the time somehow while we wait this storm out.” 

You sigh, and feel your face flush again. You’re…quite unsure of what is going on between you and Tighnari. With everything you’ve been doing, all the stress of dealing with the sages and helping Nahida break free…you’ve hardly had time to think about it. Truthfully, it’s not worth the risk of getting your hopes up, either. The fond smiles, the banter, the way Tighnari fusses over you…you’ve always played it off as friendly affairs, even with Paimon and Aether snickering at your every conversation with him. But, you can only feign obliviousness for so long. 

You feel something soft - Tighnari’s tail - flick against your leg, as he intertwines your fingers with his. 

“Finally got it, hm?”

You’re unsure if it’s the pain and stress talking, but what you do know is that, regardless of influence, his words - and actions - are true. They hold a certain truth, a truth that brings warmth to your heart, and you can’t fight the smile that forces its way onto your face, breaking out into a grin as you nod. 

“Think so, yeah.” 

Tighnari mirrors your smile with his own; though exhaustion and pain seeps through, along with the occasional wince from the lightning, his smile holds just as much joy as yours. 

“So, always come back to me, alright?”

tw/cw: implied nsfw, 18+ only, marking, mostly fluff + yearning

SCARAMOUCHE can’t love you the way a human can.

he won’t tell you how much your presence soothes him, why he constantly seeks you out to give you inane orders, missions. he can’t tell you what he really thinks of you—you smell nice, your hand in his is warm, you make him feel something in his chest that he swore was long ago discarded. so he hides his kindness, his ever-so-fallible emotions, behind his lightning strikes.

“tsk, you’re such an idiot.” “are you really going to ask me a question you already know the answer to?” “get over here. don’t make me repeat myself.”

he thinks you’re a fool. it is one thing to love him as a god, to revere him and dedicate your life to him—but to love him as a man, in a human way? idiotic. absurd.

scaramouche is so used to people leaving him, discarding him once they grow bored or he loses his usefulnesss. he is not too much of a liar to acknowledge the fear exists in him: that one day you may do the same—leave him, discard him once you see how truly inferior he is to others.

it is hard enough to be a puppet whose strings were cut once, but to lose your audience too? it’s as if the world is crashing down on him once more.

but scaramouche wants so desperately to prove that he exists, that only he can bestow upon you the greatest ecstasy. that only he can fulfill you, leave his mark on you. he bites hard, he grips fiercely. he leaves a myriad of hickeys over every inch of you, marks you hard enough to leave purple splotches in the shape of his fingertips, angry red streaks down your back. when the marks disappear, he leaves more. and more.

they’re not going to fade like he had—you’re not going to forget him like his creator had. every day you should be reminded of how deeply he’s ingrained himself into you, how you’ll never be the same without him. he makes sure of it.

but he wonders sometimes if he should give into that softness that you awaken in him. when you’re lying bared before him, resting peacefully (something he never has to do). he likes observing you sleep, something so very human and mundane. something he would scorn to tell you if you were aware of it. brushing a strand of hair from your face, tracing patterns down your side, gripping the plushness of your thigh, he draws you closer to him this way.

in these moments, he thinks that if he had a heart, you would certainly have a tight hold on it.

that only makes him yearn for one even more.

Caught

A/N: I was supposed to post this during Cyno’s banner….but I took forever and now it’s here. I hope that y’all enjoy!

Pairing: Cyno x Reader

Summary: Reader, a student in the Akademiya, has grown bored with studies and started seeking out different ways to get caught by the General Mahamatra. Culminating in the latest chase.

CW: None

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⠀「 Good Game 」 

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!  

「 FEAT : 」 Kazuha x gn! reader

「 ### : 」 Starts out a lil tense but it’s fluff !! Suggestiveness? Kissing and sort of making out?? But nothing too wild. Flirty & cocky kazuha and flirty & competitive reader !! Modern AU. 

「 CWS : 」 Use of pseudo guns & a pseudo battle but (spoiler!!) its just a rlly intense laser tag game lmao. Reader gets pinned against the wall at one point, but it’s highly implied that you could escape whenever.

Collab entry for my beloved @anantaru​ & @bluexiao​ ‘s Sweet N Spice collab ♡

also if you see me posting this like 4 days before the deadline no you dont edit: reposting this bc it wasn’t showing up in tags 💔

There is the rhythmic thump of your blood pulsing in your ears, only contested by your ragged breaths and the distant noise of laser fire. Your heart is pounding in your chest, muscles wound tight and ready to spring into action at the barest hint of danger. There is sheer adrenalin running through your veins, your fight or flight instinct not having rested ever since the threat had made itself known.

It’s darker than you would have liked, the place illuminated only by painfully bright strobing lights of different colors— every time those lights flash, you’re not sure what’s enemy fire and what isn’t. Every time, you nearly jump out of your skin.

Cautiously, you dare to peek out from behind the wall where you’ve taken shelter. The lights don’t reveal any assailants prowling in your sight, so you give yourself the space to breathe a sigh of relief. The gun in your hand, pulsing with fluorescent lights,  feels too heavy for your tired limbs. The ache only makes itself more known as the seconds tick by, and it mounts when you sneak a glance at the small screen on your forearm, where you can keep track of your comrades’ status. 

All but two names had been greyed out.

Among your teammates, Ayaka had fallen not too long ago, with Thoma also biting the dust taking revenge on her murderer. The numbers on each opposing side dwindled little by little from there, and now only Yoimiya’s and your own name remained. She had gone on her own path a while ago to deal with one of the two enemies remaining, and you suppose knowing that she isn’t yet out of the fight is reassuring. But the faint flashing light on the battery of your gun —almost out of ammunition, fuck— is enough to send a pit right back into your stomach. 

You don’t know how much longer you can keep yourself alive, barely managing to dance out of the line of fire and shooting back when you can. There might not be enough juice left in this thing, you think, swallowing. Likely not enough to last you if you ran into—

“There you are.”

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carpe diem

when it came to your friend, you had little regard for anything, even yourself. what happened to abattouy should never have occurred, and you were determined to prove why.

cyno x gn!reader

rating: t

wc: 30k+

a/n: so cyno … amirght?  this fic would literally not be here without nessa. you have no idea what i put her through in the background. someone come save her. spoilers for tighnari story quest for sure. bunch of lore tidbits from 3.0.     

[also available to read on ao3]

         sumeru, nation rooted in the growth of knowledge,  nurtured its most promising seeds under the observance of the akademiya. in pursuit of their own goals and by the faith of greater lord rukkhadevata, scholars pledged their souls to the never ending race in pursuit of the next revelation of knowledge.

and frankly, it was a tiring venture.

Keep reading

cursed speech has always been exactly that, a curse. for as long as toge can remember, he’s been accidentally hurting those around him. his friends, his enemies, his family. he’s hurt them all somehow. it’s easy for the tongue to slip. it’s easy to say something you don’t mean and regret it later. being able to use his curse technique from birth has always been more of a burden then a blessing. 

with age he’s gotten used to it. with age, the anger and frustration has lessened. his personality, however strange and sarcastic, has mellowed out enough in his own way that the inability to articulate what he wants no longer bothers him. he’s grown accustomed to being misunderstood and unheard because he’s found other ways to communicate. the rice ball ingredients, paper and pens, drawings, movements, sign language. yes, toge has found a way around all of it. 

he finds that there is always a method to get across what he wants to say. after all, it’s easier than accidentally hurting the people he loves most. a small price to pay for their safety. 

toge also thinks that since meeting you, all of that has somehow gone out of the window. 

the thought first comes to him while you’re tucked under his arm on the couch. a still-short stint of dating, of fooling around and getting to know each other. of course, you’d known each other in high school, but he’s older than you so your time together in the halls was short and somewhat fleeting. now, it’s different. there’s time to get to know you. there’s time to fall in love with you. 

so it occurs to him, some chilly late-autumn night, that he loves you. it’s a gentle feeling at first, tugging softly on his chest while he watches you gaze at the movie in front of you. his eyes follow your parted lips, the way they hang open and shine lightly with the screen’s reflection. toge thinks to himself that there could be nothing more beautiful. that he loves you. 

at first, the realization is enough. it’s enough to know that he knows until it is not. until you laugh one day while walking down the street. until you stop to tie your shoe, crouching down and glancing up at him with a gentle smile. until you knot your fingers in his hair and pull him into your neck so that he can drag the flat of his tongue across your skin and taste you. then, toge is greedy. he wants more than he has. 

so he tells you. he scrawls it in big messy letters on a piece of paper and slides it across the kitchen counter. you smlie back at him, telling him that you love him too before stepping close and kissing him. then, that is once again enough. he knows and now you do too and toge doesn’t ever think he’ll tire of hearing the words leave your lips. 

but toge is greedy. he’s jealous and full of desire. he wants to say it. he wants to be able to tell you, out loud and in words, just how much you mean to him. toge wants to feel the weight of the word love on his tongue. he wants to kiss it with his front teeth, feel the roll of his tongue on the back of his incisors as it leaves his mouth. he wants to taste it. to put the weight of love into words and express it to you clearly. it’s not enough to write it, it’s not enough to circumvent it. 

and toge begins to think that none of it has ever been enough. there is no replacement for spoken word. there is no feeling like saying it, no way to circumvent the aching, bubbling frustration in his chest. 

one evening, he takes you by the shoulders in his kitchen and waits until he has your full attention. toge furrows his brows and looks at your face until your expression matches, until your focus falls into step with his. then, he removes his hands from your shoulder and places his closed his in front of him. he moves his other hand flat on top of it and moves it in a slow circle. 

his movements are sure and adamant. they’re forceful, like he’s trying to will the sound to come from the motion alone. then, he points to himself in one firm movement before taking his thumb and pointer finger and making the motion to pinch his chin in a downward stroke. then, he points back at you. 

they come swiftly, the motions of his hands, but he’s making an effort to be more confident. it’s as if he is trying to make the sign louder to that you can hear it, or rather, feel it. toge repeats it again and he laments that he cannot taste them on his tongue.

 for now, his actions will have to do the talking and when he rests his hands at his sides, brows pulled together in the center out of frustration, he can feel his affection swell. he feels the way it hums to life in his chest the same way anger does. that steady rise that lifts his lungs as you reach for him and pull yourself against him. 

such a simple phrase—three words—and he’s not allowed to say them. i love you. he wants to tell you out loud. toge wants to feel them roll from his lips, to hear the way his voice takes shape to let you know just how much you mean.

but there are things that inumaki cannot change. there are things that must be done for the greater good, for your safety. so toge thinks that cursed speech has always and will always be exactly that, a curse. 

did you think i wouldn't notice?

prompt: coming to school while sick + "i like you, like, like you."

STARRING. cyno ♡ gn!reader | COLLEGE AU |

warnings: house-husband cyno (metaphorically), lovesick cyno, not proofread, written at 2am on a school night, written before cyno's release

cyno never took you one for a fool; at least, not that much of a fool.

you have always had a knack for proving him wrong, though, because archon, who do you think you are? who are you to make him—cyno, number one apathetic-scary-man among many—worry?

well, clearly, you have a very high impression of yourself.

it all started when you didn't show up to your usual meeting spot on campus—cyno noticed, of course he did, it's you, after all. he noticed the way you didn't respond to his texts, followed by your absence and lack of notice.

it's fine, he thought, strolling to class. one hand carries a bottle of water—for him—while the other carries an uncharacteristically flavorful drink that cyno would never buy.

but he did. he did it because it's your favorite; he did it because he knows you love this particular brand, because you just love.

cyno supposes he'll just save this for when he sees you next.

to no one's surprise, he doesn't. during lunch, once again, you're gone. now, cyno is one to embrace the solitude—dare he say, he likes it. alone, the boy is able to clear his mind and fully organize his thoughts.

he likes the silence, but not as much as he likes you.

still, no reply, cyno muses, checking his phone. he's about to give in and call you, but—as stated before—you always have a way of proving him wrong.

because archons, why did you think it was okay to pass by your "usual meeting spot?" to cyno, you are the sun and he, the earth. to cyno, his entire being, his life, revolves around your warmth and comfort—with you, he flourishes in the pits of the abyss, the endless void of nothingness.

to cyno, you are as conspicuous as red laid against green or green laid against red. you are complementary among a thousand, a color so vibrant, you light up that abyss of his, that vacuum of space.

(and when he sees you, he becomes a part of that vacuum, that void; he becomes color.)

there you are. cyno stands up immediately, following you into the crowds of lunch hour. oh, there you go again—tugging him along the strings of life for he is at your disposal, your call. cyno is yours, dammit. he is yours, all yours.

you do not have to be his, though. cyno doesn't want you to be "his," because you are nobody's. what a contradiction—what a fool he has become, because who in the right mind gives themselves up for nothing in return?

cyno does. certified "don't-mess-with-me" boy has also become a lovesick fool in the face of "you."

archons, how he's ashamed to admit that... not out loud, though, celestia, never out loud.

he admits his adoration in a subtler, calmer way. cyno portrays love through widened eyes at your staggering steps, quiet curses under his breath as he quickens his pace to catch up to you.

you're sick, he deduces simply by your gait.

oh, why are you sick? what stress must your body be under? why is it you that has to suffer?

cyno's rationality flies out the window as the sun swallows him whole. he basks in the warmth that flutters through his chest, calming his stomach. oh, why you? it should never be you, the one who suffers.

"and who are you hiding from?" cyno asks, catching up to you. his breath fans your earlobe and you nearly flinch, eyes widened as you turn towards him.

a regret on your half, maybe—because the way cyno stares at you, gaze piercing your soul... it may have been a better idea to stay home, yeah?

"oh, cyno!" you wince at the sound of your own voice, tone sounding a little... dead. "what brings you here?"

cyno merely blinks, and a cough you've been trying to suppress ends up making itself known as the boy's disappointed expression wounds you fatally.

without another word, cyno's palm comes up to your forehead. lips forming a thin line at the contact, his hand leaves your face and interlaces with your fingers. tugging you back to your dorm, your complaints merely fall on deaf ears.

"wait, i have a class!"

"skip it," cyno replies monotonously, not even batting an eye. you nearly choke, because is that really cyno? straight-a student, (sort of) teacher's pet—he prefers to be called an assistant—and infamous among his department as the one person you should never ask stupid questions to... and he told you to skip?!

"close your mouth," cyno says. "a fly will come in."

"you can't even see me," you retort.

then, cyno pauses. he stops walking, craning his head over his shoulder as he merely offers you a gentle—almost uncharacteristic—smile.

"i don't need to."

it's uncharacteristic, actually. if anyone were to see that tender expression on his face, they'd start running for the hills because no way cyno is capable of looking like that.

no way cyno's usually-steeled eyes can melt, no way cyno is capable of revealing a smile so lovely, so kind, in the face of a burden (you being sick.)

but ah, yes way. yes way, cyno can gaze at you like you've stolen the world he once was. yes way, cyno can follow you like you're the lover he's sworn to keep in his past life, and the life before that, and the life before that...

cyno pulls out the copy of your dorm key, unlocking it in your stead. during the trek back to your home, your steps gradually became more and more erratic, thus heightening his worry.

why would you try and learn like this? cyno thinks with a sigh, ushering you inside. his movements are adept, as if he's done this a thousand times—and you know what? maybe he has. maybe in those past lives of his, he has nursed you, he has loved you all the same.

"don't move," he commands, tucking you into bed. "i'll make you some porridge."

hm, you think groggily, mind hazed with sleep and sickness. cyno would make a good house-husband.

you'd never tell him that, though.

cyno merely grimaces once you ask him to feed you.

"seriously?" he asks, holding the bowl of porridge in one hand and a spoon in the other.

"yes, i'm sick... can't you see?" you cough heavily afterwards, emphasizing your point.

cyno, on the other hand, wishes he couldn't see.

"fine."

no more words are exchanged as he begins to feed you slowly. before offering you each bite of porridge, cyno makes sure to lightly blow on the food so it doesn't burn your tongue.

it's subtle, that love of his. it emanates in every touch and spoonful of porridge he gives you, but to the naked eye, cyno's affection is inconspicuous.

after you're done eating, the boy lightly brushes your head before finding a cool towel to rest atop your forehead.

"sleep," he says, barely above a whisper.

your eyes are already shut, and cyno waits patiently for your breaths to even out. once they do, he leaves to do the dishes—slightly scowling at the array of instant foods on your countertop.

he ought to cook you some real meals later.

long ago, cyno heard a tale that said to kiss someone in order to steal their sickness away. it's a stupid thing, that tale, but ah, for childhood dreams and tiny aspirations, it wouldn't hurt to give it a shot, yeah?

a queasy feeling takes over his stomach as the boy stares at you. your eyebrows are furrowed in your sleep, beads of sweat sliding down the side of your face. don't do that, cyno thinks. don't look like that.

he doesn't like it, your uncomfortable expression. stop it, will you? cyno hates how you make him feel in moments like these—how every little flutter of your eyelash and frown of your lips make his heart ache because oh, please, don't be sad.

quietly, the boy presses his index finger to your chapped lips. his eyes trace over your face, an action he'd never dare to even perceive usually—but ah, how he wishes he could take that expression of yours away.

why does it have to be you that is sick? why not him, why not him?

"i like you,"—do you know that?—"like, like you," he says to no one. he says it now, while you're asleep and unable to hear, because cyno's too afraid to do it when you can. what will you think, knowing that he loves you? what will you do, knowing that he'd rather tell the abyss than the sun?

and then, he gets up and leaves your dorm. locking the door behind him, cyno leans his back against the frame before grazing his index finger against his bottom lip.

cyno's taken. so, so taken.

5 (+ 1)

or five times you attempted to pet tighnari's ears and the one time he let you

tighnari x gn! reader rated: t wc: 9k+

a/n: i swear i'm not a genshin writer. every now and again one just really hits me and won't leave me alone. i'm shaking at the prospect of meeting cyno.

|1|

when you had taken up the life of a very luxurious forest ranger, you hadn’t done so with any grand goal in mind. growing up you’d never been enticed by the prestige of the akademiya. the too tight robes warded off any appeal of unlimited knowledge. 

you weren’t much of a haggler either, so market trading had never been much of an option. to be honest, in most cases you couldn't be bothered and would give away something for free if it meant getting the person out of your face.

maybe as a child you’d dreamed of theatre. promises of dancing in front of a crowd. or performing a sincere song of gratitude in honour of your generous archon. but there was a reason why only the children of sumeru dreamt. because it saved you the reality of embarrassment. 

ultimately it made sense for you to be a forest ranger. you were blessed with a vision and had the aptitude for conflict when needed. you didn't mind being outside. sumeru was a beautiful land of bountiful vegetation and fauna. you were proud to be part of the force protecting it. 

so naturally, you were destined to join their ranks. you would fit in splendidly as long as you followed the basic code of conduct.

the rules were simple:

execute every possible strategy to ensure the safety of the public

do not engage in any withering zone excavation without first reporting it

do not under any circumstances attempt to touch master tighnari’s ears.

you believed that honour should be given where it was due, and tighnari certainly earned a bulk of it in sumeru. he was as tenacious in his research as he was in his determination to cull the withering.  

it was admirable. unquestionably gave his subordinates something to look up to. it helped that he made an easy guy to work for. tighnari was an abundance of knowledge, never failing to deliver relevant facts about any form of botany in sight. 

during your initial interview he completely sidetracked himself from testing your competency in favour of dumping the equivalent of a knowledge capsule on the entire forest on you. and during the whole time all you could think was how cute.

those fluffy, distractingly soft ears he had that twitched with every emotion. you noticed that sometimes they swayed unprompted, as if they had a mind of their own. the man himself seemed oblivious to your obsession, or just so immune to the attention at this point that it hardly phased him. 

it was a shame really. 

because by the time he realised you were out of your seat, he had a split second to snatch your offending hand before your fingers to reach the fur. the utterly adorable culprits seemed to tease your failure, flickering invitingly just out of reach of your wiggling fingers. 

at least you had enough integrity to smile in the face of defeat as your future boss leered at you unimpressed. 

he spent the remainder of your now orientation laminating over the very extensive punishment policy to be expected of any broken infractions. 

|2|

it was safe to say the threat of punishment didn’t weigh too heavily on your consciousness. what you did learn, was everything more the life of a ranger had to offer. it wasn’t as though you belittled it to a simple forest guide. you were well aware of how each and every one of your colleagues put their life on the line to protect the gifts from the first of the dendro goddess. 

but you never expected your contribution to feel so satisfying. 

every day your body got stronger, gaining the resilience and stamina to endure long treks through the forest. you became more in tune with your vision, able to protect not only yourself but others from harm. unexpectedly, tighnari’s long winded tangents began sounding more appealing as you absorbed the information rather than repel it. 

with each passing day you grew into the role of a proper forest ranger.

though there was one thing you hadn’t grown out of. 

“you two will be assigned with me. we’ll patrol the southeast canopy.”

tighnari was always so serious when delegating assignments. archon’s bless him. given it was a momentous occasion as it was imperative to understand everyone’s role so that their was a fair opportunity to return home safe and sound. 

it was just he way his ears followed each command. the adorable quiver not at all equivalent to his resolute voice. even after over a year under his command, it was still so distracting. to be fair, you’d learned to control your urges. after the second attempt and a week of making sure the long row of lamps remained glowing, you had at least accepted the pressing issue of testing his patience. 

your respect didn’t go unrewarded either. over time, you learned that under those cute ears was a very interesting man. you always knew he valued his time in the forest and that the publications were not just for show like some of the akademiya graduates. but to witness his unfiltered passion for the forest was … kind of refreshing. 

it made for genuine conversations that allowed you to feed off one another. while you’d never quite match his never ending knowledge for botany, you accompanied it well with your growing love for fauna. 

in short, tighnari had become an unexpected friend. 

with very endearing ears that you still felt the urge to touch after many, many months of barely held restraint. 

it was admirable. 

worth the gained friendship. 

and yet.

collei’s shoulder knocked comfortably into yours as she hopped with glee. her joy made her unaware to the sharp gazes watching her exuberant movements for any signs of fatigue. being around collei had eventually led you to believe that something was different about her.

as a fellow trainee for a time, the two of you had grown close enough for her to feel secure in delving into more of her past. her illness wasn’t necessarily rare but it wasn’t often you met many affected with as much optimism as she had. 

there was no doubt she had bouts of pain. sometimes you would cover her patrols to give her extra days of rest. tighnari was the most observant, always knowing when she needed a break. still the girl was a refreshing take on life in these darkening days. 

it helped that you both shared a fixation with a certain pair of furry ears.

whereas she was more timid in her appreciation, you had yet to shed your bold approach. 

well, maybe you got a little smarter. 

“but i already know about the sweetwater mushrooms,” collei whispered back, confusion staining her voice. there were times like this that her charmingness rivalled tighnari. 

you resisted the urge to pat the crown of her head. 

you all knew about the infamous fungi. upon its discover, tighnari had spent nearly a month after submitting his entry into the new rainforest guide speaking all about its elements; to anyone or anything regardless how responsive. 

if it was a botanical topic the fox found it hard to resist engaging. 

leaning closer, you kept a close eye on the leading man.” i know you do but tighnari always has something more to say. i just need you to ask him about it.” you refrained from using the word distract. 

collei’s ability to lie wasn’t a favourable skill. more often than not she caved in on herself before being able to spin a convincing tail. you’d learned fairly quickly the first time you convinced her to test a new route. the two of you hadn’t found any trouble but the slight delay in return roused a few questions. and of course tighnari had been the investigator. she never had a winning chance. 

“i still don’t get why i have to ask.”

“because i need an opening to try to touch his ears.”

the sharp gasp she left out was enough to shatter the gossip bubble as tighnari turned with a suspicious frown. his gaze fell heavily on you as the culprit. 

“what are you two muttering about?”

laughing sheepishly, your hip checked subtly against the younger girl’s as you took the lead. “just about the dusk birds. their mating season is approaching.”

tighnari raised a brow, but didn’t question further. one of the ways you’d managed to bond with collei had been over the observation of the bird hatchlings. they were one of the safer offsprings you were allowed to track in your earlier days, making you very familiar with their nesting grounds. it was one of the few areas he allowed you both to wander together without supervision. 

“uh huh, well unfortunately i doubt we’ll get many sightings this low. please try to stay vilgint for any threats.”

tighnari rolled his eyes at your comical salute but was unable to hide his small grin. it only fed into your wider one. 

good. he was in an amicable mood today. you’d both need it. 

collei managed to remain cool headed despite your hanging plan as the three of you ventured through the more worn paths. travellers and students alike tended to frequent these parts, fending off most wildlife who didn’t want to be bothered. it was mostly flora that flourished, taking up any available space. 

the perfect conversation starter. 

the green haired trainee squeaked when you cleared your throat and nudged her softly. the noise caused a flicker to tighnari’s ear but he otherwise left the two of you to your devices as he examined the population of fungi. 

your gaze darted to the seemingly preoccupied man and back, to which collei gulped but carefully approached. “um, tighnari. do you mind going over the procedure for warning travellers about fungi again? sometimes i stumble with the more insistent ones.”

you could hear a bit of truth bleed into the ploy. it was certainly convincing enough as tighnari gestured for her to come to closure as he plucked a few samples. “certainly! it’s always good to familiarise yourself. sometimes they can get a little tricky. like this one, the bell-shaped and conical caps can often confuse people. you have to really pay attention to the arch…”

archons bless him, it didn’t really take much. 

tighnari’s eyes darted briefly to you as you settled near them. his body turned to welcome you into the discussion, but he otherwise continued his deep analysis of proper measurements of cap width. the fleeting eye contact was enough for you to witness the undeniable brightness as he conversed. 

as much as you liked to tease him, the jest hardly had any weight when the man was as serious about his research. he often responded with a chide about the importance of understanding and how it promoted coexistence. and then he would give you editions of his publications for you to study. 

the first few times, after you’d baulked at the depth of the information, you’d actually managed to discover a few interesting elements. despite his ability to drone on, the passion he felt was undeniable when reading through this material. even if you didn’t retain much of the actual reading, the smile you developed lingered. only to widen when you’d witnessed the excited flicker of his tail when you’d returned the books with a few inquiries of your own. 

tighnari took your interest in the fauna populating the forest seriously, cultivating the bud of fascination and furthering it. you hadn’t developed enough academic discretion to attempt a article- not that it would have been credible without the proper education- but tighnari baubles your insights all the same, often using your tracking skills to help develop new routes during various mating and hibernation periods. 

it … really helped you feel at home. valued amongst the other forest rangers. 

so what if you occasionally found your cheeks warming whenever he complimented your new discoveries. 

“when people ask, it's important to point out as many examples as you can to help them families themselves. I’m most cases you only have their attention for a few minutes so you need to capitalise.”

you had to give it to collei, she was either fully immersed or integrating very well into the diversion. though when tighnari got like this, it was nearly one in the same. 

rolling onto your knees, you paused as those endearing astute ears twitched in your direction. tighnari hadn’t skipped a beat, however instinct was so inherent. it made for an unfair advantage, however you had desensitisation on your side. the next disturbance you made as you leaned closer hardly got a reaction as his second nature focused on the world outside your bubble. 

it was a flattering downfall that you’d happily exploit as your hand neared your objective. 

“- actually that’s a common mistake. some of the gills look similar but if you notice here..:”

oh no. 

in one fluid motion, tighnari managed to capture your hovering hand, dragging it forward under his arm to come in contact with his other. the motion dragged you flush against his back as he manipulated your fingertips against the underside of the mushroom. 

“-… there’s a coarser distinction. of course, you have to be careful when encouraging other to touch freely as some can still be poisonous.”

naturally you doubted tighnari would use you so freely as an impromptu demonstration, punishment be damned. though the way he kept your appendage hostage implied that you weren’t free from reprimand. 

poor collei chuckled nervously as tighnari held out the fungi for her to try, eyes wondering anxiously between the two of you. from your imprisonment, you were unable to see what expression tighnari was giving off, but if the tight grip was any indicator it was safe to hypothesise that it wasn’t in your favour. 

“i um- see. thank you, tighnari.”

tighnari didn’t appear to have any ill will towards the girl which was a small grace. his tone, however, was noticeably pinched as he directed the conversation over his shoulder. 

“do you have any questions, ranger?”

yep. 

there’s the wrath. 

accepting defeat, your head careened forward into the hollow of his shoulder as you mumbled your negative with the shake of a head. Immediately you felt his posture stiffen in responses to your relaxed submission. the proximity awarded you a personal showcase of the heat crawling up the back of his neck. 

interesting. 

“we’ll then!” tignari forced a cheerful bravado as he brought you both to an arupt stand, releasing you in favour of stepping forward to lead. “collei, listen closely as they recite every classification as we finish our patrol. we can make note of their mistakes so that they don’t make them again when they extensively copy them onto the new pamphlets for next release.”

it didn’t evade you how the fox refused to face you as he pressed forward. you dared to guess that the rosy hue of his next might match the roundness of his cheeks.

perhaps some discoveries were worth the failures. 

|3|

“I really want to feature the spinokrok in my next story but I’ve never really seen one up close. dad says it’s too dangerous though.”

“he’s right. they’re at the very bottom of the ravine.”

“oh…”

“but sometimes i pass through on patrols. if you’d like, i can snap a reference photo for you!”

“really? that would be awesome, thanks so much!”

children’s happiness was truly a unique fruit of motivation, both gratuitous and frankly slightly treacherous to consume. tighnari might liken it to one of the colourful sprouts that populate the banks near the cliffside; beautifully cunning but sure to leave you with a nasty surprise.

—okay, maybe that was a little dramatic. 

but you were certainly going to be in for quite the scolding if tighnari found out that you derailed your patrols for the sake of taking a leisure photo of wildlife. in the defence of safety, the fox wasn’t as easily swayed by a childish promise. 

fortunately, you were adept enough with just about any patrol path through the rainforest by now. your experience often persuaded tighnari to give allowance for you to tend to the paths along the outskirts of the village solo. 

which you were totally doing. 

just from a view a couple hundred metres below. 

the path towards the wetland ravine was a muddy line in the undergrowth, a quieter trail that rarely gathered much traffic: traveller or wildlife. to be honest, you hardly ever saw anything other than the spinokrok’s down here. though given their diet, it wasn’t much of a surprise. 

you carefully neared the bankside, watching the position of the sun in between the treetops. you’d already bartered away a lot of your time venturing this low. while you were known for a bit of wandering, if you took too long to check-in someone would end up alerting tighnari before long. the sky was already beginning to bleed into a light orange, the beginning shades of the setting sun melting into the blue above. 

not your first nighttime return, but the light scolding would be easy enough to shake off. 

the sudden splash drew your attention to the winding river as a crane took flight. the skittish fowl wouldn’t have been alerted to your presence this early which meant that your targets weren’t far off. 

tugging the kamera from your knapsack, you followed the line of the water through the lens. 

“there you are…”

razi would be pleased with the prints of the small brood of three. highlights from above complimented the red scales nicely. curious, you swung the lens further upstream in an attempt to capture a few more. known for their meat, if undisturbed it would be easy enough to find at least another two or three. 

however as the slithering vines stretched norther further, twisting through branches on its congest to conquer vegetation, you found the rapidly darkening view to be concerning. sure enough, the once plentiful flora was beginning to shrink on itself and take on a dull shade. the distinctive red flow of the withering zone was seated right in the apex of the blistering landscape. 

“here too?”

the area was small, but this route was part of the weekly assignments rather than the more frequent. had you not come here in search of fauna, it likely wouldn’t have been discovered for a few more days. unfortunately, locating it yourself was tantamount to giving away your private detour. 

for a brief moment you debated taking the chance to report, weighing the pros and cons. ultimately, the loss of independency once tighnari tracked your impromptu route was too great of a squander. besides, it was a small devastation. you were qualified to handle it.

—except for the corrupted machina lingering just out of sight. 

the narrow lens of the kamera hadn't been able to capture the additional dangers before you neared. had you been aware, you would have attempted to at least down one before you got too close. it was a tight battle, suffering under the thick miasma while trying to cut off the source. 

you’d managed to down the bulkier of the two, but the swindling snake-like projection had been doing an annoying job of evading your strongest attacks. with your hp at threatening level, coupled with low energy regeneration, you were starting to regret your choices just a little bit. 

you briefly wondered if tighnari would scold you through the eulogy. 

the darkness blanketing the forest worked against you, as the remaining threads of daylight faded. the red glow of the withering was the least comforting form of light to rely on as you made a hasty dodge away from the blasting beam. 

“oh, crap.”

a miscalculation saw your foot caught on a fraying vine, careening your forward as you landed heavily onto the ground. the threatening wind of the machina generating energy had you sucking in a harsh breath as you attempted to stand, resulting in a sharp jolt of pain as your ankle protested. a cold chill numbed your body in the worst way as the unsettling realisation of your actions weighed in. scrambling feebly for your weapon, you attempted to shield the next blow though you knew it wouldn't be enough. 

“enshroud!”

your body jerked in alarm as a cloud of green circled the earth around you. the lack of visibility should have been worrying, had you not been very familiar with it’s caster; and the inevitable reckoning that would come. 

the first half came in the form of a series tanglevine shafts trained to track and devastate. the secondary wave wiped out the last of the threats before your savour was able to focus on the bleeding blooms. you’d never been more grateful to witness a successful clearance, as the suffocating effects of the withering abed away. it gave you just enough clear air to breath a grateful sigh of relief before it all soured. 

the second half of your retribution, was a quieter approach of wraith then you were use to. tighnari refused to look you in the eye as he kneeled before your injured limb. not that that you were trying to see the reflection of your guilt staring back at you. it gave you the opportunity to observe that he’d come alone, making you wonder if he’d been informed or had simply stumbled upon you. 

neither option was beneficial. 

the fox was obviously simmering, that much was clear even in his silence. he’d produced a small aid kit from his belt and was examining your ankle. the first sounds of annoyance permeating the air when you squeaked at the firm pressure against the joint. 

it was obvious that you wouldn’t be walking out of here. 

as if you weren’t in enough trouble. 

tighnari’s reticence preserved as he tied a stiff bow at the end of your wrapping before turning to offer his back. sighing, you accepted your fate and looped your arms around his neck. tighnari waited until your knees settled at his sides before he rose to his feet, added a second security under the weight of your thighs. 

at first you hoped to construct a plausible excuse in his silence, but after you’d practised the same redemption for the twelfth time you were starting to become more concerned about his resilience. you dont think you've ever witness tighnari hold back a scolding this long. 

unable to hold out any longer, you poked the hornet’s nest. 

“so razi has this new story idea.”

yeah you were throwing the kid under the bus, sue you. 

the first flicker of his ears was a subtle warning, but you pressed through. 

“he wanted to use the spinokroks as his next character but he’d never really been able to see one up close. and naturally it wouldn’t be safe for a child to traverse the forests. even with his father.”

there goes the second ear. 

“so being the helpful forest ranger i am under your tutelage, i offered to secure a reference photo for him. which of course—”

tighnari’s voice came quiet and strained. “please stop talking.”

you waited for him to say more, sure that he’d have more to tack on, but no other words left his lips. it was disconcerting in a way you hadn’t experienced before. you'd suffered through annoyance, frustration and some rage. 

but rarely disappointment. 

it was bitter tasting. 

it was rather telling when even the wildlife seemed to avoid the pair as you ascended out of the ravine. tighnari managed to not only reach the outskirts of the village, but did so without cracking under the pressure of your culpability. 

unfortunately you weren’t as robust. 

“tigh—”

“for every word, i’m adding a week of lamp maintenance duty.”

you squeezed your arms and legs around him in a hug, seeking out a thread of comfort through the throbbing pain of your ankle. 

“i’m sorry.”

tighnari sucked in a sharp breath as his steps halted. you could see the first glow of the lamps in the distance, no doubt a night crew lingering near to welcome the late returners. 

“you’re an idiot.”

a tight fist squeezed your heart as you shuddered against his back. 

“i know.”

“another week! i cannot believe your absolute disregard for your welfare. not only in straying from your patrols but to attempt to clear a withering zone without reporting it first. what were you thinking?”

your lips parted, voice small,” well i thought given how far off it was that no one would come across it before it spread.”

the fox was quietly shaking under you,” i’m tempted to bench you for a year for this alone. you could have been killed.”

“but i wasn’t.”

tighnari didn’t acknowledge the crackled excuse as he resumed the ascent towards the heart of the village. the conversation was over, at least for tonight. you almost felt bad for those hapless to witness the quiet fury as the leader trudged through the canopy. though the arrangement surely painted a telling story no one dared to stop or question.

upon entering your bungalow, tighnari silently backed into your bed until you took the hint.

as your arms slipped from around him, your fingertips brushed against the furry cartilage. though the action went ignored by both parties.

“rest, we’ll discuss this in the morning.”

|4|

the discussion did not come the following morning, or the rolling day as the sun rose and set. given your ailment you weren't exactly able to seek out your punishment, though the waiting game felt like the precursor. 

for the first three days, your only visitors were collie and one of the local healers. tighnari likely hadn’t banned the nervous girl, allowing her to stumble in at first light to assess your injuries. it seemed as though he also didn’t inform her of much as she tired to glean what she could. 

unfortunately, your mood hadn’t really improved from the night before, nor had your pain levels. you managed a tight smile at best, gritting through a scarce overview. the overhanging rumours were that you finally pushed tighnari to his limits. which was not too far from the truth. 

your medicine came in three intervals, and each visit was just that. umm only offer a genial knowing close-lipped smile as she applied the numbing cream and rewrapped your joints. the only news came from collei with each meal. it was never what you wanted to hear, but the sound of a voice other than your thoughts was welcome. 

you were able to keep up with light chat, the both of you doing an amicable job at avoiding the shaggy sumpter beast in the room. if the flightiness she gave off was anything to go by, then tighnari hadn’t completely cooled off. initially, you’d only probed subtly. asking about her patrols to see who accompanied her. questioning new withering zone reports to gauge who might be assigned. either tighnari had instructed her to be tightlipped or she was on as much of a lockdown as you were because the information gleaned was inconsequential. 

it wasn’t until the fifth day, when you were able to balance on your injured ankle for longer than a minute that you dared to try for more. 

umm had just finished, stepping clear of the doorway to allow collei to maneuver freely with the two bowls of lunch. the younger girl was in a lighter mood, giving you the extra confidence to push. 

you took a bite of the leftover stew first, before testing the waters. “has tighnari taken you on any deeper patrols lately?”

the girl stiffened but otherwise did not show any signs of distress. 

“not really, he’s been kind of strict with patrols lately. only seniors have been assigned to the forest floor. i patrolled the understory with nasrin yesterday though! the dusk birds are starting to nest.”

you could resist a soft smile as the girl lead comfortable into a short tangent about the different locations she’d tracked in her notebook. she loved to watch the hatching process from the birth to first flight. tighnari was often more lenient with her during this season. you were pleased to know your mess up hadn’t resulted in that being taken away.

“hopefully i’ll be healed enough to catch one of the hatchings.”

collei’s gaze flickered to your freshly wrapped ankle, “tighnari wouldn’t say but he’s been pretty testy about ranger etiquette lately. well more than useful.”

“yeah, i was pretty stupid,” you muttered, quoting the fox’s words from that night. 

collei sat upright on the chair by your desk, responding to your despondent mood. “he’s not nearly as bad as before though. i mean that morning after he was really mad. not like loud angry, but everyone knew not to test him. but he’s calmer now”, she assured.

you assumed as much. avoiding you was likely the best way to keep his temper in check.

you watched as the green haired trainee squirmed in her seat, no doubt uncomfortable at the idea of being between the brewing conflict. tighnari no doubt tried to ease that predicament by withholding information. the least you could do was honour your half to keep from setting her off. 

“umm said i should try walking around more. i got permission to pace the platform if you want to join.”

the girl jumped at the chance, nearly losing her bowl in the process. laughing, you quickly took hers and set it on the desk with yours before standing to your feet. collei was at your side, urging your arm over her shoulder. it wasn’t really necessary but you’d never turn down the girl’s assistance. 

carefully the two of you ambled through the leaves shrouding your entrance. it wasn’t the first time this week that the sun warmed your skin. umm had urged you to test the distance from your bed to your porch on the second day with each visit there after. it helped tp press your limitations while keeping the joint from getting too stiff. but this was the first time you’d been able to venture far enough out to interact with more than the same two people for the last few days. 

collei remained diligent as she led you down the straight path, attention not straying from your gait as you greeted faces you haven't seen in awhile. the reception was overall positive, your health and wellbeing superseding the wraith that had hung over the encampment for the past week. it narrowed down the list of those you’d need to apologise to at least. 

“oh it’s tighnari!”

your gaze snapped to her extended finger, noting the tall tuff of ears before anything else. his back was turned to you, a fortunate thing as you still weren’t sure how to face him just yet. he appeared to be conversing with a group, though it wasn’t the usual collection of rangers waiting for assignments. 

you recognized the garments however. 

collei groaned as she sagged under your arm. “its the akademiya again. when will they ever learn?”

likely no time soon, as the pressure from both the forest and threat of the ‘scarlet king’ followers continued to rise. the first time you witnessed the prestigious envoy attempting to recruit the fox, you’d been in awe. it was somewhat of an honour to be approached by anyone doning the gowns. next to the archon herself, they were the reigning power. however the prestige lost a light grace, when tighnari scoffed at the invitation. 

it was one of the occasions that you’d really come to appreciate more than just his vast knowledge. of course, you respected him as a leader but it was different to consider his understanding of plant life on a scholarly level. his tangents that he loved to rattle your ear with were published and very popular articles. 

he was something of a celebrity. a fact that you loved to tease just to see the tops of his cheeks grow warm at the admission. 

now, even at this distance, you could see a similar red dusting his fair skin. but not in the pleasant way that warmed your chest. 

no it seemed that an inkingly of your excursion still peaked his heart rate. and this wasn't making it any better.

that wasn’t good.

“collei, please help me.”

“huh? oh, wait! not too fast.”

tighnari grit through a tight smile, barely hanging onto his fangs to keep them from showing. at a young age his mother taught him that human could find it threatening. frankly, right now he wished to find out how much of a truth that was if it got these nuisances out of his hair. 

this was the last thing that he wished to deal with right now. the institution had taken a different route it seemed, sending students under the premise of studying under his tutelage. something he would maybe consider any other time than now. 

his foot tapped irritably as one of the bolder ones spoke his piece, spouting words of prose that meant nothing to him. they were all weak and obvlivious children wandering aimlessly. he had enough of those under his own watch. 

“master tighnari, i've read all your publications intensively and feel that i would be a valuable asset in your further research of the withering zones. i believe that together we can find a cure.”

tighnari barely resisted rolling his eyes. it was almost laughable. the withering had plagued them for centuries and they were still no closer to curbing it. no amount of research at this point was going to factor in. all they could do was contain, and that was a skill the akademiya didn’t teach.

breathing audibly through his nose, the fox attempted to remain cordial. “i appreciate your determination, however, i'm not in a position right now to allocate more rangers to facilitate your safety. the forest—”

“—i’ve also read intently on the local fauna and proper was to track warning signs of predators…”

tighnari really hated when he was interrupted. 

“i’m confident in my ability to spot danger before it becomes a problem.”

especially by know-it-alls who were overstepping in his domain.

the student continued on unware of the growing dangers, “i’ve brought a few of my manuscripts with me if you’d like to browse some of my speculations and hypotheses…”

tighnari brow twitched as the student droned on. for someone who boasted about extensive research on understanding predators he was rather obvious to the one standing before him. the same couldn't be said about his colleagues who were carefully edging back. 

“if i could just get a few samples—”

the student had sense enough to notice as the plant scholar suddenly flinched, hand coming up to grasp the wrist of the hand threatening to touch the tip of his ear. it was the first time since opening his mouth that he’d taken into account the strained curl to the lips of the botany researcher. 

his gaze then flickered to the more relaxed, if not slightly sheepish smile of the forest ranger behind. they seemed otherwise unconcerned despite the death grip they'd been trapped in for … attempting to touch master tighnari’s ears?

the student felt a shudder wrack his body as the fox’s grimace smoothed into … something that he would one day recognize as a reckoning he’d be fortunate to survive in years to come. 

“apologies, you’ll have to excuse me. it appears one of my rangers feels well enough to venture off their bed rest and is due for some new assignments.” with that, the lead ranger looped the still trapped limb over his shoulder before assisting the injured ranger back up the canopy. 

“you can give your manuscripts to my trainee, collei.”

the green hair trainee in question waved timidly, unsure of how she got in this position but willing to help.” hello, im forest ranger trainee collei. please let me assist you safely out of the forest.”

|5|

“it’s master tighnari!”

believe it or not, forest rangers did get off days. while it was still heavily frowned on to use that time to exploit certain privileges to free roam the forest, there were other activities that some could get up to. 

some would use the opportunity to travel to the city or port for the market or to visit family.

others utilised their freedom to work on personal research. 

then there was tighnari who used the opportunity to research the local flora … via oral experimentation. 

your small project had been tossed aside in favor of darting out of your bungalow at the cry of fright from the green haired girl. it wasn’t the first time you’d witnessed tighnari taking his passion … to the next level. that time, curiosity had thrown him into a rather long slumber that he’d conveniently woken up from after a gratuitous amount of panicking on collie’s part and just in time for you to return with the rescue aid party. 

it was safe to say that was not the last occassion, and tighari had treated you both to several lunches to make up for the scares. 

but it wasn’t often that he was brought back to the village in a state. more often than not the ailments resolved in the time it took someone to find him or simply shaken off with no concern. 

it was enough to have you barreling unannounced through the head ranger’s door with apprehension. firm but fraying hands caught you as you stumbled through, righting your body before you could embarrass yourself. 

“don’t worry, tighnari is fine. it’s a harmless reaction to one of the fungi he consumed.”

umm brought her hands to a comfortable leisure behind her back as you peered over her shoulder. 

tighnari was lain out across his bed. it looked as though he had been tucked away intentionally, but the man had fought away the sheets in a fit. there was a light coat of perspiration doting his forehead and his skin had taken on a rosy flush. it hardly looked harmless. you’d never seen the lead forest watcher look so … unravelled. 

when was he going to learn to stop experimenting so freely?

umm gave a passing pat to your shoulder,“with a bit of rest he’ll be just fine.”

you had hoped as much but it eased some of your worries to see him at least home safe. though his predicament still tested your resolve. you would distract yourself for the time being concocting your own chiding speech. seriously, someone needed to hold him accountable. as it seemed, you were the only one daring enough to challenge the fox. 

heavily a relieved sigh, you turned to leave. collie would likely need a second dose of comfort now that you’d taken your own inventory of the indisposed ranger. umm, bless her soul, wasn’t a very convincing source of comfort. having collie help prepare your speech would do some good for her as well.

“wait, don’t go yet.”

you stiffed at the unexpected plea. the voice behind you sounded a bit stronger than it should be in this predicament, more like the fox you recognized. umm hadn’t left you with any instructions, but it was safe to assume he was meant to rest as not to rile up his heart rate anymore. something you were very good at doing.

you liked to think that the two of you were on agreeable terms thus far. you’d been a textbook ranger over the last few weeks. not testing the limits of your privileges or boundaries. it allowed for the two of you to have some nice conversations. though you doubted anything very articulate would come from his mouth right now. 

it was unfair, how adorable he looked with mussed hair, heavy eyes and creased clothes. umm had taken responsibility to rid him of the more decorative parts of his uniform, leaving him in a simple shirt and pants. the said shirt appeared to have been tugged open, revealing the lean muscles of his chest and abdomen. 

that was decidedly leaning away from cute, as you tore your gaze away and scolded yourself. 

“you should really lay back down, tighnari, i need you to be yourself when i deliver your scolding later.”

“tigh.”

“huh?”

you were shaken out of your stupor when he stood, concern triggering your fight reaction as you quickly huddled him back onto the bed before he fell. he allowed you to do so, however when he glanced up at you his olive eyes showed annoyance.

“i prefer when you refer to me as tigh.”

your mouth open and closed silently at the admission. you could never recall tighnari outright scolding you for the curtail of his name. you used it so sparingly, and only ever in the comfort of just yourselves or collei. 

he never really showed any emotion other than surprise the first time he’d realised what you said. you never assumed he’d catalogued the occurrences to feel any ownership over the name.

you fidgeted under the scrutinised of the fox, unsure of how to proceed from there. it was obvious that he was still mildly effective if the rose of his skin was anything to go by. but there was undeniable clarity cutting through the fog in his eyes. it was enough of a relief to have your shoulders sagging slightly. 

if it got him to comply and rest through the remainder of the effects, you could concede. 

“okay, … tigh. please stop eating flora so carelessly.”

it wasn’t your intention to start the chastising prematurely, but if he wanted you to talk, you’d do so. you weren’t sure what all of this he would recall, but you hoped the echoing nag of your voice would hover like a hangover next time he considered experimenting alone. you knew he only tested things with vague assumptions, just enough to ensure that he wouldn’t perish on sight. but it was still close enough calls for you to worry. 

you thought nothing of the way he snared your hands, too used to having them detained in pursuit of your goal. maybe another time you would be the one to catalogue just how frequently the two of you help hands. certainly enough to suffer from desensita-

your speech cut off with a choke as the fox brought one of your hands to the crown of his head. it was the closest you’d ever gotten to your prize, just a simple flex of your fingers and it would be yours. 

and he was just allowing it. 

“um, tigh…?”

you swallowed as his hold slid to your wrist, thumb caressing the inside. 

“it’s what you want, right?” unintentionally your finger flexed under the strain of resisting, just the casual brush against the ear causing the body to shudder. tighnari managed an even breath through his nose, but you suspected his heart was creating as much of a racket as yours was. “ i want you to. i don’t mind if it’s you.”

you sucked in a sharp breath at the omission.

it took strength that you didn't think you had, and stupidity you’d likely reflect on later that night as you regrettably pulled your hand away. firmly not thinking at all about the soft whine that left the fox’s lips at the action. 

your smile was wobbly, frail under the weight of emotions teetering at the edge. you gave his bicep a comforting squeeze before you urged him to lay back in bed. thankfully he didn’t put up much of a fight as you tucked him in. 

his lashes fluttered closed against the cool caress of his cheek.

“next time, promise.”

between one breath and the next, he fell asleep.

|+1|

tighnari woke to a low hanging sun and a heavy head. despite the warnings he opened his eyes, then immediately shut them. though blurry and out of sequence, the master ranger was able to piece together the majority of his last coherency. 

he’d been experimenting with the effects of the moonshade mushrooms. there had been reports of unaware travellers losing consciousness in the middle of the forest and waking in a fevered state. naturally, he’d taken it upon himself to test the outcome in order to properly assign warning labels in his next publication. 

the initial bout of slumber had been brief, broken by a wave of nausea and the sensation of his body overheating itself. he then recalled umm stripping away his uniform in order to help him cool down.

and then there was you.

he remembered the sound of your concern and the inkling of berating though he couldn't exactly call back the wording. he was sure to get an encore either way; well deserved. 

there was a gaping absence in his recollection, but the sensation of your hand settled between the space of his ears hadn’t escaped him. when had he gotten bold enough to daringly reach out like that? sure you’d done the same on multiple occasions but it had been in pursuit of a singular goal while he—

tighnari stared at the leaf drawn entrance of his chamber, face burning. 

but surely that could not have all occurred before noon. 

“oh good you’re awake. that mushroom managed to down even you for a full day. it's certainly something to be aware of.”

the elderly woman peered briefly through the cut of the door before granting herself entrance. tighnari sat obediently still as she flittered over his vital signs, ensuring his temperature and heart rate were within agreeable boundaries. 

she scribbled the notes like clockwork into the parchment on his desk. while his methods weren’t often agreed upon, umm saw the value in the repercussions. her diligence had help assist in multiple breakthroughs. tighnari would be sure to deliver a nice basket of her favourite tree sap candies once he was back in working order. 

amir would have certainly taken initiative to oversee assignments for the day. he would certainly owe collei a visit as well to assure her fears. he vaguely remembered her putting up a fuss when he’d been carried in, shortly before she’d been directed out leading to her alerting you. 

tighnari’s cheeks grew hot again. he refused to acknowledge the rising blush even as umm chuckled quietly while gathering up her kit. instead, he kept his eyes on the entrance as he pinned his sashes in place and equipped his vision. 

it wasn’t as if the two of you weren’t already rather close. it was safe to say he gave you more allowances than most. sure, your futile attempts to touch his ears could be frustrating at times, but more so because of the opportunities you took than the actual actions. 

despite popular belief, tighnari didn’t truly hold his ears in that high regard. it was more out of proprietary that he shied away from strangers acting out of curiosity. to be honest, he really wouldn’t mind too much if a ranger asked to pet them. but it seems as if their own misconceptions had fed into the unspoken rule that his fox-like features were out of the question. 

except for you. 

over time, the two of you managed to lapse into a comfortable game of cat and mouse. tighnari knew if he’d shown any true signs of anger you would have backed away from the start. but his tolerance had permitted you to try again and again. 

so what if the occasional punishments he placed on you deterred the others, it never snuffed your fire and that was all that mattered to him. 

it was only natural that over time constant exposure would ignite his own interest. he could recall with vivid memory the way it felt to have you pressed against his back that time in the forest when you attempted to claim your prize in the middle of his lecture. he’d made you wait there while he finished the lesson, all the while relishing in the heat permitted his back. 

had it been just the two of you, he would have let you. 

yet when he finally caved and gave you the permission you'd been seeking all this time, you’d backed out. 

‘next time’ you’d promised. 

“if you’re done laminating, once you've finished eating you can go find them. i  believe i saw them returning not long before i came here.”

umm didn’t wait for a response as she saw herself out, her amusement audible even as she descended the ramp to her own domain. 

tighnari didn’t rush the act as he finished his meal and the provided water. once he finished, his lips turned at the dimming sunlight. his schedule was all but thrown out the window for the day, though he doubted anyone expected him to contribute much. still it stung his consciousness as a leader to leave his subordinates hanging , even if they were all self-sufficient adults. at least the headache had disappeared with proper nourishment. there would be time to salvage his routine later.

the sun was positioned late in the afternoon, but the dim light still irritated his eyes. he blinked through the sting as he welcomed the sight of the quaint village operating adequately in his absence. 

he returned any passing waves and gave brief responses to their questions. for the most part everyone seemed confident that he’d make a full recovery, though he still harboured the guilt of worrying them. 

brow pinched, he waved nasrin closer. “have you seen collei?”

the purse of her mouth didn’t spell anything good. tighnari hoped her illness had not acted up in his absence. “she had trouble sleeping last night so someone swapped patrols with her. she just set off not too long ago.”

the girl sometimes had trouble sleeping when plagued with anxiousness. tighnari settled that he would confront her upon her return, for now he had one more stop. he had a feeling he knew who offered to adjust their schedule to accommodate the girl.

he found your bungalow with practised ease, delivering a single knock before you offered entrance. he found you seated at your desk, no doubt detailing the report of your finding before submission. it was a relief to see that you took a break from your typical mischievousness to conduct a seemingly uniform patrol while he was indisposed. 

“i don't suppose you came across any new interesting flora on your patrols?”

tighnari watched as your shoulders stiffened at the unexpected sound of his voice. your head whipped around, eyes assessing him carefully before you gave a timid, relieved smile. 

“i think we can all agree that you’ve had enough adventures for one week,” you noted with light scolding. 

grinning, tighnari cared little if his fangs showed, knowing you wouldn't find them threatening. your gaze followed him as he secured the leaves behind him before approaching your desk. he leaned comfortably against the wooden structure as he browsed the report. it had been routine indeed, not a single withering sighting. 

“are you sure you’re alright? you had me worried for a bit.”

tighnari’s brow rose,” only a bit?”

scoffing, you rolled your eyes,” it’s not the worst thing you’ve eaten but seeing you down for so long was concerning. collei will be relieved to see you back on your feet.”

tighnari braceed his palm against the dest and leaned into the posture,“and you?”

“i owe you a scolding. you always get onto me about being aware and careful of my surroundings. yet here you go testing unknown fungi alone in the forest. at least bring it back before you test it out so we can be there if you need us.”

tighnari waited for you to finish, eyes shining with thinly veiled amusement. you seemed to recognize it as well, huffing as you realised your scolding didn't have as much weight as the seasoned scholar. 

unable to resist, the fox reached out to run is fingers along the side of your face before letting them rest against your shoulder. he watched as your chest expanded to take in the small gasp of surprise. it was a rare moment for him to initiate contact like this, especially given the recent occurrence only yesterday. while his recollection was misty, yours was clear as day. 

“i think you owe me something else too.”

tighnari watched your reactions carefully, from the flutter of your lashes to the rapid thrum of your heart beat against the pulse under your jaw. he never shied away from a discovery the promise of a satisfying understanding driving him from one revelation to the next. 

admittedly, you’d been a gradual observation. the question at the tip of the scale all this time while he’d unknowingly researched you thoroughly with each new interaction. day and day again, you prompted him with new variables both under his control and not. it was only today that he managed to form a working hypothesis. a hesitant theory that he knew would shift everything.

tighnari watched with growing fascination as the initial shock meddling into purposefulness as your hand came into view. impatient, he couldn't resist ducking his hand to meet you halfway. the first careful touch was equally inquisitive and hesitant. each time in the past, your hand had darted out with such certainty. yet now with it all willing at your fingertips, you allowed yourself the time to explore.

he hadn’t realised his head had come to rest against your collar bone until he felt the rumbled of your laughter. you didn’t simply just touch his ears, you caressed the length form the widest part to the tip. your fingertips tickled the tufts of fluff at the base. and the light scratched you delivered against the firm cartilage had him all but melting into your hold. the burst of new stimuli tickled his nerves and left pleasant sensations.

later he would analyse the data but he was already certain about his conclusion. 

your words mussed the top of his head as you spoke, humour bleeding into your intrigue. “can’t believe it took you a year to crack, tigh.”

tighnari sagged further at the uttering of the name. you flinched, not expecting the words of response to be mumbled into your skin. gratefully, it didn't cause you to pause.

“what was that?”

your touch slid from his ears to the curve of his jaw as his head rose to meet your gaze. 

“i actually had two hypotheses I wanted to test.”

though he didn't speak more than that, he could tell you were well aware of the implications. your lips parted to respond, but no words could pass the lump in your throat. tighnari tested the waters, leaning closer enough to brush the tup of his nose against yours. when you didn't pull away, he leaned down and pressed your lips together, firmly but briefly. as he breathed in deeply,  the smell of lush forestry, sweet flora and you invaded his scenes. the scent of familiarity minding with the aroma of what he called home was intoxicating. 

your eyes shone bright with mischief as tighnari pulled away, no doubt observing the rosy hue spreading across his face. 

“i think we need to experiment a little more before we can come to a confident conclusion.”

tighnari leaned back in and nuzzled you affectionately. 

“i agree.’’

tagging upon request: @lott-the-otter @uhohitsemmy

what did they say about longing? about the yearning that grips your ribcage when you stretch your arms out in bed only for your fingers to brush against the cold pillow next to you? i miss you is the one thing that echoes like a broken harp in your head, the words plastered around every corner of your brain until you see them in the walls of your home and the insides of your wrist.

oh, my dear kazuha, am i missing from you in the same sense that you are missing from me? you glance at your study desk in the corner of your bedroom, the deep mahogany wood propping up piles and piles of messily written, unsent letters. they’re addressed to the same person—the only person you’d ever bother writing a letter to—but with no destination written on the front. it’s not as though the mail man would understand where exactly to send this letter to if all you wrote on the envelope was, ‘to the wandering samurai’.

but it wasn’t kazuha’s fault for needing to answer the call of the winds, just as it wasn’t yours for needing to know how fast your heart could race with your lips on his. you initiated the love affair fully aware that your arms could never anchor him to you and though you claimed to be ready to accept whatever consequences came with it, you didn’t think the longing would be this excruciating.

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Burning for You

a/n | BASED ON GENSHIN 3.0 LEAKS!⚠️ …okay, so i have a confession. two things… one, i believe in love at first sight. and two, i am hopelessly in love with tighnari. <3 wrote this in a few hours high off of my new fav dendro main so i hope it’s okay! (art credits: u/murasakisumire on reddit)

warnings | character leaks, slight profanity, probably ooc tighnari but i’m having fun with it anyway :)

genre | fluff, smug tighnari likes to tease you

word count | 1.1k

pairing | tighnari x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

In the humid wilderness of Sumeru’s lush rainforests, there was no room for error as a forest ranger. It was a matter of life or death—eat or be eaten.

The vast majority of the rainforest was relatively untouched by civilization and teeming with vibrant creatures of all shapes, sizes, and abilities. As a ranger, you were expected to be an expert in animal and vegetation identification, and able to sense danger through disturbances in the surrounding ecosystem.

You had been reminded of this requirement on numerous occasions by your superior, yet somehow you defied all natural laws with how you constantly attracted trouble. Sometimes it’s a simple, easily avoidable mistake on your part, but other times it turned into a horde of enemies charging in your direction with no obvious escape in sight.

As a result, you were assigned under the direct supervision of the Lead Forest Ranger, Tighnari, for special training. But it wasn’t your fault you magically invited danger everywhere you went. At first, you were quite intimidated by the long-eared ranger. You knew he was the best of the best, so the stakes were high. If you messed this up, maybe you really were hopeless.

Expeditions were extremely silent and awkward with your new companion. After a while of suffering from solitude, you had tried to get to know him more, but it proved to be difficult.

“Hey, ‘Nari,” you would inquire softly as he was focused on referencing an encyclopedia from his pack.

An ear would twitch accompanied by a nearly indiscernible hum, eyes not breaking from his work once. “Yes, (Y/N)?”

“Um, do you ever take a break?” you sheepishly asked, rubbing the back of your neck nervously. He raised a brow, promptly closing his book, and touched his chin in thought. Worried you had offended him, you continued, “L-like do you do anything for fun?”

“This is fun, is it not?” Tighnari replied nonchalantly. “I love my work.”

It was true. All Tighnari would ever discuss with you was about Dawson Rainforest. Such was the extent of any line of questioning you could think of. You could rarely ever get a reaction out of him, not that you wanted to tease him—well, maybe you wouldn’t mind to see the quiet and clever Tighnari devolve into a stuttering, blushing mess at least once.

But that is beside the point. You felt ignored and lonely. Breaking the ice was useless. You were going to have to be a lot more forward if you wanted to get Tighnari’s attention.

Which ultimately led you to this moment months later, as you snap out of your thoughts staring at the burning embers rising from the campfire. You like to think your relationship had improved or you understood each other better since then. At the very least, your skills were improving and working with him in a team wasn’t as bad as it used to be.

You both had set up camp together less than an hour ago after completing your duties since you were too far from the main base to lodge for the night. Tighnari had just set his ranger journal aside, pale green eyes locked onto you.

A strange rush of heat spread across your cheeks in embarrassment. You prayed to the Archons it wasn’t noticeable. Had he said something and you completely missed it? Why is he looking at you like that?

You cleared your throat, unsure of what to say since he still scarcely gives you the time of day, “What?”

Perfect. You were such a great conversationalist, you reprimanded yourself silently.

“You were lost in thought,” he observed, lips pursing slightly in disappointment. “I… apologize if I have come across as rude in the past.”

“No!” you insisted, shaking your head frantically and laughing it off. “That’s not why at all. Don’t worry about it. Just feeling bored I guess?”

“You must always remain vigilant. As you can tell, none of the wildlife here seem bored in all their clamoring even in the darkness of night,” Tighnari notes out of habit, but he pauses for a second before shaking his head too and scooting next to you. “But we aren’t on a mission so I suppose I may entertain your antics this time.”

Did the flame of the fire suddenly grow hotter? Your cheeks flushed with another intense wave of heat when Tighnari grew near, surely it wasn’t your Pyro vision acting up. Then again, every time the lead ranger draws close, you swear you can feel the fiery pulse of your vision on your chest. Or was that your heart leaping?

His bright jade eyes flickered knowingly from your vision to meet your skeptical gaze, a playful, smug smile threatening to tug at the corner of his mouth.

“Do you enjoy this, ‘Nari? Making me—!” you accused in shock, words abruptly trailing off as you find yourself nearly admitting your embarrassment. “Argh. This is what you actually do for fun, isn’t it?”

“Me? I could never partake in such fruitless endeavors,” he responded with an innocent wave of his bushy raven tail, rotten mischief dripping from each word on his tongue.

“Oh, but the excitement is just radiating from you, go ahead. I’m ready to hear the great Tighnari speak to me finally,” you retorted sarcastically in a huff.

“I would be more inclined to say it’s written all over you, (Y/N),” his voice lowers as he leans in ever so slightly, tall ears towering over you in an almost intimidating manner. “I’m… not as oblivious as you may think.”

Fuck, the fennec fox never cared to talk to you and the minute he opens his mouth it was your downfall. Your breath hitched subconsciously, the only confirmation Tighnari needed, a sharp-toothed smirk adorning his smug expression. You hated it.

You had quickly learned long ago he had a penchant for teasing and trickery, and you always walked right into his traps. After all this time pushing you away and reeling you back in at will with his wit, he knew he had you wrapped around his finger. You were utterly touch-starved and Tighnari reveled in it, lightly grazing the back of his fingers against your hot cheek.

His pearlescent irises glimmered and marveled at you—a predator helplessly enamored with his prey.

“This isn’t fair, ‘Nari,” you whispered, lidded eyes watching with longing as he slowly inches further toward you. The instinct to pull away crosses your mind, just to deny him the victory, but how could you when the promise of his lips was so imminent?

He brushed his nose against yours gently in a loving nuzzle, whispering onto your lips, “Neither is this burning in my heart for you now, is it?”

Tighnari could hardly restrain himself any longer, drinking in your scent like this so intimately, inevitably succumbing to your sweet lips in a passionate display of desire. When he held your cheek or trailed his hand down to your waist, you felt that familiar burst of your Pyro vision glowing alongside his Dendro one—his touch consuming you with an aching need for more.

You almost considered caressing his long ears when he nibbled at your bottom lip, until he broke the kiss with a soft smile and couldn’t resist indulging in your addicting taste once more.

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist.

Within the Void

a/n | this has been in my drafts for forever and i’m happy to finally share it with y’all :) i have definitely been very high off of the scara hopium leaks and lore lately, and wanted to write this based on the unknown parts of his character. i really tried to challenge myself with this piece. i hope you like it and happy holidays everyone!! (art credits @/chinikuniku on twitter)

warnings | slight profanity

genre | love confession, enemies to lovers

word count | 2.3k

pairing | scaramouche x reader

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩

Keep reading

pairings: kurapika kurta x reader

content: smut / nsfw 18 + (dick riding, slight humiliation)

summary: kurapika thinks it's cute when you try to dom him... cuz you just fall apart once he puts it in

notes: inspired by this tiktok

you were both sitting upright, but your legs were wrapped around his slim waist as you kissed him hard. his hands were on your hips, pulling you closer to him so your cunt ruts against his hard cock.

his hands were cold, always cold, and sent shivers up your body as they brush up and down the exposed skin of your waist. you were in just a skimpy white tank top and pretty pink panties.

your hands rest against the base of his neck, occasionally sliding down the lean muscles of his bare chest and scratching red against the pale skin. and when your palms rest flat against his chest, you push down on him. his back hits the mattress and his head hits the pillow, pretty blonde hair splaying out beneath it.

kurapika can only give you a little smirk, he thinks it's cute when you think you're in charge.

"what's so funny?" you purr, fingertips sliding down the planes of his stomach before dipping under his waistband.

"nothing." he shakes his head as you inch his briefs over his hips to expose his cock.

he has his tongue in his cheek and a smug look on his face as you take the base of him in your dominant hand. you're smiling mischievously as you jerk him a few times before straddling his hips once more.

he sits up, resting back on his elbows as he watches you intently.

"you gonna ride me?" he asks, looking up from his dick and into your eyes. he's still got that look on his face, that demeaning and condescending look that makes your stomach twist.

"mhm." you nod your head slightly as you lift off his hips to pull your panties aside. you guide the head of his cock through your slick a few times before lining him up with your entrance.

and then slowly, you sink down onto him. and just as he had expected, you fall apart as you do so. your lips part as a breathy whine escapes your lips as he fills you. you have to lean forward and peace your hands on his shoulders so you don't fall into him.

"shit..." he groans, head falling back against his shoulders as he feels you squeeze around him. his hands are balled into fists as his forearms continue to keep him upright.

when your flush to him, he picks his head up. his eyes meet your shaking arms, then your slacked jaw, then your hips that circle against his as you adjust to the length of him.

once you've gotten yourself somewhat settled, you rise up off of him with your legs trembling... and before you can even get halfway up his cock, you let out a broken moan and come back down.

kurapika shakes his head with fake disappointment. but this was expected. you never had it in you to take control, you never last more than a few strokes before he's gotta help you. it would be pathetic if he didn't find it so fucking hot.

"oh god," you whimper, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as your fingernails etch into the muscle of his shoulders.

kurapika lets his back rest flush against the sheets again, shifting away from the headboard and bringing his hands to your hips.

"c'mon, you can do it." he says, but he knows you can't. he was just teasing you at this point.

he can feel your cunt flutter real cutely around him. you were a mess. your arms fail you and you have to drop to rest your forearms on his chest as you bring yourself up once more.

"you're so deep." you whine, letting your hands slide up and around his neck and your chest rest flush against his.

he can feel your breath, ragged and shaky, against the fragile skin below his jaw. your entire body was trembling.

he slides his hands lower to grip your ass, pulling on you hard enough to his cock can slid out of you slowly before he pushing on your hips to bring you back down.

you let out a high-pitched moan against his throat as he fills you back up. he can hear every catching of your breath, every hitch in your moans.

"shit - there you go." he mutters, getting a good rythym of sliding you up and down the length of him, all the way from the base of him to the tip before stuffing you with his cock again.

"just needed some help, hm?" he chuckles darkly.

you can only whimper and nod in response.

5 times inumaki toge held your hand, and 1 time he didn't (inumaki toge x gn!reader)

OH M Y GOD i finally finished this piece and i'm so happy with it and i hope you enjoy <333 i'm so excited AHH

masterlist

1.

Inumaki finds it, oh, so amusing to sneak behind Fushiguro and suddenly grab his hand. And while Fushiguro dug his own grave by complaining about that classic rom-com movie trope one too many times, it doesn’t account for the lengths that Inumaki goes to irritate him. For one, Inumaki likes to dip his hands in ice water before running to Fushiguro. Inumaki also likes to smear left-over cough syrup on his fingers, so Fushiguro will look down in confusion to find himself holding a very sticky hand. Point is, you don’t feel bad for Inumaki at all when Fushiguro chases him around Jujutsu High and leaves him stuck in a shikigami frog quite coincidentally deaf. And you definitely don’t blame yourself for feeling suspicious when Inumaki takes hold of your hands and squeezes them.

“You better not have spit in them, or something.”

Inumaki laughs. He shakes his head and drops your hands for a second, only for him to cup your face with his palms.

“Salmon?”

Get it?

You blink for a moment as you try to determine what Inumaki wants. His hands feel warm against your face; you unconsciously nudge your cheek closer to his palm. His thumb twitches, as if he wants to caress the skin it touches. So warm. Oh. That. You look down at your own hands and press them to your forehead. Cold.

“You want to warm my hands?”

Inumaki nods. He looks at you questioningly, and when you nod, he takes your hands in his and presses them together. You fight the smile tugging at your mouth. He gives in and rubs his thumbs over your hands, and you tell yourself you feel like this because of the cold. Not because of the rare moment of intimacy passing between the two of you. And not because Inumaki usually teases you, with rare moments like these becoming extremely difficult to pinpoint.

“Well, I hope you don’t do this to everyone who isn’t a human furnace.”

It starts off as a smile. His eyes crinkle into peach-blossoms and light falls to flush gold across his cheeks. “Okaka.” He says it so shamelessly, and so matter-of-factly, that you don’t need him to translate at all. Only for the ones I like. By now, his smile looks an awful-lot like a smirk.

“You’re a flirt,” you proclaim, reaching to tweak his ear, “and I’m not falling for any of it.”

2.

With only a few students roaming the Jujutsu High halls, bumping into Inumaki happens more often than not. Especially at times like these, where first light feels years away, and neither of you can sleep.

He beats you to the kitchen this time. For a moment you watch him shuffle around the kitchen: slinging the refrigerator door open with his elbow, pausing to think for a moment, standing on his tiptoes to carefully reach for a cup from the cabinet.

“Need help?”

In the early morning glow of refrigerator light, Inumaki’s snake and fang seal looks luminescent. You fight the urge to run your fingers across each concentric circle: tap thrice around his cheek, glide to the corner of his mouth, brush your thumb across his lip. But whatever faint illusion you saw disrupts immediately, because Inumaki jumps. The cup slips in his grasp. He saves imminent disaster with quick reflexes and a string of unintelligible safewords (even if they do sound anything but sweet); he clutches the clattering cup against his chest and blinks at you slowly. Recognition lights like little flame in his eyes, and he slumps his face into a deadpan exasperation.

Oops. At least he saved the cup?

“Ah, sorry.” You step forward to where he stands, raising your hand in greeting. “But nice catch! Couldn’t sleep?”

Inumaki lets himself smile for one, brief second. It doesn’t last long because he quickly morphs his features into a dirty look to point out your sorry excuse at apology. And then his mind starts working again--three a.m. insecurities unraveling out of his grasp--and he turns, quite rigidly, to set the cup behind him and press his hands against his face.

“You don’t need to”--

His hands scrabble across the counter. Finding nothing, his shoulders sag, and he makes do with pulling the neckline of his shirt up to hide the marks against his cavity. He turns. His gaze pleads: don’t say anything; don’t look at me; sorry, you have to see me, like this.

“You don’t have to hide it, Toge.”

Inumaki blinks at you owlishly. And then he shakes his head to roll his eyes. “Konbu.” He busies himself with the cup behind him.

“Is that for tea? I was thinking I’d make some, too.”

Inumaki nods, still shyly holding his shirt against his mouth. He wordlessly passes you the jar of hojicha tea blend. When you don’t take it from him, he cocks his head.

“I like black tea,” you murmur in embarrassment.

Inumaki raises an eyebrow. He rummages through a different cabinet and pulls out different jars to read the labels. When he finds the jar of black tea leaves, he holds it to you in satisfaction. When you still don’t take it, Inumaki frowns. “Tuna?”

“With milk.” You pull at your fingers. “It’s too strong for me. I mean, to drink plain.”

Inumaki grins.

“And sugar, please.”

He presses his hands against his mouth to stifle any sound. When he glances at you, amusement twinkles in his eyes. He forgets all about his exposed snake and fang seal. The neckline of his shirt drops back to regular position, and he reaches to grab your hand, wrapping his fingers around yours.

“Cod roe.” When he says it, strained breaths escape his lips as he tries to further stifle his laughter. He pulls you toward the fridge, and you watch as the filmy light bathes him in sublime gossamer. With his other hand, he grabs the carton of milk and nudges the refrigerator door shut with his foot. You manage to reach the sugar jar before you’re tugged away.

Inumaki makes no effort to release your hand even as he cheerfully fills the teapot with a spoonful of leaves and seeps the tea with hot water.

“Do you like holding hands?”

Inumaki shrugs. He does, to his credit, seem to think about it for a while. But he must think better of it, because just as he decides to open his mouth and whisper something, he shakes himself out of it. He settles with a shit-eating grin, while inching closer to you for dramatic effect.

You shut him up before he can say anything. “So not only are you a flirt, you’re a masochist. Very nice, Toge.”

The grin slips from his face for a split second. He sighs, reaching to gently rap his knuckles against the side of your head. And then the warmth of his hand replaces itself with a cup of aromatic tea.

When you look up to thank him, the softness in his gaze startles you. You don’t know what to say. Uncertainty makes you look away, only to dump two spoonfuls of sugar in your tea.

3.

People who spit their gum out on the sidewalk fill you with rage. Especially when you look around to spot the trash bin a few footsteps away. Gum clumps to the bottom of your shoe in a chewed, washed-out pink nearly unrecognizable with rings of cement-dust. If only you kept that spare napkin or hashi from today’s take-out.

The crossing-light beeps green. Your friends start stepping forward into the street--wait for me--you want to call, half-debating whether to follow them or not. Too late. The moment of hesitation passes, and you sigh, hobbling over to the trash bin to scrape your shoe against the rim. Stupid bubblegum. Stupid pedestrian who doesn’t care about other people.

You blink back angry curse-words that feel too loud for public space. You swing your leg down from the bin and take a tentative practice-step against the ground. Good enough to walk with, even if it does feel slightly sticky. Nothing terribly uncomfortable. As you pull out your phone to text everyone to wait up, you swipe left on a notification from Inumaki.

Oh, good. Did he notice you got stuck on the other side of the street? You expect to see a message of where to meet up again.

But the snap is a video of you angrily attacking the trash bin with your foot. And then there’s Inumaki wheezing in the background as you watch your past-self crumple your face into your hands in a moment of existential crisis. The caption reads: got gum stuck on their shoe ╮( ˘ ､ ˘ )╭ wait up for us at that tree near home.

You let the snap replay for a moment as you stare at it in amusement. “You waited.”

When you look up, the corner of Inumaki’s mouth twitches, and he raises his phone in front of his face in futile efforts to take multiple pictures of your reaction. Or a video.

You wrestle the phone out of his grasp and flip the camera over to take a selfie of the two of you. “Was this all part of your plan to spend more time with me?” You glance at him with a look that shows a swagger only meant for people who jest.

Inumaki won’t meet your gaze. He saves the photo to his phone and tucks it back into his pocket before he reaches for your hand and nudges his head toward the street. “Tuna, tuna?”

Ready to go?

When you nod, Inumaki straightens up, and his smile brightens. The green light flickers yellow as the crossing-timer ticks down, and now the two of you dash across the street, half-running, half hopping from one white stripe to the next, until you step back onto concrete as the timer ticks down, two, one, zero.

Sincerity. “I didn’t think you would wait.” You smile at him, not caring at all about the influx of adoration present in your gaze. “Thanks.” And then, “We better get to the park, fast. You look cold.”

Inumaki furrows his brow.

You point to his face. “Your cheeks are flushed. It’s windy, I’m a little cold, too.”

Inumaki sighs, his eyes narrowing. He brings your hands up to press against his cheek. His face feels warm to the touch.

“Do you have a fever?”

“Salmon.” Inumaki scowls and zips his collar all the way up to his nose. He quickens his pace and refuses to talk to you for the rest of the walk back.

4.

Later at the end of the week when you gather at movie night that Itadori declared a new tradition, the room awashes in black and white light with voices emerging from the television in garbled, old-hollywood sound. The movie looks old. You came for the snacks and laughter, but you didn’t realize that Itadori meant business when he planned movie night. He actually looks invested in the plot … and so does everyone else.

Even Fushiguro shuts up, and you lean forward to whisper in his ear: are you scared Toge will use your complaining against you? Fushiguro rolls his eyes and without sparing you a glance, shifts closer to Itadori and flips you off.

You laugh. Itadori swivels his head around to glare at you. “Shush!”

From somewhere at the other end of the couch, Kugisaki leans forward and drapes her arms over her knees. “Seriously?” She gazes at the television with an unimpressed look. “Why didn’t he lock his door?”

“Dumb. Dumb as hell,” you quip.

Itadori nods. “Right? I think he’s going to”--

“Tuna, tuna.” Inumaki points forward, and the door on screen starts to open.

“Victim number four,” Maki snickers.

Among the various plot twists and string dissonance, you manage to doze off. Your eyes shudder open at jump-scares when Inumaki’s knee knocks against yours, or when Fushiguro leans back a little too much and accidentally bonks his head into your shins. Or when Kugisaki leans over to playfully toss a pillow at you, laughing when you blink awake only to drift back to sleep.

Inumaki nudges your side during one of these waking-from-loud-externalities. He motions toward his shoulder. “Takana.” Television glare kisses light across his eyes, and for a moment, Inumaki holds everything you have ever wanted to see all at once: I am not leaving, I am not leaving, I will wait for you, always.

You stare as your head wavers from weight it doesn’t know how to properly distribute at this state of exhaustion.

Inumaki chuckles quietly. Fondness proves hard to pull away from, especially when it comes from a boy who laughs when you trip over your shoes, or teases you every morning, or would let you shiver in the cold while he walks smugly in a warm jacket. Because now, when you don’t have the energy to convince the two of you that you like each other as just friends, it feels too easy to drift into the free-fall of something more. For some reason, you let things pass at the hours from dusk to dawn. In the uncertainties of early morning, and when the two of you look at each other among the rest of your friends, you never feel the urge to play dumb.

When you rest your head against his shoulder and lean up to press a soft kiss to the skin underneath his jaw, Inumaki reaches for your hand and shakes his head. He rubs little circles into your palm. Go to sleep, (Y/N). You’re just tired.

5.

He holds your hand when you least expect it. And when you most expect it, all at once. The familiar gesture of intimacy becomes something entirely Inumaki, one that ironically shys away from any confrontation of intimacy. It starts with the warmth of his hands, and quickly turns into the way he likes to play with your fingers, or trace little stars into the impression of your knuckles when he lets his thumb press against your skin. Never has he drawn hearts.

You know why he won’t. Inumaki does it out of consideration. He can too easily picture your freak-out if you felt a heart lazily drawn onto your skin. How strange, to crave something right in arms-reach. All the comfort laid in front of you, from the way he looks at you, and the way he holds you, and the way he smiles at you when you wave at him in the morning: you could take it.

Every week you tell your therapist: I learned how to set boundaries, I learned how to assert myself, I learned that what happened in the past won’t happen in the future. Not everyone will leave. But still, a lingering thought flips uncomfortably in your mind. Why can’t you let him in?

When you think about it, it comes down to the unknown. What happens after this honeymoon stage? Will you still feel the same? Will he still feel the same? What happens when he holds your hand, and it no longer feels like home?

And every night, you think, no, it doesn’t matter. No matter what your mind comes up with, it needs to happen, one way or the other. If anyone, you should know; in all your years of life, your comfort zone never led you well.

Now, when Inumaki takes your hand, you forget about playing naive. The words that leave your mouth feel more bold. Sometimes you laugh at the flush that casts across Inumaki’s face when he blinks at you in incredulation.

“I’m going to take the risk,” you tell your therapist the next time you see them. “I’m ready, now.”

+1

Inumaki meets you near the bookstore when you emerge, his hands stuck into his pockets as he approaches you curiously. Maybe you should have rethought this, because an Inumaki in street-style never fails to take your breath away. Sometimes it becomes so easy to envision him in just his classic Jujutsu uniform, and you forget that the boy before you can actually dress. And dress well.

“Hey.” When you look up to smile at him, it surprises you how easy the gesture comes. The number of times you envisioned this moment made millions of possibilities branch from this very interaction, but based on how he’s reacting, and based on how you feel, all your worries float away. Inumaki looks really nice today. Heat rises to your cheeks, and you clear your throat, hoping Inumaki won’t notice your fumble. “I wanted to tell you something.”

Inumaki nods. He says nothing, but his lip trembles slightly. He regards you with apprehension and shifts in his stance, weight alternating from one foot to the other. You want to reach forward and thumb the worry lines away from his forehead. You almost lose your will to confess in the way you imagined, because the urge to promise him that he won’t need to worry comes so suddenly.

Things come full-circle, don’t they?

You reach forward to take his hand.

Inumaki sucks in a breath. With such a cool, outwardly exterior, it surprises you to see his eyes fly open so wide. But, you’ve never held his hand first. His mouth opens and closes slightly as he tries to make sense of this.

Maybe he already figured out why you wanted to talk to him, by now.

Yet instead of grinning, he settles with gazing at you in anticipation. The hope in his eyes conceals itself poorly. Your chest aches to see how he tries to force casual indifference, while he clearly hangs onto every word that is about to leave your mouth.

His hand feels warm in yours. Safe. You trace a heart against his skin. Slow and deliberate. And then you do it again. And again. Little notes of affection blooming across his skin. “I like you,” you murmur. “I want to try. I want there to be an us.”

Inumaki’s face brightens. A smile spreads across his face as he gazes at you with a mixture of emotions that watercolor their way across his skin.

You squeeze his hand a little too hard. “And before you say anything,” you interrupt, “I’m serious. I’m not going to be scared anymore. I’m ready.”

Inumaki tugs on the hand that connects the two of you, and he pulls you into his arms. When he rests his head on your shoulder, you can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips in relief. Being here feels so easy. So warm.

He traces little hearts against your shoulder blades, and as you press your lips to his temple, (for real, this time), you think it’s been a long time since you’ve felt so sure.

this new event hazel omg!!! you always have such an interesting ideas i love you and your brain :((( it's so hard to choose... will it be okay to ask for the lovers (the fluff one), the tower and the fool for the scara? please <33

The Lovers (true love), The Fool (fear of losing something), The Tower (ruin) :: scaramouche x gn reader | tarnished fate 

warning: angst, scaramouche’s perspective* (scara watches reader sleep (wholesomely) 

Scaramouche sat up in bed. His eyes clouded with sleep, body moving slowly as he worked himself into alertness. Turning to the window he could see the day was going to be a dreary one; somehow it was perfect for what was meant to happen. With a sigh, he rubbed his face and turned to look at the figure who slept peacefully beside him. 

Safe and sound as he intended, you rested comfortably. The courage anyone would have to sneak in and disturb you would have impressed him, if he’d known anyone to be that bravely stupid. To harm what was his, to threaten their life, he wouldn’t forgive them. 

Scara watched you far longer than he intended. The steady rise and fall of your chest, the soft humming that vibrated in your throat, the relaxed facial expression tempting him to change its shape. He was transfixed by you, obsessed with you. It wasn’t something he ever expected to experience but, as it turned out, you were rather hard to vacate from his mind. Even in his dreams, and the moments he awoke, the first thing he thought of was you. 

His fingers brushed across your brow and you shifted onto your back. Your hand slipping under the pillow as you adjusted. Cool, unloving fingers trailed down your neck until they crossed your collarbone, drifted to your partially exposed sternum before finding their way to your neck again. Conflicted, he continued to caress your skin. It wasn’t his intention to wake you up but he wouldn’t have cared if you did. 

Though it would certainly make this morning more difficult. 

“You swore yourself to me,” he whispered into your hair, nose disappearing slightly in the uncombed locks. “do not break your fealty.” 

Scara moved away from you but, in his weakness, he lingered. You were everything to him. The morning, the evening, you were the air in his lungs and the pounding of his heart. He wasn’t sure why since no single thing brought him so much life than his own, but you changed him, altered his resolve.

This life he led was not meant for you. The orange haired harbinger warned him of such. Signora grew bitter at the idea. For a while he tried to ignore it until it consumed him. Filled him with a desire he couldn’t shake. Even if it meant destroying you, he had to know what it felt like to hold you close, to touch the skin that made him insatiable, to feel your lips against him. He had to know.

Now, he had to break all his bones in order to keep you safe from the monster he was and the evil which stood at his back.  

He reminisced while his thumb ran across your bottom lip. How sinful it was to desire this luxury. “I will never love another,” Scara swore as he closed his eyes, removed himself from the bed and slipped onto the cold floor. 

--

The birds were the first thing to wake you. Their lively chatter a humorous alarm to your long rest. It wasn’t new for you to sleep in, nor was it unusual for Scaramouche to allow you this sin. You didn’t understand why other thought he was so cruel. 

Sitting up, you stretched in the late morning sunlight. Your shirt fell down your arm but you did nothing to fix it. Instead, you looked around the room only to have a strange unease settle in the pit of your stomach. Something was amiss, but you couldn’t place your finger on it. 

Concerned, you pulled the covers away but before your feet touched the ground, you noticed a letter sitting on the bedside table. It was sealed by none-other than your love. Eagerly you reached for it, the seal snapping free of the parchment with ease, fingers slipping under the paper to unfold what secrets he left inside.

When it was fully opened, a golden band fell onto your lap. Shocked, confused, you reached for it but as you came to understand what it was your heart sunk and your trembling hands held the letter for your watering eyes. 

You read it again and again, over and over, flipped it on it’s back, turned it upside down. This wasn’t true, this couldn’t be true. Standing suddenly, you turned toward the door but the sound of ringing metal caught your attention as you watched the wedding band Scara wore spin until it came to a stop in front of you. 

Crumbling to the floor, you became entangled in the sheets while your outstretched hand covered the abandoned ring, and through your wretched sobbing, you closed your eyes against the glinting promise tainted with lies that  wrapped around your ring finger. 

“y/n ... 

It is a terrible thing to be blinded by ignorance, and yet, the both of us found ourselves living it every day. I’ve let it consume me no longer.

I’ve taken leave and shall not return. Forget every notion you once had. Laughably, It was your mistake to have fallen into this a ridiculous idea of love. A Harbinger cannot be possessed by the feeling and yet you let yourself be swayed by the lie. 

You were nothing more than a passing moment, albeit a forgotten one. Do not come crawling back to me. 

I never loved you 

Sc--

-- 

Scara turned away from the shrinking shoreline, face scrunching against the soft rain that fell against his cheeks. Every inch of himself suffered; twisted, pained, rattled. He seethed, rolled in fury as he walked across the main deck. The crewmembers hid from his view and he admired their intelligence. 

“How long?” Scara asked behind the helmsman, his sudden question causing them to jump. 

“At this pace sir, less than a weak.” 

“Excellent,” he turned and headed down the steps and toward the captains quarters, arms hanging dead at his side. “Let’s kill an Archon, shall we.” 

Fate Made Event (May8-31) | Anthology

before xiao, there was alatus. xiao x gn!reader. warnings: angst, mcd!!, blood, xiao's backstory. wc: 2,708. semi proofread.

before xiao, there was alatus.

alatus who served an unknown god with a deep desire for power and used him to slaughter those who opposed his wishes. helpless and weak alatus who devoured dreams and crush the innocent’s hopes. feeble alatus who withstood countless wounds and near-death experiences.

it was him who deserved the terrified looks of his victims, begging him to spare even at least their children and kill them—only for his body to move without his permission. he who dirtied his soul and tainted his hands at the blood that painted his face.

“you’re tending to wounds that won’t kill me,” alatus muttered.

“immortal yes, invincible no.” the once white cloth you had been using from a week ago was now a light pink and alatus knew it was the blood of his victims. it was wet and cold as you wiped the cloth across his face, removing all the red splatters and cleaning the wounds that he newly acquired.

“you’re thinking lowly of me. you know i’ll get dirty again once i step out and—” he let out a muffled noise as you wiped the cloth on his mouth, shutting him up from his self-deprecating talk. still, this earned you a glare.

smiling lightly—one that looked almost apologetic, you look down briefly. “i know…you hate seeing the blood of others on you. so let me do my job just this once, okay?”

of course, there were many things alatus hated in this world. he hated how you were always right. he also hated how you made him feel. hated how he became selfish at the thought of being with you.

you were a mortal and he an adeptus who still could not fend for himself. while you were free, alatus would be forever chained to his master. he’d told you many times to leave him be, that he was dangerous, that you’ll get yourself killed by him, but you merely smiled at his claims.

“stop looking so worried,” you giggled. “your master won’t come and barge in here. what do you know? maybe he’ll make me fight you and think you’re unfit for the job because you’ll lose to me!”

alatus scoffed—visibly frowning—and crossed his arms as he gave you a look of detest. “you mortals and your imagination.” 

“and this mortal,” you gestured to yourself, “is taking care of an injured adeptus.”

you leaned towards him, gently placing a hand on his cheek as you look up at him. “alatus,” you whispered.

he leaned into your touch, humming. your skin was warm and palm lightly calloused from the everyday work you did but he loved the way you held him. you let out a small laugh, thumb brushing over the healed wound on his cheek as he cracked an eye open to gaze at you tenderly.

“i went to town today and zhao told me there would be a war. do you think it’s true?” you mumbled, already knowing you would be separated from him.

“your god will protect you,” was all alatus could say to you.

war meant death, countless and thousands who would perish at the hands of whoever was responsible. and though alatus protected you from the shadows, he would not be able to be by your side once a war would brew. someone like him who bathed in death was for the battlefield—to kill, to destroy. war meant separation and alatus feared the day your hands wouldn’t be as warm as you held him now.

“hah…i suppose,” you said, your shoulders dropping. “at least i can spend today with you.”

“you talk as if our time is limited,” he scowled. “it’s not, at least for now. i’ll…still come by.”

the lies he told were piling up and he knew they would soon spill out. still, if the lies meant your happiness, alatus would tell a thousand just for the smile on your face to stay. he knew it was wrong—lying directly to your face as you believed him—but he couldn’t dare to see the look of anguish ever again.

with a content hum, you pulled him into your arms and basked in the setting sun. 

–

alatus will never tell you how he felt whenever he was with you. how his stomach would make him uneasy and transform him into a small shy cat, afraid that he’d hurt you in any way should you come close to him. how his day immediately brightens up when he sees you standing by a tree, a stern expression on your face.

"you have blood all over you again," you'd say with a sigh.

and even if you hid the fact that you were terrified of the things he did, you took him into your arms and ran your fingers in his hair. the sweet nothings you whispered when he’d nap on your lap even for a few minutes, leaning down to kiss his forehead made his heart swell.

and he’s glad that he didn’t abandon you the day he saw you.

instead, he listened to the way his name falls from your lips. he chose to lie in your arms and listen to the faint sound of your beating heart. alatus has looked into your eyes as he caresses your face in the moonlight, humming as you whispered about your day to him. 

you were all alatus had in this godforsaken world. he who is the devil would lay at your feet and repent for his actions. if alatus could never forgive himself, you would take his face by your hands and kiss his eyes for they were the reason he saw himself in such a bad light.

the only thing alatus wanted was to be by your side. forever.

he would hold your hand and watch the way your eyes would sparkle at the sight of the sun setting everyday if he wanted. carry you on his back if you ever felt tired from walking whenever you’d set out on a new journey with him. he would eat the food you prepared for him, biting back a soft smile as you complained that his master would treat him so cruelly to not let him eat.

he adored you wholeheartedly.

but you were mortal, ever so fragile.

there would be times alatus would not be able to be by your side and the thought frightened him more times than you’d think.

how could he live a life without you?

he was selfish but he knew you’d still risk it all for him. it was only natural for him to do the same. you were mortal and you’d vanish soon enough but alatus would do anything to keep you alive.

–

“it’s a new dish i’ve been trying out. the ingredients are kind of expensive, so don’t expect me to make it every time!” you reminded as you set the two plates down on the table. 

“your fingers are all…” alatus muttered as he picked up the spoon, eyeing your bandaged fingers—blood still seeping through.

you held them to your chest, offering him a laugh. “it’s nothing, i swear! don’t freak out if you find blood in your food—i’m kidding, i swear.”

he almost looked offended at your statement, looking down at the plate and nudging it with the spoon. it was times like this that alatus did enjoy your presence and warmth. just the two of you basking in the moonlight. the food quickly melted into his mouth and he closed his eyes.

“well?” you peered at him, nudging his shoulder with yours.

alatus turned to you, paused and reached his hand out to bring your forehead closer to his lips. he resumed eating after.

there was nothing he could say but he knew that you already knew the answer to your question.

you leaned onto him, your head on his shoulders as you looked up at the night sky. “hm. let’s name it…almond tofu? it’s made from that, or maybe we should call it tofu almond.” 

“it sounds like something a child would call,” he commented.

“alatus!” you gasped. “take that back!”

“i never said it wasn’t delicious.”

“i suppose you’re right… i hate you and your remarks.”

alatus chuckles lightly, nodding. he takes you in his arms and breathes you in—like a bee needing flowers to survive. you were the light that shone brightly beside the devil, his savior and sanctuary. 

-

fight for me and get me a seat as an archon, his master had demanded all so suddenly.

as he had always been in, alatus was back on the battlefield. his polearm would slash and destroy anything that came his way should they disobey his master, his god. the blood of the innocent on his hands as he slaughtered each and every one.

alatus would never forget the terrified looks on their face, begging him to spare their child.

he hated every second of it. he could not stop even if he wanted to, the strings on his body were being controlled by his god. his god who desperately wanted the seat as one of the seven—greedy and merciless, he spared no one.

red and black was all alatus could see—he had forgotten the colorful skies, the greenery of nature, and the color of the love you gave him.

his soul was tainted and dirty, no repenting could ever make you forgive him now. should alatus crawl to your feet and beg for forgiveness, he knew you would stare at him in disgust and punish him for what he had done.

home was no longer with you, no longer in your arms that would wrap around him and have you whispering soft nothings. alatus was leaving battlefield after battlefield and soon, it had grown into his home.

days felt like years and he wished to head back to you each time he would rest—but he was bound by contracts and his weakness, you. 

-

 “…isn’t that him? he’s disgusting. i can’t believe he’s one of us.”

“it’s like he doesn’t have a mind of his own! what are you—don’t leave me!”

“…master, alatus has caused a great casualty. your soldiers are dying at his hands as well.”

“…master, alatus has killed general zho… we must kill him, it’s the only way—"

“you dare disobey me? alatus is my greatest soldier.”

“alatus, you must kill everyone who opposes me.”

“no god will save you, you damned devil!”

and soon, alatus had begun to kill gods. gods who waged war with him and his master, gods who wanted to flee and save their people, gods who did not care about the seating of celestia.

do you actually think you’re not a monster?

do you know what’s worse than a demon like you? a liar.

you killed people.

no one would forgive you.

what would [name] think?

what would [name] think?

whaT WOULD [NAME] THINK?

it’s in the most gruesome battle that he awakens at your name.

“the name xiao is that of a spirit who encountered great suffering and hardship. he endured much suffering, as you have. use this name from now on.” morax stood in front of alatus—no, xiao.

his master was now dead.

he had won the battle—but at what cost? 

xiao fell on his knees. his world had crumbled.

death was inevitable, it really was. but he had told himself he would go to great lengths to stop death from clinging to him—stop clinging to anyone he loved. he had never loved anyone as much as you before, you were the only one he knew how to love.

so, tell him, why did death cling to him?

a minute earlier. ten minutes earlier. no, an hour earlier. god, maybe a week earlier. you, who he swore to protect with all his heart, clung to him desperately, sobs escaping your lips as you trembled in his arms.

“alatus…it hurts! it hurts!”

xiao bit back the tears, his head buried on your neck as you cried on his chest. “it’ll be okay, you’ll be okay, i promise,” he soothed, lips shaking as he held you tighter.

“i don’t want to die, alatus, i don’t want to!” your voice was weak, full of fear and heavy breaths. xiao wishes he could hear your voice from before, joyous and teasing.

like everyone he had killed, your blood was on his hands. on his arms. on his clothes. on his face. your blood was everywhere on him. it seeped into him and he could feel every bit of it. xiao wanted to vomit, you were everything he had and you were dying before him.

red—it was all he could see.

the blood that seeped through your clothes, from your arms to your middle to your legs. the wounds on your face must have hurt—he wishes he was there earlier. he would have kept you safe. he should have kept you safe.

your cries were even worse. it was the only thing he could hear as he held on to you, tears already down his face as he hung his mouth open—unable to accept the fact that you laid before him with blood. your cries were painful and it hurt him. hurt him till his bones and hurt him in his heart.

sobs wracked your body and you could feel the pain. how painful your wounds were. 

“it hurts!” you cried, “it hurts so bad!”

xiao ran his fingers through your hair, attempting to soothe your cries. his hand reaching out to cup your face as you looked up at him with tear-stricken eyes. you cherished life and you cherished being with him.

losing life meant losing him. 

“you won’t die,” he repeated over and over again.

please…

 xiao wished it was enough to comfort you but really, it was for him. for him to stop falling apart and hurry and take you to the adepti.

“alatus,” you choked out, “please i want to live, i want-i want to be with you…please save me.”

a new name, he wanted to tell you. he lived under a new god now. the cruel master that you hated was now dead and he was saved. the war you had told him about was now over.

you can be together as usual now. he had so many things to say but his body trembled and you simply cried into his shoulder, begging him and any god that you wanted to live and to be saved.

the pain was unmeasurable and both of you knew that you were unsavable. still, you begged him to save you. you were being selfish, so selfish. but you wanted to be with him, feel his smile against your shoulder, have him bury his face into your neck in embarrassment.

“you’ll live. you’ll live. i’ll-i’ll take you to-to morax,” he spluttered, already making up his mind that he should at least try anything to save you. but you hissed in pain when he lifted you up and xiao knew.

there was nothing he could do.

alatus, what do you think of my dish?

alatus, do you think we can gather some qingxin?

alatus, kiss me?

 alatus, welcome home!

 alatus.

alatus.

alatus, do you want me to die?

alatus, why are you so useless?

alatus, you killed me.

(i didn’t…!)

“alatus, i love you, i love you, i love you,” you whispered against his skin. briefly, you wanted to see him smile at you but you were already being too selfish; so, you buried your face into the crook of his neck and closed your eyes at the warmth he brought you. “even-even until death, i will-will love you.”

“you’ll be okay,” xiao whispered, hand by your head as tears rolled down his cheeks. he was weak—he’d always been weak. “it’s okay, i love you too… so, please… it’ll be okay, it won’t hurt anymore. i love you, i love you."

xiao could only wish you managed to hear it.

before liyue and its people, there was you who he swore to protect.

before xiao, there was alatus who wished that you could have stayed with him as xiao.

notes the 2.7 archon quest absolutely wrecked me, i felt so sad seeing xiao wanting to sacrifice himself so i wrote this to help <3 hope u like it because i know i did

gen taglist @ljinghe @yaefics @imtoodumbforaname @wccycc @sugxqts @cottonfluffs // join the taglist here

Hi this is bout to be so weird cuz it’s my first time doing this can I do this in anonymous phoned not thats alright as well you can ignore it then :) no hard feelings butt can I have a reading of fate with kazuha pls

Thank you (and it’s very much ok if you choose not to answer this) anddd have a good day / night

Wheel of Fortune (new beginnings), Lovers (true love), Emperor (rev) (misunderstandings) :: kazuha x gn reader | Destined Fate

warnings: enemies to lovers, chasing, pinned to ground (reader), kissing (consensual)

“Stop right there!” You shouted through the turbulent wind. It had picked up so suddenly but you knew why without question. There was only one vision user who could manipulate the wind as easy as the leaf falls from the tree. 

Your legs had grown heavier in the chase but you couldn’t stop. Not until you captured what continuously eluded you. So, as you were trained to do, you squinted against the intensity of the sun and pushed further, faster, harder until your bounty came into sight. 

“KAEDEHARA KAZUHA!” The sound of your voice echoed across the cliff side, it spilled into the sea as your feet kicked up the sand beneath you. The samurai glanced your way, a devilish grin on his face. The sight of it made your heart pound, made your throat tighten, your chest constrict. He leapt over a pile of driftwood and you watched him float back down with ease. He was by far the most graceful person you’d ever met but instead of using his skills for a valuable purpose, he was on the opposite side. A side that ignored your sworn loyalty, a side against you. 

Suddenly, a gust of wind came hurtling toward you, slowing you down. You dropped to your knee and shielded your face with your arms. Pellets of stand stung your skin but you paid them no mind because as soon as the onslaught dissipated you were dashing forward with more determination than before. 

A flash or red caught your attention. It slipped behind an abandoned fishing shack just by the waters edge. Obviously the little stunt Kazuha pulled was to give him enough time to disappear from your sight but you were far to skilled to be bested by something as trivial as sand. You came to a steady jog, then a quick step until you pulled out your weapon and began to investigate. It was quiet, save for the push and pull of the waves and the irregular call of the birds flying above you. Today you would win, today you’d capture the elusive wind. 

Where are you ... You wondered as you peered around the edge of the shack, as you looked in the windows only to find sea creatures capable of making their way on land crawl around inside. Squinting, you turned to look out across the empty beach. There must be tracks somewhere, but knowing Kazuha he erased those with a wave of his hand. 

With a heavy huff, you jumped off the side of the deck, your feet sinking into the ground below. In the shade you found reprieve but you couldn’t rest until you finished your ---

Wind, sand, weight hit you all at once until you found yourself laying on the mixing warm and cold sand and your eyes came into contact with the man you were trying to find. 

“Hello there.” Kazuha’s voice spilled around you like a sweet perfume. It wrapped you up, trapped you, and kept you hostage. It didn’t help that his hands had found your wrists and were holding them steady, or that his weight kept you beneath him exactly as he planned. You fell for his trap, as you had many many times before. 

“Kazuha --” You glared at him, shifted under him but he simply laughed at your pitiful attempts.

“As it seems, I have bested you yet again, yoriki.” The title slipped from his lips and made you grimace. It was common for citizens to refer to you that way, but when he used it, it was like a poison. A reminder of the sides the two of you stood on. 

“You played dirty.” 

“How is that?” 

“I had you earlier but you weren’t honorable in my win. So this doesn’t count.” 

“Enlighten me, how was I so dishonorable?” Kazuha leaned down and you felt the heat from the sun spill over your chest. His face inching closer and closer to your own while your heart began to beat so wildly you thought it would pound straight through your ribcage. 

“You ...”

“I ...” You could practically feel his breath on your lips with how close he’d become. This was exactly like before and it wasn’t fair how easily he could manipulate you with just this much. 

“... cheating ...” 

“Is that what you call it?” Kazuha whispered before he pressed his lips to yours. The feeling sent a shockwave through you and although you struggled against him it was only so you could wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. To feel even more attached to the man who had captured your heart. 

When he finally pulled away you were floating like driftwood on the sea and with every additional, tender, affection he pressed to your face, you moved further away from solid ground. 

“What if someone sees?” You hummed as he kissed your jaw. His hand sliding down your arm while yours finally reached his chest. 

“Why do you think I had you chase me all the way out here?”

“I thought you were finally showing me your true colors.” 

“For you, I’d paint my shade any that would compliment your own.” 

Your fingers pulled as his robes, your heels dug further into the sand and you felt the tethers of your vow to the shogun loosen. “Are you always so poetic?”

“To express how one feels through prose, is there no other way to share what the heart already knows?” 

“I hate you.” 

“Tell me the ways.” He mused as his arms slipped into the sand and his lips came into contact with yours for the hundredth time. 

If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear everything you’d worked for, all that you knew, the path you thought was chosen for you, was undoubtedly being changed at the behest of Kaedehara Kazuha and a twist of destined fate. 

Fate Made Event (May8-31) | Anthology

Your event is so cool and unique, I just saw it pop up in the tags and would like to request Kazuha with loach pearls and luminescent spines. I think it'd be very sweet.

Promise Me

a/n | aw thank you anon! and you couldn’t have picked a better combination imo for the event this was so fun to imagine and write. i got way too invested in the backstory but how can i not kazuha is just so—🥺❤️ i really hope i did this justice! (art credits: @/maiaiiaiiai on deviantart).

warnings | self-contained slow burn fic, unedited

genre | fluff, childhood crushes + love confession

word count | 3k

pairing | kazuha x reader

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In those wondrous days so many years ago, your messy hair bounced freely, your toothy smile often turned into infectious giggles, and your eyes were bright with endless possibilities. The puddles of a rainy spring day were portals to a new world waiting to be explored. The shells washed ashore after a midsummer storm hid the secrets to an underwater palace. The piles of golden-hued leaves carried on the autumnal wind were your unpredictable guides to distant lands hidden between trees.

The world was your oyster, and you had the best adventurer as your loyal partner through thick and thin. Though, you wouldn’t know it just by looking at him.

He was the quiet type, not one to easily approach others for help or fall prey to rash decisions. No, he chose his words carefully and sparingly, weaving the most eloquent phrases or witty replies. You always wondered where his mind was behind those scarlet orbs, but it was apparent he never let his guard down no matter how lax he seemed.

He was much more attuned to the sounds of nature. He could hear an intruder from a mile away, smell the faint traces of an abandoned campfire from the night before, and feel the breeze warn him of a distant storm. His observant eye made him an excellent traveling partner, indeed.

Your mother would only let you venture as far as the outskirts of the rural village you called home. But that never stopped the both of you from wandering through the Inazuman wilderness until nightfall, a tattered leather backpack full of the day’s lucky finds strapped to your shoulders and a rusty sword sheathed on your friend’s hip.

You found it quite fitting when you learned of his name the first time you asked him to help carry your precious treasures home. Somehow this mysterious, cream-haired boy had guessed the direction of your hidden trove before you even told him. ‘When I am lost, the winds whisper the way forward,’ he had declared matter-of-factly to your astonished face.

Kaedehara Kazuha. Ten thousand maple leaves, painted with the warm colors of wisdom.

“Here we are!” you announced excitedly, rushing to the small opening in a huge tree with lots of big sprawling roots twisted through the dirt. You quickly stuffed your finds into the little tree hollow next to your myriad of unique rocks and fossils. “Welcome to my secret base, Kazuha. You’re my first visitor ever! So don’t even think about telling anyone else about this place, alright?”

The skinny boy hummed in response, taking in the vast green canopy of the tree. There was a makeshift treehouse stationed high up and he spotted a worn hammock draped from a particularly sturdy branch. “You picked an ideal spot.”

That was the fateful day you and Kazuha became friends.

You were surprised to discover that his imagination was just as wild and boundless as yours, conjuring up far-fetched fantasies of ancient prophecies and protecting you from harm like the gallant knights from your storybooks. He loved roaming the countryside with you. Hand in hand, you’d rush to a shiny treasure that caught your eye from afar and Kazuha would laugh merrily at your adorable antics as you dragged him along.

Sometimes your eager curiosity would get the best of you, suddenly putting you and Kazuha face-to-face with a dangerous foe. When anything dared to attack you, Kazuha would instantly place himself between you and the assailant, dull blade ready to defend you as his most precious friend. Thankfully that didn’t happen often. The worst enemy you encountered was a buried Dendro slime that grew angry after you so rudely stomped on its sprouts in a hurry.

At the end of the day, you were both just lonely kids desperate for an escape from the monotony of reality. Growing up was a scary notion and you weren’t planning on giving up your free-spirited lifestyle anytime soon—or ever.

There was one memory you cherished deeply, when you and Kazuha spent hours recuperating from the day’s excursion in the lofty treehouse. The warm sun hugged the horizon for miles on end as it sank lower and lower, its rays washing the sky in breathtaking watercolor hues. A few of the brightest stars were barely visible in the heavens, and the collective sound of crickets stretching their legs filled the air.

Your treehouse wasn’t anything special, just a small wooden platform with railing. It didn’t have a roof, which was perfect for watching the movements of the night sky amid plenty of sheets and comfy pillows splayed out on the floor. There was no hustle and bustle of the city to interrupt the tranquility of nature. No parents to come running after you, chastising you for who-knows-what.

It was just you and Kazuha, and you preferred it that way.

You recounted the thrilling and unexpected parts of your trek, waving your hands in the air animatedly as Kazuha watched amused. He would poke fun at how you mistook an innocent Geo slime for a idle rock to sit on or how your terrible Hilichurlian impression landed you both in an unusual predicament. You’d deny it and try to brush him off, only for Kazuha to tickle your sides until you admitted to your silly shenanigans.

“Okay, okay, Kazu!” you pleaded between bouts of hard laughter, trying to push his hands away from your sensitive torso.

He stopped as you asked, his own giggles happily humming on his lips as he turned on his side to fully face you, leaning his chubby cheek on his hand. When you met his fond gaze, your heart leapt and your tummy felt strange, almost giddy.

“There are many lands left unseen, many secrets yet uncovered, and many treasures to be had in this world. Like a bird learning to fly, you’ve inspired me to soar beyond the nest and into the unknown,” Kazuha smiled earnestly, casting his expression downward in contented reminiscence with a dusting of pink on his skin. “You are my best friend, (Y/N), and I want to travel the world with you. No matter how long it takes or what happens.”

Immediately your face brightens enthusiastically and Kazuha breathes a small sigh of relief as if it was difficult to finally express himself to you. His proposal had you beaming at the moon hanging above, imagining what it would be like to explore each of the seven nations with Kazuha. With a pleased sigh, your eyes sparkle with the possibilities of the future. “Me too. I wouldn’t have it any other way… Pinky promise me? We’ll be friends forever?”

Nodding, the young boy assured, “I promise.”

Then eventually came the fateful day you didn’t show up to the old maple tree as usual. Kazuha had seen you yesterday, softly bidding you goodnight when you had to return home for dinner. It was a day just like any other, and his mind was already preoccupied with the prospect of tomorrow’s adventures that were just a night’s rest away.

Were you simply running late? Did you get caught up with household chores? Could you have fallen ill this morning?

Kazuha patiently waited under the tree for you to arrive at any moment, but that moment never came. A naturally laid-back person, he decided to assume you were busy and stopped by your house. He took a sneaky glance in the window, but you weren’t there either. Typically your mother stayed to take care of you and the house, yet she wasn’t in the kitchen cleaning up breakfast. In fact, no one was home. And it was barren.

“Excuse me,” Kazuha politely inquired of your neighbor, worried that something bad may have happened to you or your family. “Do you know when the (L/N)s will return home?”

“Oh, dear,” the old woman drawled out, a saddened look on her wrinkled features. “They won’t be coming back anytime soon. I’m afraid they left Inazuma late in the evening yesterday, hun.”

“L-left? For good?” Kazuha’s chest felt tight, his heart cracking at the thought of you no longer with him—his closest traveling partner had simply vanished into thin air. What about the adventure you planned for today? What of your treasures left behind in the old tree hollow? Who would whisk Kazuha away into the vast wilderness searching for fantastical dreams the way you did?

What about the promise you both made?

The awful creak of the elderly woman’s rocking chair snapped Kazuha out of his spiraling thoughts. She nodded feebly, “Yes, dear, I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t bear to stand idle any longer. Before he knew it, his feet had taken him far away, as far as his poor legs would take him with tears quietly streaming down his cheeks. Far away from anything that reminded him of your presence that had been there just the day before. He ran and he ran through forest and thickets until he collapsed at the beach’s edge, ruby-red eyes glassy and blurred.

All he could do is hope that fate would be kind enough to allow your paths to cross again in some corner of the world.

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Liyue Harbor was unlike anything you had ever seen. Streets lined with hundreds of different local businesses, sidewalks crowded with a sea of faces you’d never recognize, and buildings towering several stories connected by strings of paper lanterns. There was never a dull moment with all the holidays, festivals, or competitions going on. It was the biggest city you had ever visited, stretching along the southern coast of Liyue into the huge ocean that separated it from Inazuma.

It had been years since your parents forced you to move to the land of the Geo Archon. Your heart still aches miserably when you’re reminded of everything you left behind, especially the one and only person who lifted you up when the world often weighed you down. You remember how you sobbed so hard and resented your parents for taking your best friend away from you.

You never anticipated that one day might be the final adventure with your beloved comrade. You weren’t given the chance to offer Kazuha a proper goodbye. No exchanging addresses to write one another, no farewell gifts to remember each other by. You couldn’t even stop by the maple tree to pick up your collection as a token of your many adventures.

You always wondered what Kazuha had thought or felt after you left the country out of the blue. It hurt you so bad to think of him. Who was there to guide Kazuha across the treacherous terrain if not you? Who would be the one to help him find rare treasures right beneath his feet? Who would keep him company despite his solitary nature?

Worrying over Kazuha was pointless, you had eventually come to terms with. You’d probably never see him again. Your parents tried to encourage you to make friends in Liyue, but none of them were as eccentric in all the right ways like Kazuha. As you grew older, you became an outcast. It was difficult making friends in a foreign city you never wanted to go to in the first place. City folk wouldn’t understand your love for exploring nature anyway so you busied yourself with work from the Adventurer’s Guild, where at least you could still pursue your passion.

Today Katheryne had tasked you with picking up and delivery a large shipment for Miss Ying’er and her perfume shop from the Crux Fleet. You were quite used to being a postal carrier since the Adventurer’s Guild refused to give you scouting missions because of your insistence on working alone. Apparently Beidou had made the perilous voyage through Inazuma’s tempest for some special circumstance, which included the flora and seedlings Miss Ying’er requested.

You were in the harbor marketplace when the huge ship pulled into the docks, weighing its anchor into the sea. Already, you could see the crew gathering wooden crates and vases, preparing to unload them onto the cobblestone sidewalk. You waved to Beidou, who acknowledged that you were to pick up some of the items.

“Long time no see, (Y/N)!” the captain yelled from aboard her ship. “If you need a helping hand, I’m sure one of my guys wouldn’t mind.”

“Hey, Beidou! Thank you!” you called back, turning your attention to the crewmen placing more crates on the wooden dock.

Suddenly you spotted one with a large flower emblem stamped on the side, so you reach out to ask for the light-haired crew mate to hand it to you. “Oh! Actually, I need that crate please.”

“Of course,” he replied, lifting the crate of flowers back up and turning to you.

As you attempted to position your hands to hold the crate, you spare a passing glance at the man and instantaneously your body freezes in place. The flowers felt unusually heavy in your arms as your lip quivered and heart raced at the impossible revelation before you.

“(Y/N)?” his soothing voice broke the silence. “Is it really you?”

The mysterious crew mate’s soft gaze bore into you with a peculiar familiarity, like he could see the years of repressed thoughts, feelings, and longing rush back through you. Was this man before you actually who you think it is? How could he bear to speak to you after your sudden disappearance? The idea of looking him in the eyes again, facing so much guilt but also so much happiness at the same time left you utterly terrified.

Slowly, you gathered the courage to meet his patient expression. You couldn’t believe he was right here in front of you, just handing you a crate of flowers. He could’ve been anywhere in Teyvat, for all you knew. But he was here with you again, after everything.

You noticed how his hair had grown much longer, tied back into a lazy ponytail, with a long scarlet highlight on the side. He had the appearance of a wanderer with a much nicer blade resting on his hip than you last remembered. There was something different about the way he carried himself, but you couldn’t quite place it. When you saw a glowing Anemo vision clipped next to a faded one, you understood.

“Kazuha?” you breathed in shock, uncertain of his reaction.

Swiftly, he set aside the crate and embraced you in a surprisingly tight hug, holding you so close as if to keep you with him a bit longer—to make sure you were real. Kazuha buried his nose deep into your shoulder and you wrapped your arms around him, rubbing his back in small motions. You smelled like home, a nostalgic reminder of all those days spent exploring the secrets of Inazuma in his distant childhood.

Quickly separating himself from you in embarrassment, Kazuha bowed apologetically. “I-I’m sorry, I just… It’s you. I’ve missed you dearly, comrade. I never imagined I would find you in Liyue after all these years.”

“No, no,” you cried frantically, shaking your head. “K-Kazuha, if anything, I should be apologizing to you. I… I left you. My parents wouldn’t let me say goodbye. I didn’t even have time to write a note to you. I—”

You began to panic from so many conflicting emotions flooding you, hot tears threatening to spill and an anxious lump restricting your voice. Kazuha instantly reached out to pull your hands away from your distraught face gently, whispering to you, “(Y/N), dove, there’s no need to cry over me. I forgive you, okay? Let’s take care of these crates and we can catch up.”

Once you both delivered Miss Ying’er’s shipment, you invited Kazuha to watch the twilight descending over Liyue Harbor from the cliffs north of the city. You could not stop your heart from thumping with excitement, or maybe anxiety, every time you accidentally brushed hands trekking up the mountainous path. It was as if there weren’t years of separation, and you were silently thankful that Kazuha was an understanding person.

When you reached the ideal spot, you sat in the wild flowers and grass together overlooking Liyue. The crickets were waking up, and you were reminded of your favorite evening with Kazuha so long ago. How he teased and tickled you, a cute blush tinting his cheeks, promising to stay by your side forever. You wondered if he held those memories as fondly as you.

“I’m happy to see you faring well,” Kazuha hums thoughtfully, reveling in the warmth of the setting sun. He peeks an eye open to catch your reddened face, smiling that clever smile of his. “My memory pales in comparison to your lovely visage.”

“And you still have such a poetic tongue,” you roll your eyes and laugh lightly, leaning toward him teasingly to nudge his shoulder with yours. “I always loved that about you. I missed the way you’d talk about our adventures with your pretty words.”

“You know, I’ve always kept one of our treasures with me. Would you like to see it?” he asked.

Your face brightens, looking Kazuha over to see if you recognized any embellishments that might resemble one of your precious tokens. “Really? Yes, show me.”

From beneath his clothes, he pulled out a black necklace with a single piece of polished jade resting against his chest. He fingered the stone affectionately before turning to you, who had leaned even closer to take a look at the treasure. Though you cannot tell, Kazuha’s heart leapt too.

“I like to think this little charm brought me a sense of peace. I didn’t want to forget you,” he admitted sheepishly, letting his voice trail off softly. For a moment, his lips parted but he dismissed the idea with an embarrassed shake of his head.

“Kazuha,” you call to him delicately, attempting to catch sight of his wine-crimson irises beneath his fluffy bangs. “I’m glad we found each other again. I don’t think I could stand to be without you again.”

“Then let’s never part again, dove,” Kazuha grabs both of your hands in his and caresses them lovingly, searching your eyes for any sign of discontent or hesitation at his advance. Although his nerves make him feel shaky, he has to put his mind and heart to rest once and for all. “On one condition…”

“Let me call you mine.”

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