I Came To Check On Your Blog And I See That The Requests Are Open Again 🤩 Can We Get Ray, Suit Saeran

Let me come through with some Kazuha x reader

The first thing that you can think of is that he's pretty, he's always so pretty: perched on the crow's nest in the mid afternoon, after he's done with his tasks for the day, bandaged hand coming up to shield his eyes against the harshness of the sunlight, his own crimson eyes stubbornly stare at the horizon where the sun is slowly dissipating into the sea, sometimes you wonder what he's searching for. He's pretty in the early hours of the morning, when he greets you first, and only then everyone else aboard, with his messy ponytail swaying in the wind, rebellious locks of slivery hair framing his gentle face ever so softly as he smiles at you, and you wish you didn't focus so much on the way his eyes crinkle and shrink into crescents when he does so. You wish even more that the action alone wasn't enough to make you oh so painfully aware of the beating of your heart in your chest. He's pretty in the late evening, when the artificial light of the oil lamps is the only thing illuminating his features, so tenderly smoothing out the planes of his skin, it's such a harsh contrast with the teasing smile that he so easily offers you and the rest of the crew between wittily crafted lines of poetry and scalding, sarcastic remarks. His lips meet the edge of his cup, obscuring that smile from your view, and thank the Archons, but the cutting glint in his eyes stays, you dare say it takes on an even more piercing edge, you roll your own eyes at him and dismiss the feeling of your cheeks tingling and burning when you can still feel his unashamed gaze on you.

Kazuha's pretty, he's pretty, pretty, so pretty and graceful even when his blade is drawn and unforgiving wind follows his every move on the battlefield.

But now? Now Kazuha looks especially pretty under the silver tones of the moonlight, he looks especially pretty because he's sitting next to you by the bow of the Alcor, sailing away in the night, you swear you're not looking at him, but you can't help noticing how his pupils are still focusing on the horizon. What is he looking for? And maybe you already have your answer, but you'd rather discard it each time and ask yourself the question all over again.

"The wind is rather restless tonight." Kazuha ponders silently, yet his words hold firmness.

You resist the urge to turn around and look at him, to really look at him and let your eyes wander and roam, so you let yourself merely wonder what his profile might look in the moonlight as you meekly hum in agreement. He sighs at that.

There's not a wisp of wind tonight. The both of you know that.

The smell of summer is thick and coily in the air, so saturated that it bleeds in the night almost overwhelmingly so. Though you always enjoyed the feeling it brought, this time it's unusually stifling, but at least, it gives you a reason to ignore Kazuha's unspoken demand.

Kazuha is a person who values bluntness and honesty above everything else, you know, you've seen the way his eyebrows furrow in the most dignified of frowns whenever he's on duty to bargain with merchants for the good to stock before a long journey: said merchants take their sweet time roping him in courteous conversations in the vain hope to pluck some more money than it'd be fair. Oh, how much he hates that.

But Kazuha can be one big hypocrite himself, because the world will burn before he will give up his own ways to make you trip and stumble over his intricately woven musings himself. But you happen to be just as annoyingly stubborn as he is, in that subtle way that leaves no spoken argument but expectant silence.

"I can do this for the entire night Kazuha." you assert uncaringly, or that's you would like to say, you hate yourself for the tint of annoyance that manages to colour your voice. Kazuha sighs yet again, and this time you notice, with little sweet pride and the same amount of guilt, that it's out of exasperation.

"I did not lie, a storm is brewing in the horizon-" you don't even let him finish his sentence, it's too late- or too early, really, for you to deal with this shit "That's it, I'm going to bed-" he chuckles at that, but there's no humor in it, it doesn't make his chest rumble like when it bubbles out of genuineness "I thought you said you could deal with this for the entire night." he whispers teasingly, and though it doesn't have half of the strenght his usual mischievous voice holds, you'll take it. Archons, you'll take anything.

"With this? Yeah. Deal with you? That's out of question." he fakes a pained gasp at your rebuttal "You wound me, dove." you forcibly ignore the way your heart hums in response at his little nickname, like it knows, like it's answering a call of your own name. Instead, you swallow the words laying on the roof of your mouth, the sweetness and the reassurances, you swallow all of it down for the sour and bitter. But you forget that honey is thicker than acid, and when you swallow it down, it threatens to get stuck in your throat, seal your voice away with it too.

"Good." you finally manage, tune rough and trembling "Good. It might teach you to say what you mean." your words fade in the night as you speak them, a little too caustic. You don't mean them, you know, hell, he knows you don't mean them, because Kazuha always says what he means. But he humurs you, lets another chuckle escape those lips of his, you swear you're not looking at the way they move to accomodate the sound of his laughter, you swear, but you're not like Kazuha.

"And what do I mean exactly?" he questions you, the tone of his voice once inch away from amusement "You want to know why I'm troubled through the usage of very shitty storm metaphors." he hums "So you are troubled." Kazuha confirms in unspoken, yet so so loud, victory "Yes, now, will you leave me alone?" you see refusal written on his parted lips, ready to push you back, pick and pry for more, but Kazuha was never one to pry at all. He was never one to prod at a shattered mess of glass and pick and choose the pieces he wanted to his heart's content. So you watch as hesitation takes over the colour of his irises, and with the umpteenth sigh of the night, he nods his head in quiet acquiesce and turns his gaze back to the horizon.

It stings a little, his easy approval. Screw it, it's more than just a little. You think, of all of the times, why was it right now that Kazuha had to turn obedient to one's call but his own? But after all, how can you even complain when you're the one who's to blame, when you were the one to ask him to let go. Kazuha's always been awfully good at letting go after all.

Awful. That's what you should feel for your last thought, but you don't, the only feeling of guilt that creeps up your spine is the one that comes with the cynical realization that you don't feel guilty at all for what you thought.

Against your better judgement, you scoot even closer to him, your hand almost touching his bandaged one on the rough wooden surface, you feel the warmth that his body emanates, bask in it for a second too long. It's a silent apology, you think, one that you selfishly offer even though you never uttered those words out loud.

Another breathless sigh escapes Kazuha, and although you barely register his action, it does make you wonder why your companion keeps sighing like he's exhaling his damn soul.

Maybe he is. Maybe he wants to leave a piece of himself in something that's not promises of evermore, something that's not an 'if' or 'when' but a 'here' and 'now'.

It's lonely, you take note idly. It's an ugly feeling, one that you're accostumed to, but that doesn't make it any less ugly. Especially when you know you feel perfectly fine on your own, when loneliness and longing come knocking at the hollow of your bones only when you're in somebody's company. But this is the first time, it's the first time that your mouth fills with cotton and helplessness tugs at the chords of your soul when it's you and Kazuha.

You don't like it. You hate it.

You scoot even closer to him, teetering on touching, but not quite, you're not that presumptuous. And right there, you understand that your silent apology was never to Kazuha, but to yourself.

You gaze out at the horizon as well, and you find yourself wondering, wondering what would fill that hollow, what it would be like to give a name to what you feel when you're next to him, if that would be enough to make the constriction in your ribs feel good.

You wonder what it would be like to drop pretense, to forget that when you fall and scrape your knees it hurts, and remember that it burns so good too. Perhaps salvation would come with letting yourself be consumed, set ablaze in an all-encompassing flame that disembodies you and makes you one again just to breathe elation and destruction into you. Maybe it would still leave you breathless, like the cotton filling your lungs when Kazuha looks at you, maybe it would sate the craving.

"Dove?" Kazuha calls out softly, voice the slightest bit husky after not speaking for long. You don't answer immediately, noticing how now the nickname weights a little heavier on your shoulders, a little acrid in your heart. You scrunch up your nose in distaste, action that grants you a chuckle from Kazuha, the sound fading a little too soon in the undisturbed night.

Even then, it's still enough. Enough for you to feel it reverberating in your bones and leaving goosebumps on its wake, making your spine quiver as if it were his wandering fingers tracing routes across the skin of your back. You miss it.

So you wonder, perhaps it doesn't have to be like that, perhaps it doesn't have to burn until it bleeds. Perhaps the answer is gentle and unwavering like the ocean's horizon that Kazuha admires so much. Yes- you'd like him to look at you the same way he does with that. Waves that thrash whimsically, take away the shattered glass and bring it back mellowed out, you think, maybe then Kazuha would pick and pry in that heap of those tiny pieces, he would have the courage to pick and choose without leaving his fingers prickled and bleeding on jagged edges. In all tides there's a homecoming, unyielding stability admist precariousness that washes over you, soothing you in a balm of familiarity, it gently breaks you open and seeps into every crack and crevice.

You smile.

No, that wouldn't work. Kazuha wouldn't be afraid to cut his fingers on mere jagged edges, he would let the blood drip down his fingers and stain the glass until it stubbornly clinged at his nails, until he found what he was searching for.

The sky is painted in a watery blue hue, and you almost raise your arm to reach out and touch it, it looks like fresh paint. Oh- only then you realize, there's a faint ringing in your ears. You head is spinning like crazy, though the entire world seems unmoving. You hear a name being called, a voice firm and severe, but it's breaking open, desperation threatening to tear it apart from its very core. It's your name that they're calling.

Your eyes struggle to focus on the person in front of you, something in your mind is screaming in recognition, but your mind feels languorous and somnolent, and any semblance of lucidity seems to be slithering away from your grasp as you reach out.

A sharp pain in your chest forces a whimper out of you, and suddenly the figure in front of you appears in your eyes with appalling clarity.

"K- Kazuha?" he recoils at the sound of your voice, as if that alone was enough to burn him, his eyes look frantic, almost hysterical, he speaks of something, but you barely find any coherence in his words, brain too stuffy to make sense of what he says. Kazuha applies pressure on your chest, and suddenly you're lurching forward in a fit of painful coughs. The taste of blood fills your mouth.

Oh- oh, you remember. You were on the battlefield, fighting against the shogun's troops, guided by none other than Kujou Sara herself. And it was one of her own arrows that was now impaled in your chest. If your head stopped spinning for a second, maybe you'd laugh at how tragic this must look. You're no hero, no person guided by some fervent ideal of righteousness or following the patriotic ideal of freedom for the liberation of your nation. You're not particularly selfless either. You owe nothing to these people, nor to your conscience. No, perhaps your only fault is being quite a little too much of a nihilist for your own good.

Your own cruel mind points out in indisputable logic how you're just one of the many people laying bloody on the battlegrounds now, not more or less value than any of them. A selfish part of you however, holds onto Kazuha's sleeve tighter. Am I worth your tears?

The pain in your chest intensifies, the remains of electro energy the arrow was imbued with reverberating through your body. The tips of your fingers numb, limbs fall heavy, Kazuha's pleads trip down his lips, hasty like a prayer, but bitter like a curse.

Your heart is beating. It's beating so fast. And of course it always was, always is, but now you're acutely aware of it, of the thumping against your ribcage, and you want to feel it, feel it race even faster and feel your chest burn some more too. As the pain flushes in your abdomen, hums through your body, only one thought emerges through the haze of your mind. Can this be like scraped knees? Can this burn so good too?

How morbid. A broken laugh leaves your lips, Kazuha looks at you in madness, and you wonder, which one of you is the goner?

You reach your hand out, a feeble attempt to cup his cheek, Kazuha catches your trembling limb, brings it to his face with a desperation that is so unlike himself. And as the pain burns more and more, you hum in sudden understanding.

It feels just as exhilarating, and you know, deep in your mind you know, that it has nothing to do with the way Kazuha holds your hand like a lifeline.

Perhaps this is what it is.

Quelling in both venom and elixir. All demolition and all divination, it shoves you down to take the fall, but never lets the impact come. You stand afloat in anticipation: it leaves you stuttering and hesitating, can you hold onto it? How does something that barely exists fill the hollow in your bones and free your lungs from cotton?

It's not lonely anymore. You exhale softly, Kazuha holds his breath.

"So pretty." the you whisper in a hazy breath.

Kazuha doesn't know if you're talking about the sky or not.

.

.

This is more of a vent piece, I don't even know whether it's intelligible or not. I will probably regret posting this by tomorrow, but right now it's 2.30 in the morning and I have no filter.

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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———————————————————————

what i imagine you dancing to;

albedo - gramofon waltz by eugen doga

kazuha - tchaikovsky’s waltz of the flowers

cyno - la valse d’amelie waltz by yann tiersen (orchestra version)

———————————————————————

the sound of tuning instruments fills the air as the orchestra prepares for the upcoming dance. a dance of three parts, and of three partners. an underlying murmur of muted conversation rises from a growing crowd, each soul donned in an exquisite mask, not a single one identical.

you weave your way through the crowd, straightening your own mask. you do not know who you will dance with. perhaps with no one at all. you have decided to leave that decision to fate.

———————————————————————

three minutes.

albedo is a well-known and highly respected alchemist, invited to this ball out of formality. he had his reservations about going, and has yet to lose them, but in his position (where every move he makes is accounted for and eyes follow him wherever he goes), refusing such an invite would cause an uproar; an uproar which, if it were to arise, he would not have the patience to deal with.

the time for the first dance is nearing, and a circle of people have swarmed him, firing overlapping questions such as why he hasn’t chosen a partner yet, who he’ll dance with, and whether it’ll be them. he turns down their all-too-eager requests, however, for though it is true that he would rather not be here, he is, and so he will dance only with that whom he chooses.

three minutes until the dance begins. the group surrounding him grows increasingly anxious and increasingly rowdy. his patience is drawing thin. perhaps leaving now and dealing with the consequences later would be for the best.

as he weighs the potential outcome of this course of action and whether it would be worth it, his eyes absentmindedly trail over the gathered crowd. in doing so, he catches a glimpse of you. ah.

he excuses himself from his circle of enthusiasts (much to their disappointment), and begins to make his way over to you.

albedo thinks he knows who his first partner will be.

two minutes.

kazuha enters the hall, casting weary glances over his shoulder as he slips on his mask. he moves into the crowd, blending in effortlessly just as four guards enter through the double doors, faces riddled with frowns as they scan the gathered citizens. they mutter in hushed tones to the men stationed by the entrance, pistols hanging at their waists, who shake their heads to whatever is being said. the other guards exchange a glance before leaving.

that was a close one, kazuha thinks as he navigates the ballroom, and allows himself to take a breath of relief. he slips further into the hall, taking note of the preparing instruments and the thrum of excitement in the air; no doubt that the dance will be starting soon.

but now he’s left with another problem; he has to find somebody to dance with. he has two minutes. he casts a sweeping look over the crowd, and his eyes land on you.

this may be promising, he decides.

one minute.

cyno leans against a wall, arms folded across his chest. his face hidden by a mask and the rest of him by a cloak, nobody would recognise him as the grand mage of sumeru academia. it is not that he wasn’t invited, of course, or that he is not supposed to be here, but rather a case of fancying some privacy and space to enjoy this event without recognition nor the academia breathing down his neck.

he doesn’t intend to dance. he is merely here to enjoy the music and have time to himself, relax, and wind down. a few people have all approached him with requests to dance, all of which he has declined. he would only dance with somebody if it were somebody he had an interest in, and all these strangers are nothing of the sort.

if he is not mistaken, there is only one minute left until the dance begins. he raises his head in anticipation; the music is about to begin. this is when a familiar figure catches his eye, one which he immediately recognises, standing out to him amidst everyone else.

it’s you, of course. he considers the significance of your presence for a moment, before straightening himself up with a sigh, and deciding that perhaps he will dance with somebody after all.

———————————————————————

as the music starts, you find yourself quickly swept up in the crowd…

and into somebody’s arms.

“may i have this dance?” albedo is your first dance. ever the gentleman, he takes your hand in his own gloved one and, eyes never once leaving yours, leans down to place a featherlight kiss to your knuckles.

you could not refuse, even if you wanted to.

a soft, melancholic melody begins to play, and an arm comes around your waist. you place your free hand on albedo’s shoulder, the other still held within his, fingers now intertwined. you both begin to sway, slowly, to the music.

he wears a long coat that falls to his ankles, and beneath it a deep blue waistcoat embroidered with flowering patterns of black and silver. golden threads dance up dark satin gloves, the fabric fine and no doubt of the highest quality. two elegant black boots, lined with a various assortment of buckles and straps, reach his knees, and a couple of belts hang loosely across his waist.

though his features are hidden by a mask, his ashen blond hair falls around his shoulders and frames his face, tied behind his head in a braided crown. a star pendant, golden and four-pointed, hangs around his neck.

you recall that you have met albedo before, albeit briefly, but none of your encounters have been particularly significant. you cast a glance at him, curious as to why, of all the many brilliant and fascinating people here, he’s chosen you as his first partner. you cast a glance at him, and your eyes widen in awe.

delicate and elegant, his mask sits immaculately on his face, needing no thread nor ribbon to tie it to his head. crafted from untarnished silver and encrusted with diamonds that sparkle like swirls of frost on a cold winter’s morn, the mask glints coldly with his every movement, pristine as falling snow.

over one eye the mask lies a magnificent wing of winding metal, the structure similar to that of a crystalfly and embellished with glittering fragments of glass, its pattern so ornate and its form so slender and delicate that one could mistake it for real as its pale facets catch the chandelier light. it strikes you as similar to sunlight caught in a snowflake; so fragile, and so precious.

such is the way he waltzes with you; polite and courteous, beautiful without a doubt, and yet so distant, never coming too close; almost as if he is afraid to. as you dance, you can’t help but notice that something about him feels lonely.

but though his touch does indeed contain a hint of frost, his presence also holds an underlying warmth; a warmth which he has shown only ever to you.

and, as reserved as he is, when the first part of the dance draws to a close and you two must change partners, albedo seems almost reluctant to leave you in the way that his hands still linger on your sides as he turns away.

for this night has only just begun, and there is much more fun to be had.

“good evening.” almost immediately comes another voice, this one unfamiliar, yet not unpleasant; the tone is soft, and contains a hint of a smile.

a hand slips around your own after a brief hesitation; kazuha’s hand had hovered over yours for a moment, brushing against yours nervously, before finally enclosing around yours. you can feel a thin layer of bandage cloaking his fingers, but no matter the scars or stories he hides beneath them, his presence is undeniably one of kindness, and if anything, you feel safer than not in the company of this stranger.

after this initial hesitance, he seems to grow more confident. the next waltz begins, and he whisks you around in a gentle spin. as you turn, you catch a glimpse of his face.

the mask he dons is tied to his face with two long, red ribbons and cast from smooth ivory, designed to look cracked with age, and dips elegantly along his nose like the beak of some mythical bird. sewn masterfully across the mask’s pale surface intertwine threads of red and black lace, forming flurries of maple leaves swept up by a gust of silver-thread wind.

burgundy plumes fan out from both sides of the mask like outspread wings, their colour deep and the feathers long, gently swaying with his movements. in the dim light of the ballroom, flames seem to dance across their soft edges. the eye sockets of the mask are long and slender, the corners tipped with black. from behind them, two scarlet eyes gaze at you, warm and gentle.

he is dressed in a cloudy grey garment resembling an underbust corset, decorated with subtle motifs of silver and bronze. beneath this he wears a loose-fitting poet shirt of a cream colour, sleeves full and billowing and ornate frills lining a laced v-neck collar. two leather boots, done up with both lace and the occasional buckles, are worn over a deep mahogany pair of waist-high trousers.

a black top hat, bronze goggles resting on its hem and decorated with various cogs and thin silver chains, sits on a head of pale hair which falls slightly below his shoulders, untied and highlighted with a single streak of red.

the way he dances is different to any prior experiences you’ve had; he’s freer and lighter and fleeting, yet also so incredibly here, as if he has no care in the world other than this dance, with you, right now. like a leaf on a breeze, he dances to no order nor routine, but to his own rhythm. when he spins you around, you could almost laugh in exhilaration, and at seeing your pleasure, he smiles.

for he carries an air of weightlessness with him, and his presence brings something refreshingly new as you twirl into the night.

but he cannot stay for long. as the music begins to rise to its climax, you feel him tense as you dance, and he glances over your shoulder, as if catching sight of someone— or as if someone has caught sight of him. he leans close to you, and in a low voice, says, “please forgive me.”

before you can say a word, he presses a cool object into your palm, and is gone as quickly as he came. you immediately notice the absence of his hands on yours, and frown.

a cold sensation on your skin brings your attention to the object in your hand, and you stare at it. on your palm sits a maple leaf crafted of silver and painted with deep reds and fiery oranges; no doubt a token to remember this encounter by. or, perhaps a token to find him by in the future.

you stand alone for the rest of the waltz. when the music ends, you tuck away the silver leaf with a wistful sigh.

when you look up, the stranger is nowhere to be seen. instead, a new figure stands before you, a hand outstretched towards yours.

it is time for the last dance.

though cyno says nothing, something about him strikes you as familiar. you cannot tell what it is, though you’re certain you’ve met before. unlike some others here, you do not find his presence intimidating. instead, you are intrigued, and find yourself stepping closer.

the final waltz begins, starting as a gentle background chime, and your hand hovers above his. he waits, patiently.

he wears a large cloak that sweeps his ankles, the material a deep indigo; so dark that, at a glance, it appears black. golden patterns dance on its hem, shimmering like a desert sun as it sways rhythmically with his movements. it is fastened loosely around his shoulders with a brooch constructed of clock cogs, both large and small, the design so intricate to the point of awe. from the brooch hangs a delicate bronze chain, connecting the two sections of fabric.

on his outstretched hand lies a fingerless glove of a thin netting, ornamentations and symbols woven into the fabric, exquisite in their subtlety. he wears a slim golden ring on one finger, in which a ruby glints.

though a hood shrouds his face, you can see that the mask he wears whittled from ebony, patterns of dark swirls still visible in the black wood. the edges of the mask are both gilded and ornamented with intricate designs of aureate lace.

wide, angular eye sockets lined with gold leaf markings hide his eyes, but though you cannot see them beyond the shadowed openings, you can tell that they are fixed on you. on his face, only the minute smile that forms on his lips as you finally place your hand in his is visible.

below the left eye are painted two lines, one vertical, the other long and curling; an eye of horus. over the right eye is woven a netting of gold thread, fine as spider silk. a single polished black gemstone embellishes the forehead, elegant in its simplicity, framed in twisting lace. when it catches the light, it shines like a sliver of moonlight against a starless midnight sky.

he draws you closer— not uncomfortably so— and you make no effort to resist. rather, you find yourself lost in the circling sway of the music and the way your heart races when he dips you suddenly, eyes locked on to yours and burning with a cool intensity.

you stay there for one moment, two, and then he pulls you back up.

as you dance, it seems as if this moment will last forever; a timeless waltz to which there is no end, and no beginning, only the thrill of spinning under a high vaulted ceiling in a crowd of masks and secrets.

but all good things must come to an end (for that is what gives them value), and after what feels like forever, the music fades away, and you must part; as is the way of these dances.

and so he lets go of your hand, and you must hold yourself back from reaching out to grab it once more. he inclines his head to you, as if in thanks. you return the gesture, though you wish only that this dance did not have to end so soon.

the faintest flicker of a smile crosses his face, and then he turns away, and is lost to the crowd.

you see none of them again as you depart.

———————————————————————

the crowd disperses into the night, in all their masks and waistcoats and gowns, regaling one another with their experiences in voices tight with excitement.

you leave the hall alone, having danced three dances (once with an alchemist, once with a criminal, and once with a mage), and had your heart stolen with each in turn.

an alchemist, a criminal, a mage. one courteous, one free, one familiar.

as you walk, your mind lingers on the question,

if you were to see them again, who would you choose?

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. 

taglist: @x-zho @irethepotato @pochipop @applejuiceistired @falling4fandoms (send an ask/dm or check my pinned to join/leave my taglists!)

genshin boys react to someone pursuing you 1

pairing fem!reader x diluc, childe, xiao / part 2 here

genre fluff, angst, jealousy

warnings some suggestive lines, possessiveness / yandere personalities, a little aggression, stalking on the pursuer's part, minor swearing

note if you'd like similar hc's for zhongli, kaeya, albedo, or anyone else (refer to my character list) feel free to request!

synopsis an unwanted someone persistently continues their advances on you despite you clearly rejecting them and stating you aren't interested... let's see what the genshin boys end up doing >:)

diluc

always stoic and composed, and almost never lets emotion show on his face. or at least hides it enough so no one (except you) notices

diluc is often busy with work and tonight, he's taking a shift at the tavern- you decide to pay him a visit, after all, it's friday night and you'd probably be spending time with him if he wasn't here

he's pretty occupied while you're there, but he still flashes you that smile that's reserved for you, and only you. and plus, you're sitting at the bar and he's always looking out for you, but he knows he doesn't have to worry too much

that's until his brother walks in. ahem, cavalry captain kaeya

the smoothest talker in town walks straight over to you. he practically ignores his diluc's existence as he flirts, asking if he can buy you a drink or two

he's fine with kaeya's antics and doesn't want to give him the satisfaction of reacting. that's until his brother begins to touch you. tucking your hair behind your ear, gently slapping your hand as he laughs at your jokes, touching your thigh with a compliment slipping from his lips

god, he can't handle seeing another man's hands on your skin

diluc's trying not to look at you and kaeya too often... but then he's pouring a drink for a customer and he lets it overflow-

"uhm, master diluc?" "...shit."

he just really wants to take you home now. he'll have his hands all over you later

inside, diluc feels the anger and resentment boiling inside his stomach, but all he does is shoot kaeya a dirty look, but he's too busy flirting with you to notice

"ah, sweetheart, and i assume you're well acquainted with master diluc?"

sweetheart.

diluc scowls at the cute little pet name kaeya just loves to call you. he feels like slapping his brother across the face, but he knows that won't get him anywhere.

so before you can respond to the question, he interjects.

"being in a relationship, i'd say we're very well acquainted indeed, kaeya."

you can hear the stiff rage seeping through his voice as he glares daggers at the man sitting next to you.

"ah-"

before kaeya can finish his snarky, passive aggressive sentence, diluc's grabbed your wrist and leaned over the bar counter to press a rough, but warm kiss to your lips. he lingers a little longer than he usually would, especially in public, and in front of all these customers at the tavern- before letting his palm slide down the curves of your face as he stares into your eyes. he doesn't even give his brother a second glance.

before you know it, the stool beside you is empty after a forced chuckle, and a sudden blush is spreading across your face.

"d-diluc?"

"yes, dear?"

you still don't know how he manages to keep a straight face.

childe

oh boy, childe is already way too eager to fight. so a guy making advances on you when you've clearly said no? he probably would've murdered him beat him up already if it wasn't for you literally holding him back

shows ALL his emotions on his face and is terrible at hiding it, unlike diluc. he's literally a child, but you just can't resist those endearing blue eyes when he's acting all clingy, you find it adorable

"you sure you don't want me to fight him? c'mon darling, it'll be fun!"

no doubt will get jealous when he sees another guy with his eyes on you. after all, you're his and his only; no one else should be able to touch you or admire you

you immediately regret it when you tell childe about the guy who's been flirting with you every time you visit. you can see the anger flash on his features before an aggressively mischievous glint appears in his eyes

cue slightly yandere childe

he insists to follow you literally everywhere (when he's not running some mission for the tsaritsa), making sure that no creeps land a finger... or their gazes... on you

you're at the store with childe one evening. he's gone to buy a snack for you both while you continue shopping

in a mirror you can see the man who's been constantly pushing you to go on a date with him walk quickly towards you

when childe walks back into the store, he can immediately sense the insistence laced in your words and your annoyance radiating off you

he saunters up behind the guy, placing a firm grip on his shoulder. your boyfriend is taller than most, and he makes people cower underneath his looming stare

his typically cheerful grin turns cold in an instant, it almost scares you too

after he's successfully scared the living hell out of the guy, he acts all jealous and cute, whining and pestering you about why you wouldn't let him fight

"oh? and who might you be?"

childe's eyes narrow in suspicion at the man standing in front of you, who now drops his hand from its initial spot on your shoulder. his blue hues turn icy cold, and without looking at him you can already feel his anger rising up inside.

"don't know how to take no from a lady?"

"i-" the man can't even respond with a single word, let alone a sentence before your boyfriend has pushed him into a corner and pinned the fabric of his shirt against the wall. there's no hesitation in his voice as threats spill from his lips.

childe snakes his free arm around your waist a little more tightly than usual, pulling you close to his chest and then unapologetically pressing a kiss to your lips, watching the figure below him squirm.

"you lay a finger on her, and you're dead."

you know he means it.

xiao

even when you're not physically together, xiao's always watching over you and ready to protect you if you ever need it

you often take commissions during the day only to return home by foot when the sun has already set and it's dark out, and knowing the dangers that may lurk on the path back to wangshu inn, xiao will be on high alert; sometimes even teleporting to a high cliff just so he can see your surroundings and have peace of mind

he notices this particular figure who is almost always trailing not far behind when you're walking home after dusk. at first he brushes it off as a coincidence, he's just too anxious because it's you, but after a week or so he knows this guy can't be just behind you every night by pure chance

one night when you return to wangshu inn, you complain to xiao that you feel like someone's following you but you can't see anyone when you turn around

xiao purses his lips into a slight pout, before repeating those words you always hear him say. "hmm... well if you are ever in danger, call out my name." he hates this feeling of knowing someone else is trying to be close to you, and making you so uncomfortable in the process

but you just smile knowing he will always be there to protect you, regardless

the next night, you feel that same presence once again, and at your call xiao is immediately by your side

he doesn't waste any time, giving the guy an abrupt lecture about how he isn't respecting the ways of the adepti. the guy probably starts worshipping xiao in fear because few mortals actually ever meet the guardian yaksha

you can hear xiao give his usual scoff. "stupid mortal. now leave." he feels like stabbing the guy right through with his spear but he knows he's only meant to kill monsters with his weapon

ah, finally, he has you to himself now

the air around you seems frighteningly still as you pick up your pace. you're waking through dihua marsh, but you can feel a presence behind you. there's the occasional crunching of leaves or the snap of a twig. this feeling is familiar- and not in a good way. you can't actually see anyone or anything near you. maybe it's because it's dark out, or maybe because someone's hiding in the trees.

ugh, maybe i'm just paranoid. there's probably nothing here. i've been hearing these noises every day for a week now, and nothing's happened to me yet.

but you recall xiao's words from the night before, and the way he seemed to be hiding something that he knew when you told him about your fears. though it seems silly, calling him when there's no apparent danger, you decide you'd feel safer with him by your side anyways.

"xiao."

as soon as his name falls from your lips, you feel the intimate whisper of the wind swirl around your form, and he is next to you in an instant. staring into his warm amber eyes, you let this sudden wave of relief and comfort wash over you.

"i'm right here."

ᥫ᭡ ๑՞. note by note

pairing: akira kusuru (joker) x reader

listen to: rooftop piano v. - n.flying

akira knows only a couple of songs on the piano.

“wow, so when were you going to tell me about this?” you gasp in excitement, patting akira’s shoulders in curiosity as you watch his fingers glide across the white and black keys.

he giggles at your reaction, “oh, it’s just a little hobby.” and puts his fingers over a couple of graceful sounding keys that are the beginning to a song.

a “little hobby” was an understatement with what he could do with the instrument. even if it was only a couple of songs, he sounded like he mastered them to the fullest extent and it was quite captivating when he played.

his fingers eventually stumble on the keys out of nervousness and he stops playing, looking up with a shying smile, “and i’m not the best at it anyways.”

you give him a pout that makes your honesty apparent, “but you are the best, here play that song again.” you sit next to the empty spot on the velvet stool and place your hands over his in attempt to relax him.

“nervous?” you ask with a small giggle to lighten the anxious mood of the room and he chuckles in return. his cheeks become red from embarrassment and his terrible effort of trying to woo you.

your hands slip away from his and he starts playing the previous song again, but it sounded almost different; it sounded slow and full of love.

and the keys of the piano create this soft melody as you lay your head on his shoulder, letting the music floats through your ears. he couldn’t help but feel warm at your actions, and grin with blush covering his cheeks.

it’s as if the song came naturally to akira, even if he only knows a couple of songs.

note. akira + piano = love <3

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!)

[2:22am] ;; inumaki toge

note: nothin man inumaki toge needs a hug send tweet. gn!reader on this one too ladies and gents. it's 4:05am now i'm gonna go.... sleep

He’s never up this late. Not when the world outside seems so quiet, as though even a breath from him could shake the trees until their leaves fall and scatter around him, swirling in circles until they land at his feet.

Inumaki is never one to let his breath stir in the night with such ease, to let the wind cast around him and whistle past his ears until it’s hardly all he can hear. Yet, when night came he couldn’t find himself drawn to sleep—not for anything bad, no, the nightmares stopped bothering him a few months ago. But rather, because he saw your silhouette passing by his window and out into the courtyard, and Inumaki Toge has always been a curious one.

You turn as he approaches, and even in this darkness, he can see the way you smile at him, your eyes flitting over him and brows pulled together in a certain kindness that he could never expect from someone, but one that he feels from you as though it’s the only thing you’ve ever known.

“And I thought you weren’t one to stay up late,” You say, and your voice drips with fatigue at this hour, as though moonlight has crept its way into your throat and left you coated with its dust. You have your arms wrapped around yourself in this chill, your short sleeves not nearly enough to cover your skin from the breeze, so before he responds Inumaki shrugs off his own jacket and places it around your shoulders.

“Salmon salmon,” He says with a sigh, though his tone is awfully delightful for the way his eyes wish to close with every passing breath. He watches as you pull his jacket tighter around you, and he tries not to pay too much attention to the way you lean into him, as though you could share the warmth from the clothing purely through proximity alone.

From where you two stand, you can see the way the moon shines over the forest that surrounds the school. It reflects on puddles from the earlier rain showers, water still dripping from the leaves onto the soil, but he can hardly pay attention to the way night has spread across the forest, not when you’ve begun to lean your head onto his shoulder until your hair brushes against the newly-exposed skin of his neck and jaw.

These moments have grown much more frequent, as of late. As though you’ve only grown bolder with time, as if with each turn of the clock, you’ve only inched closer to him until there was no space left between either of you.

He doesn’t mind—not at all. Not when the sight of you in his jacket is enough to warm him even as the breeze fights against him. For the longest time, he thought you were never one for touch. He thought you would be the kind to only lay a hand on those who asked, but he supposes most people think he would be the kind to never wish to speak, too—he should really know better than to make assumptions like that.

Because now, in the glow of the moonlight underneath the ancient stars of this Earth, Inumaki Toge wishes for nothing more than to let words spill past his mouth as though he could afford to be careless. He wishes for nothing more than for his breath to creep past his lips and confess without consequence or fear.

And under this moonlight and beneath these ancient stars, you’ve trusted him with your touch, as you have for a few weeks now, and you’ve curled yourself around him and the warmth of his skin as though neither of you have known any different.

“You look pretty,” You say then, and it’s almost like you’ve managed to know no different here, either, because you know his thoughts that can never be vocalized, and now they’ve become your own. “Y’know, under the moonlight and all. Though I’d say all the other times, too.”

It takes him off guard, and he almost regrets giving you his jacket because now a blush has managed its way up his cheeks and he’s entirely on display for you to gaze at. And you do, god you do.

And then, as though it’s the most natural thing for him to do, Inumaki buries his face into the crook of your neck and whispers bonito flakes into your flesh, and then tuna, over and over again until the meaning behind the words can be felt since god he knows that they can’t always be heard.

No, he wishes to say, it’s you. It's you. Look at you. He wants to spill past his lips.

But he doesn’t need to. Never does with you, because you pull him away from your shoulder and smile at him, the moonlight reflecting off of your skin in the sweetest of ways, and smile.

“No,” You say, “It’s all you.” And then your lips are on his cheek, the kind of thing that only the sweetness of night could bring.

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

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?”