Hi, call me Ae (or Cattlemon that's fine too)! I'm 19 and I'm a college student! My pronouns are she/her. My MBTI is INTJ-T and I'm an aquarius. My favorite color is purple or red but I own so many pink and yellow items (very common misconception). A fun fact about me is that I have grapheme synesthesia!
Also, if you know me irl, no you don't!
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Requests are open!
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#cattlemon's writing - fics and drabbles
#cattlemon's musing - hcs and requests
#cattlemon speaks - thoughts (and prayers)
Hope you have a nice time in my corner of this abyssal site ahaha.
| Atsumu hates hide-and-seek, but he’s always loved finding you.
TW: Atsumu x childhood friend!reader, 2k words, nothing weird here
a.n. this going to be part 1 of 2 so check back for that!
1, 2, 3…
Atsumu hates playing hide-and-seek. Something about having to find another person who’s trying their best to hide sort of annoys him. He doesn't quite get what's fun about it.
It ain’t worth slick. They’re just tryin’ ta piss me off.
Truth be told, he doesn’t quite mind playing it with others; at least, not as much as when it’s with you. With you, it feels like you’re actively hiding and running from him and it does a little bit of damage to his poor heart. He supposes the soft organ in his chest isn’t smart enough to realize that’s just how the game works. Then again, it’s not like his heart is ever smart when you’re involved.
Atsumu zips around the small confined space of his living room. He wonders aloud how it’s possible that he hasn’t found you yet in a house he’s lived in for the past 8 years. He continued his search behind potted plants and bookshelves before finding his twin brother. Despite earning himself an imaginary point, it only gets him more antsy to find you and end the game.
Where are ya, stink?
As the minutes pass by, his steps turn into stomps and his pout starts looking a bit too real. Atsumu could only grumble when he would turn to his twin for help only for him to shrug in return. It also did not help that Osamu would occasionally look your way, only to look away just as he turned to follow his line of sight.
Unfortunately for Atsumu, you were very good at hide-and-seek. You’d think he’d have home advantage but you knew this house just as well as he did–if not better. After all, this is where you’d spend most of the day when your parents are out on errands.
You keep your eyes on him as Atsumu whined to his brother to just tell him where you were hiding. Truthfully, you never fully understood why the boy gets so upset when you’re last to be found. The other day he got chosen as a seeker and he almost cried when he couldn’t find you after 15 minutes. Yet, in another encounter, he found you first (courtesy to you knocking over a vase) and he spent the rest of the time chatting with you, completely neglecting the fact that his twin brother was waiting to be found on the roof.
Seeing him fully upset now, you decided to give up the jig and ‘reveal’ yourself.
Rustling the curtain with your hands, you heard Osamu yell out an overexaggerated ‘over there’ before being found out. If it were anyone else, you’re pretty sure it’d be a one-and-done game and you won’t be playing with the spoil-sport ever again but seeing him look so proud and happy that he found you, you can’t help but let him cling onto you and suggest another round.
You suppose your heart isn’t smart enough to realize every round will have the same outcome as the last. Then again, it’s not like your heart is ever smart when he’s involved.
4, 5, 6…
Atsumu wonders where you are.
You’re supposed to be waiting for him outside the school gates. He grumbles as he wonders how much of his reputation would burn up in flames if he showed up to the first day of middle school with just his brother and without his girl.
Hehe, my girl.
Despite it being over a month since his confession last summer break, he still feels all giddy when he recollects the memory. He can’t even bear to imagine how pretty you looked then when you blushed at his very cool and awesome confession nor can he stand to remember how you immediately said yes to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He needs to stop those trains of thought lest he wishes to enter his teenage years with a beat red face and a goofy grin. It doesn’t matter much because the moment he spots you getting off your bike just a short distance away, his smitten heart can’t help but pound and turn him into a puddle of puppy love and faux bravado.
“Look who finally decided ta show up, ‘Samu. It’s my gir-”
“-excuse me, I’m late.”
You did not let him finish his sentence as you speed-walked past him, injuring his heart and ego in the process. Atsumu’s blank face watched your retreating figure as Osamu clutched his stomach for dear life, laughter pouring out of him in unending waves.
Oi, what was that?
Atsumu is a loudmouth by birth, it’s his default setting and the only way he knows how to function. That portion of his personality means he’s never out of things to say, be it stinging remarks or funny quips. Your refusal to acknowledge his existence as your boyfriend marks the first time he’s ever silenced beyond words, he can’t even form a thought at the moment.
As he watched his heart break into tiny, confetti-sized sprinkles, you disappeared into the crowd barely sparing him another second. Oh, this won’t do. He needs to find you and clear something up. He doesn’t know what exactly needs clearing up but by heaven’s sake, he’ll figure it out.
Damn it, I’m comin’ fer ya!
If Atsumu were a scientist and looking for a topic to research, he’d probably look into why you affect his sense of time so damned much. It has not even been an hour and he’s already bouncing in his seat and tapping his left foot on the floor; he won't be surprised if he looked down and found a shoe-sized dent. He’s very anxious to see you again and it shows. For heaven’s sake, the teacher has called on him 5 times to make him stop his nervous habits. Apparently, it’s ‘bothering the class’, whatever that means.
Even if he wanted to stop, he couldn't; not when he does not know where you stand on things and whether or not the trouble he’s caused you is still within the forgivable range. He continues his incessant jitters as he thinks of all his sins (and his forefathers’ sins, just in case you go back that far). To be honest, no matter what it is he has done, he’ll simply grovel and hope you take him back so you would keep looking and talking to him like you did last summer.
Don’t worry, he’s not afraid to beg.
But if he somehow did something to damage your blossoming relationship beyond repair, it’s no big deal. He’ll be fine. Right?
Yeah, I’ll jus’ go clear my schedule and dig a hole big enough ta rot inside.
He grumbled into his hands as he thought of all the possible outcomes.
Damn it.
The bell rang and Atsumu was immediately out of class, leaving a trail of chaos behind him as he knocked over a bunch of students in the hallway. Osamu rolled his eyes as he sat back down. Atsumu must’ve been insanely worried if he did not come to Osamu to beg him for assistance but it’s no matter. He knows he'll be hearing all about it when you two kiss and make up. Atsumu is a lot of things, a liar, a goof, a fool, and a scam for a brother but at the very least he’s none of that with you; minus the fool part, though.
Atsumu spent half an hour, basically, touring the school at two-times speed. He couldn’t find you anywhere. He groaned as he sat on the bench overlooking the outdoor sitting area. He’ll recuperate and go back to looking for you when his lungs aren’t on the verge of collapse.
Damned human lungs. Ain’t worth slick-
“‘Tsumu, are you alright?”
Gotcha! Well, I suppose ya found me first, but what's the difference, right?
Either way, Atsumu saw the pearly gates and high-fived a baby angel when he heard your voice. He probably ascended even higher into the stratosphere when he realized you were concerned for him.
Maybe he mistook your cold meeting as anger when you’re really just in a rush; or, perhaps, you did not realize it’s him because he somehow had a major glow-up and is now devilishly handsome, a stunner beyond stunners. Maybe he-
“Just because I asked if you’re alright doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you, ok,” you clarified as you took a seat beside him.
“You just look insane right now so I thought I’d ask.”
Atsumu made a mental note to cry in embarrassment later when you’re out of earshot. Plus he should buy a comb the next chance he gets because he’s just now realizing how hard it is to pat down his hair. Add a handkerchief onto the list too because, damn it, he’s sweating a whole ocean’s worth of liquid; in front of his girl…his mad girl.
What a nightmare.
Despite every bone in his body telling him to apologize right away, his breath was still catching up to his impromptu marathon so he sat there with nothing to say. You seem to notice this as well and sighed before starting your long-winded speech.
“I’m sorry for overreacting earlier, ‘Tsumu. Truth be told, I’m just bummed out that you confessed and never really asked me out. I mean I kissed you on the cheek and you told me you liked me but you never asked me to be your girlfriend. I know some people like their relationships to be without labels but I’m the kind that does like labels. I get it if you’ve changed your mind though… we can just stay how we are if that’s what you- HEY?! WHY ARE YOU CRYING??”
His eyes were welling up with tears and all it takes is for him to look into your eyes for the dam to fully break. You hurried in your efforts to search for a tissue or some wipes to give to the boy sitting beside you but to no avail you found nothing so the best you could do was offer a comforting pat on the back. Instead, he swallowed your whole being in a hug, trapping you in his secure hold. Not that you minded but you’re unsure why he’s the one crying right now, after all, weren’t you the one left confused about where you stand with the guy?
With wobbly lips, he attempted to explain how he thought confession meant you’re already dating and that he didn’t know there was a whole other hurdle of asking out. Even though you barely understood him, he continued to chug on with his explanation as the bell rang to signal the end of the break. He doesn’t seem to care, though, as he continues to tumble out apologies and compliments about how pretty you look and that he could never change his mind about liking you.
You weren’t sure about 90% of the things he said but the 10% that you did hear convinced you enough that he never did mean to leave you hanging.
“Pfft, what a fool you are, ‘Tsumu.”
He nodded aggressively, agreeing with you. You laughed a bit louder and it eased his tears.
When the tears staining his cheeks and his snot on your uniform dried, he held you close and asked you out. His arms tightened when you said yes and locked you onto his heart when you kissed him.
With a sheepish grin, Atsumu whispered, “Look at ya. Looks like I made a mess of yer uniform just tryin’ to find ya, I cried and everything.”
“But, I’m glad you did. Even if it's technically me who found you.”
hey!! it’s 💿 anon :)) i feel bad that i’ve only sent you angst requests so here’s a happy one! (because i adore everything about fall!!! cozy sweaters, warm tea, the pretty colors :)) it’s so great) maybe something about fall picnic dates/hangouts? with whatever characters you feel like writing for :D <333
Seasons of Change: Autumn Activities
Multi character! Diluc, Wanderer x Reader (separate)
TW: Nothing!
Diluc
“You know, you could’ve told me you wanted to go out on a stroll,” Diluc huffed before continuing, “I would’ve brought you your coat, sweetheart.”
Trust in your husband to be a worrywart.
“It’s not even that cold out here, Diluc. It’s brisk at best,” you poked his side as you teased him on, “plus I’ve got my own walking fireplace right here. What would I need a coat for?”
Accepting his defeat, Diluc grumbled silently about how much of a tease his wife was. Though he wouldn’t want you any other way, not with how tightly his grip on your hands was.
You continued your walk in balmy silence as the moon hung brightly in the inky expanse of the autumnal sky, wordlessly spectating the moment you two were currently sharing.
“Hey, husband,” you called, “what’s your favorite season?”
The husband in question rolled his eyes at your unusual nickname but thought of it as endearing regardless. He mulled your question over, knowing that you weren’t going to accept just any ordinary answer.
It was silent for a few seconds before he answered, “Any season is nice when I get to spend it with you.”
He waited for your reaction expectantly though he wished he hadn’t because he saw your face scrunch in faux disgust before letting out a loud snort that stumbled and rolled into plentiful guffaws. Despite the source of your mirth stemming from his embarrassment, he couldn’t help but think he’d embarrass himself ten times over just to hear your tinkling chimes of happiness.
You wiped your fake tears as you leaned into him and mused, “I never realized I married myself to a cheesy man. If you trained hard enough, I’m sure in a few month's time you’ll be giving Kaeya a run for his money.”
“You tease me relentlessly for my, ahem, creativity yet I’m sure if I answered you with a measly ‘autumn’ you’d tease me just the same for being boring,” he commented with a raised eyebrow.
You nodded, “fair enough, your assumptions are correct. I do tease you quite a bit, don’t I?”
“I’d say much more than just ‘quite a bit’,” Your husband huffed out though a smile crept slowly onto his lips. Even as he defended himself before you, he can’t help but subconsciously adore you, smiling at just how comfortable you and your sly tongue are with him. He’s glad he makes you feel safe enough to goof off.
As you both continue throwing loving jabs at one another, he pulls you closer to him. You snuggle into him as you inhale the warm woody scent of your husband. All the familiarity that exudes from your favorite person in the entire world softens your heart like no other; the realization that he knows you much more than anyone does brings a pleasant sense of comfort that gathers and pools in the pits of your stomach.
Out of the billions of souls wandering the planes of Teyvat, you’re glad that yours have found kinship with his blazing soul. You wonder how low you’d have to bow your thanks to Lady Luck for arranging such a beautiful fate. Thinking of him and how well your body fits into his pulls you to stand on the tips of your toes to give him the faintest of kisses.
You’ve kissed him with passion under the security silk blankets, yes. You’ve kissed him with giggles in between both your lips, yes. But this feels entirely new but somehow familiar at the same time.
As your lips find purchase in his, his scarred fingers tangle themselves within your locks, intertwining himself as much as he can with you.
The night breeze continues to whistle around you and the woodland critters of the night chitter away at the starry world but neither of you seem to notice. Much like you said earlier, he really does bring warmth along with him. A warmth that encapsulates your heart even on the coldest nights. Your very own walking fireplace.
Your very own home.
The Wanderer
“Wow, I can’t believe you get this view for free all the time. This is incredible, you know. I’d bet you can sell tickets and get a whole lot of Mora by taking people on joyrides.”
The Wanderer huffed in annoyance as he threw you a not-so-icy glare.
“It’s not a smart idea to test my patience while your life is in my hands, idiot. I take my hands off of you and you’re plummeting to your death,” the man said a bit too matter-of-factly.
You groaned dramatically about how he ruined the mood and poked some more fun at him knowing he wouldn’t dare drop you, you’d bet good Mora he knew that too.
As you fly over the canopy of Apam Woods in his arms, you both find yourself slowly forgetting your main objective of tracking down a gang of treasure hoarders that ransacked your campsite a couple of hours ago. It’s not like they stole anything of value, just a bunch of knick-knacks you picked up from a traveling merchant.
“I know you once told me that autumn is the poor man’s winter but I 'd bet this view changed your mind, huh,” you smile as you lean your head to rest on his shoulder before continuing, “Fall is probably the most boring season anywhere else in Teyvat but in a continent wholly filled with trees, you can’t help but appreciate the change in color palette.”
Despite his silence, The Wanderer understood what you meant. He wasn’t one to be awed by a pretty view but he admits that perhaps, just this once, it is worth the admiration. His eyes were so used to shades of teal and green that the moment they finally melted into the warmth of amber hues, he couldn't help but be struck by the beauty of change. Much like who he was made to mimic, he has a certain affinity towards the serenity of stagnancy but, he supposes, much like your presence in his life, you’ve shown him that there is a damning allure about transience. In all honesty, it’s quite a nice change of pace, certainly in his eyes.
You can’t help but fill the silence as the breeze caresses both of you gently.
“I know this is a one-time occasion but I wonder if one day I’d get to see this view again. The trees are like little puddles reflecting the setting sun like a camera capturing little snippets of a pretty, orange image,” you sighed into his shoulders, “maybe one day, I’ll learn to fly too.”
The Wanderer kept to himself as you muttered your sleepy wishes.
As the sun continues its journey into the underworld, the sky begins to shift into a gradient of purple and blue; the colors of midnight sky dissolving into the glowing hues of past hours. The Wanderer found his own midnight eyes drifting towards your sleeping form in his arms. You looked so beautiful, your transient, ever-changing self. He wonders if your wish to see this view once more will come true next year or perhaps the year after that.
Though he knows now that there is no permanence and assurance in the future, he hopes against hope that what you are to him will stand the test of time. Inside the hollow chambers of his chest, he feels the telltale warmth he only feels in the quiet moments you share with him. In that warmth lies his wish to fly with you in his arms, through every autumn he has left to share in this lifetime with you.
a.n. Thanks for visiting, 💿anon. I hope you like this one even though it's rushed and barely checked for grammar mistakes. Sorry it's literally December when I post this :") we can just pretend it's still fall !
Real quick I got like two requests and both are making me froth because I wanna write them so bad but I've got 3 back-to-back exams so please know that I can't wait but uni is forcing me to wait :(
Ae, quick question for clarification: how do you feel about writing for past characters, like Guizhong, King Deshret, etc?
Ngl, I'd steer clear of writing past characters because I just don't understand them all that well and past characters that only appear by name don't give me a lot to work with :"( this may change depending on the character though because I think I may write about major past characters like Rukkhadevata or past characters that has been out for a while like Crepus. It really does go case by case so I don't mind if you request for me to write them. I may refuse but I may also accept it (just take it like a 50/50 pull) 😔🤙
Thanks for wanting to re-confirm this with me. It's very sweet of you <3 Hope to see you in my inbox soon 🫵😩
hey!! it’s 💿 anon :)) i feel bad that i’ve only sent you angst requests so here’s a happy one! (because i adore everything about fall!!! cozy sweaters, warm tea, the pretty colors :)) it’s so great) maybe something about fall picnic dates/hangouts? with whatever characters you feel like writing for :D <333
Seasons of Change: Autumn Activities
Multi character! Diluc, Wanderer x Reader (separate)
TW: Nothing!
Diluc
“You know, you could’ve told me you wanted to go out on a stroll,” Diluc huffed before continuing, “I would’ve brought you your coat, sweetheart.”
Trust in your husband to be a worrywart.
“It’s not even that cold out here, Diluc. It’s brisk at best,” you poked his side as you teased him on, “plus I’ve got my own walking fireplace right here. What would I need a coat for?”
Accepting his defeat, Diluc grumbled silently about how much of a tease his wife was. Though he wouldn’t want you any other way, not with how tightly his grip on your hands was.
You continued your walk in balmy silence as the moon hung brightly in the inky expanse of the autumnal sky, wordlessly spectating the moment you two were currently sharing.
“Hey, husband,” you called, “what’s your favorite season?”
The husband in question rolled his eyes at your unusual nickname but thought of it as endearing regardless. He mulled your question over, knowing that you weren’t going to accept just any ordinary answer.
It was silent for a few seconds before he answered, “Any season is nice when I get to spend it with you.”
He waited for your reaction expectantly though he wished he hadn’t because he saw your face scrunch in faux disgust before letting out a loud snort that stumbled and rolled into plentiful guffaws. Despite the source of your mirth stemming from his embarrassment, he couldn’t help but think he’d embarrass himself ten times over just to hear your tinkling chimes of happiness.
You wiped your fake tears as you leaned into him and mused, “I never realized I married myself to a cheesy man. If you trained hard enough, I’m sure in a few month's time you’ll be giving Kaeya a run for his money.”
“You tease me relentlessly for my, ahem, creativity yet I’m sure if I answered you with a measly ‘autumn’ you’d tease me just the same for being boring,” he commented with a raised eyebrow.
You nodded, “fair enough, your assumptions are correct. I do tease you quite a bit, don’t I?”
“I’d say much more than just ‘quite a bit’,” Your husband huffed out though a smile crept slowly onto his lips. Even as he defended himself before you, he can’t help but subconsciously adore you, smiling at just how comfortable you and your sly tongue are with him. He’s glad he makes you feel safe enough to goof off.
As you both continue throwing loving jabs at one another, he pulls you closer to him. You snuggle into him as you inhale the warm woody scent of your husband. All the familiarity that exudes from your favorite person in the entire world softens your heart like no other; the realization that he knows you much more than anyone does brings a pleasant sense of comfort that gathers and pools in the pits of your stomach.
Out of the billions of souls wandering the planes of Teyvat, you’re glad that yours have found kinship with his blazing soul. You wonder how low you’d have to bow your thanks to Lady Luck for arranging such a beautiful fate. Thinking of him and how well your body fits into his pulls you to stand on the tips of your toes to give him the faintest of kisses.
You’ve kissed him with passion under the security of silk blankets, yes. You’ve kissed him with giggles in between both your lips, yes. But this feels entirely new but somehow familiar at the same time.
As your lips find purchase in his, his scarred fingers tangle themselves within your locks, intertwining himself as much as he can with you.
The night breeze continues to whistle around you and the woodland critters of the night chitter away at the starry world but neither of you seem to notice. Much like you said earlier, he really does bring warmth along with him. A warmth that encapsulates your heart even on the coldest nights. Your very own walking fireplace.
Your very own home.
The Wanderer
“Wow, I can’t believe you get this view for free all the time. This is incredible! I’d bet you can sell tickets and get a whole lot of Mora by taking people on joyrides. I mean flying is a luxury, you know... for most people, anyway.”
The Wanderer huffed in annoyance as he threw you a not-so-icy glare while readjusting your position in his arms.
“It’s not a smart idea to test my patience while your life is in my hands, idiot. I take my hands off of you and you’re plummeting to your death,” the man said a bit too matter-of-factly.
You groaned dramatically about how he ruined the mood and poked some more fun at him knowing he wouldn’t dare drop you, you’d bet good Mora he knew that too.
As you fly over the canopy of Apam Woods, you both find yourself slowly forgetting your main objective of tracking down a gang of treasure hoarders that ransacked your campsite a couple of hours ago. It’s not like they stole anything of value, just a bunch of knick-knacks you picked up from a traveling merchant.
“I know you once told me that autumn is the poor man’s winter but I'd bet half my fortune that this view has changed your mind,” you smile as you lean your head to rest on his shoulder before continuing, “Fall is probably the most boring season anywhere else in Teyvat but in a continent wholly filled with trees, you can’t help but appreciate the change in color palette.”
Despite his silence, The Wanderer understood what you meant. He wasn’t one to be awed by a pretty view but he admits that perhaps, just this once, it is worth the admiration. His eyes were so used to shades of teal and green that the moment they finally melted into the warmth of amber hues, he couldn't help but be struck by the beauty of change. Much like who he was made to mimic, he has a certain affinity towards the serenity of stagnancy but, he supposes, much like your presence in his life, you’ve shown him that there is a damning allure about transience. In all honesty, it’s quite a nice change of pace, certainly in his eyes.
You can’t help but fill the silence as the breeze caresses both of you gently.
“I know this is a one-time occasion but I wonder if one day I’d get to see this view again. The trees are like little puddles reflecting the setting sun like a camera capturing little snippets of a pretty, orange image,” you sighed into his shoulders, “maybe one day, I’ll learn to fly too.”
The Wanderer kept to himself as you muttered your sleepy wishes.
As the sun continues its journey into the underworld, the sky begins to shift into a gradient of purple and blue; the colors of midnight sky dissolving into the glowing hues of past hours. The Wanderer found his own midnight eyes drifting towards your sleeping form in his arms. You looked so beautiful, your transient, ever-changing self. He wonders if your wish to see this view once more will come true next year or perhaps the year after that.
Though he knows now that there is no permanence and assurance in the future, he hopes against hope that what you are to him will stand the test of time. Inside the hollow chambers of his chest, he feels the telltale warmth he only feels in the quiet moments you share with him. In that warmth lies his wish to fly with you in his arms, through every autumn he has left to share in this lifetime with you.
a.n. Thanks for visiting, 💿anon. I hope you like this one even though it's rushed and barely checked for grammar mistakes. Sorry it's literally December when I post this :") we can just pretend it's still fall !
To the anon that sent in a request a while back (like weeks ago), Tumblr deleted your request and I can't find it :(( please feel free to resend it (if you want) so I can finally get to it.
*also I'm sorry for the random semi-hiatus :( I've been sick 😔
heyy, it’s the anon that sent in the request about wanderer with a reader who has a bad relationship with their father :) if it’s alright maybe i can just go by 💿 anon? i have another kinda personal request, and again if you don’t feel comfortable writing it please let me know.
I have a control freak mother, who is obsessed with our family looking perfect from the outside. for example, about a year ago i had plans to k!ll myself, and i broke down and told my mom, and her response was taking away my phone, computer, everything that i could communicate to people with. She called me an attention seeker and told me that i wasn’t allowed to tell anyone else about it.
It can either be new or a continuation of my first request, whatever you feel like writing :) thanks so much, lovely <3
The Weight of A Memory
TW: Suicidal ideation, emotional distress, pretty sure there's a cuss somewhere, 1,7k words
a.n. can be read as a continuation to this but fine as a stand alone. More below for you, 💿anon
“So, you’re saying it can work? Erasing a memory from the Irminsul, I mean,” you prodded the man beside you for what felt like the fiftieth time after his prior admission.
The wanderer’s eyebrows twitched in annoyance as he scoffed at your question; a desperate one he suffixes.
“I only told you that because it seems plausible but even I don’t know the complexity behind the damn tree,” he hissed before adding a quiet “yet” to the back of his remark.
“Honestly, I don’t think we can progress anymore on this topic,” the aloof puppet gruffed out, “the best we can do at this point is to abandon the title entirely and find an object much easier to study than the Irminsul. It’s a massive retrospective joke that we thought ‘Selective Memory Alteration via Mental Connection to Irminsul’ would be a good research title. We can’t even get access to the tree, much less experiment on it.”
He’s definitely right, but you can’t bring yourself to agree, not when he just alluded to the possibility.
“We don’t have to gain direct access, we can just connect through the meditational route, you know, incense and the likes?”
The Wanderer let out a mocking snort as he looked at you like you’d said the most absurd thing he’d ever had the privilege to hear.
“The ‘meditational route’ you throw around so easily takes years to hone, idiot, it’s not just smelling salts and candles. You’re a researcher of the esteemed Akademiya and this is your idea? I don’t want to be that person but it looks like you’re desperately clinging onto a failed idea.”
On a normal day, you would know well enough that he’s only trying to dissuade you from wasting your time on something pointless but, unfortunately, for both you and him, today has been an absolute shitfest for you. Where you’d normally sigh at his crass way of speaking, today you decide to one-up him and say some rather nasty things as well.
You suppose it’s only fair that monkeys see, monkeys do.
But what started off as annoyance quickly turned into genuine anger as more ugly words and defined poison spewed out of what was supposed to be a discussion session on your research. He said some painful things and, admittedly, you did too. It, soon, spiraled out of both of your control as things started getting painful especially when he asked what all this insistence was for.
“Why are you so hellbent on going through with this title–and don’t you dare tell me it’s just because it interests you! You’re much too smart to make such a lame excuse.”
You were silent as embarrassment leaked from the corner of your eyes because truly you did not know.
Or, rather, you did. You just didn't want to admit it to him.
Taking what you hope are your things, you rush out of the grand hall, passing by the walls of books and scrolls. You need to get out of there before it suffocates you alive, whatever ‘it’ may be.
The Avidya Forest is a good ways away from the main city of Sumeru but The Wanderer took it all one stride at a time, all in the name of tracking you down.
Truthfully, in the empty echoes of the cavity he calls his heart, he feels bad for the things he’s said. He knows he shouldn’t have questioned you too harshly, not when you seemed so unsure of it in the first place, but he needed to know why you wanted this so badly; partially because of the intuition he spent millennials sharpening told him to and the other half because he’s seen this desperation before, back when he donned red, black, and gold.
He followed the path he’s sure you must’ve taken and started guessing when the beaten path petered off.
He was right to place his bets on the left fork because he found what he was looking for, albeit not in the condition he was hoping for.
You were hunched over under a tree, clearly sobbing.
The Wanderer almost scoffs at how pathetic this all was, more so his insistence to come find you than your evident sadness.
Making sure to step a little louder, he made his presence known. He hopes you’ll extend an olive branch of sorts and start the conversation but he supposes it’s too much to expect such mercy after how the situation unfolded.
He sat beside you but you made no effort to acknowledge his existence, much less be forgiving. He’s fine with it. If you won’t talk, he’ll just have to talk for the both of you. He’s not particularly good at discerning human emotions but you mirror a certain grief he’s experienced three times too much. So, even though he’s probably extremely behind the curve in expressing human sympathy, he can, at least, offer the empathy of a hurt soul.
“I don’t know what the fuck happened to you but the divine can’t fix it for you, you know. It’s stupid and damn near fruitless to place your hard-earned hopes on a tree. I don’t know what you’re trying to fix but whatever it is you’re trying to erase, I guarantee it'll bite you back in the end if you do it this way.”
He expected at least another hour-long silence but you took the bait and he’s grateful that you did; even if it did hurt him a bit to see the effects his words had on you.
“You know what’s stupid? Not telling me how you know all of this. How do you know I'm trying to erase something? How do you know it won’t work? How do you know it can’t fix the hurt I’ve been through? How in all Teyvat do you know forgetting won’t make things better because I am about 99% sure I’d be much happier if I don’t remember the attempts I cry about at night,” you heaved as a wave of heaviness you did not know you carried wracked through you.
You’re not quite sure how he’s got you to open up about your father once before but, damn it, he’s going for another record by digging deep into your personal hardships.
He stayed silent in what you assumed to be stunned silence but by the time you turned your head to look at him, his eyes carried no surprise, they carried a shared sorrow instead. That’s when you knew that this whole debacle was a mirrored event for him. Something he witnessed himself go through and is now witnessing in you. Epiphany struck like thunder because now you know that's probably how he knew what you were planning; he's done it once before.
If you had any piece left to break in your heart, you’re sure it’d break for him too.
“You’ve tried it before, haven’t you? Erasing a memory in the Irminsul?”
Your question was met with a mocking scoff but unlike the last time he did it, this one was targeted towards himself.
“I’ll do you one better, I tried erasing myself off of it.”
You greeted his admission with silence, you’re not quite sure if it’s some sort of absurd understanding or profound shock. The man beside you has not only tempered with the Irminsul by erasing himself but lived to tell the tale. You have no clue what would drive someone to do such a drastic measure but you realize, in a way, you were not much different.
“I was abandoned by my creator, by the people I ate and drank with, by a god and by its maker and the pain made me bitter so I tried it yet I’m still here. I know that the whole research is just a facade for your true goal.”
You can’t help but avert your gaze, caught red-handed.
As you let his words sink in, your realize the hope you once carried were diminishing by the second. A weight dropped onto your shoulder making you curl into yourself even more. You held yourself in a shoddy attempt at mimicking some comfort.
“So, there’s no end to this, is there? Not even the Irminsul can help me,” you asked, sullen and all of a sudden so tired of everything.
He let the quiet fester just long enough to have you break down again. He did not mean for more tears to fall from your eyes but he’s not sure how to tell you that there was no hope in the Irminsul to fix your hurt. How should he phrase what he thinks you need to hear?
“There is no way for the Irminsul to help you, us. Even if you forget, there’s no assurance it won’t come back to your mind and make things feel ten times worse,” he tells you in a tone so close to a whisper.
He watched as you sobbed at how futile everything was, how hard it all was.
He let you grief for your loss of an easy way to happiness.
“But I won’t say there’s no way out.”
You looked at him, your tear-filled human eyes meeting his glass puppet ones.
“It’s a lot of effort, much more than I’d like to give sometimes. Hell, it took a god and some otherworldly intervention to get me back to the baseline of a decent human,” he laughed pitifully, “but it’s possible. If it is for me, I don’t doubt for a second it is for you too.”
His words did little to ease the barrage of tears streaming past your cheeks but amidst the throes of emotion, it comforted you, much like the weight of a blanket on top of a sore body, a heaviness that seeks to drown out the sorrow instead of crush the happiness.
You looked away to wipe the snot and waterworks away. You wanted to thank him and maybe say your fair share of apologetic lines but when you turned back around to face him, he was gone.
The tree branches swayed as the wind rustled the leaves off of their seat on the bark. On the space that he occupied just a few seconds ago were some of the stuff you must’ve left back when you rushed out of the Akademiya and amongst it was a small note. It wasn’t the neatest of handwriting and it was a crude, almost cold letter (if it even counted as one considering it consisted of only a few words) but it brought a tiny spark of warmth into your heart.
I’ve done it before. I believe in you.
To 💿anon, I'm so sorry this took so long. My exams drained my energy and I did not want to write you something half-assed so I waited until my schedule cooled down a bit to continue where I left off. Just like last time I hope this brings you some comfort and if you need to share please feel free. Much love <3
So, I'm not dead but I am getting pummeled by exams right now :"( sorry for the inactivity but I swear I'll get back to writing soon! I am currently working on multiple pieces. So by the time I get back, there may (or may not) be back-to-back uploads!
Wish me luck on my exams pls ૮ ྀི ′̥̥̥ ᵔ ‵̥̥̥ ྀིა
hi :)) a bit of a personal request but could i get wanderer comfort for a fem or g/n reader? (your choice) i have a...difficult relationship with my father. when he's sad/angry/upset he usually takes his frustration out on me by yelling at me and calling me names and other hurtful things. then when i cry he tells me that I'm pretending to be a victim, and blames me entirely for his feelings. i just had a sitution like this earlier tonight so its on my mind :) anyway, could i get wanderer comfort for a situation like this? or if this is too specific maybe where reader just doesn't get along with their father? thanks sm <33333
A Salve For Unhealed Wounds
TW: Toxic dad, name calling by a parental figure, emotional distress and familial conflict, crying in public, there's a swear word in there, 1,5k words
a.n. Nonnie, sorry for the wait :( I had an exam and couldn't be on here at all (also left you a short message at the bottom)
It happened again.
The man you were supposed to trust with your life yelled at you again. Your heart aches at the implication that the weight of his love for you changes depending on the emotion reigning his mind and heart. Your mind crumbles when it recollects the words he spat out so easily when red paints his iris.
It wouldn’t have hurt as much if he’s always this way. It hurts because you’ve seen the smile that escapes his guarded heart on rare occasions. You’ve also heard him say good things and do good deeds the way an honorable man would–when he’s not mad that is.
It’s unfair that he can’t always be that way with you.
You took off towards the Puspa Cafe, hoping the bustle of Sumeru evening would be the cooling salve you need to soothe your battered mood.
Yeah, that’s a good idea.
Entering the establishment, scents of coffee and spice filled your nostrils as ease settled between the spaces of your bones. The balmy yellow and brown hues greeted your weary state as the inviting warmth of the cinders burning in the oven beckons you to rest. You made the right call to come here tonight.
Or, so you thought.
Despite being on good terms with the otherwise lonesome man, you did not want to see the infamous hat guy; not tonight. It’s less about his presence and more about yours. The dynamic between the two of you is akin to that of a flying serpent and a scorpion. You’d take frequent jabs at each other, flinging teasing remarks and poking fun at one another but somehow, in a very weird roundabout way, there’s always a sincere sort of care behind it all.
Right now, however, you don’t think you have it in you to take what you know he can dish. You did get lucky and got a secluded seat, you just hope he does not notice you here.
“What are you doing here, prickly bush,” he called out to you just as your train of thought chugged away to somewhere beyond the oak doors of the cafe.
Right, so much for peace of mind.
You turn towards him, the frown that began dissipating moments ago returning in full force. Grumbling before speaking, you let out, “Not today, please, I’m not in the mood.”
“Oh yeah, someone’s definitely a prickle bush right now.”
You were at a crossroads between telling him to leave and bursting into tired tears when he asked, “What’s wrong?”
Your eyebrows scrunched as he sat across you. You looked at him but his eyes were trained away from you, staring at some other patron sitting at the wooden bar just a bit away from the both of you.
Since when was he a caring man?
Your thoughts and confusion settle into a prolonged silence. You half expected him to grumble out an insult along the lines of “Are your ears clogged” or “Need help finding a hearing aid” but he, surprisingly, sat still; eyes now hopping over to a woman by the door having a conversation with a balding man.
Is he patient now? What kind of patron-saint bullshit is he pulling?
Not that you’re complaining, though. You much prefer this despite the weirdness of it all; or rather the newness.
“I’m fine–”
“Don’t lie, if you can’t lie,” he interrupts as he points at your fingers curling in on each other.
He sure is perceptive when you don’t want him to be.
Silent gathers the both of you in its arms once more as you think of a response to give to him. He’s being kind right now but you don’t feel like divulging everything to him. Your friendship is just beginning to stand on two feet. It’s taking baby steps at best. You don’t want to scare him away by dumping all your shit on him. By the abyssal name, he probably carries more baggage than you and you don’t see him throwing them around.
“You don’t have to tell me, don’t get all constipated just because I asked,” he said before continuing even softer, “You seemed down, just thought it’d be helpful to ask.”
Though you did not notice it at the time, your heart slowly began to lay down the walls you raised from the events that transpired earlier under the roof of your father’s house.
Perhaps, he can help.
The wanderer was about to take his leave when you whispered with a certain weariness he found familiar, “My father isn’t always a nice man.”
He sat back down as quickly as he could. He probably sat on one of the ornate hanging detailings of his hat or on that long sleeve of his but he couldn’t be bothered by it. Though his eyes look past you, you know his focus is solely on what you have to say.
So, you told him. At first, you tried to be as close to the baseline as possible, choosing to speak of the basic details but soon you choked up and told him everything. Your thoughts, your fears, even your longing for a better version of the father you wanted to look up to, bubbled out of your tired heart. As the night sky grows darker outside, you find yourself slightly teary-eyed as your long story comes towards its end.
Your eyes were still on your hands that laid on your lap, palms now sweaty from excessive nervous rubbing. You stole a glance at him and, just like you, he barely moved from his previous position. He’s still not looking at you, almost like he’s not listening at all but you know he is.
It took a beat or two, almost like he was waiting to see if you had more to say before he opened his mouth to speak.
“You’re kind, you know?”
What?
“I don’t get it. What do you mean ‘I’m kind’?”
“Just that. You’re kind, maybe even too kind.”
You fully looked up at him now to see that his eyes were already on you.
“I listened to you tell me about the horrible things that man says to you and, yet, you still call him by a title he doesn’t deserve,” before you can question him, he answers, “A dad.”
You’re silent as he continues, “This cruel world decides to give him something so precious and he decides to lie and say all these shitty things. He’s not a good man but he’s dumb too if he’s got something so precious and decides that the best course of action is to call it untrue names. Does he not realize the power a name holds?”
Wet droplets stain your hands and lap as tears fall from your eyelids, lungs heavy, and muscles sagging.
Taking a look at his surroundings he sighs before taking his hat off and placing it on you.
“I’m sure you don’t want anyone seeing you like this and speaking about it tomorrow, here.”
The tenderness of his voice and action winds your heart up as more choked sobs gurgle out of your throat.
Your neck tightens in protest as you try to speak but you fight the pain of your contracting muscles as you force out, “On a good day I… I know that he's lying… but sometimes I can’t help but think he’s right,” you sniffled and let a wave of uncontrollable sobs pass you by before continuing, “I mean there’s only so much… so much… I can deny before something false starts feeling real.”
Your admission broke the puppet's imaginary heart as he wills himself to hold back his instinct to swing insults and fists at your father. Instead, he chose to let what he supposes are comforting words drown your sorrow. It’s rigid and almost primal the way he tries to soothe your sadness but it's tender and warm in its own way, just as he is.
“Are you… are you sure he’s wrong? How can you… you be so sure?”
The staccato of your unsure question is met with unwavering eyes as he nods.
“I’m sure. I wouldn’t have said what I said otherwise.”
You hid your face with your hands as your back slumped forward. The wanderer could see the heaving of your shoulders and he could only comfort you by repeating his praise for you. Much like a devotee chanting his faith, he whispered kind words in hopes that by repeating it, you will believe this too. He hopes he’s done enough to override the names your father engraved into you with angered frowns, at least temporarily. The road to recovery winds away and is far from linear but he's ready to accompany you if you want him to.
As you continue to let out the emotions you thought dried up years ago, you hear him say, “Even if you forget again, just tell me and I’ll remind you that you’re nice, you’re smart and you’re so, so kind.”
Nice, smart, and kind huh?
You don’t think you can believe it right now but slowly, you hope you will.
Part two (not really that intertwined but I made it with the same characters in mind)
To Nonnie, I'm sorry you have to go through this. I hope this little piece of fiction brings you some comfort, even if it might not fully capture what you're feeling. If there's anything more I can do to help or if you just need someone to talk to, please let me know.
When The Tide Returns Lost Memories
(4k words; hurt comfort)
Wriothesley awakens in a foreign land with fragmented memories and a desperate need to return to someone he can't quite remember.
| Wriothesley awakens in a foreign land with fragmented memories and a desperate need to return to someone he can't quite remember.
TW: Memory loss, unspecified violence, not proofread, 4k words of hurt and comfort
a.n. saw this post by @cyb-rdva about this fic idea. I just got a buzz and felt like writing it! I don't really know how permissions work on here but I hope I did it justice!
Wriothesley’s eyes find the crippling light as he squints away the last remaining darkness, pushing it to the back of his mind once more. Finally feeling himself take a breath, he hears himself grunt awake; much like a machine starting up after months of disuse. Creaking and clanking to a sitting position, he feels the cracks of his bones and the bruises of his injuries sting him.
Where am I?
Disoriented beyond belief, he let his eyes collect a view of his surroundings. The gears of his brain churned and turned but, to no avail, he’s completely lost on where he is. Panic seized him as his parched throat let out a hoarse yell– he doesn’t know who exactly he was trying to reach out to but, dear archons, let them be nice.
The door opened just as he finally found enough strength to stand. Training his eyes onto the green-headed figure by the door, his focus was sharp despite the delirium he had experienced not long ago; the tendons of his feet ready to leap like a coiled spring waiting for the undoing.
The green-haired man placed his two palms out, ducking ever so slightly to make himself look as small and harmless as possible. Wriothesley assessed the situation with the sense of a trained warrior, looking the man up and down before releasing his tightly clenched fists, letting the white fade to a warm red.
Wait a second!
Wriothesley pounced at the tall man and knocked him over to the ground, the thud of their fall resounding throughout the room. His knuckles which are covered with hidden bruises and healed cuts saw the light of day after a long time being hidden. Choking the man, Wriothesley sneered and gruffed, “Where’s my gauntlet, NOW! WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO?”
The man flailed helplessly beneath him as he clawed at his bound neck, searching for escape. Before anything else could unfold, both men were pulled apart; the lanky man by a man in Liyuean garment and Wriothesley by a purple child.
What the fuck is going on?? SHIT, WHERE IS SHE? I NEED TO FIND HER! I NEED TO TELL HER...!
Huh? Who? Tell her what?
The child made some sort of listless remark but Wriothesley was not aware of what she said. His ears rang deafeningly as his vision wavered. His consciousness was escaping him and his panic and fight whittled down and numbed itself, leaving a sense of nothing in its wake. He can’t help but mourn if this is to be his last moment of living. What kind of defeat was this? Surely, he deserved a better battle to die on.
His mind winds down slowly, unfinished strings of thoughts urging him along from what topic to the next before gently placing him right on the edge of consciousness. Dreary and barely awake, he wonders if anyone can hear his last words and wishes. If he could, he would’ve chuckled dryly, even now on his deathbed (or rather death-floor) he is still nothing but an orphaned boy with no one to mourn for him. Dust returns to dust, he supposes.
As he feels his eyes wane to a close, the only thing on his mind is a name with a face left unplaced and undecided, oh how he loved her.
WAIT! WHO? HOLD ON!
He was out cold, now.
—
The second time he awoke, Wriothesley was ready for a fight. Whatever foul play, or trickery used on him that first time, won’t get him twice. Raring to go, Wriothesley opened his eyes wide and ready to jump into a fighting stance, only to be stopped by a pair of cuffs chaining him to the bed.
Something! He needs to find SOMETHING?!
Controlling his uneven breaths, he forced and willed the adrenaline pumping in his veins to subside; there’s no use for it if he’s bound and alone, anyway. For now, he chose to focus on locating where he was and (more importantly) where his gauntlets were. Sure, the normal man can’t hope to survive a fight against him but something within him is anxious to be away from it. He almost feels physically ill without it.
Damned wrist decorator causing me separation anxiety. Just like a damned dog.
At the sound of a creak, he snapped his neck towards the open door. Behind the heavy timber, stood the green-haired man he has yet to learn the name of (but rest assured if he’s come for a round two, Wriothesley is ready to choke him; this time to sleep). Fortunately for everyone in the vicinity, the man had no ill will. With the patience of a saint, the man stepped into the room, carrying with him a bruised neck and a handful of medication supplies.
Setting his things down on a table, he watched Wriothesley with calm eyes. The same cannot be said for Wriothesley whose sharp steel irises were pointed at him. Muscles rippling in tandem, Wriothesley pulled at the cuffs that kept him in place. Truth be told, the steel keeping him bound to the bed may just snap in a few more strong pulls had the child from “yesterday” not stepped in, this time clearly brandishing a syringe swirling with translucent liquid.
That shut him up quickly.
Relatively calm now (and sedated), the thin man slowly inched closer to Wriothesley, pushing back his glasses from his nose while at it. With a slightly quicker heart pace, he explained in a rushed tone, “I am Baizhu, a local physician of Liyue and owner of The Bubu Pharmacy. We’re located in Liyue Harbor. We found you unconscious outside our pharmacy so we decided to take you in.”
This “Baizhu” figure looked to his side at the small purple child as if to see whether or not he’d forgotten something. The two seem to be close because without missing a beat, the child showed him a page of her book. This seemed to jog the man’s memory as he continued, “Ah, yes. Your weapons and, ahem, gauntlets are in our safekeeping. They were badly damaged so we were worried the bones hidden underneath weren’t fairing all too well, either, please don’t misunderstand.”
Taking his words in, Wriothesley felt a slight bit of guilt for almost beating the guy up. The man, however, doesn’t seem to be waiting for an apology, rather, his eyes gleamed in a sort of curiosity. Wriothesley supposes he would be the same way if the situation had been flipped and this Baizhu man showed up half-dead at the doors of Meropide.
Wait, Meropide! Shit, MEROPIDE!
“Sir, how long have I been here?! Please, answer me!”
Baizhu’s eyebrows scrunched in slight perplexity and hesitation, he wasn’t too keen on agitating the man again.
“Well, we found you on the sixth and today’s the nineteenth, so, about two weeks. Yes,” he answered, stepping away, in case the mild sedation was, indeed, too mild a dose.
Shit! That’s way too long for me to be away! I won’t be surprised if the place is in shambles by now. Fuck, I need to get back! I NEED TO GET BACK! IS SHE OKAY? I NEED TO APOLOGIZE!
To whom?
Fighting against the effects of the syringe, Wriothesley tensed his forearms and willed them to move. Against his better judgment, Baizhu saw this and went to undo the locks of his cuffs. He supposes, that if he’s going to break through the chains, might as well take it off him to prevent any further injury.
“Though I am uncuffing you, sir, I suggest you take it easy in the meantime. You have a long list of blunt traumas all over you and from the looks of it, your memory isn’t too intact. I don’t know what happened to you or where you want to rush off to with your weapons but I would be an unfit physician if I allowed you to go anywhere outside my supervision for the time being. At least, let me help you remember so I can send you off with a clear mind on your shoulders.”
“Please, just calm down, when I release you, alright… there...”
Arms now freed, Wriothesley calmed down significantly; somewhere in his mind, he felt safer knowing he could beat someone to a pulp if need be. Finally feeling safe enough to be civil, he decided he’d stay long enough to get some answers and his weapon and memory back. Wriothesley knew it’d be best to stay. He can’t be so sure he’ll find a physician who knows enough of their field of study to claim they can help bring back his foggy memories. That said, he won’t be wasting any time.
“Mr. Baizhu, please tell me what you know about my… umm… predicament. I don’t quite enjoy being puzzled this way. Also, the gauntlets, I want them back,” he said, before quickly pasting a ‘please’ behind his sentence.
Yes, she always liked it better when I’m civil; like a proper duke. She?
Wriothesley wasn’t sure what was going on with him at the moment. Everything’s in disarray and he can’t help but want to rip the tufts of gray out of his head. Nothing is making sense to him. The memories and facts that should be concretely sealed within the wrinkles of his brain are now fluttering in front of him. Try as he may, they flit just out of his reach. He only hopes his memories come back to him quickly so he can somehow get back to wherever he needs to be to get to whoever she is to do whatever it is he needs to do.
This is truly shit.
—
Meanwhile, you were running up and down the underground prison and makeshift factory to make sure it, ironically, stayed afloat. In all honesty, all you wanted to do was cry and wail at your husband’s disappearance. Yes, disappearance. Though you’ve heard many relegate their condolences to you, you accepted none of it. You were sure he was alive somewhere out there; he just needed to come back home.
Some may say it’s denial but acceptance simply wasn’t the answer right now. Not when the livelihood of thousands of people rely on your emotional stability to ensure proper functions of this prison they call home. Meropide is counting on you to keep yourself together so acceptance truly isn’t needed right now; not when acceptance would mean falling to your knees as you plan funeral arrangements. No, as long as hope is free, the man you call your husband is alive.
Today’s to-do list is a mile and a half long but it all needs doing so that’s exactly what you’re going to spend your time and elbow grease on. You started your day at the break of dawn when the waters were still moving in compliance with the moon’s pull. The dull thud of the waves against the steel prison walls keeps you grounded as you check off your lover’s duties one by one. Noon soon takes hold as the water calms down relatively, now giving way to the clanks of machinery. The resounding clicks and clacks of tools and shoes signify that all was still in order. Night finally came and the mile-long list has been taken care of, well mostly. Last but not least, you’ll have to surface and meet with someone very important.
After throwing on whatever clean and acceptable outfit you find within your closet in the duke’s Meropide residence, you are off to Poisson to meet with Navia. You sure hope she’s found something useful.
At moments like this, you’re grateful for your long-standing friendship with the ever-kind and well-connected President of The Spina di Rosula. Navia has been spearheading the search for your husband for the past few weeks. She turned the whole of Fontaine upside down last week but it yielded no results. Though Spina di Rosula is an organization built to help with Fontanian problems, you’re glad she spared no effort to search beyond the borders of Fontaine for you.
“I just don’t know where he could have gone, Navia. One minute we fought and before you know it the clock strikes midnight and it’s the second day he’s gone,” you let out as your chest starts heaving, a poor effort to hold back the sorrow and fear you felt.
“Navia, I can’t let that be the last interaction we have, I just… I can’t live not knowing if he’s done with me or, worse, if something bad happened to him. I just want to know he’s alright and then, if he so wishes, we can part ways.”
Navia pats your back gently as your breathing grows heavier, “I don’t know the duke all that much but I know enough to say that he’s mad for you. He’d kill for you just as quickly as he’d die for you, my dear. Give him credit that he’ll return, if only to see and make amends with you, hmm?”
Your throat is raw from keeping the dam of your rising emotions from spilling. You turned to your sole companion in all this, “Are you sure, we’ll find him, Navia?”
“All the signs we’ve found so far indicate him being alive. As long as that duke of yours is on Teyvat, we’ll find him, my dear partner, I am sure of it,” she cheered softly, conviction intertwined with a strong dose of compassion.
With that, tears soak your face as you cry softly. Your shoulders shook as rivulets of sorrow trickle past your lashes onto your cheeks. You couldn’t possibly let them out in Meropide so you let them out here. Within the confines of the four walls of Poisson, you let your walls crumble if only for a bit.
You hope he comes back to you soon. You don’t know what you’d do without him.
—
“Do you recall anything at all before your waking,” Baizhu asked Wriothesley for the umpteenth time since his wake from the sedation-induced stupor.
The two figures, Wriothesley and Baizhu, were sitting outside the pharmacy doing a routine inspection. For the past week, Wriothesley has been fairly cooperative in working with Baizhu to further his recuperation; if only to get his gauntlet back and return quicker to Meropide and to the missing woman his heart claims to love so much.
Wriothesley still has no clue as to what his sense of urgency is based on. Of course, the meropide needs him but in the event of his absence, he’s set aside some protocols and second-in-commands that can take up the mantle for a bit before his return. This is something he recalled a few days ago and it’s helped him ease up and stay put for the time being. The exercises Baizhu has given him are certainly giving promising results on jogging his memory back but, much to his dismay, none about the mystery woman. It’s eating his heart up like a worm on an apple, plaguing his heart and making him feel rotten for forgetting her.
Who are you, damn it.
Damn, even cursing at her feels wrong.
Alright, let him fix that-
FIX… FIX!
Just like that, the memories of the weeks prior come crashing onto him like the waves of the midnight tides. All that he’s been through, getting knocked out, the fight, everything filters through his mind like an hourglass finally filling up. Despite all of those moments being mostly shit, he’s overjoyed of remembering what he thought he lost, of remembering you.
By Archons, it’s you!
“Baizhu! That’s it! I need to see her, I need to see my girl! Oh, for the life of me, Baizhu, I need to apologize to MY GIRL,” Wriothesley yelled, joyous.
He does not recall ever being so excited to apologize but he’d be damned if anything wipes the smile off of his face. How can he not? Imagine falling in love all over again with the woman that’s captured your very being. Imagine seeing her in the fresh light of a stranger only wishing to be within her gravity then realizing you were the moon pulling her tides of love all along. Imagine, oh archons, that can fucking wait.
He’s leaving now!
Baizhu smiles at the breakthrough, both of his patient’s memory and of a new memory recovery technique. Calling for Qiqi, Baizhu asks her to get the man’s big boy hands because, yes, we’re finally letting him go home. No, without the sedation.
—
On the ferry ride back, the duke sat painfully still as he stared at the gauntlets that he now wore. The gauntlets that symbolizes his power in Meropide, the ones you've basically created with him now that he remembers your significance in his life. No wonder he can't bear to part with it.
Suddenly, the vast blue separating Liyue and Fontaine seems not enough time now that his thoughts finally catch up to him.
Of course, he was beyond ecstatic to see the love of his life again but thinking back to how he left things off… he shudders at the thought. He’s downright shit for leaving this mess for you to shoulder on your own, not to mention, the fight that went down before he disappeared.
If the roles were reversed, he doesn't know if he’ll ever function properly again. He left you after saying some nasty things and did not return. Not even after two weeks, in fact, it took him three. He wonders if you’re mad at him still or if you’ve fully given up on him. He wonders if you think he left you for good on his own accord. He hopes your heart hasn’t been damaged beyond repair. He knows he’ll do a lot worse to himself if it is.
He just hopes you haven’t completely locked him out of your heart forever because if you haven’t fully closed the doors on him, if he even sees a sliver of forgiveness in your eyes, he’ll lay his everything down in hopes of winning you back.
Wait for me, please, my love.
—
The ocean’s gentle rhythm is the only lullaby strong enough to lure your restless heart and mind to sleep. You can’t imagine being able to rest if you were anywhere else. At least not after the stagnation of your search for your husband. It would’ve been one thing if it were slow progress but there’s nothing else to be found now. Last you heard, there were sightings of a seemingly Fontanian man in Liyue but before anyone could get ahold of him, he disappeared again. You suppose it makes full sense that a man with his extensive knowledge of the underground world and wide connections would slip away easily, after all this is well within his expertise. That’s what you chose to believe, anyway.
The murmurs of the sea continue drumming constant beats as your eyes flutter shut. You hope that this time they bring you to a distant land where all is well; where your husband is still beside you and he still looks at you like you hung the stars just for him.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to you, heavy clunking and ruckus were heard outside by the registrar of the Meropide. Soon, a crowd began to form as doors were opened and gates were unlocked, in came the man of the hour.
The duke is back.
—
Doors were flung open as the duke marched in, passing by the stunned prisoners of the Meropide. There were rumors abuzz that the duke had fled, of course, his sentence was served to fulfillment so, technically, he did not flee. The spicy part of this scandal was that his wife was left stranded and alone to deal with the mess he’s left. Truth be told, this wasn’t so far from the truth in Wriothesley’s heart.
Opening the massive steel doors to his residence, Wriothesley whispered prayers. With every step he climbed, he murmured a small prayer and promise of devotion to whichever Celestia deity would grant him your patience and forgiveness. Perhaps, however, he should’ve been whispering his promises of devotion to you instead.
Like seeing a mirage in a barren desert of swirling guilt and longing, you lay there asleep but so very beautiful. The rise and fall of your chest fills him with ease as the scent of your perfume grows stronger with each step he takes toward you. His eyes begin to water as his feet grow heavy, it seems his heart grew to immense proportions just at seeing you within touching distance.
He reaches your side and kneels to be at level with your sleeping face. He studies you, slowly memorizing all the things he wishes to never forget. He engraves into his mind, the dips of your cupid’s bow and the flick at the end of your nose. He etches into the crevices of his brain the way your eyelashes flutter just so slightly at whatever it is you sense. Finally, he allows himself to fully sink into your hypnotic gaze as your eyelids lift ever so slightly to reveal his favorite colors. He wishes to have those exact shades enshroud him forever.
The moment you open your eyes, you can’t help but smile, though you remain unmoving.
How lovely! They did bring you good dreams.
“My… after so long of not seeing you, I must’ve forgotten how many scars you have,” you giggled lightly as your eyes counted his scars one by one, hoping to update your foggy memory.
You smile as you continue, “two new ones over your left eyebrow and one down your neck. Even in my dreams, you’re still as rugged as ever. I guess it’s my fault for falling in love with a man so magnetized by fights. I love you that way, though. Don’t change.”
Wriothesley could only sit in pious silence as he followed your gaze, he never wanted to part from it.
“My love, why don’t you take me to where you are? I never want to wake up if this is what sleeping is like. I don’t mind remembering new scars that never happened if only to stay with you like this,” you whispered lowly as your hands went out to reach for his cheeks.
It’s impulsive and you knew the moment his form revealed its corporeal quality, he’d fade away from even your dreams and you’d be left alone again but you just… you just had to. He compels you in a way that no one ever has and ever could. Even if only in this second, you wish to believe he’s just within reach.
Just like you remember him to be.
Wriothesley closed his eyes as he awaited your warmth. He can’t possibly move an inch or say a word when the atmosphere is filled and doused with your affection and love. He just can’t. If anything, he leans in almost antsy with anticipation.
But your touch never came.
Wriothesley opens his eyes to see tears falling down your face and your hands just a hair's breadth away from his cheeks. The droplets stained the carpet beneath him along with his heart.
Breaking piece by piece, his heart shatters as more tears fall from the corner of your eyes; even more when you begin to speak.
“Wriothesley, if I don’t touch you, will you stay? Even as a memory, will you continue to be mine? Or will my mind take that away from me too?”
His heart sank as he watched his love break before him. Not standing for this anymore, he pulled your face closer to his and sealed your lips onto his, claiming this moment as real.
You cried into the kiss letting every single feeling and emotion you’ve pent up run free. Wriothesley pulled you into him and held you as close as he physically could. He wants to absorb every piece of you into his heart to make sure he never has to part from you ever again. He’s selfish and he keeps ahold of you even after your lips part from his.
He kisses every inch of your skin to make sure you know he’s here, to make sure he knows you’re here.
Pure, unadulterated love encapsulates his mind as he holds you close, afraid he might lose you again if he lets go.
As the minutes faded into hours, Wriothesley murmured into your ears the undying poetry of his love for you, unyielding and true. Even if you don’t believe him right now, that’s alright. He’ll keep reminding you of it.
Every second of every minute.
Every minute of every hour.
And every hour of every damned day.
All until you remember it.
a.n. This is a long one and I just kinda word vomit onto my laptop for a few hours and then bam it's right there. Please be gentle, I don't think I was all that awake for this banger!
All Except Us
(500 words; fluff)
Stargazing with Nanami but he enjoys looking at you more than the stars.
Toji
The Unfortunate Man
(800 words; angst)
Toji loves you more than anything but nothing can withstand fate.
The Unfortunate Man: Footnotes
(550 words; angst)
Tired and withered, he meets his cursed, undead lover.
Megumi
Third Fifth Times A Charm
(3k words; fluff)
You and Megumi have been dating for quite some time now. Almost half a year, give or take. Upsettingly enough, he has yet to say his ‘I love you's. This bugs him a bit too much so Megumi is now a man on a mission and that mission just so happens to be about confessing his love to you.
The Archivist and The Stubborn Scholar
(1,7k words; fluff w/ slight angst)
Req: How you came to be the wanderer's partner.
A Salve For Unhealed Wounds
(1,5k words; hurt comfort)
Req: Comfort after a toxic fight with your father.
The Weight of A Memory
(1,7k words; hurt comfort)
Req: Comfort for attempts
Seasons of Change: Autumn Activities
(1,2k words; fluff); multi-char
Req: The Wanderer never thought he'd like the autumn season as much as he does but then again it could just be your presence clouding his judgement.
A Call Home That Will Not Be Answered
(2,3k words; angst to fluff)
When Kaeya's past creeps up on him, he's usually ready to drink and forget but this particular time broke the camel's proverbial back.
Diluc
Seasons of Change: Autumn Activities
(1,2k words; fluff); multi-char
Req: You never really realized just how safe and warm Diluc makes you feel until now.
Please interact (bother me with questions and requests, I love it)
Please be patient (I'm in college and I need time to write and get to your requests and messages; promise to be as quick as possible)
Please be specific with your request (it doesn't have to be ultra detailed but give me a general prompt to work with; I don't mind vague reqs but I wanna give you the best possible piece)
Please request one character at a time (unless it's for something short than you can give me a bunch more)
Don'ts
No NSFW (I can't write it all that well so please don't request this content from me!)
No over the top gore (I'll cry)
No chronically online behavior (you know what I mean)
No ships (I'm sorry but I don't write for ships)
Just don't be a sucky person!
If you're confused: Just ask me about it!
I mainly write for genshin but I might write for other fandoms if inspiration strikes so if your fave isn't from genshin just ask me about it! Who knows, right?
I don't mind writing slightly suggestive stuff (i.e. kissing, sitting on laps, you know the drill) and heavy angst (i.e. major character death, etc)
For children characters, I'll write for them but ONLY platonically (e.g. them as your sibling, etc)
I usually write for fem!reader because I am AFAB and it's what I know best but if you're requesting and would like something to be gender neutral just lmk!
If there's anything in a particular writing of mine you think needs to be noted as a trigger or if you have any problem in general, drop by and tell me about it!
Honestly, if you're nice and respectful about it, anything goes. I'm not particularly strict on rules.
