Headcanon/oneshot blog ' requests ° open ! Masterlist | Fav chars to write for ㄑXiao, Scaramouche, Giyuu Tomioka
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Requesting info
Rules —
⟡ I do not write from a male perspective. Some of my works may be gender neutral, but all are intended to be written from female perspectives. I will only write for female / gender neutral perspectives and not anything else.
⟡ I do not write blatant NSFW. While I will accept some spice, such as kissing, flirting and mildly sexual prompts, I am not fully comfortable with full disclosure on writing about smut / sexual prompts.
⟡ When requesting, please state your character(s), prompt(s) / scenario(s) and if you wish for it to be HCs or a full Oneshot. (Please also add if you’d like to remain anonymous, if not specified, I will @ you in the final product).
⟡ Requests can be made through my asks or my Ao3 comment sections (my HC book).
⟡ I only write for specific fandoms ; currently, the two I wish to write for are Demon Slayer (Kimetsu no Yaiba) and Genshin Impact.
⟡I will not write romance for any characters that are underage or appear underage (Klee, Nahida, Qiqi, Sayu, Diona, Tanjiro, Zenitsu etc).
When requesting, please make sure to take into consideration these rules. Thank you, and have fun!
CW; mature themes (blood, violence, sexual comments e.t.c.)
A/N; the first chapter of my book ‘Human’, a various!Hazbin Hotel x Fem!Reader. This is the first chapter to be post on Tumblr, there are currently nine chapters out which are available on Ao3 and Wattpad, feel free to see the chapters early there.
Word Count; 4000+
Read at your own discretion, and enjoy. Masterlist
𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈 : 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐞𝐬
You know, you've never really thought of yourself as someone outstanding. Sure, you had your little hobbies, your moments of joy where you wondered if life truly was for you — but in the end, you knew you were just another face in the crowd.
Truthfully... that had never bothered you. You were just another person who existed, and while most may feel inferior realising that, it made you feel comfortable. People were just like you, and you were just like people. You could relate to others, enjoy their company and find peace in the little things.
You were another face in the crowd; you were just another human.
You weren't a celebrity, you weren't a prodigy, you weren't someone who would be pasted into the pages of history, but you were someone who knew that even despite that, you were still a human life. You were alive, and that was something no amount of status could ever change.
Yeah, life sucked like shit sometimes. People were assholes, things happen, but at the end of the day, the sun is always going to come up again. No matter how many times you cry, how many days you fall into bed and don't want to get out, you will still be there and alive.
You will still be a life, you will still be human.
That's why you didn't need to feel special, because there was something special in just being here. You were a ball of flesh that had pieced itself together and made a home for itself among others that looked just like you.
You might just be another passerby in a larger picture, but you were still in that picture, and you always would be.
You didn't need to chase more; you felt more than content wrapping yourself in a blanket and grabbing your favourite snack as you threw yourself down onto your couch, your hands already grasping the remote as you hastily swiped to A-P.
Eager to flick into the app, your nerves were buzzing beneath your skin after multiple teasers and weeks of avoiding leaks. Finally, Hazbin Hotel season two was here — it was finally released; the first two episodes, at least.
You had watched the first season when it blew up, having discovered the series well after the pilot was released, but your love for it didn't swell any less because of your delayed reaction. In fact, with how much content you could consume, you were more than happy.
People could say the writing was bad all they wanted, they could say that the characters swore too much and that the designs were too bright for the eyes to appreciate, that just meant more for you to enjoy for yourself.
The show was your guilty pleasure. Listening to season one's music in your free time, watching animatics that popped up on your feed when you could, scrolling through edits of your favourite cast members, you damn well loved the show.
It was enjoyable, in a way that made you feel like a kid again. Uh... not in the way of content, but more in the way where you could watch the episodes without taking your eyes off of it, and with a new season just now approaching, Halloween also right around the corner, you were ecstatic.
So yes, you were sinking into the plush of your couch, just having finished changing from your work uniform to your pyjamas as you readied yourself for the two episodes that had just released themselves.
The trailers had gotten you hyped, with Vox being the forefront of the story this season, everything seemed to have upgraded by a butt-ton. Hazbin Hotel season two, be ready, because you will be binging everything the moment it comes out.
As the streaming service opened, you were quick to punch in the letters 'Hazbin Hotel' to the search bar, eyes bulging as you awaited the loading screen to finish its seemingly infinite cycle of spinning as a wheel.
Finally, the screen flickered, and there it was, the thumbnail of the latest season staring right back at you. The colour scheme had obviously changed, with red no longer being the dominant colour, instead blue had become the star of the show.
It was a nice touch, not to mention the sight of Charlie frowning instead of smiling was certainly a big change. You didn't have too high of expectations for this season, but that didn't mean you weren't still excited for it to begin.
Finally, with a bated breath, you clicked on the icon, watching as the screen faded to black and the loading screen popped up again.
You watched that damn wheel spin again, and again... and again... and again, and again.
Okay — what the fuck?!
Why was your internet deciding to be an asshole now, please don't decide to make things difficult right now, you were just about to get started!
As the wheel kept turning and turning, that little symbol taunting you, your irritation furthered.
"Come on— is it that hard to get good internet these days? What the hell," sighing, you dropped the remote down onto the couch, leaning to pry your phone from where you'd left it beside yourself.
You turned it on, eyes flipping up to check how much your internet was working, only to be even more disappointed the moment you saw three very full bars.
That was meant to be a good thing, but right now, it seemed the opposite. If it wasn't the internet... what the hell was making your TV so slow? Was it the streaming service? Was there a glitch? Had the thing finally given up on you after all of these years?
You glanced back to the TV, and it glanced back at you with the same loading screen as before.
You watched, and waited... and waited, and waited some more, but the screen still didn't change. It just kept loading, as if the episodes took up terabytes of space.
Defeated, you finally picked up the remote, exhaling a deep and resigned breath as you clicked the 'back' button, hoping to try again.
Only, when you pressed the back button, it didn't send you back to the Home Screen, no. It didn't even just crash your TV. It flash banged you. That's right, you pressed the button and the next thing you knew a blinding light was slamming into you, wrestler style.
The bright light was accompanied by a degrading noise that screeched in your ears, your eyes immediately shutting on instinct as the TV remote clattered to the floor from your hand.
Your head pounded in retaliation against the bright assault, the bright white light imprinted into your mind like it belonged there.
"Agh— what the fuck!?" You cried, your hands shifting from covering your ears to rub at your eyes the moment most of the ringing had dissolved.
Splotches of black hung in your vision, invading the territory of your retinas like parasites as your fingers desperately tried to rub them away. After maybe thirty seconds or so, you could finally hear and pry your eyes open again, even if both were still extremely sensitive.
You blinked heavily, grunting at the aftertaste of shock that lingered on your tongue as you extended a hand to your side, intending to touch your couch. Only, your fingers fumbled through empty air, the cold breeze brushing past your fingertips.
Confused, your head swiveled to locate your couch, but instead of the plush fabric of your favourite relaxant, your eyes met a rotted brick wall.
Now on full alert, your eyes snapped open, awakening entirely alongside your other senses. Finally, distant cries entered your ears, what sounded like explosions and yelling echoing from afar. Something pungent harassed your nose, smelling faintly of rotten eggs and something far viler.
On top of that, the colour of rich wine seemed to paint every surface. Deep red filled everything from the colour of the bricks in the alleyway you kneeled in, to the sky above that hung with a giant pentagram hovering over like a watchful eye.
Just as quick as shock had first sunk into you, panic settled into the marrow of your bones, forcing your legs to become shaky as you pushed yourself to stand, wobbling to one of the side walls to help yourself stay upright in your disorientation.
You scanned the alley again just to double check you were hallucinating. You had opened your eyes amidst trash and what looked like skeletons of something vaguely human. Bile pooled in the back of your throat, a hand coming to clamp over your mouth to keep the burning sensation down.
You quickly looked away, unwilling to try and identify if the bones laying in piles truly belonged to someone who happened to be just like you.
This was not happening — where were you?
Shaking your head, you moved to scuttle closer to the exit of the alleyway, poking your head outside of the space between the two buildings to glance out at where you could possibly be.
The sight that greeted you was just as bizarre as the first. Humanoid creatures walked along the street's, some drowned in drinking what looked like dozens of bottles of alcohol, some fist fighting against each other and others doing acts you would rather not look at.
Either way, nobody on the street was human, no way.
You sunk back into the alley, sliding down the wall, still in your pyjamas. "This can't be real... no freaking way," your voice came out as a stranger to yourself for the first time, your head still reeling with how quickly this had all happened.
You had been in your lounge one moment — ready to watch the second season of... oh shit, Hazbin Hotel.
The sky above was still the same red as you looked to it again, the pentagram drawn into it being the same as before, and the same as the one showed in the very show you had been intending to watch.
Holy cow. Was this real? It felt real. The concrete against your back felt real. The Sulfur burning your nose felt real. The adrenaline pumping through your blood felt real.
Had you been... isekaied, or whatever it's called? The idea seemed so foreign, not only was it impossible, but you weren't anyone special, you were just like everyone else, another face in the crowd — why you?
This didn't make any sense, but the longer you sat against that alleyway wall the more the ideal settled into your flesh. The sky didn't change, the smell didn't waver, you were really here, in Pentagram city.
Shit. Oh, this was bad... really really bad.
You were a human, sitting in a realm that loved doing acts you could only ever tolerate within the boundaries of fiction. People here were serial killers, rapists, cannibals, all the shit you never wanted to ever encounter.
If you stepped out onto those streets, who knows what would happen. There was no way you could go out there, nor would you let yourself. You weren't going out there, not a chance.
But then, what would you do? What could you do? This was really freaking weird, and you had not expected that to happen to you on a Wednesday night, but it had.
First of all — you needed somewhere you could go that wouldn't actively try to kill you... people you could trust.
...
Ah, the Hazbin Hotel itself, why didn't you think of that? The characters didn't know you, but Charlie was more than welcoming to anyone... and you were sure she'd be more than willing to help you... right?
Maybe she could... figure out how to get you back to earth, or your world, or wherever the fuck you ended up coming from.
Haha... right? You really didn't know, you were running on theories here. Yet, if you thought about it, the Hotel was probably your best choice when considering places to go for the time being.
You knew most of the people there wouldn't want to kill you... aside from maybe a certain radio host, and Charlie had connections that might be able to help you!
You couldn't believe you were even having to think about considering these things.
Nevermind.
The Hazbin Hotel is honestly your best bet here... the only problem? Where in hell is it...?
.
.
.
"Okay — uh, thanks for all the help... Alastor..." clearing her throat, Charlie strained a smile as she glanced to the new additions who had been brought into the hotel thanks to the new 'host' as he delivered himself.
Already, Nifty was scuttling around, chasing tiny cockroaches and dusting away cobwebs at the same time, seemingly more than eager to do the job assigned to her by the Radio Drmon.
While Husk, the second addition was much grouchier, glaring from his new station behind the bar as Angel Dust attempted to flirt with him, the latter leaning over the bar seductively, a playful lilt to his voice.
"Haha! No need to thank me, dear! I'm simply doing my part, it would be rather unpleasant of me if I didn't fulfil my end of the bargain, hm?" Alastor shook his head with a laugh; both of his hands wrapped around the stick of his microphone which he had planted against the floor.
His voice tickled the air with static, the radio-esc filter buzzing around jovially.
"Now... what say we figure out a better means of advertising this... hotel. I mean to offend nobody when I say that your performance on the picture show was rather embarrassing!" With a smile still as large as before, Alastor tilted his head as a chorus of pre-recorded laughs echoed after his words.
Charlie pursued her lips, feeling a slight tug of disappointment press against her at the mention of her failed advertisement. She'd hoped that it would encourage lots of sinners to try and be redeemed, but the only people that had showed up were demons who hadn't an interest in being redeemed.
It was kind of disappointing.
Charlie glanced to Vaggie who stood a few steps to the side of Alastor, the woman's eyes glaring at the radio demon as he stared expectantly at Charlie.
She clenched her jaw, glancing back to Alastor who was indeed still glancing at her. "Alright... uh, what did you... have in mi—"
She was about to finish her sentence when a knock echoed at the front door of the hotel, the very one Alastor had entered moments prior.
The room quieted, all heads turning to the front of the hotel where the knock had come from, as if to confirm it really happened. It was silent for another moment before the knock echoed again.
Charlie perked up quicker than lightning, speeding over to the door with a not-so-subtle excitement bursting through her. Finally!! Could this be a sinner truly wanting redemption?
Her fingers had wasted no time wrapping around the doorknob and yanking the door open, a beaming smile on her face as she glanced down to the figure who just so happened to be standing at the front of the hotel sheepishly.
"Hi... uh, this is the— Hazbin Hotel, right?"
Charlie felt her smile widen on its own accord, her chest beaming the moment those words fell out of the unknown woman's mouth.
"Yes! This is the Happy Hotel!" Charlie nodded, paying no heed to the prior mispronunciation of her establishments name, instead far too focused on the human-looking 'demon' that stood at the door.
"Are you here to be redeemed?" She questioned, her eyes bulging down at the stranger who seemed to cower under such focused excitement.
With a sheepish nod, the stranger confirmed Charlie's question. "Uh... yeah, I guess so," they hummed, fingers fidgeting with one another.
The moment the confirmation left the newcomers mouth, Charlie squealed, her hands already extending as she pulled the new person inside of the hotel's lobby.
"Eeeee!! This is so exciting!! Welcome! Welcome to the Happy Hotel! I'm Charlie, as you probably know," Charlie began to babble as she tugged the stranger inside, the front door swinging shut behind them both automatically.
"This is Vaggie, Angel Dust, Alastor... uh— Husk and Nifty!" Pointing to each 'resident' of the hotel, Charlie introduced each of them one by one, completely unaware of the tension filling the room.
"They're all our staff, but they're pretty new, Alastor was really nice to give them all to us — but I'm so glad you're here! This is going to be so much fun! Oohhh, you're going to love the group therapy sessions I have planned and all the rehabilitation activities I have set up! I just know—"
"Charlie, slow down," a firm hand being placed on Charlie's shoulder was quick to cut off the princess' rant, courtesy of Vaggie who was looking rather concerned at the new habitant that Charlie had tugged in with no time to waste.
"Mmh... yes, you're already overwhelming our newest guest!" Alastor nodded, gesturing his mic towards the visibly tense stranger by Charlie's side.
Charlie paused, her mouth forming a small 'o' shape as she glanced down to the woman, now taking notice of the firm squaring of her shoulders. Charlie's hand immediately slipped from holding the woman's hand, coming up to clasp over her mouth.
"Oohhhmygoddd. I am so, so so so sorry! I just got a little excited!" She immediately apologised, waving her hands frantically.
"It's uh... alright," the woman swallowed nervously, eyes averting the hyperactive princess.
"As I said before, my name is Charlie..." this time, Charlie took the time to slow down her words, drawing a deep breath as she re-introduced herself, pausing after her intro to allow the stranger to follow up.
The newcomer flickered their eyes around the hotel, surveying all the demons staring at them before returning to glance at Charlie.
"...I'm (Name)."
.
.
.
You had not expected to be immediately dragged into the hotel the moment you said you wanted to be redeemed — which was kind of also a big lie.
You didn't want to be redeemed... not in the sense that Charlie thought anyway. You wanted to go home, but maybe you should leave that conversation for later today. Right now, you were trying to process all the eyes on you and the fact that the cast was staring right at you.
Not to mention they were all super fucking tall, except for Nifty who you could see scuttling off in a corner, she seemed to only be to your waist.
You kind of forgot that most of the demons were insanely tall... yikes.
"Well (Name), I'm so glad you decided to come to the Happy Hotel! You're going to love it here, I promise!" Charlie clapped her hands, her smile still tilting her red dotted cheeks upwards.
From how she referred to the hotel, you could only guess the timeline was that of the middle of the pilot, even though the characters had their official appearances and names.
Which... was kind of weird, considering that when your TV had flash-banged you, you had been intending to watch season two, not the pilot. This still didn't make that much sense, but you were hoping to grasp more of it the more you were here. Which was a double-edged blade.
"I uh—I'm sure I will," you nodded your head, clasping your hands together in front of yourself.
You were still in your pyjamas, which was extremely embarrassing, but you tried not to pay attention to the very obvious stares you were getting from everyone minus Charlie and Nifty. Especially the one you were getting from Alastor.
You couldn't tell if he was evaluating you, or if he already could tell you were human right off of the bat, but that motherfucker had been staring wildly at you the moment you had stepped into the hotel.
Oh, he looked so much creepier in real life. You did not like that smile, not one bit.
"Okay—what to do..." Charlie paused, glancing around the room as if thinking of what to show you.
"Charlie my dear! Before we get ahead of ourselves, how about we get our newest guest settled! Hm?" Alastor stepped forward, breaking the princess out of her thinking.
"Is it not correct of me to assume our first order of business is issuing our lovely (Name) here a room?" Glancing to you, your eyes locked with Alastor, and Jesus—wait... did he like... exist here for real for real? Like... confirmed as exisiting? Uh oh. Never mind.
Charlie looked back to you, then her face flashed with another emotion again. "Right! I'm so sorry again! Let me show you to your ro—"
Charlie was cut off by a loud explosion that had you jumping in fright, smoke quickly filing into the hotels lobby from the broken entrance of a hole in the wall.
You and the others all turned to look at the giant, smoking, demolished rubble, the smoke slowly filing away to reveal the view of Pentagram city that was available from the hill the hotel sat upon.
"Alastor! Come out and face my wrath!" A voice cried from the opening, the echo amplified by whatever technology the person had shouted through. You knew that voice. It was Sir Pentious. You must be really close to the end of the pilot then.
In your dazed shock, everyone else had scuttled out the hole in the wall, intent on viewing whoever had decided to blast a hole through the wall of the hotel already. Realising you were still standing still, you quickly rushed to join the others, standing behind the crowd as a blimp was revealed the be sitting just outside of the hotel.
Smoke poured out of its engines, and the front, yellow-tinted glass harboured the chamber in which the culprit managed their machinery.
"Hey, what's the deal!" Crying out to the blimp, Vaggie glared up at the vehicle that hovered just metres above the group of you.
"The deal is I am here to face my rival! Fight me, Alastor!"
Oh god, you almost forgot about Sir Pentious' initial 'rivalry' with Alastor, which he had developed not out of his own desire, but instead because of his determination to be recognised by the Vees.
That made a lot more sense now that you remember the first seasons and specifically the song 'Stayed Gone'.
You looked over to Alastor who was calmly glancing up at the blimp, his smile against still there, which was much eerier in reality, and his ears poised forwards as he listened to the demands of the snake hiding in the blimp.
The Radio Demon strained his smile for a moment, then one of his hands raised, and he snapped his fingers. In a matter of seconds, a hole in the floor opened, giant tentacles that looked like ink raising from the void and grasping a hold of the blimp, wasting no time in dragging it under.
Within a matter of moments, Alastor had already gotten rid of Sir Pentious, and left not only you, but everyone else staring in shock.
You assumed the others were staring in shock due to the fact Alastor had gotten rid of the guy so quickly, but personally, your heart was racing in your chest — because holy hell, that should not be physically possible, but neither should flash-banging to another reality.
Oh wait, he's about to say it isn't he—
"Well, I'm starved! Who wants some jambalaya?!"
Yup.
Oh, this was probably going to be so much weirder than you hoped it would be. Yet, behind all the hope that this was some crazy fever dream, you were kind of giggling at the fact that you were in Hazbin Hotel.
What? This is cool. Sorta. Minus the death and allat.
A/N : First chapter down! With the release of Hazbin Hotel season two, I had to do this... I couldn't resist the urge of creating and Isekai but more complicated, it was just so tempting... 😔 anyway, hope you guys liked the story so far!
𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 - A girl from reality is sent into a world full of vengeance and constant uprisings. Will she find a way home? Or will she decide to stay in the world where she's made herself at peace?
Hello there! Could I please request headcanons for scaramouche x a feline yokai reader where they both meet (after he's settled in sumeru after everything and he's begrudgingly under nahida's guidance) and unlike scara,despite also having to suffer the pain and loneliness of immortality, she tries to find joy and wonder in new experiences and simple pleasures like the new foods or inventions that humans are always coming up with. And despite scaramouche's personality she doesn't flinch or take his insults to heart and constantly treats him like a friend, almost as if he's just a normal human
Thanks!
WANDERER x FELINE YOKAI!READER headcanons
Wanderer who doesn’t understand you, who has looked at you with confusion since the moment you first appeared in Sumeru like a phantom. Being a Yokai from Inazuma, he expected you to have the same haunting and annoyingly stubborn beliefs as most Inazumans, but you proved otherwise.
Wanderer who swears he hates you, hates everything about you and what you exist for, but can’t help himself if you suddenly pop up out of nowhere, offering an idle conversation that he can’t ignore, no matter how meaningless it may seem.
Wanderer who can’t fathom how you remain so disgustingly positive despite knowing the grievances of the world. You had a bad sleep? It just means you’ll sleep better later. Accidentally spilled food all over yourself? Now the world can reclaim its nutrients! It was so stupid, so damn idiotic, especially how he began to feel a smirk pull at his face every time you’d find a positive.
Wanderer who spits in the face of the world, yet not you. Despite reminding him of his homeland, of bringing back memories he wished to drown beneath the erasure of irminsul, he finds some sort of comfort in you familiar yet different you remain in his eyes. You smell like the home he discarded, yet carry the beliefs of change that those living there could never believe.
Wanderer who finds himself wondering where you are. He’ll be sitting, maybe zoning out during a lecture in the Akademiya and you’ll be in his mind. He tried to shove you out at first, glaring at nothing whenever his thoughts drifted to you, but now you sort of live rent free. Are you trying a new cafe right now? Maybe you’re attempting to crochet bug-eyed animals again. Maybe you’re thinking of him too… no, that’s weird.
Wanderer who glares at Nahida the moment she utters a word about his favouritism towards you. She doesn’t tease him, but she does slip a comment accompanied by a giggle about how he seems oh so fond of the animalistic Yokai that now plagues the forest of Sumeru. He scowls, denies everything, but in his mind, he knows there’s some truth behind the claims.
Wanderer who one day decides to step into a territory he never wanted to visit again. Vulnerability. His hands tremble. They shouldn’t, but they do. It’s just the two of you, hidden away in a private corner, and he offers you a gift, a small doll, one that resembles himself. It’s been years since he indulged in such a craft, but he thought he’d dabble back into doll-making again, and now he was offering you the replica of a younger version of him as if it were his heart.
He thought you’d sneer at him, maybe bark a laugh and talk about how he was revolting and that he cared too much, but you didn’t. You took the item with careful and clawed fingers, observing it with a delicacy that made something within him pulse. When you thanked him, smiling so brightly as if this was everything you’d ever wanted, he paused for a moment.
How could you look at him like he was just anyone else? How could you not sour your face at the sight of him being so pathetic? He didn’t know how, didn’t know why you didn’t scowl at him… but, he didn’t mind that you smiled.
He told you it was nothing, that he got bored, but in the end — he was The Wanderer who started to soften, whose jagged porcelain edges melted into flesh in your presence.
Disclaimer! Content and behaviour featured in this post are not to be romanticised. This is purely for entertainment purposes only, and these behaviours are unhealthy.
Rengoku is a gentleman at heart, he is and always has been. It’s in his nature to be kind, to bring out the best in what little time the world has to spend on him — but when he sees you, you who helps out at your family business, you who greets him with a warm smile, you who is so bright because you’ve never seen the horrors of the world, he can’t help but feel the kindness twist.
He didn’t like the way the greed riddled his heart at first. It was foreign, against his nature, so strangely horrid that it made him sit for a moment, staring at a mirror in thought, wondering how to get rid of such things invading his mind — yet despite it all, he never could stop the rot that had already crept through his soul.
A fire crackled to a blaze, and love expands to obsession.
He visits the small restaurant your family runs often, both because of the food, and because he can’t resist the addiction that is seeing you. Something about the way you exist sends some kind of signal off in his brain, and it keeps him coming back for more, even when he knows he shouldn’t.
Rengoku knows it’s gotten to a point he cannot escape when a rowdy customer berates you during dinner, screaming and threatening to beat you then and there. He steps in, of course, sternly telling the man to leave — but when the night bleeds darker, Rengoku suddenly cannot find the demon that night, not when its victim happens to be that man from earlier.
Rengoku knows he should not be trading honour for you, but he can’t help it. He would pour every drop of yen into you if he could, every cent he could. He would battle against every demon that came within a hundred-mile radius of you, he would fight off every foe that dare threaten your peaceful bliss.
Rengoku knows he’s too far gone when he visits every night, when he starts planning in his head how to ward off the next suitor headed your way. He knows that he isn’t only dedicated to his swordsmanship now, but he cannot find it within himself to stop it.
Maybe once, he would have set his heart ablaze and thwarted these sinful thoughts, but now, in present, you are the one thing that has set his heart ablaze.
Obanai already thought of himself as tainted. His blood was cursed, the very ichor that runs through his blood decayed with his lineage, he didn’t think he himself could get any worse, but somehow… he did.
You weren’t anything at first, just another face in the towns he passes, but then he came back. He was simply passing through again, but you bumped into one another. You were kind, delicate in ways that shouldn’t have drawn him in.
He typically avoided women, they nauseated him in ways others couldn’t comprehend, but for some reason, his stomach didn’t stir at the sight of you, not in any unpleasant way, anyway. You gazed at him with a smile, not judging his appearance of the snake beaded around his neck, you gazed at him like just another face in the crowd.
It felt like you had both seen him, but hadn’t, and suddenly… he wanted you to see him fully.
He took detours during his missions, he visited more than he should have, glanced at you more than he should have, got closer than he should have, but he didn’t stop himself. There was something so tantalisingly beautiful about, something that warded away the usual putrid air.
He was tainted, but you were something else, something untouched by cursed blood — something to be worshipped.
Maybe he shouldn’t have viewed another human as something so holy, but suddenly you were the thing he prayed to. Suddenly you were the thing he thought of when he needed motivation. Suddenly you were the thing he thought about when gazing at passing jewellery.
Maybe he shouldn’t have continued stopping by.
Maybe he shouldn’t have let his heart grow attached.
Maybe he shouldn’t have made that man from the other day disappear for getting too close to you.
Maybe he shouldn’t have started to consider ways to tether you to him without tainting you.
Maybe he shouldn’t have even visited.
But he did, and time was not able to be rewound.
It only took one interaction for you to garner his attention. It wasn’t exactly hard. You offered him a sample of some flowers your family had grown. They weren’t wisteria, he didn’t need them, had no use for them, but he’d taken them.
Your hand had brushed him, and suddenly he was returning the next week. Then it doubled, and suddenly he was returning almost daily. How he managed to juggle such distance was beyond himself. He finished his mission's swifter, told himself he was doing his job, but he always ended up returning to the flower stall.
Suddenly he knew all about flowers, suddenly he knew about the shades that matched your eyes. Suddenly he knew the language behind each petal. Suddenly he could tell Lillies from Daisies. Suddenly he knew which flowers needed sunlight more than most. Not because he cared about how they grew, but because he couldn’t stop listening to you.
Giyuu told himself that he just wanted a friend at first, that he was just going along with Kocho’s advice, that he was just socialising more, but it wasn’t with anyone else, it was just you. Just you, just him, and maybe he liked it that way.
Now he knew your parents personally, now he knew your birthday, now he knew your family and extended family, now he knew you had an engagement lined up already.
Giyuu’s heart stopped when he found out, but he masked it beneath a stoic expression, congratulating you. Apparently he was a rich man. Nice, higher in status, well off enough to leave you comfortable for the rest of your life.
Well, he was, anyway. Now he was gone, lost to another rumour about demons. Giyuu knew more than he led others to believe, knew how the man looked in his last moments — but of course, he didn’t tell anyone that.
Now you were open once more. All Giyuu had to do was wait, wait until it was time.
He was just following advice. It wasn’t his fault.
He saved you from a demon. He’d been there when claws had threatened to pierce your flesh, blocking with his blade, and then decapitating, scarred and in all his glory. In the dark, he seemed like some divine force, white hair gleaming in the moonlight, but he’d proved to be something different, something else.
As repayment, you had promised him that if he needed something, you would make sure your family would do everything to provide it. He’d cursed at you, rolled his eyes but helped you back home anyway, scoffing about how he didn’t need anything from you.
Your parents had thanked him, bowing so deeply their backs might pop out — he’d brushed them off, then left.
For him, he hadn’t reappeared until more rumours began, months later, but you’d been there when he came by, saying he needed a place to stay. You hadn’t questioned it, your parents hadn’t questioned it, you’d just let him in, offering him a warm dinner and a bed.
He’d taken the food, but not the bed, having been gone by the next morning. He was strange, an enigma, something you couldn’t figure out. Then he was back, again, this time only weeks later.
He approached during the day this time, making small awkward conversation about topics he could pick up. The approaching winter, daily activities, rumours, stores, he was stiff at first, but before you knew it, he had loosened up after returning day after day.
Now, you knew about his occupation, knew about the creature that roamed the night, knew about what he did. Yet, what you didn’t know, was that in between visits and slaying demons, he’d been watching, spotting offenders who so much as spat in your direction.
Then, he got rid of them. It wasn’t pretty, it never was, but he was. Unnatural, white hair, purpled eyes, skin scarred in a way that made him both handsome and scary.
You got comfortable, maybe too comfortable. You didn’t notice the extended periods he’d stare at you; you didn’t notice the comments he’d make, talking about the future, mentioning the words ‘we’ as if you’d be there with him.
You didn’t notice that his blade twisted truth to lie until you were too smothered behind the glory of it all.
Hi so im not sure if you can write for him but could I request hcs for cyno with reader who actually loves his jokes and just finds him extremely endearing. Like no she isn't ever hunched over laughing at them but they always have her giving an amused chuckle, smiling like a lovesick dope at him and maybe she's on the quiet side so she doesn't dare try to confess her feelings (as if their friends didn't already know). bonus points if she sometimes works up the nerve to throw back a joke sometimes
Thanks!
"HORRID JOKES"
As the general Mahamatra, Cyno’s publicly perceived front remained something steely. With a spear that had no trouble slicing through both air and people — and agility that was honed to a masterful perfection, his stance was intimidating, despite his shorter stature.
Though, with his reputation holding him on such an unreachable pedestal, he had a small habit of his that lowered that standard quite the length, especially to those close to him. That of which, was his sense of humour, which may or may not be dryer than the deserts he patrols.
If you’re in the Mahamatra guard, or just in Cyno’s close friend group, you’re probably more than aware of his tendency to crack a joke or two, which mostly end up falling flat. Anytime he can, Cyno somehow manages to slip out a pun that makes even babies hold a straight face, an embarrassing feat for someone so calculating.
Yet, as Cyno’s closest confidant, a title you project onto yourself, you see it as your mission to not only encourage these jokes, but find joy in them. When the room falls silent and everyone stared at the general as if he just declared war, it is you seated next to him who will stifle a giggle.
At first, it was a slight façade, an attempt to hype up the man you may or may not have a crush on, but as you heard more and more jokes, they started to weasel their way into your heart more often than not. Now, you had multiple exhibits of memories to display, each being held high in your heart — holding a reputation of embarrassment and humour.
Exhibit A.
When nights turn into drunken memories, there’s usually one common denominator — a dinner invitation from Kaveh.
Pulled from your home with the invitation of ‘Cyno will be there’, you enter the planned tavern with a warm stride, already heading over to the table that you see your friends seated at.
Tighnari, Kaveh, Collei, Nilou and of course, Cyno. There lay two seats open, you take the one closest to the king of the clowns himself, greeting your comrades with bright smiles and a few gulps of liquor down the hatch, the night kicks of with a blazing start.
Kaveh rambles about a project, talking about his deadlines and designing, Tighnari offers advice on places to take inspiration, mentioning places he’s seen while out doing his work as a forest ranger — and Cyno… Cyno smiled along, waiting for the perfect time to chime in. When it comes along, he strikes.
The table goes silent, eyes flicker to him and stare, all the while he sits there calmly, about to explain the origin and meaning of his joke, only to be interrupted by a small laugh.
The focus is now on you, caught red handed laughing at the monstrosity that was Cyno’s joke. You cringe back in on yourself, lips pressed thin before speaking out to defend yourself against the onslaught of stares.
“It was kind of funny—“
“No it wasn’t.”
“It really wasn’t…”
You’re met with disagreement, another awkward pause before Collei attempts to restart the conversation. But, across the table, Cyno glances at you, and while he didn’t say it out loud, the fact that his joke did at least make one person laugh, that was more than enough for tonight.
Exhibit B.
Pushing past brush and brambles of greenery, you and Cyno walk alongside one another, navigating the thick forestry of Sumeru beside one another, a trip that is courtesy of yourself.
It was his one free day from his duties, one of the rare days that Cyno had time to do something other than hunt down criminals — and you’d begged him (politely) to accompany you on a trip you’ve been needing to take.
A small while ago, a letter had been delivered to your door, one stating that a package you were waiting on was caught somewhere in a problem, and you needed to head down to the harbour yourself to pick it up.
You’d been reluctant to even make the trip. While you could fight, you honestly rather not, and even with your decent enough skills, who’s to say you wouldn’t fumble or trip over the uneven terrain? So, you’d used all these concerns of yours to convince Cyno to follow you along the trail.
Being the ever-agreeable person he was, he didn’t have many objections and swiftly followed after you outside of the limestone walls that built up the perimeter of Sumeru city, stepping into the humid rainforest of Sumeru.
It had been hours, the muscles of your feet tugging harsh against every step you took. The air was thick in ways that made your clothes stick to yourself, but you refused to complain, mainly because Cyno looked as if he were basking in snow.
You don’t know how he wasn’t sweating, how he was walking beside you as if this were the easiest thing in the world, but he was doing it. Maybe it was his built-up resistance to the heat of the sun, constantly being in the desert hammering his tolerance to a fine point.
Either way, he was causal, eyes focused on the sights around you both — while your eyes were focused on him.
Was it getting hotter?
You shook your head, swallowing thickly as you turned to face the front, your steps now awkwardly manual, rather than the automatic pace they’d been taking before.
Only now did you pick up how heavy the silence of no words felt. Neither of you had spoken, and the quiet had been comfortable, something to let you listen to the hum of the leylines, but now it felt too awkward, too heavy.
You could hear every crunch of rocks beneath feet, every swipe of arms against clothing, every exhale that left his lips.
You seriously needed to get a hold of yourself. You can’t be thinking about him in that way — you’re just friends, he probably doesn’t even like you. He’s nice to everyone — you’re not special, just… calm down, stop thinking about him.
…
WHY CAN'T YOU STOP THINKING ABOUT HIM!?
Something grabbed your arm, and you jumped, eyes blinking back to reality.
Cyno had stopped walked, hand extending to grab your upper arm and tug you to a stop. You looked back to him in confusion, lips tugging into a small grimace that reflected both your inner and outer turmoil.
“Huh?” You looked to him for an answer, confused about the abrupt halt. Cyno didn’t speak, but he pulled you back towards him, eyes focused on something ahead of you both.
You tried to ignore how he tugged you to his side, how you could feel his side pressed against yours, instead focusing on what he soon nodded to up ahead.
A Rishboland Tiger.
It was prowling ahead, paws firm against the path as it stood sniffing the ground, nudging at rocks, its tail flickering harshly behind itself. It didn’t seem to notice the two of you, but it was blocking the path, and it didn’t seem to want to move just yet.
“Good thing it hasn’t noticed us… that would have been a cat-astrophe…”
The joke didn’t land until about five seconds later, where Cyno stared at you expectantly. Honestly, it wasn’t even that funny, but the way he delivered the line with a small smile, so excited to see if you’d laugh, you had to let out a small huff, trying to play off the way your cheeks heated up as mere amusement.
“Yeah. Guess we’ve gotta be a bit more claw-tious.”
Cyno blinked at you. You blinked at him.
Your lips pressed together with regret, the air stilling with the embarrassment of the joke you made in return. Why did you do that…? To be relatable? To be funny? Now you just felt like a total idiot, staring into his eyes like you wanted something.
But the silence cracked when Cyno snickered.
“I might just have to add that one to my list,” he hummed, his hand finally letting go of your arm. “This way, I know another path nearby,” Cyno walked off to the side, trailing away into the bushes as you were left stunned.
How could he be so… enchanting yet so stupid at the same time? It both perplexed you and made you want to get all the closer to him. You quickly forced your feet to move, chasing after him before his figure could fully flutter behind leaves.
Maybe one day you’ll build up the courage to admit your feelings, but for now you’re stuck making cheesy jokes side by side, while sending him love-struck glances that everyone else but him sees.
Some day, you tell yourself. Some day.
I hope this is decent enough... I did start out with the intention of HCs, but I got a little carried away writing your request. I hope you still like it!
Could I request one for Neuvillette, and any characters you like?? (づ￣ ³￣)づ
NEUVILETTE, SCARAMOUCHE, KINICH x CHUBBY!READER (requested(seperate))
Part 1 (Itto, Xiao, Kaveh)
NEUVILLETTE
Neuvillette knows that you struggle with the image of your own body. He sees the way your own brows furrow whenever you see yourself in a mirror, how envy sometimes lingers in your eyes when you see someone of thinner frame. He knows you don’t exactly like yourself, but he can’t understand why.
While Neuvillette has never been good with human's emotions and understanding them, only coming to terms with love when he met you, he struggles harder with understanding your insecurity. He simply cannot grasp how you are able to look at yourself in a light dimmer than what he sees.
You look at yourself with a hidden scorn, eyes narrowing if a clothing article doesn’t quite sit the way you expected it to, lips turning into a frown as you glance at your own reflection. He sees the way you don’t like yourself, and he doesn’t understand it, because he whole heartedly loves you.
To him, your appearance is perfection, it is the ideal radiance that holds a divine significance in his mind. He comes to terms with how his heart gushes at the sight of you, and he longs to make you understand just how beautiful you truly are.
He sees the added fat to your cheeks as soft, something he can cup within gloved hands and cherish for the rest of his eternal life. You see it as something to scowl at. He does not understand it, he does not think he ever will, but he will do his best to make you understand his own perspective.
You are everything he has ever yearned for, body, mind and soul. He has never longed for something as much as you. You are the blessed goblet he wishes to drink from; you are the sun he wishes to bask in; you are everything he loves, ‘faults’ and all.
Everytime he sees you scowl at your own appearance again; he hears the sound of rain outside begin to pour, despite the earlier sun.
SCARAMOUCHE
Scaramouche knows what it feels like to despise one’s own self. While he never felt hatred in a way that he’d describe human, he knows how it feels to curse at the fabric of your own skin — he knows how it feels to stare in the mirror and wish you were someone or something else, he has done it too many times to count.
Yet despite it all, you had managed to love him. You had seen behind the porcelain, seen behind the betrayals and hardened soul, battered by the Fatui — you had seen the desperate person he was behind it all, and you had loved him anyway.
So when he sees you hate yourself for the shape of your own body? He’s livid. He doesn’t know why, doesn’t know if it’s even right for him to feel this furious, but he is. He scolds you every-time he notices that look in your eyes, the one that tells a tale of self-deprecation, built over years of mockery and insecurity.
He’s harsh, blunt with a biting tone, but his words are filled with a caring truth that you can detect. Whenever you ask if something makes you look fat, he immediately sends you a glare that tells you to shut up. The answer in the end is that he doesn’t care. Body is not something he is going to judge you on, not when your soul was pure enough to love him.
Fat, thin, chubby, curvy, Scaramouche does not care, for as you once glanced past his outer walls, he has learnt to glance past your own, burning his love into your very memory, Scaramouche does not say sweet nothings, does not whisper careful luxuries of raspberry hearts, but instead he quietly devotes himself to showing you that you will always be beautiful in his eyes, because it is you.
KINICH
Kinich had known you’d been insecure long before the two of you got together. It was obvious. Natlan had high standards, maybe that being the only downside to the vibrant nation. It was a nation built on war, a nation built on survival — and to most, survival meant muscular, because what was a warrior if not muscular?
You were anything but that. But that didn’t matter, not in Kinich’s eyes.
You weren’t a warrior, even when you tried to be, not only were you unskilled, but it wasn’t in your heart to harm anything, and to be honest, Kinich liked it that way. His life was built on necessity, on being better than enough, on being built for survival.
So to come across you, someone so detached from the brutal lifestyle of battle and forged iron? It was as if meeting his perfect counterpart. People had always told him that for a partner, maybe he’d find another warrior, someone capable of swinging through the trees with him and fighting battles by his side — even when he didn’t need it, and for awhile, he’d believed them all.
Yet when he met you, something strange had clicked. You weren’t someone who wanted to cross blades beside him, you weren’t someone who wanted to let blood spill from your own hands, but rather you were someone who wanted to be there when the battle ended, someone who he could fall into the arms of and let the exhaustion finally weigh heavy.
That was what Kinich loved about you, so whenever you doubted your body or skills, he was quick to shut it down. At first, he’d been gentle with the topic, wanting to find out the roots of your insecurity, then he’d turned blunt, honest. He knew he had no true power over changing your opinion on yourself, but he had the power over how much he showed you he loved you.
He cherished you in every way he knew how. He bought you things you like with money from commissions, clothing, small trinkets, even food that you had mentioned wanting to try in passing. Kinich was determined, not to change your mind, but to display his own dedication, because that was the price of his love for you.
Hello!! I love ur writing sm!! ^ ^ so I was wondering if you could write some hc for Itto, Kaveh, and Xiao with them with a chubby reader, please? Thank you so so much! ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶ Bye-Bye!!!
ITTO, KAVEH, XIAO x CHUBBY!READER (separate)
Part 2 (Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Kinich)
ITTO
- Itto, who is dense in both muscle mass and wits, does not give a single thought to the shape of your body — honestly. When he first meets you, he’s more interested in having a beetle battle then he is in trying to stare you down, and he’s like that with everyone.
- Yet, as he sees you more, he starts to notice how his own eyes linger on your body — and more specifically the regality it for some reason echoes. He loves the softness of your silhouette, something about it makes its heart speed up in ways it usually doesn’t.
- When you get together, he’s all over you, in more ways that one. For some reason, he always finds a way to be skin to skin with you. Either he’s holding your hand, or he’s pulling you by the waist again him, hand firmly planted on your hips as he obliviously rants about the newest tournament he won.
- Itto loves you, head to toe, inside and out. His particularly favourite hobby may or may not be gently dragging his hands over your skin, feeling up the contours of your body, either innocently or not.
KAVEH
- Kaveh, ever the artistic mastermind, cannot keep himself from sketching you. You two will be chatting, sitting across from one another in a tavern, lights dim — and he’ll be both engaging in conversation while openly drawing you exactly in that moment then and there.
- He simply can’t help how his hands have an urge to recreate your presence. Constantly he’s looking over you, pencil grating against paper as his hands meticulously recreate the ethereal beauty of his partner that has been placed before him.
- Most of all, on the nights where Kaveh becomes too drunk to sketch properly, hands needing a perch — you become the very item he seeks out. He sits beside you on the couch of your own home, head resting in the crook of your neck and arms encircling the bounds of your waist.
- He tugs you as close as possible, rambling about the current ‘acting grand sage’ and how much he hates the man. Though, as the night drags on and Kaveh winds down, his drunken high slowly lowering, he finds himself talking more about you, more specifically, professing his love repeatedly.
- His hands draw circles on your skin; voice uncharacteristically calm for the usually antsy and constantly laughing architect. Endlessly, he hums songs against your skin, admiring the very shape of yourself, along with the plump curve of every limb you own. You never were or will be a flaw in his eyes — forever, he would draw you if he could, because the magnificence that you behold is something so gentle even his artistic expression cannot recreate it.
XIAO
- Xiao is a warrior, a sharpened spear with jagged edges and a stony exterior. Not once does he lessen his shoulders, not once does he relax, not until he came across you. Somehow, someway, he finds himself your partner, and he can’t say that he regrets the decision, despite his own insecurities.
- Your body angled smoother than his, in ways he almost envies. He loves it. Xiao has only known tension, taught muscles and pure exhaustion for the most of his existence, but you prove something other than that is possible. The way you hold his hands in your own, the way your cheeks puff slightly when you smile, it almost makes him tremble.
- He’s too used to predicting attacks, to warding off threats, but you prove to him that other things can be directed towards him, other notions — gentle ones. Sometimes you hold him softly in your arms, as if his limbs aren’t responsible for the destruction of thousands. He swallows thickly, still stiff, but relaxing into you.
- Xiao doesn’t care that you don’t have the body of a warrior, that if an army stood before you — you would not be able to slaughter them like he would. In truth, he loves how opposite you are. Where he is sharp, you are soft, where he is roughened, you are gentle. You compliment him in every way, and he relishes in that fact.
- Xiao, as scarce as he does, loves to hold you. He avoids the action, mainly in fear of his own destructive power, but in the moments he forgets about that, he loves holding you like the world means nothing without you in it. Something about standing in silence, in the arms of another, only the wind talking, is nice.
- It’s a change from the battlefield he usually encompasses, but it’s one that he doesn’t fully mind.
I hope you like this^^ I feel like it’s kinda obvious which character I like writing for more though… 😅
[I didn’t exactly know how to write for the others, but if people really do want them I can make a part 2 including the rest]
KYOJURO RENGOKU
Being the wife or Kyojuro is like being married to the sun itself — while he was both warm and kind, things could still get a little burned.
Kyojuro treats you like you’re his whole world. While he’s a normally joyous person, viewing the world in an optimistic light that even the purest of people would be jealous of, you somehow seem to lighten his mood further.
He has no shame in treating you like royalty, embracing you randomly; before and after missions, during sleep, while you’re preparing dinner. He simply loves you, and he has absolutely no shame in that.
Of course, being a Hashira, Kyojuro has more than enough money to save off on the side. If you want something, you’ve got it. You eyed a hairpin for more than five seconds? It’s already wrapped in a box, being handed to you like an offering. You cooed at a puppy someone was selling randomly, now you’ve got a dog to share between the two of you.
He’d do anything for you, anything and everything.
Overall, Kyojuro is the partner everyone wants and needs. The only downside would be his schedule… where his work often takes him far from you, much to his chagrin. He always lingers longer when disappearing for missions, completing them as quickly as he could — only fuelled by the desire to return to your side, where he could enjoy a feast by your side, relishing in the love of your presence.
IGURO OBANAI
Being the wife of Iguro is a little strange. He’s definitely not as warm as Kyojuro, not by a long shot, but he’s not as cold as some of the others. He’s much like a serpent, in a way, so much so that it’s almost ironic.
Iguro treats you with a careful respect mixed with a gentle touch of love. He doesn’t venture too close, doesn’t let touches linger too long, but he watches over you to make sure nothing terrible comes your way.
Family had never been something he had good relations with. Bloodied horrors mingling with his memories, it was a wonder how you even ended up to such a man, but alas, he was your husband, and you, his wife.
Despite the subtle tension that may linger in the air, Iguro isn’t harsh. He makes sure you’ve got anything you need, makes sure his estate is well guarded, and while you’ve never seen him eat the food you prepare, your dishes are always returned empty, showing his likening towards it.
Iguro is more subtle in his expressions of affection. He might complement you occasionally, address how he thought your hair that day looked nice, how he thought the colour of your kimono complimented your eyes, anything of the sorts. They were small compliments, but he meant every bit of them.
In terms of material affection, Iguro isn’t one for sporadic gifts, more so things that you actually may need. Perhaps your kitchen knives are starting to grow dull — he’ll have a new set made for you specifically. Maybe demon sightings have been spotted too close to the estate, he’ll by you too many wisteria infused items while drawing his patrols tighter to the perimeter.
He isn’t loud, isn’t as pronounced as his flaming counterpart, but he’s certainly there, and he certainly isn’t disappearing.
His flaws would again be his schedule, stuck in the bounds of constantly being away for missions, he tries his best to not be away for too long — his other flaws? Insecurity in his own self. He hates both his appearance and existence, only maybe years into your relationship do you ever see what lay behind the bandages of both his mouth and soul.
GIYUU TOMIOKA
Being the wife of Giyuu is quiet, but not in a bad way. Like a flowing stream, Giyuu embodies the silent elegance of drifting water, and so does his love.
Giyuu would treat you with reverence. He’s never seen himself as anything, so he sees you as everything. Behind his stoic embodiment and harsh gaze lay a softened heart broken by the guilt of being the one who lived.
He lets his hands linger gently, calloused palms carefully ghosting of your own as he gently takes your hands into his own. He’s not exactly shy when it comes to affection, it’s just that he doesn’t want to overstep anything he might not be allowed to cross. You’re his wife, yes, but he still doesn’t know if you truly want him around.
Do you want him to hug you from behind while you cook dinner? Do you want him to hold your hand while he takes you on a walk by the river place near his estate? Do you want him to draw you nearer on the nights he finally has time to spend home? Do you want him to be as close as he wants to be? Do you want him to linger as long as he wants to?
He’s unsure of it all, so he keeps a distance, wanting to get closer, yet unsure of how to.
Giyuu is someone who isn’t the best at communication, not verbally, at least. He doesn’t like talking, that’s something you’ve known since you both first met. He tends to ignore people, not because he wants to offend them, but because he tries to run off of logic rather than emotion. Is there a good reason to talk to them? No? Then sadly, you’re getting ignored.
Yet for you, Giyuu does his best to be more open. While his sentences still remain slightly snappy, sassy, even, he does his best to keep a gentle tone. Overtime, more emotion might start to leak into his voice, maybe his pitch will go up just a tad when he talks to you, or maybe his lips might quirk when you call for him — but between that all, he remains mostly the same.
For material possessions, Giyuu is quite relaxed when it comes to these things. Sometimes he might get you something you mentioned in passing, sometimes he might just get you something simple, like a bouquet he saw that reminded him of you. Just something small, something that’ll let you know he still loves you without him having to say it.
Giyuu’s flaws again lay in his insecurities and his work. Again, Hashira are busy — constantly slaying demons, and he himself isn’t too good at determining his own self worth, which might sometimes get in the way of your relationship. Aside from all of that, he’s a good partner. He’s dedicated, but gentle, and he’s soft but sharp in a way that perfectly contradicts itself.
SANEMI SHINAZUGAWA
Being the wife of Sanemi seemed scary at first, honestly. You’d heard whispers about his mostly unpleasant attitude, about how he was hotheaded and angry at everything — but when you came to know him, you learnt that he could be soft if he wanted too.
Of course, he doesn’t entirely soften for you at first, but he treats you significantly better than he does others. He keeps his fowl mouth to a minimum and lowers his tone of voice, wary of scaring you off. As time passes, and you both grow more comfortable, he grows gentler.
Yes, he’s still sharp around the edges, but he’s calm in the times where it’s just the two of you. His eyes will soften, carefully mingling with your own and his hands will hold yours as if they were the most fragile thing in the world. He cherishes you, and it becomes obvious.
Sanemi, surprisingly, adored physical affection, though, only behind closed doors. He’d let his head lay back on your lap when the days got quiet, your fingers carding through the sporadic tangle that was his ivory hair. At night he’d wrap his arms around you, letting the silence stew like nothing else mattered.
For material gifts, Sanemi was someone who didn’t exactly know how to give gifts, but he still tried his best anyway. You might mention a kimono you saw in passing, and he’d search high and low for it — only to accidentally get the wrong one. The embarrassment was real, and you bet he was spending another eternity returning the previous one to get the right one.
For flaws, Sanemi mainly falters in his anger. His grudges he holds and his unhealthy way of protecting people can sometimes get in the way. He doesn’t know how to act as a shield, so instead he shoves people out of the way and takes the blow without word. Maybe in the future he could learn to properly express his feelings without wrath mingling inside, but until then he’s sort of a ticking time bomb.
maybe a Kinich x childhood friend reader, and how Kinich slowly realizes he’s falling for them, but the reader is obvious?
“BLOSSOMING WITH YOU”
KINICH x Childhood friend!READER
Genre : Fluff [requested] {Oneshot}
(My other works)
Like two seeds planted in the same garden, you and Kinich had been intertwined the moment you were born. Both of you growing up in the Scions of the Canopy, it was only natural that your paths crossed more than once.
When you and Kinich first met, you’d both been no older than maybe five. By chance, he’d stumbled upon a lost child—his age—out in the middle of nowhere, clearly on the verge of tears and about to burst into a fit.
Alone and collecting firewood, he’d decided to help you, listening to you through your babbles and eventually leading you back to the main region of the tribe where you had somehow clambered away from.
After that, you constantly seemed to get ‘lost’, as a child he hadn’t questioned it, but looking back at it, maybe your own past self had intentionally sought him out more often than not. Anywho, he saw you more often.
At first, he was reluctant to talk to you. His disposition had been wary, multiple warnings of strangers being nothing more than ‘no good bums’ lingering in his mind — but you were persistent, and as he gradually began to reciprocate your enthusiasm, that was where your friendship started.
You’d meet up at the same spot each time, baking in the sun atop the flattened cliffs of the area Kinich lived. He taught you a few things, a few handy tricks that you hadn’t known yourself, and in turn, you taught him how to socialise.
He didn’t interact with kids his age, but you made him sneak away for what little time he could. Your little forms weren’t stealthy, but nobody batted an eye at two kids running around harmlessly. In the main tribe, you introduced him to your other friends, your parents, anyone you could.
He waved, maybe blinked more than once, but he didn’t really say much.
He didn’t talk to strangers, you had been barely an exception, so of course he didn’t talk to all these people you introduced him to. By the end of that day, he’d told you he preferred it if it was just the both of you, you didn’t really mind.
Then on, you stuck together — your parents no longer questioned your disappearances, more than familiar with the name ‘Kinich’ by now, and you didn’t question the days he’d seem gloomier than others.
A friendship planted by mistake, a flower watered by the fruits of curiosity.
Then for a moment, it all halted. Two weeks, two whole weeks, Kinich didn’t show up — your childish mind had been disappointed, abandoned by your closest friend on the very day of his birthday.
Your parents had helped you make a gift, but it lay untouched, and the area you two usually met in lay silent. Birds sung in freedom, but you lay hunched, returning after only minutes of waiting in the sun.
You repeatedly sat alone for days, hoping that maybe he’d turn up the next day — but your efforts seemed fruitless, until he did appear again.
You didn’t notice the unusual atmosphere hanging around him, not at the start. You were a child, happy to see your best friend that had been missing for so long, but looking back on it, his damp behaviour was not unfounded.
Shattered by personal events only later revealed, Kinich struggled with grappling at reality at such a young age. The gorge with a Red Sea at the bottom still lay fresh in his mind, flashes of it hiding behind his eyelids.
He spent weeks unsure of what to do, only knowing that he had to survive — you hadn’t even crossed his mind, not until the depressive haze lessened slightly. Right. You. If he hadn’t remembered you then, he didn’t know if he ever did.
Since then, something unspoken on Kinich’s side grew. It was at first just a deep connection, a friendship forged between laughter and silent waiting of persistent children that carried on into your tween years, but as the both of you became teenagers, becoming more sentient within life, Kinich began to notice things.
Outside of his regular schedule, one filled with hunting down bounties, laying skilled traps that gathered him recognition from the elders of the tribe, Kinich felt something flutter beneath his chest when in your presence.
It started out small, just a feeling of contentment that settled whenever he’d see you. You’d know him for almost a decade now, and you’ve yet to split ways, it was only natural that he’d be far more comfortable around you than most, but that small feeling of comfort bloomed into an orchard.
By fourteen, he noticed how his own hands would absentmindedly linger in your direction, how when your gaze grew too lost, he’d place a hand on your shoulder to turn you back into the right direction. Nothing big, nothing loud, but something.
By fifteen, his eyes started to linger into yours for too long. Blazes of green and orange flaring every-time you’d pass gazes. You didn’t hang out as much anymore, with life starting to flare up — he was making a name for himself, working towards a greater goal of becoming a warrior, while you kept a steady path, but that didn’t mean the time between you meant any less.
By sixteen, he noticed the way his heart would speed up a little more whenever he was around you. You’d smile larger and his heart would skip a beat, his face betraying nothing of the turmoil beneath. The way you laughed, the way your lips quirked, it all made something inside of him flutter inexplicably.
By seventeen, he noticed how compliments seemed to slip from his lips when he didn’t intend for them to. Whether it was you fawning over the sunset, with him instead mentioning the golden glow it cast on your skin, or just the new accessories you decided to adorn yourself with, he somehow found himself complimenting just the way you existed.
By eighteen, he noticed the way his eyes lingered on your lips one moment too long. You’d sit together by a cliff, talking about the worries of your jobs, talks with other friends, trips to neighbouring tribes and he’d silently let you ramble, all because his eyes were far too focused on the way your lips turned and curled, a small flare of adrenaline whispering in the back of his mind.
By nineteen, he noticed the way silence still felt natural. He liked it when it was just the two of you. He’d take you down trails he’d run plenty of times, shooing away the new pest of a companion that constantly hovered over his shoulder and dubbed itself ‘Ajaw’. He’d fall into step beside you, his footsteps matching your own and his ears listening to the birds singing in the distance.
Silence with you wasn’t a stranger, it was a welcome friend that reminded him your bond wasn’t held together with words and promises, but silence threads of woven trust — a relationship forged from years and years of ramblings, tears and stories whispered on moonlit nights.
By twenty, he realised he was absolutely smitten. You’d been in the crowd when he won the pilgrimage for the nth time, shouting his name and smiling like nothing in the world was righter. He’d remembered that when he ventured with the other winners to the Night Kingdom, claymore in hand and determination at his side.
He’d remembered you when he felt his own heart stop — abyssal creatures swelling around and overwhelming the team. That year had been something catastrophic, where the abyss had flared for some unknown reason. He’d died, he was sure his team had too, yet the thing his memories flickered by the most as black blended with his vision, was you.
You had been with him as far back as he could remember, and you had been with him to the very last of it all. You were the one thing that had stayed in his life without payment needed, the one thing he realised he wanted to stay in his life.
When the ode of resurrection flared, and he was flared back to life — a new vision strapped to his chest as a very angry Ajaw floating by his side, you had been the first to run for him. You’d run past Mualani, past the others cheering to greet the rest of the contestants, and right for him.
You didn’t care about the surrounding crowd, only that he was back and alive. He’d caught you as you slammed into him, and you’d hugged him tighter than you ever had before in that moment.
He returned your embrace, hands clutching the fabric of your shirt as if nothing else in the world could satisfy him. He knew it that moment that you weren’t just his friend — he didn’t want you to be just his friend, he wanted you to be the one by his side through everything, the one he could whisper everything to without consequence, the one he could face from reality with.
That was the moment he’d known it, and that was the moment the realisation had settled in his heart. You were the one thing he would sacrifice everything for, the one thing he would make his hands bleed for.
Aether has wandered his whole life. Hopping from planet to planet, leaving behind thousands of people like they were nothing more than another word on a piece of paper, he didn’t stay, he visited. He was used to the life of travelling, of leaving behind those he’d met. It was his nature, his life, but you… you made him rethink that.
Another Teyvatian, someone who was buried in their own life struggles, yet still made time for him. When you two met… it was as if something had just—clicked. It wasn’t loud, wasn’t obvious, but it was there. It was there in the way secrets slipped like they weren’t meant to be kept. It was there in the way his eyes would linger on the curve of your smile, the way his ears would listen to your every word.
Before Aether had known it, he had fallen hard. So, he took a step he hadn’t ever taken before. He established a relationship outside of familial bonds. His hands followed his eyes, fingers trailing over your skin like you were something even supernovas couldn’t create. Now, he wouldn’t hold back his thoughts on your beauty, he’d softly compliment the way your smile curved, the way your eyes crinkled. He said it all, because he had so much he never did say.
It was a couple of years later into his travels when things began to escalate. Yet another region, yet another dead end in the questions of this world. Every answer led to more questions, and every question took thousands of pages to solve. The stress was building, yet you stayed by his side through it all. Stretching letters from your home region, they always reached him, no matter where.
On a damp night in Sumeru, Paimon fast asleep and the campfire crackling beside him, he read over the last line of your newest letter, and that’s when he made the decision. You had been there for what already felt like eternity, and he couldn’t fathom continuing on without you by his side. He wanted you to see the stars with him, watch planets unravel by his side once he completed his quest here.
The thought of you leaving… it was unbearable, so you bet he instantly made his way to your residence — taking a rather long detour just to show up at the very door of your house, knuckles tapping hard against the surface of your door.
When you answered, his presence unexpected but not unwelcome, the words practically spilt from his lips. He’d been rehearsing over the days, practicing what to say in his mind, but all that had been forgotten, and now it was just his heart guiding him on what to say. He spilled it all, wrote you a palace constructed by his words, and he promised you everything.
“I’ve made thousands of acquaintances — met millions of people… I’ve seen them all go, left them behind, but you… you make me want to stay. You make me want to forget it all, to stand by your side and watch stars die as we continue to live. I don’t… I don’t know how to properly go about this, how it should all be done… but I know that I can’t continue another journey without you by my side. Please… marry me.”
The words stun you, your groggy form immediately springing awake. This was so sudden, like the world had flipped upside down. You were stunned into silence for the first few breaths after he finished blabbering words, but your stupor faded quickly, and what was left behind was an ecstatic acceptance, a wide smile and a squeal of joy as Aether lifted you into his arms.
His lips brushed over yours in a sweet caress, whispering croaked praises through the joyous tears that sprung from his eyes. He was shaking, adrenaline flooding through him, but he was happier than he ever thought he would be again.
VENTI
The dusk is quiet. The towering stone walls of Mondstadt sit miles away, yet the wind carries the soft sounds of the town squares music like it was only metres away. The strumming of instruments is accompanied by the rustle of leaves, light in the cool breeze of the dawning night, and birds sing soft lullabies as they settle in for the night.
Beneath a statue that oddly resembles him, Venti sits beneath the radiant and winged figure of his past and gracious self. Touched by divinity, his hands carefully pluck away at the woven strings of his lyre. He’s careful, concise, graceful in a way that only a thousand years of practice could behold. When his symphony ends, it’s due to the crunch of gravel approaching, the emeral of his irises raising.
You approach, quiet, expected, something he had known was coming long ago. Between all the fleeting figures in his life, Venti thinks you might be the one he writes the most about. Even in his free time, lyrics of unspoken melodies fly from his lips, telling tales of your gentle eyes, the way the wind carries your laughter, the way the sun glistens against your hair.
He watches as you approach.
“You… said you wanted to talk to me?” The words are slightly nervous as they spill from your lips, yourself having already taken a seat on the stone steps beside him. You’re nervous, and maybe it’s because of the ominous message Venti had delivered earlier, or maybe it’s because his usual giggles and sarcastic jokes didn’t fill the air.
Venti’s clutches his lyre tighter. Not in a firm way, or a way that suggests he’s upset, but rather in a way that speaks of him preparing for something. The god of the wind, the god of freedom, gentle yet ever so mysterious in his existence. He smiles at you, soft, graceful, then his eyes turn back to his instrument, and another tune begins to play.
“I suppose I did, didn’t I? No need to have such a look on your face, my ever so sweet Cecilia! What I call you hear for is not a declaration of agitation, but profound adoration. The wind whispers of you… Y’know?” He’s sly with his words, speaking in riddles that make your heart both beat lighter yet more unsteady at the same time.
“It sings of your soul… strums the to tune of you becoming whole. It tells me about you, about the way your hair softly sways beneath its touch, the way your heart beats against its feel… the wind is always with you, it is eternal… yet it can’t help but wonder if you will always be with it?” The music pauses, and Venti gazes at you for a moment.
“Will you marry me, cecilia?” The question finally leaves his lips, and you almost think the breeze is playing tricks on you. You’ve long been aware of his status, of his status on the stage of gods, yet despite all this — you’ve managed to love him as if he were human. Sometimes it was painful, knowing that the two of you would likely never go further, yet hearing that question, all those previous solemn doubts fly out the window.
It’s quiet for a moment, the sun setting over the ocean. You let orange light flutter against your skin, painting your face in an orange hue. Then, your lips move, and from them a ‘yes’ echoed. Venti hears it, the wind carries your barely audible words to him, and he grind wide, as if he knew already that that would be your answer.
XIAO
Xiao doesn’t indulge in mortal customs, not until you came along anyway. Starting off as just another acquaintance, another mortal in the crowd, your quick to stand out in his eyes. He doesn’t know why, doesn’t know how, but his heart quivered in your presence. Not with fear, but with a longing. He’s loved before, loved his friends, his comrades, but nothing quite like this.
This makes his heart stutter, makes his hands feel clammy beneath the fabric of his gloves. He stays silent for months, yet after some consultation with a certain someone, and some thorough explaining and reassurance, Xiao gathers the courage to admit his ‘feelings’ to you. He awkward, nervous, unable to articulate his words like he normally does, but he’s honest.
From there, Xiao finds himself picking up more mortal tendencies than he thought he would. He finds himself wondering if he should perhaps purchase things that he sees in traders passing carts, not for himself, but for you. He finds himself wondering what it would be like to get closer to you, despite his own fears about his karma.
Through this, your bond grows stronger, and he grows more desperate in his urges to get closer to you. Yet, he thought this was as close as he could get, that this was the furthest he could take everything — for your safety, but on one quiet night, when he returns from a battle and ideas flutter around his gifted room at the inn, he hears something you mention.
Marriage. A mortal tradition, one that symbolises the strengthening of unions, one that binds souls and enunciates love. That one word that was first introduced by you soon lives in Xiao’s head rent free, and from there it’s as if a switch had flipped in the opposite direction.
Xiao’s begins to collect items, special ones, ones that both hold physical and sentimental meaning. He begins to bring you flowers on the days building up, qinxins, glaze lilies, anything that breathes of your beauty in his eyes. Finally, one the day he decides to finish it all, he brings you into the mountains of Jueyun Karst.
Atop the mountains, the golden fields of Liyue and rocky labyrinths lingering below like sacred temples, Xiao lets the thin air settle lightly between you two, a specially crafted pendant held awkwardly in his hands. He made it himself, infused it with his own power, one that would ward off evil spirits, he even tied the knot himself. Every inch of it was handmade, with both precision and longing.
When his eyes flicker up to meet yours, you can see the nervousness in them, the quiet reluctance, not toward you, but toward himself. He wonders if he’s enough, if after all this sin, he still deserves the purity of your heart. Though, beneath all the pain and sorrow, the brightness of your presence breaks through it all, breathing way to a path for him, one that leads into something more hopeful.
“I… am not familiar with such emotions, yet, I find myself wanting to be closer to you. This—is a pendant, I… made it myself. It’s intended purpose is to ward off evil spirits, I hope that, in the rare moments I am not in your presence, it will keep you safe,” he swallowed nervously.
“Mortal emotions confuse me, but, when I am near you, I only wish to be nearer. I do not deserve a life with you, an eternity with you… but I hope for it. Will you accept this gift, and marry me?” He finished off in a final breath, his shoulders loosening, the tension of a warrior's memories fading away, giving life to a softer version of himself, one that looked at you reverently.
To see Xiao let his walls down like this, it was rare, but the willingness he beheld spoke volumes. He was stepping into territory unfamiliar with himself, territory that no Adepti had likely stepped into before, and he was doing it all for you. It made your heart ache, not just with hope, but with something stronger, something that existed like the blood in your veins.
Xiao seemed to almost recoil at your silence, but his actions were swiftly cut off as you pulled him into a tight hug. He stiffened, arms hovering as if he didn’t know what to do with them, but they soon settled around your waist as repeated ‘yes’s left your lips, and soon he could feel tears staining his shirt. He assumed they were ones of joy, ones that spoke of your acceptance, and he accepted them with diligence.
KAZUHA
The quiet of Inazuma was something that couldn’t be compared to any other place. While Mondstadt was peaceful, wind whispering in ears — Liyue was golden, harsh and crisp with a refined elegance — Inazuma was brittle with something ancient, something that held secrets no mortal would ever come to uncover.
On a beach that’s rocky, waves whipping against stones like the crackles of thunder that roared in the distance, both you and Kazuha sit next to one another, untouched by the cold sting of the water, simply observing, quiet. Neither of you turned to look at one another, but that didn’t matter, the silence was comfortable enough.
Dating Kazuha was like floating down a lazy river. He was so calm it was contagious, and despite problems arising from nooks and crannies, he always had a way to solve them, whether it be through whispered poems of adoration or compromises thought up on the spot, he simply knew the way.
You could never imagine replacing him — and nor could he you. The quiet days like this particularly reminded you of that, where you both got to sit, staring at the waves in silence, smelling salt and seaweed in the air. Maybe if you were lucky, Kazuha might tell you what the winds whispering, or maybe he might thread and lazily bandaged hand through your own. That’s what he usually did anyway.
Yet… despite all this familiarity, something unspoken tapped against your sense, as if calling to you from somewhere you weren’t privy to. Today felt different, different in a way you couldn’t exactly pinpoint. It wasn’t a bad different, far from it — but it was different, and you want to know exactly why.
Though, the answer seemed to come to you, instead of you having to seek it out. Kazuha spoke up, his voice still soft as it always had been. “The wind’s being a comedian today…” he huffed a laugh, a small smile steadily imprinted on his face. You turned your head to him with a raised eyebrow, your own mouth turning upwards into a smile.
“Mmh? What’s it joking about this time?” You cocked your head to the side, eyes lingering on the soft curve of his side profile, gazing lazily at the strands of white hair that cascaded down his face, a blazing red mixing within the threads of ivory.
“It’s telling me to simply propose to you already.”
“…”
“What?”
Kazuha turned to you, his smile still the same. One of his hands went to his pockets, fishing out something you hadn’t noticed. A small pouch, tiny, yet delicate in a way you couldn’t fathom. Your hands shook as he extended you the bag, placing it gently down in your palms, his hands lingering softly.
Inside was a promise, an unspoken dedication to the both of you. You didn’t even realise that you’d begun to cry until his hands cupped your face, brushing away the tears with a comforting touch. Archons, you’d kissed him right then and there, and that had sealed the deal. He didn’t need a poem for this, all it took was the actions of his affection, and the deal was sealed.
HEIZOU
Having a detective as a partner meant he knew how to work his way around. You never even noticed that he’d begun preparing some kind of surprise until word made way back to your own ears from someone on the street. It was a passing comment, a murmur about how the ever so popular Shikanoin was making his way through stalls, talking to people about… romance, jewels, gifts.
You didn’t quite know what to think of it all, and you did end up asking him about it — but, the ever so sly detective had waved off your queries, claiming a job had him running through jewellery stores looking for a thief that had been slowly building popularity. You bought it, of course, why wouldn’t you? He didn’t have any reason to lie to you, did he? Plus, his job often had him rushing around like a wild hare, chasing down leads and criminals every day.
But in the toil of the weeks, truth soon came to pass, and it was loud. Turns out Heizou was not chasing down criminals — not jewellery thieves anyway. Instead, he was on a chase personal to himself, a chase for the best gift to hand to you, a gift that he hoped you would wear and cherish forever, a gift that he hoped would start a fire that would never burn out in your heart.
Beneath the bliss of the stars, constellations of fates and divine prophecies watching from the heavenly realm of the sky, Heizou and you sat in the wilderness, a campfire lit between the two of you. He’d insisted on taking you out to watch the stars, that something special would happen that night, something that would never come by again.
While not being much of an astrology enthusiast, you weren’t going to pass up and opportunity to spend a night beneath the stars with Heizou.
As the night bled deeper, it turns out the special event was one of his own doing. It started with harmless flirtation, a playful bickering between the two of you as sly smirks traded words and eyes glinted with something more — but when the firelight grew dim, a small orange blaze remaining, Heizou revealed it all, pulling out a carefully crafted hairpin that seemed as if it were made by the gods themselves.
Blended with metal that seemed far too expensive for its own good and adorned with jewels that matched both the colour of his eyes and your own, he offered it to you without faltering. Swiftly, he turned a simple flirt into a full-on declaration, claiming that “if you’re willing to be so bold, then let’s get married.” He didn’t stutter, didn’t falter, just proclaimed the sentence as if it were the word of the world, and you listened.
The hairpin threaded itself into your hair, careful, precise, yet oh so meaningful. It was a promise, a sacrifice, a gesture of the affection set out between you two.
You cried that night. Not out of sadness, not out of regret or longing, but out of an overwhelming sense of belonging. With him — beneath the stars, that’s where you belonged, and that too is where he belonged. Like a puzzle finally clicking together, the two of you moulded with one another like a ceramic vase being pieced together. With him, you would never be alone again.
ITTO
Itto isn’t serious, not by a long shot, in fact, you were surprised that he’d even wanted to get into a relationship with you, but when you realised he was serious, you couldn’t have been any more over the moon. The oni was childish, yes, but that was what made him him. He grinned like the world knew nothing else and he laughed as if the sound was a symphony.
His was ditzy, but he was sweet. He shamelessly let compliments roll off his tongue, was always gentle despite the claws that extended from his hands, and never once did he ever attempt anything less than the most. Itto was the one and oni, the one and oni for you. You’d known that, known that for awhile, but what really settled the situation was when he suddenly took you out to a dinner that looked like it took a team effort.
Sitting on a blanket too colourful for the occasion and having all sorts of sweets layered around like an intoxicating invite, Itto binged with you as the sun set over the rocky cliffs of the beaches of Inazuma. He joked, laughed like normal, but something else peeked through whenever he’d turn a little too red, his words fumbling for a moment.
It all crumbled when finally, silence overtook, the normally boastful and prided Itto turning into nothing more than a blustering mess of red and stutters as he fumbled to reach for something you hadn’t seen just yet. With an awkward laugh, he gave a speech mixed with pure joy, nervousness and an overuse of slang directed all towards you, all while revealing an Onikabuto that looked gorgeous.
You had never been one to be too interested in the bugs or the battles he fought with them, but seeing the shimmering iridescence of the beetle that Itto had managed to find in your exact favourite colours, that was enough to speak of his dedication to you. He’d told you many times the different rarities of Onikabuto, the expensiveness of the animals themselves, and that just added to testify about his dedication.
When you nodded with shaky hands, a smile brimming over your face, the one and oni himself wasted no time in scooping you up within his arms, crushing you tight against his chest as the two of you hugged like distance was rejection. He smiled, baring his fangs, and you laughed while crying, pure hope streaming down your cheeks.
WANDERER
You had some inkling that something was happening, but you didn’t know what.
Wanderer had been acting strange, letting your quips sink in without a retort, doing things without making some kind of remark about you always needing his help — he was… preparing for something. You had asked him if he was alright, but he just reassured you that it wasn’t anything he couldn’t deal with. That made you worry.
If Wanderer wasn’t going to tell you what was happening, you’d seek your answers out in other places. So, you went to his next closest confidant. Lesser Lord Kusanali. The small god greeted you with open arms, eyes as curious as ever — yet upon asking about the Wanderer, proposing your worries, she’d simply laughed and uttered a “it’s nothing to worry about”.
While now you were a little less concerned, you can’t say you weren’t curious. Now, picking up on the smaller details, you noticed the slight change in his personality, the way his hand would slightly reach for yours, hands too smooth to be real brush against your own. You noticed the way he’d tug you closer when a rainstorm passed, smushing you against him rather than simply letting you stand close enough to not get drenched.
Yet, even after noticing all of his secretive behaviours, you still couldn’t quite pinpoint just what was wrong. He was good at evasion, that much was true. You don’t know where he learned these skills, but maybe you’d underestimated the Wanderer’s ability to remain under the radar, because nobody would utter a word to you about what he’d been up to.
When you finally confronted him, he still didn’t say anything about what he’d been doing, only dragged you out of your shared home into the lush greenery of Sumeru, where the air was humid and Rishboland Tigers remained on the prowl. He dragged you to a northern part of the forest, where Rukkhashava grew larger than life and glowed with a blue bioluminescence.
In the silence of privacy, he unveiled the curtains he’d strung over himself. He told you it all, told you his mistakes, told you his grievances, told you the past he’d tried so hard to get rid of — and at the very end, he told you of his final understanding. He didn’t need a heart to feel; he didn’t need a heart to know what he felt for you.
As much as he’d internally loathed his own loving, unable to comprehend that he might be more human than he thought, he finally began to come to terms with it all. You listened, stayed with his hands in your own as he told you this, stayed looking at his averted eyes that finally looked so very vulnerable.
Responding was difficult, how did you reply to someone who just dumped a bombshell on you, all the while asking for your own heart in turn for baring his own self-made one? You were lost for words, stumbling over possible sentences before stewing in silence. He asked you to speak, you told him to give you a moment, your hands tightening around his.
Maybe you thought for a few minutes, maybe an hour, but by the end of it all, you’d realised something. He had just opened himself up to you, shown you the scars and secrets that he’d hidden so hard from everyone else, all the while hoping you wouldn’t leave him like he’d said the rest had. He said he’d done terrible things, but hadn’t everyone? Everyone had things they regretted, things they wished they could erase — but what mattered the most was who was present in that moment.
In this moment, the man present was no puppet, was no human, but was simply the Wanderer, a being you’d come to fall in-love with, a being you’d somehow grown attached to. All in all, he had stolen your heart just as much as you’d built his — and you couldn’t deny that factor. With a shaky breath, you accepted, and for the first time, he hugged you. He pulled you so tight against him that you thought he might crush your bones, but he didn’t. You returned the embrace, and together the two of you settled with the new realisation.
KINICH
The saurian hunter knew things came at a price; everything did. Food cost mora, friendships cost time… and relationships—they cost effort. Kinich was more than aware of that, from the moment he’d opened his eyes, to the day he’d gotten with you, he knew he was unfamiliar with the dating scene, but he also knew that one key led to it all working out.
Effort, time and patience — so he had it all. He kept a level head, stuck out all the disastrous times with you, and honestly, with how much you gave to him in return — affection, love, everything, it didn’t even feel like he was sacrificing anything at all. By the time Kinich knew it, it had been years, and he was swatting away Ajaw who was teasing him about the lacklustre of his proposal gift.
Where trees were scarce, and the Scions of the Canopy branched across the jagged outcrops of red dusted mountains, Kinich had led you up higher towards the blazing sun, the air cool with the breeze of noon, and the distant qucusaurus squawking as sunset approached.
Kinich had simply mentioned how he’d wanted to take you out to see the view — nothing more, nothing less. He had a damn good poker face, and he’d had you fooled then entire month he’d been preparing for this all. Between hunting trips, he’d go out to look for the best thing to possibly propose to you with. You’d never even suspected a thing.
When the clouds turn rose, and the both of you stood at the edge of the cliffs, glancing out into the horizon, one of his hands wrapped firmly around your waist, that was when he shifted without much notice. His hand slipped from you, and when you turned to make a joke — you froze upon the sight of him down on one knee, head bowed like you were some kind of royalty he was swearing his soul too.
With a steady fervour, only the slightest glint of diffidence in his gaze that stayed locked with yours, Kinich presented both a promise and his heart. He offered it to you, made a whole announcement — how you had shown him that sometimes, you can get more than what you asked for, more than what you looked for, because you had given him more than he could ever offer.
You’d given him things he’d never experienced, laughter he never thought he would let out, moments of contentment he thought would never cross him. You’d given him all of that, and so he would give himself to you. Not as a servant, as another job, but as a person, as a soul. He wanted to intertwine his fate with yours, to make it so that no matter how many blazing heats passed, how many storms rolled with thunder, that through it all, you would always be there beside him, and he would always be there waiting for you.
When you cried in his arms after accepting, he may or may not have let his own few tears shed.
SCARAMOUCHE
Scaramouche was good at separating you from his job, and he did that for one very good reason. You had no place in the Fatui. You had no place in that unkind and bitter world, where kindness couldn’t be told from manipulation — where lives were lost daily in circumstances everybody could predict.
He didn’t want you to intertwine with that, he wanted you to intertwine with him.
Scaramouche had never truly known who he was. He bore the names others gave him, bore the weight of tasks others handed to him — he bore it all, yet he never bore anything self made. Never love, never his own indulgences, never, not until you. You were something that he couldn’t ignore, a damn pest that he didn’t want to swat away.
He never thought he’d fall in love, he didn’t think he had the heart for it, but you proved him wrong. You showed him his hands could be used to hold something gently, that he didn’t have to slam every door or shatter every ceramic he held — you showed him that he himself could be held with a soft passion that overshadowed even the wrath of the gods.
He’d never felt it before, and he never wanted to stop. Maybe it started to twist into obsession, maybe it always was, but either way, Scaramouche loved you. He loved the way you learned to brew tea the way he liked it, loved the way you hold your hand in his own, your hands, so humanly fragile, feeling like nothing short of a gift of divine intervention in his bleak life.
All in all, he was smitten, totally head over heels in the relationship he hid in shadows deeper than secrets. By the time he realised it, years had gone by, and he came up with the idea of marriage after patrolling the streets. In the corner of his eyes, he saw a couple holding hands, two rings on either of their fingers. He didn’t glance at them for long, but it was long enough for an idea to spark in his head.
The next moment he could, he took up an available assignment tasked in your homeland — the very place he’d first met you, a place outside of the cold hardened walls of Snezhnaya. He took you along with him, ignoring the questioning looks of his agents, and then he completed all his missions early — but he didn’t tell anyone, no, because he had moments ready to spend with you.
He took you out to a space he was sure nobody would interrupt, brought you to a field where it was just you, him, and the inevitable future that spanned before you both. It was there he forced himself to say it all, everything he’d been bottling up for so long. At first, he was scared — not that he’d ever admit it. The idea of telling someone all he thought he was and could ever be? That was the same as offering you a blade strong enough to kill a god.
Yet, you didn’t shame him, didn’t snicker in his face, didn’t call his vulnerabilities stains on his heavenly perfection, you accepted it all with your own heart in turn, smiling through it all, holding him tighter. It seemed unreal, seemed so unbelievable in the world of treachery that had been Teyvat — yet it was here, and it was happening.
For the first time, he sobbed openly. It wasn’t loud, wasn’t dramatic, but it was real. Tears fell from his eyes, just as they had the day he was brought into this plane of existence, but these tears weren’t of pain, they were of acceptance, of desperation, of relief. Finally, in these centuries of searching, pain wrapped in hunger and humiliation, he had found something that didn’t desert him for his grovelling, that happily picked him back up when he slipped off his feet.
He had found the someone that he didn’t need to stand tall for, the one who would smile even in the face of bitterness, and damn — he was not going to let go.
