I'm Rianne-Shion, owner of the Record of Stories Cafe. We are in our soft opening and our menu is currently brewing for you to taste. But drop by and say hello! You can help us in creating our menu that you'll love and cherish the most.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･ 𝑪𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒖 °❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･
🍵 Atlantis. (Neuvillette x reader)
🍵 If this World were Mine. (Wriothesley x gn! reader)
🍵 Secrets Between the Ancient Texts. (Kaveh x gn! reader)
🍵 ☁️Chivalry Fell on Its Sword. (Varka x f! reader) -> Currently brewing!
-> (Part 1), (Part 2), (Part 3)
Synopsis: Some relationships must remain in the dark, whether it’s platonic or romantic. Yet the feelings that you thought were dead and buried slowly rise again as the expedition team returns to Mondstadt. Try all you might to invade his advances, but in the end, he patiently waits for you at the right moment.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･ 𝑮𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒆 °❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･
⚜️ Currently 21 years old, she/her pronouns
⚜️ Most of my story ideas are inspired from my playlist
⚜️ Into anime, especially Haikyuu!!!
⚜️ Fandoms: Genshin Impact, Tears of Themis, Haikyuu, Apothecary Diaries
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Please come again soon! I'd love to have a chat with you ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
Varka x f!reader
->You are tuning in to Part 1. Click here for: [Part 2]; [Part 3];
Synopsis: Some relationships must remain in the dark, whether it’s platonic or romantic. Yet the feelings that you thought were dead and buried slowly rise again as the expedition team returns to Mondstadt. Try all you might to invade his advances, but in the end, he patiently waits for you at the right moment.
Tags/Warnings: f!reader, reader is around 30s, an adventurers' guild's senior advisor as well, friendship reunion (?), angst, unclear rejection, both are have secrets, alcohol is consume (cause their mondstadters), emotional distance
Author's notes: Finally after almost a year hiatus, I made something. I waited until I finish my last exam of my college so that I can post this! Pls. don't let this flop (T-T).
(^. .^₎Ⳋ Got any ideas or messages? Place a letter on our board here. ₊⊹ˎˊ˗
Reblogs, comments, and likes on this post are always welcome!
When the Knight of Favonius Headquarters announced the expedition team making their homeward journey, you had never seen the streets of the City of Freedom bustle with anticipation and excitement. Husbands and wives gathered by the main road, while children ran across the streets playing with flowers in their hands, ready to hand out to the brave knights who partake in the expedition. The fragrant aroma of wine and sweet madame travel from the nearby taverns and restaurants, as if their return is the reason the city must celebrate outside of a few local festivities.
Of course, their safe return is of great importance: the threat in the north of Teyvat has dwindled, and it shall no longer be a threat to the city. Praise to the Anemo Archon, for he has protected the freedom and safety of his citizens. You are no exception from being glad and grateful for their successful expedition. But unlike other citizens, who are anticipating their arrival, you are not in a celebratory mood. You’re merely there for your work, as the Adventurers’ Guild’s senior advisor. Work like this often keeps you busy and leaves you less time for mere celebrations, but it’s something you have gradually adapted to.
However, it’s not the reason why you hurriedly slipped through the opposite direction of the stream of people, as your shoulders occasionally bump into others while your heart is pumping out of its usual rhythm. The passing thought of being in his line of sight made your chest even tighter; even a sigh of relief did not help your case of hiding in a secluded area, only to be interrupted by the roars of every Mondstadter from the main road.
“They have returned!” One cityfolk exclaims.
“Oh, thank the Anemo Archon, the expedition team has safely come home!” A deaconess rejoys.
“Welcome home!” A young child cheers, fighting for a spot from the balcony.
Mixtures of cries and cheers and flower petals danced into the air as the knights paraded their way into the city, with the sound of their armor and horses' rhythmic clanking escorted by the captains and vice-captains of the Knights of Favonius. Knights received their flowers being tossed and handed from eager children and wives, as men whistled and threw their hats into the air, and bards sang their songs of praise.
You should’ve walked away after witnessing the procession from the start and gone back to your own business as usual. But your eyes have landed on a certain person at the center–his masculine, rugged figure made him stand out amongst the party. He led these knights with a wide grin on his face, his disheveled blonde hair dancing against the gentle wind, and his forearm raised to greet the citizens. The ever-chivalric and easygoing Grandmaster Varka never disappoints anyone, despite his carefree attitude, which tends to collide with his paperwork. Perhaps it’s part of his charm—his ability to abide by the sense of duty while escaping unfavorable scenarios.
Had you realized that he acted the way he was sooner, you’d have been able to avoid the awkward fallout between you two years ago.
You definitely have no reason to be with the crowd, fearing that the feelings that have been sealed away long ago will burst again, and the cycle of emotional torture repeats once more. It’s just a coincidence that you were in such a position. Nevertheless, you couldn’t lie to yourself that the sight of him in good condition made your worries settle down. At the very least, he’s safe.
Just as you decided to linger for a while to see the very end of the parade, you swore that his gaze was leading in your direction. You can’t be certain about it; he was just scanning through the crowds one moment ago, yet somehow, he was able to shift his blue eyes to where you were. Cold sweats start to form on your skin, and you feel frozen by his gaze.
Turning your back against the main road, you resolved to be on your way and prayed to the archons that he hadn’t noticed you. The passing years made it difficult to return to what it used to be, and you both became distinct people you can barely recognize. There are no more reasons to stay for the rest of the celebration, no further reasons to be in his proximity if it means being on the constant edge.
Although the expedition team’s entry came to an end, the celebrations throughout the city still lasted throughout the day until the moonrise. Muffled bass of merriment leaks through the wooden walls of taverns, as you hear the songs of the bards being played alongside the clinking of glasses and plates from the Good Hunter. Even in this joyous night, you’re still preoccupied with unfinished work at the Adventurer’s Guild.
“Halt all commissions that require our members to fight until the morning after tomorrow.” You skim through the list. “They’ll still be celebrating until dawn, I’m sure, and it’ll be a headache for us when we hear complaints. Make sure that they’re sober enough.”
Katheryne nods as a thick envelope slides into your vicinity. “Understood, senior advisor. Meanwhile, there’s a letter from Advisor Linnea.”
You hummed in acknowledgement, hastily opening the letter, yet carefully read its contents. The anecdotes of her travels made you chuckle before folding them into your bag, deciding that you’d read the rest of the contents before you hit the hay. “Thank you, Katheryne. I’ll make my correspondence in due time.”
You bid farewell to Katheryne as you stroll through the city streets. The doors of the taverns dampen the distant clanking of mugs and laughter, which conflicts with the silent cold air of a moonlit night. The candlelight ever so flickers within the old lanterns as you hear tone-deaf voices singing along to an old Mondstadt hymn. You couldn’t help but feel nostalgic for the life before you became the senior advisor.
In earlier years, townsfolk spread whispers of a young adventurer who could easily conquer 4 Hilichurl camps in a day on her own. Others whispered that the same adventurer would drink several pints of dandelion wine after a day of taking commissions rather than the maximum amount. While these rumors were the favorite topic during the past time, it’s clear that most of these were mixed up with another person you used to accompany.
Unlike you, a young adventurer, your companion was a young boy from the Knights of Favonius. Half of those rumors described more of him than of you, as he shows more strength and resistance. The reason–you assume–was because he’s practically stucked to you like a lost puppy imprinting on someone that they thought to be their mother. It was annoying, as your impression of him was worse at best. He’d escape from his training just to partake in your own commissions, and his mockery kept on distracting you. That resulted in losing your cool in the midst of a hilichurl camp ambush. Once in a while, he'd let you watch his practice on an old-forgotten war-dance. You’d make fun of the young blonde whenever his balance was off or his grip slipped from his greatsword. It was almost amusing when he turned into the color of a pyro slime. But when he finally completes the dance with no mistakes, you can’t help but be captivated by his performance and his aura, as if he were a different person. He’d practice again and again, and you couldn’t bring yourself to pull out of his attention.
As time passed by and his duties increasingly demanded his presence, and later became the Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius, connections were left forgotten. That performance, which you initially believed was solely for you, only lives in your memory.
You continue to reminisce as you walk alone under the old lanterns until a familiar figure from the guild comes into your vicinity. “Hey, Senior Advisor! I ain’t seein’ you with a mug on your hand.” Master Cyrus hooks an arm on your shoulder, while the other is occupied with a mug filled to the brim with the finest wine.
You huff. “There are some people in the guild who need to make sure that our guild doesn’t fall overnight, Master Cyrus.”
He only laughs out of response, tightening his arm around you. “That ain’t no fun, lad! Come, come, you too should loosen up.”
Before you could even protest, he forcefully drags you into the tavern, which you recognize as the interior design of Angel's Share, as the strong scent of alcohol hits you along with the sound of scraping of the chairs and the raw, localized shouts and cheers. At every corner of the tavern were either drunkards, bards, adventurers, or knights, and it doesn’t seem that they will refrain from taking more alcohol until one of them loses the bet.
“Enjoy yourself now, lad,” Master Cyrus led you to the bar, his free hand swaying directionless that his wine almost spilled onto you. “Your drink is on me. Go and fill to your heart’s content!”
“I appreciate it, Master Cyrus, but honestly,” You struggle to break free underneath the weight of him. “I think that I should hold back until everyone is sober up.”
“Aw, come on. Since when did you become a party pooper?”
“Since I became an advisor, all of the work has been directed to me.”
“Then all the more reason you should share a drink with us!”
The more you fight, the more Master Cyrus leans against his body weight onto you. You know better than anyone that he doesn’t take no for an answer, especially when it comes to alcohol. But annoyance is brewing up within you, and your patience to not physically fight your drunk boss grows thinner. “For the last time, sir,” Your voice strained by the minute. “I’d prefer if you let me—”
“There you are, Cyrus!” Just like that, the unbearable weight you felt a second ago vanished instantly. But in consequence, you freeze up after registering the familiar voice from your past.
Looking over your shoulder, locks of his blonde hair fall graciously over the scar on his face as his armor dazzles and clinks even at the slightest movement. That stupid grin of his is plastered across his face as if it hasn’t even worn off since this morning. “We’ve been wonderin’ where you went. Ain’t it rude to persuade a lady to drink?”
“Well, our senior advisor is missin’ all the fun!” Master Cyrus whines as he slithers his arm around the Grandmaster. “Weren’t you two close before? Why not help this old man convince her?”
You winced in response. There wasn’t any reason for Master Cyrus to mention it right out in public, even though everyone is too focused on drowning themselves. But Varka only laughs as though it were a passing thought. “If I were you, I’d be worried that my men can outdrink you before you could even pass out!” He points to the table where several knights and adventurers are seated.
“Oh, that ain’t right!” Within the speed of light, you never see the branch master run for his life. People cheer around him as he continuously drinks several mugs one after the other. You sigh, thinking that it will be a nuisance to deal with Master Cyrus by the next morning, while Varka finds this amusing.
“Thanks,” you say dryly as you sit by the bar, signaling Charles from the other side for your usual glass. You figured it’d be rude to leave the place early when you just arrived, let alone the man whose sight you’re trying to avoid. “I’d wish he knew to read the room while he’s drunk.”
Varka chuckles, taking this opportunity to take a seat beside you–Well, a seat apart by your left. “That’s how he is anyway, tryin’ to join in with the youngsters.”
You hum, offering nothing but the strained silence in a room full of energetic people. Neither of you initiated a conversation, nor did you want one. While you’re preoccupied tapping your fingers against the wooden surface, hoping that Charles would speed up making your drink, you sensed that Varka was fidgeting and looking at the shelves to the ceiling as if finding them suddenly fascinating. You have absolutely no idea why he decided to stay behind when he could’ve gone back to his table.
“So,” Varka exhales. “It’s been a while.”
You pause. “...Yes, it’s been a long time, Grandmaster Varka.”
“You seem to be doing well these days.”
“I’ve been managing.”
“I didn’t know you became one of the senior advisors.”
“I’m not obligated to update you on my life, Sir.”
Shutting down all of his pleasantries with dry replies made the air even thicker. The ambient chatter of the tavern and the songs of the bards grow louder, yet you remain trapped in your own world, pondering what facial expression he’s making: perhaps his forehead is creasing in annoyance, or he’s in a state of distress.
“I’m surprised that even though time passes by, you remain sharp-tongued.”
“Excuse me…?” You quickly turned to him, clearly dumbfounded by his unnecessary comment that no one even asked. You can’t even believe that, despite his position, he dares to leave remarks just to get your attention.
And it clearly did. It was his intention. He sat there, facing directly towards you with his chin resting on his palm, his face smiling–no, beaming with amusement.
“Now it’s definitely been a long time since I got to see that look on your face.” Varka bursts into laughter whilst you’re certain you have never felt more embarrassed than a child tripping over nothing. You don’t know if you want to slap the man out of anger or walk out. But with the remaining composure, you decided to huff it out as Charles set your Apple Cider in front of you.
“Well, you remained the same before the expedition began,” You mumbled, taking a sip of your drink, savoring the sweet taste of the cider running down your throat. “Good thing that the distance from the motherland hasn’t shattered your morale.”
“Hm, I guess you could say that,” You hear Varka’s voice shift, gaze directed to something behind you. “I’d be lying if I said it was easy. I can’t spare you the details ‘cause it’s, y’know… confidential.”
He’s lost in his own thoughts, just like a lost wanderer in an open blue sea. It’s the typical Varka—withholding just enough to keep you at arm’s length. He’d maintained professionalism between a Grandmaster and an adventurer, despite knowing him long enough, and making sure to avoid personal topics.
And this distance becomes worse after you confess during the Windfeast festival, a week before they set the expedition that started the other expeditions. Do you still remember what he said?
“I’ll think about it.” You still distinctly recall how the sweat beads formed on his forehead, and how his voice staggered while the distant noise of the city accumulated between the spaces of the back alley.
Since then, Varka has never come any closer, nor paid close attention to you. Even if you try to be convinced otherwise, you still vividly remember the quick shift of his eyes when they met yours, and how he seemed to be occupied so suddenly that going on a land survey alone became natural. And before you know it, the chasm between you widens. Even when you try to let go, you still carry the weight of that day like a leaden stone in your chest.
So you have no right to interrogate him, not like this. He pulled his eyes back at you, and whatever expression he was wearing earlier was masked with another grin. “But hey, what matters is that I’m back where I came from. How ‘bout you? How’s life been treatin’ you?”
Yeah no. Ever since you became the Grandmaster, ignoring me for years until you made your expedition, I’ve been emotionally messed up. Do you have any idea how long I prayed to Barbatos to make sure you’re safe? How long did I need to move on? No!
You wish you could say it to his face, watching the man fumble from embarrassment. But your good conscience always wins. It only remains in your cloud of thoughts, and you think of saying something more… respectable. “Not too bad, if I have to describe. I handle business on the sideline.”
Varka leans slightly forward. “Really now? What kind of business?”
“A cafe at Dorman Port.”
“That’s terrific! I’ll make sure to stop by sometime.”
“You prefer alcohol, Varka. I don’t serve as such there.”
“It won’t hurt if I try other things. Although it’s pretty far from the city.”
“I guess so.”
“Didn’t you consider having it near where you live?”
“I did.” You take another sip as you lower your gaze into your glass. “It is located near where I live.”
This confused Varka at first, but his eyes quickly widened by a fraction. “...I see,” He moved his mouth at a slow pace. “Then, may I ask the reason why?”
“You may not,” You curtly replied without sparing a glance. It's much easier if you just say that it’s for a better perspective, or it’s a marketing strategy. But you couldn’t bring yourself to lie, not when the reason for it all was right beside you.
What’s supposed to be a short reunion has now become a long, awkward moment between two acquaintances. It feels like Charles could easily cut the tension with a knife from where he’s been standing, while the patrons from the second floor fill up the air with a shanty sing-along with the thumping of their feet. You swirl your glass, hoping that it is a helpful distraction.
“Hey,” Varka rakes through his hair, face in distress, finding the right words to say. “I know this may or may not be the right time, but whatever happened to us in the past, I’m sorry about it.”
“Easy for you to say.” You scoff, disappointed even that it was the least of your expectations. He took his sweet time ignoring the long inconvenience of personal affection, and it genuinely pissed you off that all he had to say was to apologize.
“Look, Varka–” You took a large gulp of the cider, coughing momentarily— “You’re the guy that everyone has been looking up to. You’re basically a legend in Mondstadt; that puts us on different levels. So, what we can do now is move on, pretending like it never happened. We didn’t go through that, I’ve never said that, and you never asked for forgiveness tonight.”
The fact that you’re getting riled by the second made you well aware of your actions right now. It’s too late to even recover from this moment. He pursed his lips for a second and exhaled through his nose, taking your words into deep thought before even responding. “Let’s get on the same page, then. So if you just let me have–”
“Grandmaster!” A knight shouts from the same table where Master Cyrus is, waving his hand in the air loosely. “Have another drink, Master Cyrus said he doesn’t go for another round if you ain’t there!”
Other patrons hyped up in pressuring the blonde man to rejoin the table, howling and banging the tables with their fists to a rhythmic beat. Varka couldn’t resist the pressure on him; conversely, you knew that he just wanted more time alone with you to attempt to clear up the mistakes of the past. And you know neither of you is in the right place at the right time to discuss such matters.
“I must call it a night,” You down the remaining cider hastily. Planting the glass back on the wooden surface, you fished 150 Mora from your pocket as you prepared to leave. “It’s good to have you back, Grandmaster. I hope you have a fine evening.”
“Wait, wait. We really need to talk sometime.” He panically tails you a few steps behind. “You’re staying in the city ‘til the end of the week, right?”
You considered it, really, you did. All the facts, the consequences, and the cards in your hand. And it took you just a sharp look at the blonde man over your shoulder. “No, I planned to leave sooner. Until next time.”
The door clicked shut behind you.
Ever since you woke up this morning, the bustling streets have continuously pounded your brain like it’s about to explode by the second. Narrowing the cause does not help, whether it's from the very unexpected and unwelcome encounter last night, or the fact that the city didn’t sleep a wink.
Ideally, you wanted to stay in your bed, shutting your eyes tightly as you dream of another world. But your short time in the city would be a waste if you spent a day off. Between you and Master Cyrus, you’re the more responsible one. It comes with a heavy burden: Surveying nearby domains, categorizing the difficulty level of requested commissions, looking out for other guild members, and, of course, doing the actual paperwork. The latter is your least favorite, not because of the number of things you need to do, but because most of these were tossed to you.
And with the guild currently short of manpower, your plate has been full. You could only sigh as you left the inn with a half-empty cup of joe for another nearby land expedition. Not that you couldn’t help it, but it would be a blessing from the Celestia if nothing goes wrong for the rest of your trip.
So why is Varka with you? And where the hell did he come from?
“It doesn’t seem safe for you to go out on your own,” You hear his footsteps five paces behind you, the crunch of dead leaves sharp in the morning air. “You should’ve called someone from the guild or the knights.”
“I have never actually considered that,” You reply, the sarcasm dry enough to match the foliage underfoot. You take a long stride over the bushes. “Unfortunately, almost everyone from the knights and the guild are currently indisposed—some still insist on drinking. So I’m left to do my job alone. But you,” You pause to catch your breath. “I’d expected that you’re prioritizing something else, like doing your responsibilities.”
Varka shrugs. “I just got back from the north. Is it so bad that I wanted to catch up with what I’ve missed over the years? I can always go back to the headquarters after I have had a drink or two.”
“And let Jean handle your workload while you disappear? You sure know how to do your job.” Although it sounded harsher when it left your mouth, it earned a sheepish laugh from your companion behind. “Really, it’s unnecessary for the Grandmaster to join me. Go back and do your drinking and stuff.”
“Come now, I choose to join you. Don’t shoo me away,” He catches up as the metallic noise of his weapons rasps against his clothes. Once he matches his pace to yours, his height casts a shadow over you. “I understand that you don’t want me to talk about what happened, and I will honor that. But can’t we just hang out like this?” He brushed off a tree branch in front of you that you first instinctively ducked. “Think of it as a normal exploration of an adventurer and a knight. It’s good to go back to the good ol’ times, don’t you think?”
You stop in your tracks, your bag’s sling slightly creaks as you tighten your grip. He’s the one who has been torturing your heart for all these years, and he doesn’t deserve to just walk into your life so suddenly. You have a reason not to comply with him, and he knows that it’s what you want. Yet, is it really so bad to continue avoiding him? You’re well aware who suggested forgetting the confession you made in the past, and Varka is just complying with what you said last night. And that’s where it dawned on you: you haven’t said anything about not wanting to hang out with him again.
The person living inside your brain must’ve been slamming their own head into an imaginary wall. Knowing Varka, he’ll persist in finding loopholes even if you persist against it, just to justify his own means. And even if you convince him, who knows what move he would make next time just to earn a moment between two old friends?
“So, what do you say?” Varka peers over you.
“Fine, just this once. But on two conditions,” You clicked your tongue and faced up directly at the blonde man, placing your hands on your hips. “ One, don’t get in my way while I work. And two: I want to set respectable boundaries between us. Got it?” You stare at his dilated blue eyes before you walk ahead of him with a short sigh. “If you understand that, then hurry up.”
It was just a couple of demands that you set. Simple and professional. Both of you can follow it to the T. But Varka’s audible chuckle was so loud, followed by the metallic jingle of his gear, you can imagine how he’s practically wagging his tail without turning around.
Following what Varka said, it’s just like the old times of your youth. While you were occupied analyzing a domain and hilichurl camps, he chatters on with anecdotes of his own knightly missions, how he had a drinking challenge with the Pyro Archon, or that one time he had to prove his strength to a band of Eremites when they were in Sumeru. You could respond with the empty replies of “I see” and “that’s interesting” in between as you note down your observations of the area. But it seems that Varka did not understand the rules you’ve set, because the occasional banters and distant sound of his greatsword slash through the air is all you can hear as you mess up your writing for the 5th time.
You release a long sigh and reason out the sun’s high position in the sky to send Varka away for a break, most especially for you to rest underneath the nearby shade. Never had the thought crossed your mind that a few hours of this trip were taxing with the man. Perhaps it is your own fault that you forgot how annoying the Grandmaster was in his prime.
“Hey,” You instinctively tilt your head to the voice, and you feel the cold canteen spread across your forehead. “You seemed pretty thirsty. Want a sip?”
It took a second for you to snap out of the moment and brush off his offer. “If this is your way of loosening me with alcohol, then I have to decline.”
“It’s not,” Varka chuckles as he sits a respectable distance next to you and takes a sip before storing it back in his person. “It’s just water.”
You perked up. “Since when did you stop filling your can with booze?”
“Since we ran out of dandelion wine, we packed up during the expedition!” He leans his head against the thick bark of the tree. “Ah, old habits die hard, as they say. This reminds me of when my men and I were in Nod-Krai. After a long, fierce battle with the Wild Hunt—which, by the way, did give me a scar on my arm—we set up a temporary camp to recuperate, and look forward to drowning the remaining alcohol we saved up. But after taking a sip, it was not the booze we craved for, but sparkling water that someone had replaced one of the barrels with!
“Turns out, someone from the 6th company spilled it during the night before, and thought that we couldn’t differentiate sparkling water from alcohol. So I sent that knight into 20 laps for not reporting immediately, and sent a request to the Dawn Winery to send barrels of dandelion wine ASAP!” Varka puffs a laugh. “I also sent some letters to the headquarters at the same time, just to update our status anyway."
You were supposed to say something to amuse him. But the sight of Varka being dazed and the branches and leaves dancing to the wind caught you off guard. This is the second time it happened, where he disassociated for a second in the midst of your conversation. He’s so close yet so distant, sensing he is trying to hold off important information that he thinks you don’t need to know.
“I see.” You murmur, not knowing what to say this time. “I won’t pry to ask what happened, in honor of you respecting mine. But I have to ask: Is the expedition the reason why you’ve been so persistent in wanting to reunite with me recently?”
You don’t know what to expect from him, whether he’ll brush it off, tell you it's confidential, or make any other excuses. Varka stifled a snicker. “Yeah. It made me realize back then that I’d run out of stationery papers to send at least a letter to you.”
“What do you mean-”
“But now that I’m here and I have all the time in the world, I figured that I should hang out with you.” Varka cuts you off with a groan as he stretches his arms up, interlacing his fingers together as he rolls his shoulders, making his chest armor pop out, and yawns loudly. “Anyway, you’re going back to Dorman Port after nightfall, right? When are you coming back to the city?”
You stare at him for a good minute, clearly taken aback by the sudden cut-off before you could even process his question. “...Hard to say. Plus, I’m not the type of person who drops my schedule so easily.”
Varka shrugs. “Isn’t it so awful that my presence brings that disdain to you?”
“Even if you bribe or trick me, I’m not going to comply without a good reason.”
“Aww, not even to an old friend?”
“Not a bat of an eye, Sir.”
“And here I thought I finally got through you.” He drops his shoulder as he releases a sigh. “The Knights of Favonius are planning to hold a training collaboration with the Adventurers’ Guild to strengthen the brains and brawns of every knight and adventurer. Since you’re the senior advisor, I figured to ask for your help in the preparation phase.”
“So there is more than just wanting to roam around me.” You squint slightly, arms crossed around your bosom, and muscles tighten. “Is Master Cyrus even aware of your plans?”
Like an arrow shot through the middle of a target perfectly, the blonde man’s confidence falters, his mouth gapes to find the right words. “I-I’m sure that he knows! I mean, I already wrote about it in my letters to Jean a couple of times, and I’m pretty sure that he’ll remember what we discussed over a glass at the tavern.”
“If you have to lie, at least make it sound believable.” You sighed, massaging your forehead with your hand while you heard Varka groan in defeat. As much as you wanted to pull away from what he is trying to scheme, your judgment can’t label his proposal as a fabrication for his own means. Every Mondstadter is well-informed that the Acting Grandmaster speaks for the Grandmaster, and thus asking directly to Jean may imply your distrust of the latter. Not only will your reputation be at stake, but you're also gambling the guild’s reputation over a petty relationship.
A classic clash between personal and professional affairs, and there is only one man capable of pressuring you into a corner.
“...By the day after tomorrow, I’ll be marking my trip to Fontaine for business.” You broke the long silence, firmly looking at Varka’s gaze that made him jolt at the slightest. “I’ll be returning to Mondstadt five days after. Given that the celebration will last for a few more days, that should be sufficient for you to meet with Master Cyrus and the rest of the captains before I step in, no?”
Varka was so stunned by your proposal that he forgot he had to answer. “Ah—right, right! I swear on my oath as the Knight of Boreas, and the Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius: I’ll make sure that our collaboration will be fruitful towards its great success!”
His fist snaps upward, touching his chest so forcefully that it creates a metallic jingle. Maybe it’s because seeing Varka’s charismatic grin after being sullen a minute ago made you cough out a laugh threatening to escape.
“Let’s get moving then,” You quickly rise onto your feet, dusting yourself off as you walk forward, avoiding looking at Varka’s reaction to your slip-up a moment ago. “I’m going to leave you behind if you continue stalling there.”
Even if you match onward, you know that Varka is following you without a shadow of a doubt, because his voice echoes your name as his footsteps crunch against the soil draw closer. His beaming smile can be felt against your back as he continues to ramble away, leaving you with your own quill and pen at hand. Albeit, you shoulder the burden of his complaints for not having to fight off monsters like it used to.
Regardless of how troublesome the Grandmaster was for the rest of the expedition, you both returned to the city with a sense of satisfaction. One individual has the data collected, while the other is looking forward to the upcoming days. As Varka bids you a goodnight before escorting you back to your inn, you, on the other hand, pray to Barbatos that you made the right decision.
On the eve of your departure, you decided to close your cafe a bit early, finally urging your staff to get off the clock and leaving the place to yourself before heading out for Fontaine. The silhouette of stacked chairs, empty tables, and the polished porcelain cups fades into the deep shadows. The usual bustling symphony of the daytime is completely gone, replaced by a heavy silence broken only by the sound of your quill eching through the paper of your ledger and a faint noise from the nearby restaurant. You sat behind the bar, comforted by a candle-lit lantern, stacks of documents, and the aroma of your freshly brewed tea just a few inches from you. Time seems to slow down at this hour, and your thoughts of the past few days finally catch up.
Just as you were finishing putting away all the things aside and going home, the sound of knocking rises from the front door. Despite the signage that reads your cafe is closed for the day, you still made a beeline to the entrance, mentally preparing yourself to tell the person behind the door to read the sign.
But rather than entertaining a customer, you were faced with a blue-haired knight underneath the pool of light, with dull-red eyes and an envelope in hand.
“It was quite a challenge to find you, Miss. With the given vague details of your whereabouts, I’m practically searching every corner.” The knight, whose name you later learn was Lohen, giggles in his attempt to lighten the mood. “Anyway, this is from the Grandmaster. It seems that it’s something of great importance for him to send this late in the night.”
Once the envelope is in your possession, you recognize the Grandmaster’s script as if it were the back of your hand. Rough yet precise, reading your name through Varka’s penmanship on the paper is as if you hear him calling your name sweetly. It’s an illusion that creeps in unbidden, but one you recognize so well as you once dreamt of it once upon a time.
You quickly thank Lohen, bidding him a good night as you go inside the dim cafe. Sitting straight in front of the glowing lantern, you open the envelope with a shaky breath and unfold the letter within it:
To Senior Advisor [Y/N],
Regardless of your distaste for my presence whenever I am in your proximity, I was supposed to make a trip to Dorman Port before you depart for a few days. But the duty of the Grandmaster cannot be ignored, as towering paperwork rises above my head and, well, Jean is basically holding me in confinement in my own office. As such, I resolve to write this letter.
First of all: How are you? I know we just met the other day, and I’m eager to meet you in the days to come, but I do wonder about your well-being recently. If the work either from the Adventurers’ Guild or your business gets the best of you, then please take a rest for a while. A human can only do so much, and we must look out for ourselves just as we take care of our blades.
I have talked with Jean and the rest of the captains and vice captains of the training collaboration on extent, especially about how the knowledge and skills the expedition team gained over the years can be fully utilized. The consensus was to proceed with the proposal, with a few suggestions at hand. And I’m soon to have a meeting with Master Cyrus to discuss such matters—once he’s completely sobered and the festivities wrapped up. So you needn’t worry about anything. I’m doing my best within my capabilities to honor our agreement. I am a knight of my word, after all!
A few nights before we arrived at the gate of Mondstadt City, numerous thoughts suddenly flew into my mind: How much has it changed since I last set foot in my homeland? Did the alcohol ferment too long, or has its taste differ now? Although the city hasn’t changed so much and my drink in my cup still tastes the same as years ago—something that I’m entirely grateful to Diluc for—we gain and lose many things as time passes. Such is life. Yet I can’t help but remember the things that we abandoned too carelessly.
So I know how much change you went through when I first glanced at you from the crowd. At least, that’s what I thought. But when I accompanied you on your recent land expedition, just as we used to go for a commission, I came to realize how you both change and remain the same person. You are confident and wiser, clear-headed and pragmatic at the same time. Master Cyrus has been singing songs of praise about you lately. Yet, it’s still you, and I’m left to wonder how long the expedition was that I didn’t recognize you.
Because time is an awful concept, I will express my current desire: I want to reconnect with you. I want to gain knowledge of your adventures and lessons that we can laugh together. We don’t have to discuss what happened before. I will honor that. But if you took this simple request as such, then forgive me. I just want to know your life so far, and yours only.
I expect that you would want to pull away from reading this letter at this point, and I can’t blame you. You need to prepare for a long journey ahead, and that includes rest. So I must hold from my rambles and await your safe return.
May the winds bless your trip.
Respectfully,
Grandmaster Varka
P.S. By the time you arrive back home, I will hold on to the hope that I will hear your tales of your trip, so that I may see the beauty of the world through your eyes.
You so swiftly folded and tossed a letter aside that you spilled the half-empty cup of tea. But you don’t care for the letter or the well-kept documents becoming stained at the moment. You’re more concerned with how his words pierced through you. Burying your face completely within the crook of your elbows, your arms flaring upward and outward. Hands locked into the sides of your head, you feel your blood spreading throughout your face as the candle within the lantern flickers.
. let me know if you want to be tag for the next update!
I think this is my proudest work so far in a long time. Thank you so much for reading, and I promise I'm working hard to write the other parts ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ
I'd like to thank Hoizer as well for the song inspo <3
i was so sad when i reached the end of the first part i cant wait to see how varka will mend his relationship with the mc ^_^
Thank you for reading! I'm glad that you're looking forward to the next part of the story (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶). Just a heads up that I might be slow in updating the next parts 'cause it takes me a lot of time to write.
As to their relationship... well, let's just say that I have a few plans in mind.
Varka x f!reader
->You are tuning in to Part 1. Click here for: [Part 2]; [Part 3];
Synopsis: Some relationships must remain in the dark, whether it’s platonic or romantic. Yet the feelings that you thought were dead and buried slowly rise again as the expedition team returns to Mondstadt. Try all you might to invade his advances, but in the end, he patiently waits for you at the right moment.
Tags/Warnings: f!reader, reader is around 30s, an adventurers' guild's senior advisor as well, friendship reunion (?), angst, unclear rejection, both are have secrets, alcohol is consume (cause their mondstadters), emotional distance
Author's notes: Finally after almost a year hiatus, I made something. I waited until I finish my last exam of my college so that I can post this! Pls. don't let this flop (T-T).
(^. .^₎Ⳋ Got any ideas or messages? Place a letter on our board here. ₊⊹ˎˊ˗
Reblogs, comments, and likes on this post are always welcome!
When the Knight of Favonius Headquarters announced the expedition team making their homeward journey, you had never seen the streets of the City of Freedom bustle with anticipation and excitement. Husbands and wives gathered by the main road, while children ran across the streets playing with flowers in their hands, ready to hand out to the brave knights who partake in the expedition. The fragrant aroma of wine and sweet madame travel from the nearby taverns and restaurants, as if their return is the reason the city must celebrate outside of a few local festivities.
Of course, their safe return is of great importance: the threat in the north of Teyvat has dwindled, and it shall no longer be a threat to the city. Praise to the Anemo Archon, for he has protected the freedom and safety of his citizens. You are no exception from being glad and grateful for their successful expedition. But unlike other citizens, who are anticipating their arrival, you are not in a celebratory mood. You’re merely there for your work, as the Adventurers’ Guild’s senior advisor. Work like this often keeps you busy and leaves you less time for mere celebrations, but it’s something you have gradually adapted to.
However, it’s not the reason why you hurriedly slipped through the opposite direction of the stream of people, as your shoulders occasionally bump into others while your heart is pumping out of its usual rhythm. The passing thought of being in his line of sight made your chest even tighter; even a sigh of relief did not help your case of hiding in a secluded area, only to be interrupted by the roars of every Mondstadter from the main road.
“They have returned!” One cityfolk exclaims.
“Oh, thank the Anemo Archon, the expedition team has safely come home!” A deaconess rejoys.
“Welcome home!” A young child cheers, fighting for a spot from the balcony.
Mixtures of cries and cheers and flower petals danced into the air as the knights paraded their way into the city, with the sound of their armor and horses' rhythmic clanking escorted by the captains and vice-captains of the Knights of Favonius. Knights received their flowers being tossed and handed from eager children and wives, as men whistled and threw their hats into the air, and bards sang their songs of praise.
You should’ve walked away after witnessing the procession from the start and gone back to your own business as usual. But your eyes have landed on a certain person at the center–his masculine, rugged figure made him stand out amongst the party. He led these knights with a wide grin on his face, his disheveled blonde hair dancing against the gentle wind, and his forearm raised to greet the citizens. The ever-chivalric and easygoing Grandmaster Varka never disappoints anyone, despite his carefree attitude, which tends to collide with his paperwork. Perhaps it’s part of his charm—his ability to abide by the sense of duty while escaping unfavorable scenarios.
Had you realized that he acted the way he was sooner, you’d have been able to avoid the awkward fallout between you two years ago.
You definitely have no reason to be with the crowd, fearing that the feelings that have been sealed away long ago will burst again, and the cycle of emotional torture repeats once more. It’s just a coincidence that you were in such a position. Nevertheless, you couldn’t lie to yourself that the sight of him in good condition made your worries settle down. At the very least, he’s safe.
Just as you decided to linger for a while to see the very end of the parade, you swore that his gaze was leading in your direction. You can’t be certain about it; he was just scanning through the crowds one moment ago, yet somehow, he was able to shift his blue eyes to where you were. Cold sweats start to form on your skin, and you feel frozen by his gaze.
Turning your back against the main road, you resolved to be on your way and prayed to the archons that he hadn’t noticed you. The passing years made it difficult to return to what it used to be, and you both became distinct people you can barely recognize. There are no more reasons to stay for the rest of the celebration, no further reasons to be in his proximity if it means being on the constant edge.
Although the expedition team’s entry came to an end, the celebrations throughout the city still lasted throughout the day until the moonrise. Muffled bass of merriment leaks through the wooden walls of taverns, as you hear the songs of the bards being played alongside the clinking of glasses and plates from the Good Hunter. Even in this joyous night, you’re still preoccupied with unfinished work at the Adventurer’s Guild.
“Halt all commissions that require our members to fight until the morning after tomorrow.” You skim through the list. “They’ll still be celebrating until dawn, I’m sure, and it’ll be a headache for us when we hear complaints. Make sure that they’re sober enough.”
Katheryne nods as a thick envelope slides into your vicinity. “Understood, senior advisor. Meanwhile, there’s a letter from Advisor Linnea.”
You hummed in acknowledgement, hastily opening the letter, yet carefully read its contents. The anecdotes of her travels made you chuckle before folding them into your bag, deciding that you’d read the rest of the contents before you hit the hay. “Thank you, Katheryne. I’ll make my correspondence in due time.”
You bid farewell to Katheryne as you stroll through the city streets. The doors of the taverns dampen the distant clanking of mugs and laughter, which conflicts with the silent cold air of a moonlit night. The candlelight ever so flickers within the old lanterns as you hear tone-deaf voices singing along to an old Mondstadt hymn. You couldn’t help but feel nostalgic for the life before you became the senior advisor.
In earlier years, townsfolk spread whispers of a young adventurer who could easily conquer 4 Hilichurl camps in a day on her own. Others whispered that the same adventurer would drink several pints of dandelion wine after a day of taking commissions rather than the maximum amount. While these rumors were the favorite topic during the past time, it’s clear that most of these were mixed up with another person you used to accompany.
Unlike you, a young adventurer, your companion was a young boy from the Knights of Favonius. Half of those rumors described more of him than of you, as he shows more strength and resistance. The reason–you assume–was because he’s practically stucked to you like a lost puppy imprinting on someone that they thought to be their mother. It was annoying, as your impression of him was worse at best. He’d escape from his training just to partake in your own commissions, and his mockery kept on distracting you. That resulted in losing your cool in the midst of a hilichurl camp ambush. Once in a while, he'd let you watch his practice on an old-forgotten war-dance. You’d make fun of the young blonde whenever his balance was off or his grip slipped from his greatsword. It was almost amusing when he turned into the color of a pyro slime. But when he finally completes the dance with no mistakes, you can’t help but be captivated by his performance and his aura, as if he were a different person. He’d practice again and again, and you couldn’t bring yourself to pull out of his attention.
As time passed by and his duties increasingly demanded his presence, and later became the Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius, connections were left forgotten. That performance, which you initially believed was solely for you, only lives in your memory.
You continue to reminisce as you walk alone under the old lanterns until a familiar figure from the guild comes into your vicinity. “Hey, Senior Advisor! I ain’t seein’ you with a mug on your hand.” Master Cyrus hooks an arm on your shoulder, while the other is occupied with a mug filled to the brim with the finest wine.
You huff. “There are some people in the guild who need to make sure that our guild doesn’t fall overnight, Master Cyrus.”
He only laughs out of response, tightening his arm around you. “That ain’t no fun, lad! Come, come, you too should loosen up.”
Before you could even protest, he forcefully drags you into the tavern, which you recognize as the interior design of Angel's Share, as the strong scent of alcohol hits you along with the sound of scraping of the chairs and the raw, localized shouts and cheers. At every corner of the tavern were either drunkards, bards, adventurers, or knights, and it doesn’t seem that they will refrain from taking more alcohol until one of them loses the bet.
“Enjoy yourself now, lad,” Master Cyrus led you to the bar, his free hand swaying directionless that his wine almost spilled onto you. “Your drink is on me. Go and fill to your heart’s content!”
“I appreciate it, Master Cyrus, but honestly,” You struggle to break free underneath the weight of him. “I think that I should hold back until everyone is sober up.”
“Aw, come on. Since when did you become a party pooper?”
“Since I became an advisor, all of the work has been directed to me.”
“Then all the more reason you should share a drink with us!”
The more you fight, the more Master Cyrus leans against his body weight onto you. You know better than anyone that he doesn’t take no for an answer, especially when it comes to alcohol. But annoyance is brewing up within you, and your patience to not physically fight your drunk boss grows thinner. “For the last time, sir,” Your voice strained by the minute. “I’d prefer if you let me—”
“There you are, Cyrus!” Just like that, the unbearable weight you felt a second ago vanished instantly. But in consequence, you freeze up after registering the familiar voice from your past.
Looking over your shoulder, locks of his blonde hair fall graciously over the scar on his face as his armor dazzles and clinks even at the slightest movement. That stupid grin of his is plastered across his face as if it hasn’t even worn off since this morning. “We’ve been wonderin’ where you went. Ain’t it rude to persuade a lady to drink?”
“Well, our senior advisor is missin’ all the fun!” Master Cyrus whines as he slithers his arm around the Grandmaster. “Weren’t you two close before? Why not help this old man convince her?”
You winced in response. There wasn’t any reason for Master Cyrus to mention it right out in public, even though everyone is too focused on drowning themselves. But Varka only laughs as though it were a passing thought. “If I were you, I’d be worried that my men can outdrink you before you could even pass out!” He points to the table where several knights and adventurers are seated.
“Oh, that ain’t right!” Within the speed of light, you never see the branch master run for his life. People cheer around him as he continuously drinks several mugs one after the other. You sigh, thinking that it will be a nuisance to deal with Master Cyrus by the next morning, while Varka finds this amusing.
“Thanks,” you say dryly as you sit by the bar, signaling Charles from the other side for your usual glass. You figured it’d be rude to leave the place early when you just arrived, let alone the man whose sight you’re trying to avoid. “I’d wish he knew to read the room while he’s drunk.”
Varka chuckles, taking this opportunity to take a seat beside you–Well, a seat apart by your left. “That’s how he is anyway, tryin’ to join in with the youngsters.”
You hum, offering nothing but the strained silence in a room full of energetic people. Neither of you initiated a conversation, nor did you want one. While you’re preoccupied tapping your fingers against the wooden surface, hoping that Charles would speed up making your drink, you sensed that Varka was fidgeting and looking at the shelves to the ceiling as if finding them suddenly fascinating. You have absolutely no idea why he decided to stay behind when he could’ve gone back to his table.
“So,” Varka exhales. “It’s been a while.”
You pause. “...Yes, it’s been a long time, Grandmaster Varka.”
“You seem to be doing well these days.”
“I’ve been managing.”
“I didn’t know you became one of the senior advisors.”
“I’m not obligated to update you on my life, Sir.”
Shutting down all of his pleasantries with dry replies made the air even thicker. The ambient chatter of the tavern and the songs of the bards grow louder, yet you remain trapped in your own world, pondering what facial expression he’s making: perhaps his forehead is creasing in annoyance, or he’s in a state of distress.
“I’m surprised that even though time passes by, you remain sharp-tongued.”
“Excuse me…?” You quickly turned to him, clearly dumbfounded by his unnecessary comment that no one even asked. You can’t even believe that, despite his position, he dares to leave remarks just to get your attention.
And it clearly did. It was his intention. He sat there, facing directly towards you with his chin resting on his palm, his face smiling–no, beaming with amusement.
“Now it’s definitely been a long time since I got to see that look on your face.” Varka bursts into laughter whilst you’re certain you have never felt more embarrassed than a child tripping over nothing. You don’t know if you want to slap the man out of anger or walk out. But with the remaining composure, you decided to huff it out as Charles set your Apple Cider in front of you.
“Well, you remained the same before the expedition began,” You mumbled, taking a sip of your drink, savoring the sweet taste of the cider running down your throat. “Good thing that the distance from the motherland hasn’t shattered your morale.”
“Hm, I guess you could say that,” You hear Varka’s voice shift, gaze directed to something behind you. “I’d be lying if I said it was easy. I can’t spare you the details ‘cause it’s, y’know… confidential.”
He’s lost in his own thoughts, just like a lost wanderer in an open blue sea. It’s the typical Varka—withholding just enough to keep you at arm’s length. He’d maintained professionalism between a Grandmaster and an adventurer, despite knowing him long enough, and making sure to avoid personal topics.
And this distance becomes worse after you confess during the Windfeast festival, a week before they set the expedition that started the other expeditions. Do you still remember what he said?
“I’ll think about it.” You still distinctly recall how the sweat beads formed on his forehead, and how his voice staggered while the distant noise of the city accumulated between the spaces of the back alley.
Since then, Varka has never come any closer, nor paid close attention to you. Even if you try to be convinced otherwise, you still vividly remember the quick shift of his eyes when they met yours, and how he seemed to be occupied so suddenly that going on a land survey alone became natural. And before you know it, the chasm between you widens. Even when you try to let go, you still carry the weight of that day like a leaden stone in your chest.
So you have no right to interrogate him, not like this. He pulled his eyes back at you, and whatever expression he was wearing earlier was masked with another grin. “But hey, what matters is that I’m back where I came from. How ‘bout you? How’s life been treatin’ you?”
Yeah no. Ever since you became the Grandmaster, ignoring me for years until you made your expedition, I’ve been emotionally messed up. Do you have any idea how long I prayed to Barbatos to make sure you’re safe? How long did I need to move on? No!
You wish you could say it to his face, watching the man fumble from embarrassment. But your good conscience always wins. It only remains in your cloud of thoughts, and you think of saying something more… respectable. “Not too bad, if I have to describe. I handle business on the sideline.”
Varka leans slightly forward. “Really now? What kind of business?”
“A cafe at Dorman Port.”
“That’s terrific! I’ll make sure to stop by sometime.”
“You prefer alcohol, Varka. I don’t serve as such there.”
“It won’t hurt if I try other things. Although it’s pretty far from the city.”
“I guess so.”
“Didn’t you consider having it near where you live?”
“I did.” You take another sip as you lower your gaze into your glass. “It is located near where I live.”
This confused Varka at first, but his eyes quickly widened by a fraction. “...I see,” He moved his mouth at a slow pace. “Then, may I ask the reason why?”
“You may not,” You curtly replied without sparing a glance. It's much easier if you just say that it’s for a better perspective, or it’s a marketing strategy. But you couldn’t bring yourself to lie, not when the reason for it all was right beside you.
What’s supposed to be a short reunion has now become a long, awkward moment between two acquaintances. It feels like Charles could easily cut the tension with a knife from where he’s been standing, while the patrons from the second floor fill up the air with a shanty sing-along with the thumping of their feet. You swirl your glass, hoping that it is a helpful distraction.
“Hey,” Varka rakes through his hair, face in distress, finding the right words to say. “I know this may or may not be the right time, but whatever happened to us in the past, I’m sorry about it.”
“Easy for you to say.” You scoff, disappointed even that it was the least of your expectations. He took his sweet time ignoring the long inconvenience of personal affection, and it genuinely pissed you off that all he had to say was to apologize.
“Look, Varka–” You took a large gulp of the cider, coughing momentarily— “You’re the guy that everyone has been looking up to. You’re basically a legend in Mondstadt; that puts us on different levels. So, what we can do now is move on, pretending like it never happened. We didn’t go through that, I’ve never said that, and you never asked for forgiveness tonight.”
The fact that you’re getting riled by the second made you well aware of your actions right now. It’s too late to even recover from this moment. He pursed his lips for a second and exhaled through his nose, taking your words into deep thought before even responding. “Let’s get on the same page, then. So if you just let me have–”
“Grandmaster!” A knight shouts from the same table where Master Cyrus is, waving his hand in the air loosely. “Have another drink, Master Cyrus said he doesn’t go for another round if you ain’t there!”
Other patrons hyped up in pressuring the blonde man to rejoin the table, howling and banging the tables with their fists to a rhythmic beat. Varka couldn’t resist the pressure on him; conversely, you knew that he just wanted more time alone with you to attempt to clear up the mistakes of the past. And you know neither of you is in the right place at the right time to discuss such matters.
“I must call it a night,” You down the remaining cider hastily. Planting the glass back on the wooden surface, you fished 150 Mora from your pocket as you prepared to leave. “It’s good to have you back, Grandmaster. I hope you have a fine evening.”
“Wait, wait. We really need to talk sometime.” He panically tails you a few steps behind. “You’re staying in the city ‘til the end of the week, right?”
You considered it, really, you did. All the facts, the consequences, and the cards in your hand. And it took you just a sharp look at the blonde man over your shoulder. “No, I planned to leave sooner. Until next time.”
The door clicked shut behind you.
Ever since you woke up this morning, the bustling streets have continuously pounded your brain like it’s about to explode by the second. Narrowing the cause does not help, whether it's from the very unexpected and unwelcome encounter last night, or the fact that the city didn’t sleep a wink.
Ideally, you wanted to stay in your bed, shutting your eyes tightly as you dream of another world. But your short time in the city would be a waste if you spent a day off. Between you and Master Cyrus, you’re the more responsible one. It comes with a heavy burden: Surveying nearby domains, categorizing the difficulty level of requested commissions, looking out for other guild members, and, of course, doing the actual paperwork. The latter is your least favorite, not because of the number of things you need to do, but because most of these were tossed to you.
And with the guild currently short of manpower, your plate has been full. You could only sigh as you left the inn with a half-empty cup of joe for another nearby land expedition. Not that you couldn’t help it, but it would be a blessing from the Celestia if nothing goes wrong for the rest of your trip.
So why is Varka with you? And where the hell did he come from?
“It doesn’t seem safe for you to go out on your own,” You hear his footsteps five paces behind you, the crunch of dead leaves sharp in the morning air. “You should’ve called someone from the guild or the knights.”
“I have never actually considered that,” You reply, the sarcasm dry enough to match the foliage underfoot. You take a long stride over the bushes. “Unfortunately, almost everyone from the knights and the guild are currently indisposed—some still insist on drinking. So I’m left to do my job alone. But you,” You pause to catch your breath. “I’d expected that you’re prioritizing something else, like doing your responsibilities.”
Varka shrugs. “I just got back from the north. Is it so bad that I wanted to catch up with what I’ve missed over the years? I can always go back to the headquarters after I have had a drink or two.”
“And let Jean handle your workload while you disappear? You sure know how to do your job.” Although it sounded harsher when it left your mouth, it earned a sheepish laugh from your companion behind. “Really, it’s unnecessary for the Grandmaster to join me. Go back and do your drinking and stuff.”
“Come now, I choose to join you. Don’t shoo me away,” He catches up as the metallic noise of his weapons rasps against his clothes. Once he matches his pace to yours, his height casts a shadow over you. “I understand that you don’t want me to talk about what happened, and I will honor that. But can’t we just hang out like this?” He brushed off a tree branch in front of you that you first instinctively ducked. “Think of it as a normal exploration of an adventurer and a knight. It’s good to go back to the good ol’ times, don’t you think?”
You stop in your tracks, your bag’s sling slightly creaks as you tighten your grip. He’s the one who has been torturing your heart for all these years, and he doesn’t deserve to just walk into your life so suddenly. You have a reason not to comply with him, and he knows that it’s what you want. Yet, is it really so bad to continue avoiding him? You’re well aware who suggested forgetting the confession you made in the past, and Varka is just complying with what you said last night. And that’s where it dawned on you: you haven’t said anything about not wanting to hang out with him again.
The person living inside your brain must’ve been slamming their own head into an imaginary wall. Knowing Varka, he’ll persist in finding loopholes even if you persist against it, just to justify his own means. And even if you convince him, who knows what move he would make next time just to earn a moment between two old friends?
“So, what do you say?” Varka peers over you.
“Fine, just this once. But on two conditions,” You clicked your tongue and faced up directly at the blonde man, placing your hands on your hips. “ One, don’t get in my way while I work. And two: I want to set respectable boundaries between us. Got it?” You stare at his dilated blue eyes before you walk ahead of him with a short sigh. “If you understand that, then hurry up.”
It was just a couple of demands that you set. Simple and professional. Both of you can follow it to the T. But Varka’s audible chuckle was so loud, followed by the metallic jingle of his gear, you can imagine how he’s practically wagging his tail without turning around.
Following what Varka said, it’s just like the old times of your youth. While you were occupied analyzing a domain and hilichurl camps, he chatters on with anecdotes of his own knightly missions, how he had a drinking challenge with the Pyro Archon, or that one time he had to prove his strength to a band of Eremites when they were in Sumeru. You could respond with the empty replies of “I see” and “that’s interesting” in between as you note down your observations of the area. But it seems that Varka did not understand the rules you’ve set, because the occasional banters and distant sound of his greatsword slash through the air is all you can hear as you mess up your writing for the 5th time.
You release a long sigh and reason out the sun’s high position in the sky to send Varka away for a break, most especially for you to rest underneath the nearby shade. Never had the thought crossed your mind that a few hours of this trip were taxing with the man. Perhaps it is your own fault that you forgot how annoying the Grandmaster was in his prime.
“Hey,” You instinctively tilt your head to the voice, and you feel the cold canteen spread across your forehead. “You seemed pretty thirsty. Want a sip?”
It took a second for you to snap out of the moment and brush off his offer. “If this is your way of loosening me with alcohol, then I have to decline.”
“It’s not,” Varka chuckles as he sits a respectable distance next to you and takes a sip before storing it back in his person. “It’s just water.”
You perked up. “Since when did you stop filling your can with booze?”
“Since we ran out of dandelion wine, we packed up during the expedition!” He leans his head against the thick bark of the tree. “Ah, old habits die hard, as they say. This reminds me of when my men and I were in Nod-Krai. After a long, fierce battle with the Wild Hunt—which, by the way, did give me a scar on my arm—we set up a temporary camp to recuperate, and look forward to drowning the remaining alcohol we saved up. But after taking a sip, it was not the booze we craved for, but sparkling water that someone had replaced one of the barrels with!
“Turns out, someone from the 6th company spilled it during the night before, and thought that we couldn’t differentiate sparkling water from alcohol. So I sent that knight into 20 laps for not reporting immediately, and sent a request to the Dawn Winery to send barrels of dandelion wine ASAP!” Varka puffs a laugh. “I also sent some letters to the headquarters at the same time, just to update our status anyway."
You were supposed to say something to amuse him. But the sight of Varka being dazed and the branches and leaves dancing to the wind caught you off guard. This is the second time it happened, where he disassociated for a second in the midst of your conversation. He’s so close yet so distant, sensing he is trying to hold off important information that he thinks you don’t need to know.
“I see.” You murmur, not knowing what to say this time. “I won’t pry to ask what happened, in honor of you respecting mine. But I have to ask: Is the expedition the reason why you’ve been so persistent in wanting to reunite with me recently?”
You don’t know what to expect from him, whether he’ll brush it off, tell you it's confidential, or make any other excuses. Varka stifled a snicker. “Yeah. It made me realize back then that I’d run out of stationery papers to send at least a letter to you.”
“What do you mean-”
“But now that I’m here and I have all the time in the world, I figured that I should hang out with you.” Varka cuts you off with a groan as he stretches his arms up, interlacing his fingers together as he rolls his shoulders, making his chest armor pop out, and yawns loudly. “Anyway, you’re going back to Dorman Port after nightfall, right? When are you coming back to the city?”
You stare at him for a good minute, clearly taken aback by the sudden cut-off before you could even process his question. “...Hard to say. Plus, I’m not the type of person who drops my schedule so easily.”
Varka shrugs. “Isn’t it so awful that my presence brings that disdain to you?”
“Even if you bribe or trick me, I’m not going to comply without a good reason.”
“Aww, not even to an old friend?”
“Not a bat of an eye, Sir.”
“And here I thought I finally got through you.” He drops his shoulder as he releases a sigh. “The Knights of Favonius are planning to hold a training collaboration with the Adventurers’ Guild to strengthen the brains and brawns of every knight and adventurer. Since you’re the senior advisor, I figured to ask for your help in the preparation phase.”
“So there is more than just wanting to roam around me.” You squint slightly, arms crossed around your bosom, and muscles tighten. “Is Master Cyrus even aware of your plans?”
Like an arrow shot through the middle of a target perfectly, the blonde man’s confidence falters, his mouth gapes to find the right words. “I-I’m sure that he knows! I mean, I already wrote about it in my letters to Jean a couple of times, and I’m pretty sure that he’ll remember what we discussed over a glass at the tavern.”
“If you have to lie, at least make it sound believable.” You sighed, massaging your forehead with your hand while you heard Varka groan in defeat. As much as you wanted to pull away from what he is trying to scheme, your judgment can’t label his proposal as a fabrication for his own means. Every Mondstadter is well-informed that the Acting Grandmaster speaks for the Grandmaster, and thus asking directly to Jean may imply your distrust of the latter. Not only will your reputation be at stake, but you're also gambling the guild’s reputation over a petty relationship.
A classic clash between personal and professional affairs, and there is only one man capable of pressuring you into a corner.
“...By the day after tomorrow, I’ll be marking my trip to Fontaine for business.” You broke the long silence, firmly looking at Varka’s gaze that made him jolt at the slightest. “I’ll be returning to Mondstadt five days after. Given that the celebration will last for a few more days, that should be sufficient for you to meet with Master Cyrus and the rest of the captains before I step in, no?”
Varka was so stunned by your proposal that he forgot he had to answer. “Ah—right, right! I swear on my oath as the Knight of Boreas, and the Grandmaster of the Knights of Favonius: I’ll make sure that our collaboration will be fruitful towards its great success!”
His fist snaps upward, touching his chest so forcefully that it creates a metallic jingle. Maybe it’s because seeing Varka’s charismatic grin after being sullen a minute ago made you cough out a laugh threatening to escape.
“Let’s get moving then,” You quickly rise onto your feet, dusting yourself off as you walk forward, avoiding looking at Varka’s reaction to your slip-up a moment ago. “I’m going to leave you behind if you continue stalling there.”
Even if you match onward, you know that Varka is following you without a shadow of a doubt, because his voice echoes your name as his footsteps crunch against the soil draw closer. His beaming smile can be felt against your back as he continues to ramble away, leaving you with your own quill and pen at hand. Albeit, you shoulder the burden of his complaints for not having to fight off monsters like it used to.
Regardless of how troublesome the Grandmaster was for the rest of the expedition, you both returned to the city with a sense of satisfaction. One individual has the data collected, while the other is looking forward to the upcoming days. As Varka bids you a goodnight before escorting you back to your inn, you, on the other hand, pray to Barbatos that you made the right decision.
On the eve of your departure, you decided to close your cafe a bit early, finally urging your staff to get off the clock and leaving the place to yourself before heading out for Fontaine. The silhouette of stacked chairs, empty tables, and the polished porcelain cups fades into the deep shadows. The usual bustling symphony of the daytime is completely gone, replaced by a heavy silence broken only by the sound of your quill eching through the paper of your ledger and a faint noise from the nearby restaurant. You sat behind the bar, comforted by a candle-lit lantern, stacks of documents, and the aroma of your freshly brewed tea just a few inches from you. Time seems to slow down at this hour, and your thoughts of the past few days finally catch up.
Just as you were finishing putting away all the things aside and going home, the sound of knocking rises from the front door. Despite the signage that reads your cafe is closed for the day, you still made a beeline to the entrance, mentally preparing yourself to tell the person behind the door to read the sign.
But rather than entertaining a customer, you were faced with a blue-haired knight underneath the pool of light, with dull-red eyes and an envelope in hand.
“It was quite a challenge to find you, Miss. With the given vague details of your whereabouts, I’m practically searching every corner.” The knight, whose name you later learn was Lohen, giggles in his attempt to lighten the mood. “Anyway, this is from the Grandmaster. It seems that it’s something of great importance for him to send this late in the night.”
Once the envelope is in your possession, you recognize the Grandmaster’s script as if it were the back of your hand. Rough yet precise, reading your name through Varka’s penmanship on the paper is as if you hear him calling your name sweetly. It’s an illusion that creeps in unbidden, but one you recognize so well as you once dreamt of it once upon a time.
You quickly thank Lohen, bidding him a good night as you go inside the dim cafe. Sitting straight in front of the glowing lantern, you open the envelope with a shaky breath and unfold the letter within it:
To Senior Advisor [Y/N],
Regardless of your distaste for my presence whenever I am in your proximity, I was supposed to make a trip to Dorman Port before you depart for a few days. But the duty of the Grandmaster cannot be ignored, as towering paperwork rises above my head and, well, Jean is basically holding me in confinement in my own office. As such, I resolve to write this letter.
First of all: How are you? I know we just met the other day, and I’m eager to meet you in the days to come, but I do wonder about your well-being recently. If the work either from the Adventurers’ Guild or your business gets the best of you, then please take a rest for a while. A human can only do so much, and we must look out for ourselves just as we take care of our blades.
I have talked with Jean and the rest of the captains and vice captains of the training collaboration on extent, especially about how the knowledge and skills the expedition team gained over the years can be fully utilized. The consensus was to proceed with the proposal, with a few suggestions at hand. And I’m soon to have a meeting with Master Cyrus to discuss such matters—once he’s completely sobered and the festivities wrapped up. So you needn’t worry about anything. I’m doing my best within my capabilities to honor our agreement. I am a knight of my word, after all!
A few nights before we arrived at the gate of Mondstadt City, numerous thoughts suddenly flew into my mind: How much has it changed since I last set foot in my homeland? Did the alcohol ferment too long, or has its taste differ now? Although the city hasn’t changed so much and my drink in my cup still tastes the same as years ago—something that I’m entirely grateful to Diluc for—we gain and lose many things as time passes. Such is life. Yet I can’t help but remember the things that we abandoned too carelessly.
So I know how much change you went through when I first glanced at you from the crowd. At least, that’s what I thought. But when I accompanied you on your recent land expedition, just as we used to go for a commission, I came to realize how you both change and remain the same person. You are confident and wiser, clear-headed and pragmatic at the same time. Master Cyrus has been singing songs of praise about you lately. Yet, it’s still you, and I’m left to wonder how long the expedition was that I didn’t recognize you.
Because time is an awful concept, I will express my current desire: I want to reconnect with you. I want to gain knowledge of your adventures and lessons that we can laugh together. We don’t have to discuss what happened before. I will honor that. But if you took this simple request as such, then forgive me. I just want to know your life so far, and yours only.
I expect that you would want to pull away from reading this letter at this point, and I can’t blame you. You need to prepare for a long journey ahead, and that includes rest. So I must hold from my rambles and await your safe return.
May the winds bless your trip.
Respectfully,
Grandmaster Varka
P.S. By the time you arrive back home, I will hold on to the hope that I will hear your tales of your trip, so that I may see the beauty of the world through your eyes.
You so swiftly folded and tossed a letter aside that you spilled the half-empty cup of tea. But you don’t care for the letter or the well-kept documents becoming stained at the moment. You’re more concerned with how his words pierced through you. Burying your face completely within the crook of your elbows, your arms flaring upward and outward. Hands locked into the sides of your head, you feel your blood spreading throughout your face as the candle within the lantern flickers.
. let me know if you want to be tag for the next update!
you like to think you possess standards. one of them being not fooling around with colleagues, especially the ones you’ve spent most of your career despising. unfortunately, ifa has never shown much respect for your standards.
✦ word count. 3.8k words
✦ content. ifa x f!reader. sauro-vet reader. attempt at humor (like. only at the start LOL). co-workers with benefits. porn without plot. kind of. okay maybe there's a bit of plot (the plot being: yearning). smut. angst. idk what else to tell you man.
✦ foreword. dog eyes closed.gif
The islands that stretched between Ochkanatlan and the Quahuacan Cliff were like a series of serrated stone teeth jutting out of the open sea. With a roaring gale and several phlogiston vents whipping through the narrow channels, it was a nightmare for anyone without a Vision or a very brave Qucusaur.
Unfortunately for you, your job sometimes requires you to be on-call in places like this.
“Hey, watch the tension on that wing-membrane!” Ifa called out, his voice straining slightly as he wrestled a thrashing Koholasaur back toward the shallow water. “You’re pinning it like a beginner, bro!”
You didn’t even look up from the Qucusaur currently nipping at your sleeve while you patch up its injuries. “I’m pinning it so he doesn’t fly off and reopen the wound, Ifa. Maybe if you spent less time gawking at me and more time dealing with your own patient, we’d be done already.”
Ifa let out a sharp huff, ducking just in time as a heavy, wet tail whistled over his head. “I’m a professional, I’ve got ‘em right where I want ‘em. Right, Cacucu?”
“Yeah! Right where it hurts, bro!” Cacucu chirped.
Perched on a nearby jagged outcrop, Chasca stood with her hands on her hips. She had spent the last hour physically prying territorial Saurians apart, only to witness the aftermath devolve into the peculiar medical comedy that followed you and Ifa like a persistent tailwind.
“I’m starting to think the brawl was quieter,” Chasca called down as she watched you deftly dodge the Qucusaur’s beak while Ifa simultaneously tried to keep that slippery Koholasaur from sliding back into the surf. “Do you two ever operate in silence, or is the constant ego-checking part of the treatment?”
“It’s called ‘verbal anesthesia’, Chasca! Distracts the patients!” Ifa shouted before turning his gaze back to you. “Though, I gotta say, your technique is looking a little... stiff today. You okay, partner?”
You finally looked up, catching the mischievous glint in his sea-green eyes. You knew exactly what he was referencing—the fact that you were sore from the “overtime” you’d spent in his clinic loft the night prior. This was supposed to be your day-off, but emergencies like this don’t really care about your schedule, or the state of your body.
“I'm fine,” you grumbled. “I just didn’t get enough sleep recently.”
Ifa’s grin widened. "Is that so? Well, as your senior—"
“We graduated in the same class.”
“—As your peer,” he corrected with a wink, “I’d say you need a thorough check-up later. Can’t have my best rival falling behind because of a little fatigue.”
“Check-up! Check-up! Can I help, bro?” Cacucu shouted, diving between the two of you.
“Absolutely not, little man,” Ifa laughed, reaching out to catch the round creature mid-air once he finally released the Koholasaur he’d been treating. “This kind of check-up wasn’t even taught to us in school! It’s a very…ah, delicate process. You’ll know when you’re older.”
Chasca cleared her throat loudly, her eyes narrowing in quiet suspicion. The air between you wasn’t just thick with the smell of medicinal salves and sea salt—it was brimming with a tension that she wasn’t quite used to dealing with as the Flower Feather Clan’s peacemaker. The sort of thing Chuychu would call a medical malpractice of the heart.
“If you’re finished consulting each other,” Chasca interjected, her tone suggesting she was starting to put the pieces together, “there’s another group of Qucusaurs by the end of the shoreline. You can both go once we’ve cleared them of any injuries.”
“Sweet!” Ifa said with a grin so boyish, it made you want to chuck a rock at his head.
The two of you had been orbiting each other since your first day of veterinary school. Back then, you’d viewed him less as a classmate and more as a giant, white-haired obstacle. Ifa was a natural—born into a lineage of sauro-vets who had his whole life ahead of him. While you spent your nights hunched over text books, memorizing every nerve ending in a Tatankasaur’s horns, Ifa would take exams after a day of fooling around, pulling top marks like a breeze.
He was gifted, well-connected, and worst of all, he was nice.
You had spent years trying to out-work his talent. You wanted to be the best, to prove that a name didn’t make the vet. But in the Flower-Feather Clan, medical paraphernalia was expensive and hard to come by unless you had a family vault to back you up. When you struggled to get your own practice off the ground, Ifa hadn’t gloated about how well-off he was.
No, what he did was much worse.
“Clinic's too big for just me and Cacucu anyway, bro. Come help me out? I'll even let you keep the 'Senior' title on Tuesdays.”
You’d accepted under the silent vow that you’d stay just long enough to save up, buy your own gear, and put his cozy little clinic out of business. But that was three years ago, and somehow, the “temporary” arrangement had turned into a life you couldn't quite imagine leaving.
You had spent years trying to maintain a cold, professional distance, constructing a mental list of all the reasons why you should resent him, but Ifa made it impossible to stay mad. He possessed a brand of genuine kindness that felt as effortless as his talent, and it chipped away at your resolve every single day.
It was hard to harbor a grudge against a man who spent his weekends giving free check-ups to the older Qucusaurs in the tribe, refusing any payment beyond a handful of honey crackers. You’d also lost count of the times you’d walked into the exam room to find him strumming his guitar, crooning custom, low-tempo songs to calm down a shivering Saurian hatchling before their vaccinations.
Worst of all, he was the one who had literally given you the sky.
Your pride had been shattered after you failed your Qucusaur flight trials twice, practically a death sentence for a member of the Flower-Feather Clan. But Ifa hadn’t let you wallow. He dragged you out to the cliffs every single morning for three weeks, guiding your movements through every sunrise with a steady hand on your back until the fear finally dissolved. Now, you banked through the clouds as effortlessly as he did, and you owed every bit of that freedom to him.
That gratitude was exactly what had landed you in trouble.
It was supposed to be a one-time thing, a moment of weakness fueled by a late-night study session and too much fermented fruit juice. You had told yourself it was just a way to blow off steam, a physical extension of the competitive friction that had defined your relationship for years.
But Ifa, being Ifa, had turned a casual mistake into a devastating routine.
It had started with lingering touches when passing each other things in the clinic. Then came the nights in the loft, where the academic debates about saurian digestion would inevitably devolve into breathless wrestling matches that had nothing to do with wrestling and everything to do with the way his calloused hands felt against your skin.
You learned that he was just as attentive in bed as he was with his patients, far too adept with both his fingers and his tongue in a way that made your resentment feel like a flickering candle in a hurricane.
Even now, several hours after the harrowing task Chasca had thrown at you, he still seemed to possess a surplus of that restless vigor he usually reserved for closed doors.
You were already sprawled across his narrow bed, sheets kicked down to the foot in a rumpled heap, tunic shoved up to your ribs, pants long gone somewhere on the floorboards. Ifa’s body was bracketed between your parted thighs, white hair falling forward to curtain his face as he looked down at you with those sea-green eyes that always went dark and glassy when he got like this.
His was breathing like he was trying not to lose control too fast. He had two thick fingers buried deep inside you, stroking that spot that made your hips jerk every time he dragged over it.
“Archons,” Ifa exhaled against your neck, lips brushing salt-slicked skin as he spoke. “You’re so tight tonight… still feeling me from last time?”
You tried to answer—something sharp, something to keep the upper hand—but he chose that exact moment to press the heel of his palm down hard against your clit, grinding in slow circles while his fingers stayed buried to the knuckle, pumping just enough to keep you fluttering around him.
A broken sound tore out of your throat instead.
Ifa groaned low in response. He dragged his open mouth up the column of your throat, sucking softly and leaving a fresh bruise right where your collar would barely cover it tomorrow. His tongue flicked out to soothe the sting, and you felt his cock twitch against the inside of your thigh.
“Always get so wet when I talk to you like this,” he murmured, lips trailing to nip the soft spot beneath your ear. “Can feel you squeezing my fingers every time I tell you how good you feel. You like knowing you’re wrecking me too?”
Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving half-moon marks on sweat-slick skin. “Ifa—”
“Yeah?” He lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes, pupils blown so wide the green was only a thin ring. His hair stuck to his forehead; a single bead of sweat slid down his temple and dripped onto your chest. “Tell me what you need. Use your words.”
You glared up at him—or tried to. It probably looked more like a plea.
“F-Faster,” you managed to wrench out. “And—fuck—don’t stop talking.”
His grin was a sunrise coming up on a bad idea.
“Bossy even when you’re falling apart,” he rasped, but he obeyed anyway. His fingers sped up—deep, curling thrusts that hit that perfect angle over and over—while his thumb took over on your clit, rubbing firm, relentless circles that made your thighs shake. “You like that? Yeah you do. Look at you… bucking up into my hand like you can’t help it. So fucking pretty when you chase it.”
He dipped his head again, lips sealing over the pulse hammering in your throat. He sucked hard enough you’d feel it for days, while his free hand slid up under your tunic to palm your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple in the same rhythm as the one between your legs.
Your back arched, pressing yourself harder into his touch. The wet sounds of his fingers working you open filled the small room, obscene and loud in the quiet night. Every time you clenched around him he let out a low, guttural sound against your skin, hips jerking forward like he was fucking into his own hand.
However, one moment, Ifa’s fingers were dragging you right to the razor’s edge. But the next, he suddenly pulled them free.
The sudden emptiness hit like a slap. Your hips chased after his hand on pure instinct, a desperate, broken whine tearing out of your throat before you could stop it. Your walls clenched around nothing, and the ache that bloomed low in your belly was so sharp it brought actual tears to the corners of your eyes.
“N-no, Ifa, please—” Your voice cracked pathetically. You were trembling, thighs shaking, slick dripping down the crease of your ass onto the sheets.
“Shh, shh. I’ve got you,” Ifa shushed you immediately. “I just want to feel you come around my cock this time. You can do that for me, yeah?”
He shifted his weight, broad shoulders blocking out the lamplight, and you felt the blunt, hot head of him nudge against your entrance. He didn’t push in right away. Instead he dragged the length of himself through your folds, coating himself in your wetness, letting you feel every ridged vein that made your hips twitch.
“Look at me,” he murmured.
You did—because how could you not?—and found him watching you like you were the only thing left in the world that mattered. Sweat beaded along his collarbones, white hair plastered to his temples, lips parted around harsh breaths. The boyish, easygoing Ifa who strummed lullabies to hatchlings and handed out free check-ups was gone. In his place was this man whose eyes were alight with something dark and consuming that threatened to burn you both alive.
He lined himself up properly, then sank in with one long stroke.
Your back bowed off the bed, mouth falling open on a silent cry. He was so thick, so deep, stretching you open in a way that bordered on too much and still wasn’t enough. You felt every inch of him drag against your walls, how your body tried to pull him deeper even as he bottomed out, hips flush to yours.
“Fuck,” he groaned, forehead dropping to yours. “So perfect for me.”
Ifa didn’t give you time to adjust.
He pulled back almost all the way before snapping his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt again. Your nails raked down his back, leaving red trails he’d feel tomorrow. He hissed through his teeth as his hips stuttered before he found a steady, brutal rhythm.
You couldn’t think. You could barely even breathe. You could only cling to him as he shoved your knees up toward your chest, ankles hooked over his shoulders, opening you wider so he could drive even deeper. The new angle had him hitting that spot inside you with devastating accuracy, over and over, until your vision blurred at the edges.
And through it all, Ifa never stopped looking at you.
Eyes locked on yours, drinking in every pretty little sound that left your lips. He was relentless, yet somehow still so attentive, still cataloging every reaction like you were one of his patients he refused to lose.
You remembered, in fractured flashes between thrusts, the Ifa from school: the golden boy who aced every exam without breaking a sweat, who offered help you didn’t want because he knew you’d hate needing it. You’d hated him for it—hated how effortless he made everything look, how kind he was even when you tried to freeze him out.
Now that same man was folding you in half on his bed, cock splitting you open, growling filthy praise against your mouth while he fucked you like he wanted to crawl inside your skin and live there.
Ifa’s rhythm never faltered, even as your body started to tighten around him in warning. His thrusts slowed just enough to keep the pressure building without tipping you over too soon, letting you feel every thick inch dragging out and plunging back wetly into your sopping cunt.
“That’s it,” he rasped, lips brushing yours in a ghost of a kiss. “You’re getting so close, aren’t you? Can feel you squeezing me so tight.”
Your nails scored down his shoulders again, anchoring yourself as the heat coiled tighter and tighter in your core. Every snap of his hips punched a broken sound out of you and he drank them down like they were oxygen.
“Look at me,” Ifa whispered. “Let me see it when you fall apart.”
You tried to nod, tried to hold his gaze, but the angle was merciless. Your legs shook violently over his shoulders, toes curling, and the first real tremor ripped through you.
“There you go.” A deep-seated laugh. “Let it happen—don’t fight it. I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”
He kept the pace steady, grinding in tight circles at the end of every thrust so the base of him rubbed against your clit while he filled you completely. Your breath hitched into sharp, helpless whimpers; tears slipped free again, streaking down your temples into your hair.
“Feel that?” he murmured against the corner of your mouth. “That’s all for me. Come on, sweetheart, give it to me. You know you want it as badly as I do.”
The words tipped you over.
Your whole body seized—your mouth falling open on a raw, shattered cry as pleasure crashed through you in shuddering waves. Your walls clamped down around him in violent spasms, milking him so hard his rhythm stuttered for the first time, hips jerking once, twice, as he groaned low in his throat like the sensation physically hurt him in the best way.
Ifa talked you through every second of it.
“That’s it—fuck, yes, just like that. Squeeze me again—gods, you feel so good. Ride it out, I’ve got you. Let it all go.”
You were shaking, sobbing softly into his mouth as the aftershocks rolled through you, each one making your cunt flutter around his still-thrusting cock. He slowed but didn’t stop, drawing it out until you were whimpering from overstimulation, thighs quivering uncontrollably.
When your cries finally turned soft and broken, he eased up just enough to let you breathe. His lips found yours again before he pulled back barely an inch.
“Where do you want me?” he asked quietly, his breath hot against your swollen mouth. “Inside? On your stomach? Tell me.”
“Inside,” you managed. “Please… Want to feel you.”
Without another word he shifted—pulling out just long enough to ease your legs down from his shoulders. You immediately wrapped them around his waist, ankles locking at the small of his back to pull him back in with a needy tug that made him hiss.
He sank back inside you in one smooth glide, both of you groaning at the new angle. Your arms looped around his neck, fingers knotting in damp white hair as he braced himself on his forearms, caging you beneath him.
“Like this?” he murmured, starting to move again. “Want me to fill you up?”
You nodded frantically, broken little sounds spilling out every time he bottomed out and made you surge forward on the mattress. “Yes—please—Ifa—”
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, teeth grazing skin as his pace quickened again, chasing his own edge now that he’d gotten you there first.
“Gonna give it to you,” he panted against your throat. “Gonna come so deep you’ll feel me for days. Fuck… Can’t hold it— ‘m gonna—”
One last, grinding thrust and he stilled, hips flush to yours as he came with a low, guttural groan. You felt him pulse inside you—hot, thick, spilling deep until it leaked out around the base of him, slicking your thighs. He kept rocking gently through it, milking every last shudder from both of you, until he finally went still.
For long moments neither of you moved. Just heavy breathing, sweat-slick skin pressed together, and hearts hammering against each other.
Even in the haze of his own release, Ifa remained the doctor who knew that every high-intensity event required a proper cooling-down period. He shifted his weight, bracing himself on his elbows to keep from crushing you, and pressed a lingering, salt-flecked kiss to your forehead.
“Hey, easy.” He pulled out slowly, the wet sound of his departure loud in the quiet room, and immediately tucked the rumpled sheets around your shivering frame.
Ifa disappeared for a moment before returning with a basin of warm water and a soft cloth. He cleaned you with a gentleness that was almost painful, his large, calloused hands moving over your thighs and stomach with a reverence that felt too much like love to be casual.
When he was done, he reached into the drawer of his nightstand and pulled out a small, amber vial. It was a potent contraceptive tonic from the Masters of the Night-Wind, something he always kept stocked. He uncorked it and handed it to you.
“Drink up, partner.”
You took the vial, the bitter herbal liquid coating your tongue as you swallowed. You wanted to lean into him, to tuck your head under his chin and stay in the quiet safety of the blankets. But as you set the empty vial down, a familiar, melancholic weight began to settle in your chest.
This afterglow had a shelf life, and Ifa was the master of timing.
“Man, I really gotta head out soon,” Ifa grumbled as he started pulling on his pants. “I think my neighbor is starting to get suspicious. She keeps asking why I have so many 'emergency consultations' that require me to leave Cacucu with her until midnight.”
You forced a nod, pulling the sheet tighter around your chest. “I’m sure she understands.”
He chuckled, shrugging on a black button-up that hugged his rippling muscles as he shook out his white hair. He looked back at you, flashing that boyish grin that made everyone in the Flower-Feather Clan adore him. “Probably. She even tried to give me some food for the 'stress.' If only she knew the kind of workout I was actually getting, right?”
“Yeah. A workout…”
Ifa didn't notice the hollowness in your voice—or if he did, he was too polite to comment on it. He launched into a story about a Tepetlisaurus with a broken horn he’d seen earlier this week, gesturing with his hands as he described the way it had tried to eat his stethoscope. He was animated, charming, and entirely detached from the intimacy that had just occurred.
To Ifa, this was a perfect arrangement. Two rival colleagues blowing off steam in the most efficient way possible. He drew his boundaries with the same precision he used for surgery—never cutting too deep, never leaving a scar.
Watching him button his cuffs, you realized with a sharp, quiet pang that you were content. Or, at least, you had convinced yourself you were. You had him like this—in the dark, in the sweat-slicked sheets. You had the version of Ifa that no one else saw, even if it came with a disclaimer that it didn't mean anything.
The alternative—confessing that your “hatred” had long since curdled into a desperate, aching need for him to let you stay until morning—was a risk you weren't brave enough to take. If you asked for more, he might withdraw the offer entirely, and you couldn't go back to a sky without him in it.
“Alright, I'm off,” Ifa said, leaning over one last time to catch your chin in his hand. He gave you a quick, firm kiss—the kind a friend might give, if that friend had just spent an hour inside you. “Take as long as you need to rest before you head home! I might have to drop by the Children of Echoes before I hit the hay.”
You nodded, watching him head for the door. “Sure thing.”
As the door clicked shut and the silence of the room rushed back in, you curled into the space where he had been, breathing in the fading scent of mint and sea salt. You had him without really having him. He was yours, but not yours.
But you’ve already gotten used to that.
✦ afterword. i have nothing to say for myself aside from the fact that i've known this guy for months now but the ifa superbug has only infected me now. cest la vie. hope you enjoyed bc i wrote this in a sad horny haze LMFAO
I'm Rianne-Shion, owner of the Record of Stories Cafe. We are in our soft opening and our menu is currently brewing for you to taste. But drop by and say hello! You can help us in creating our menu that you'll love and cherish the most.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･ 𝑪𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒖 °❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･
🍵 Atlantis. (Neuvillette x reader)
🍵 If this World were Mine. (Wriothesley x gn! reader)
🍵 Secrets Between the Ancient Texts. (Kaveh x gn! reader)
🍵 ☁️Chivalry Fell on Its Sword (Varka x f! reader) -> Currently brewing!
-> (Part 1), (Part 2), (Part 3)
Synopsis: Some relationships must remain in the dark, whether it’s platonic or romantic. Yet the feelings that you thought were dead and buried slowly rise again as the expedition team returns to Mondstadt. Try all you might to invade his advances, but in the end, he patiently waits for you at the right moment.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･ 𝑮𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒆 °❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･
⚜️ Currently 21 years old, she/her pronouns
⚜️ Most of my story ideas are inspired from my playlist
⚜️ Into anime, especially Haikyuu!!!
⚜️ Fandoms: Genshin Impact, Tears of Themis, Haikyuu, Apothecary Diaries
₍^. .^₎Ⳋ Got any ideas? Or want to leave a message? Place a letter on our board here. ₊⊹ˎˊ˗
Please come again soon! I'd love to have a chat with you ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
Warnings: Angst, Slightly Varka x Nicole Childhood friends to strangers, Drifting Apart, Unrequited love?
Part 2
.✦ ݁˖ ⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅ .✦ ݁˖
Since you were kids, you and Varka have always been inseparable. Both of you are practically joined together by the hips.
Where he went, you followed.
Where you went, he followed.
The elders at Mondstadt always talk about how you two will probably end up marrying each other once you both grew up.
And you believed that.
How foolish.
But who could blame you when literally everyone was talking about it like they were sure it's gonna happen? Who could and you when he, your friend, with blonde messy hair and bright smile like the sun— that makes anyone blind just by seeing it— who treats you so well and seemingly couldn't stay without you even for a second?
No one could blame you but yourself.
𝜗ৎ
You remember the times you both used to play under the big tree— just outside the city. Climbing, racing, sitting side by side while staring at the sky. now— it just all feels like a dream.
You remember the day you congratulated him when he was successfully appointed as a knight. The way he practically ran to you before hugging you tightly like he couldn't bear to let you go.
"You're going to crush me!" you glared before slapping his arm playfully
And he just let out that beautiful yet infuriating grin paired with that cheerful laugh of his. "Oh please, you know you love my hugs."
You remember the time where you both sat together alone in the night, lost in each others eyes and a lot of unspoken confession's.
You wonder if anything would have changed if you confessed earlier.
You remember the timed you and him used to exchange letters when he was out on an expedition. You could only shake your head with a fond smile everytime he writes a joke with those silly mistakes of his when writing a letter— you also couldn't help but turn red whenever you read some of his cheesy yet romantic lines.
“I trid cooking for the knighs knights today. Good news is that no one died :D. Bad news is that they’re reqesting I stick to leadig battles instaed instead. ToT"
"It was my first time seeing a flamebusd today. It's a beautiful flower native to Natlan and it reminded me of you. smthing that thrives in heat and chaos, yet still blooms bright and steady. I'm dfinetly not talkingaboutyourtemper."
You kept every single one of them
You remember when you'll always be the first one at the gate to greet him.
Everything was perfect.
But you remembered the day when everything started to feel wrong.
𝜗ৎ
When he became the Grandmaster you clapped, cheered, and ran to his arms like it was a normal thing. And he'll wrap his arm tightly around you, caging you in that familiar sturdy and comfortable hold of his.
You wished this feeling would stay forever.
You know being a Grandmaster of the nation has it's pros and cons. Being the Grandmaster gives you one of the highest respect from the people. A lot looking up and aspires to be like him. And you felt happy for him— very happy.
But you know all good things has to come to andend.
You remember the day when he started to become more and more busy. Spending less time together— heck, you could even rarely get a letter back from him.
“I’ll come by later,” he’d say.
"I'm busy, maybe later?"
"I'm sorry, something came up."
"I'll make it up to you, I promise."
And you’d wait.
But later never came.
“I’ll write when I can.”
The letters got shorter— until it stopped.
You told yourself it was fine, he had responsibilities he had to fulfill more than before.
Whenever you both passed each other, it felt different.
“…Hey,” he’d say, like he didn’t know what else to add.
“Hey.”
Silence would follow.
Where there used to be so much noise.
He wasn’t just your Varka anymore.
He was everyone’s.
𝜗ৎ
The distance grew.
You no longer talk and see each other even when you were in the same city.
And it hurts— everytime you see him, his back turned just a few steps ahead, your chest throbs.
But you couldn't bring yourself to talk to him.
You told yourself that it was fine. He's an important figure. Don't be a bother to him.
𝜗ৎ
Until you saw him.
Laughing with someone.
It's not just once— you saw them a lot in the city.
A tall woman with beautiful pale blonde hair that seems to glow whenever the light shines upon it and a fair skin paired with those uniquely beautiful pale blue eyes. She looks just like a fairy.
You learned her name by the drunkards on the tavern. Nicole. Even her name is beautiful.
People noticed, of course. They saw how the Grandmaster Varka spends his time more with her. How he laughs cheerfully. How he gaze at her eyes like she hung the moon.
How everything he used to do with you.
They could only give you pitying and sad looks, offering cheerful advice and little gifts even if they all know nothing would change.
You can't blame him. Why would you? you're just simple. Normal. Boring.
You're just you.
You remember how you changed. You became quieter— distant.
You no longer write letters for him nor be the one to first greet him whenever he comes back from a mission.
He's happier now— happier without you.
𝜗ৎ
One evening, you found yourself back at the tree. The same one you both used to play under it. Nothing had changed about it. Still tall. Still steady. Still there.
Unlike everything else.
You sat on the same branch and looked up at the same sky. A gentle wind brushed through you as you wondered—
The universe give me so many challenges and honestly i'm almost done...... 💀
BUT I HAVE NEVER STOPPED MYSELF FROM FORGETTING MY STORIES. I promise I will have a new one soon soon!!! I'm just really busy with pulling out the last leg of college 😩
Ahh your fics are criminally underrated<\3 I’m so happy I stumbled access one of your fics!! Genuinely shocked it wasn’t more popular
I hope to see more from you in the future (★≧▽^))★☆
AHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! (˃̣̣̥ᯅ˂̣̣̥)
I've been on hiatus 'cause aside from the fact that I got whiplashed from the sudden requirements as a senior student (I'm battling up for an upcoming final exam, a field work, and thesis defense THAT ARE SCHEDULED BACK-TO-BACK), I get discourage whenever I see my drafts and I don't like how it turns out. (T w T)
I'm very glad that you enjoy reading my works. I'm hoping that you'll stick around for my future works ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و
I'm Rianne-Shion, owner of the Record of Stories Cafe. We are in our soft opening and our menu is currently brewing for you to taste. But drop by and say hello! You can help us in creating our menu that you'll love and cherish the most.
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･ 𝑪𝒖𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑴𝒆𝒏𝒖 °❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･
🍵 Atlantis. (Neuvillette x reader)
🍵 If this World were Mine. (Wriothesley x gn! reader)
🍵 Secrets Between the Ancient Texts. (Kaveh x gn! reader)
°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･ 𝑮𝒆𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒆 °❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔:･
⚜️ Currently 21 years old, she/her pronouns
⚜️ Most of my story ideas are inspired from my playlist
⚜️ Into anime, especially Haikyuu!!!
⚜️ Fandoms: Genshin Impact, Tears of Themis, Haikyuu, Apothecary Diaries
₍^. .^₎Ⳋ Got any ideas? Or want to leave a message? Place a letter on our board here. ₊⊹ˎˊ˗
Please come again soon! I'd love to have a chat with you ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
I'VE FINISHED MY MIDTERM EXAMS AND OUTPUT AND GOT A- ON ONE OF MY MAJOR COURSE THAT I WAS SUFFERING + STUDYING FOR ALMOST A WEEK AND THOUGHT I MIGHT FAIL BECAUSE I'M NOT TAKING IT SERIOUSLY
I'm just... so done with my last year in college ( T-T)
Anyways expect for upcoming posts (fanfics or drabbles) soon, i have A LOT in my drafts >:))
Records of Stories Cafe. @rianneshion - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
