chiramffn

[chiramffn]

THIS IS INSANELY GOOD!

anchored to you | rafayel

⤜ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ- You rolled your eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Am I?” he mused, his voice lilting, coaxing—so effortlessly familiar. “You wound me, Miss Bodyguard. Here I was, trying to paint a masterpiece, thinking of you after an agonizing week apart, only to check my notifications and find you, in the dead of night no less, liking another man’s post. Truly, a betrayal of the highest order.”

“Thomas is your agent.”

“Doesn’t change the facts.”

You sighed again, but this time, it was laced with amusement. “You know what? I’m coming over.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, sharper now— “What?”

(Or... at 3:30 AM, Rafayel calls about you liking Thomas’ post. You know him far too well to believe that’s all it is. So you go to him, finding him amidst half-finished paintings and restless emotions, teetering between wanting space and needing you too much.)

⤜ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ- rafayel x female reader

⤜ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ- smut & fluff

⤜ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ- 10.5k words

⤜ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ (or tags)- nsfw, mdni, no use of y/n, use of pet names (cutie & miss bodyguard), dom!rafayel, jealous!rafayel, themes of codependency and insecure feelings, references to rafayel's limited five star memory (intertidal zone) and bond story (nightly stroll), angst (slight-ish), possessive behavior, making out, clit play, mutual masturbation, cum marking, overstimulation, penetration (p in v), dirty talk, unprotected sex, marking (biting), creampie, mentions of ownership, and aftercare.

⤜ ɴᴏᴛᴇ- I've always wanted to write about that one time in the game when Rafayel called MC (us) early in the morning just because she (we) liked one of Thomas’ posts—but, of course, with a little more plot. Hope you enjoy!

The quiet hum of the city at 3:30 AM was a stark contrast to the sharp vibration of your phone on the nightstand. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, your screen casting a cool glow over your hands as you stared at the caller ID. 

Rafayel.

Bringing the phone to your ear, you barely got a word out before Rafayel’s voice came through, low and unmistakably petulant.

“At 3:30 AM, four hours after you said goodnight to me, you liked Thomas’ post. Instead of, like, sending me a message.”

There was a slight pause, just long enough for you to picture the way he must look right now—sprawled out somewhere, his dusky purple hair a tousled mess, one hand probably still holding his paintbrush, the other curled around his phone. His voice was smooth, casual even, but you caught the edge beneath it, the restless undercurrent of something deeper.

“Rafayel—” you sighed, rubbing at your temple, but he cut in before you could finish.

You had only just liked a post. A simple tap of your finger on Thomas’ latest Moment, barely even thinking about it. But somehow, that was enough.

“Is this what you do when you can’t sleep, cutie? Scroll through posts and ignore me?” His words were lighthearted, teasing, but that wasn’t all there was to it.

You knew him well enough by now—there was a reason he called, and it wasn’t just to complain about a liked post. It was the same reason he always asked you to update him, the same reason his messages came at odd hours, checking in without outright saying he needed to. He wouldn’t ask for reassurance, not directly. Instead, he’d do this—wrap himself in playful irritation, hide behind his usual theatrics, and hope you’d read between the lines.

And you did. 

But it had been a week since you last saw him—because he asked you not to visit, claiming you were too distracting. “Cutie, if you’re here, how am I supposed to suffer properly for my art?” he’d said, all dramatic sighs and faux despair. “What if I forget to be miserable and start painting you instead?”

You had laughed, indulged him, and then you had listened. Given him the space he asked for. But now, with his name flashing across your screen at 3:30 AM, his silence stretching between you like a thread pulled too thin, you wondered if that had been the right choice.

Shaking your head, you drew in a slow breath and let a small smile tug at your lips, even though he couldn’t see it. “I didn’t think you’d still be awake.”

“I was trying to paint,” Rafayel admitted, his voice carrying the faintest hint of exasperation. “But then my phone buzzed, and—what do you know? Turns out I am capable of being abandoned and creatively drained at the same time. Tragic, isn’t it?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re being dramatic.”

“Am I?” he mused, his voice lilting, coaxing—so effortlessly familiar. “You wound me, Miss Bodyguard. Here I was, trying to paint a masterpiece, thinking of you after an agonizing week apart, only to check my notifications and find you, in the dead of night no less, liking another man’s post. Truly, a betrayal of the highest order.”

“Thomas is your agent.”

“Doesn’t change the facts.”

You sighed again, but this time, it was laced with amusement. “You know what? I’m coming over.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, sharper now— “What?”

“You’re still in your studio, aren’t you?”

“That’s not the point. It’s late.”

“Exactly. And now you’ve got me wide awake.” You sat up, already reaching for your sweater. “Besides, if you’re going to whine about being abandoned, I might as well do something about it.”

“Cutie.” His tone was suddenly more serious. “It’s dangerous.”

“I’m a Hunter, Rafayel. I deal with Wanderers. I can handle myself.”

“That’s not—” He exhaled, as if weighing whether to argue, but he must’ve known it wouldn’t change anything. 

“Cutie, you’re being reckless,” Rafayel muttered, exasperation slipping into his voice.

“And you’re being difficult,” you shot back. “I’d much rather talk to you in person.”

He let out a sharp breath, like he was running a hand through his hair. “I’ll get angry.”

You smirked, already slipping on your jacket. “Try not to get too angry when I’m there, then.”

A pause. Then, quieter— “You’re impossible.”

But he didn’t tell you not to come.

You pulled a sweater over your head, the soft fabric settling over your shoulders as you slung a small bag across your body. Extra clothes—because you knew this wouldn’t be a short visit. Because you knew, deep down, that appeasing him would take time.

As you grabbed your phone and house keys, it vibrated once. Then again. And again.

Rafayel.

You ignored it for now, slipping out of your apartment and making your way down the quiet hallway. The city outside was still alive, neon lights flickering in puddles from the earlier rain. You stepped through the building’s gate, raising a hand to hail a cab.

Only when you were safely in the backseat, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence, did you finally check your phone.

The next message was just a long, broken string of typed-out ellipses.

Rafayel: dun come

Rafayel: ill get mad

Rafayel: cutie cutie listen to me i mean it

Rafayel: ur so stubborn its insane who raised u like this

Rafayel: if u show up i swear to god ill

You could picture him—pacing in his studio, running a hand through his hair, chewing on his bottom lip as he typed and deleted messages, trying so hard to pretend he didn’t want you there.

Rafayel: fine but im not opening the door

Rafayel: i mean it

Rafayel: its locked

Rafayel: double locked

Rafayel: barricading it rn

You typed back.

Rafayel: go to sleep like a normal person

Rafayel: cutie go home dont test me

Rafayel: actually u know what im turning my phone off

Rafayel: fr

Rafayel: im pressing the button

Rafayel: last chance to stop being reckless

Rafayel: …

Rafayel: wait what r u doing why r u not answering

Rafayel: hello???

Rafayel: ur not actually coming right

Rafayel: right

Rafayel: CUTIE

Try not to trip over all that furniture when you let me in.

The little “typing…” bubble popped up immediately. Then disappeared. Then popped up again.

You smiled.

Rafayel: ????????

Rafayel: EXCUSE ME

Rafayel: who said ur getting in

Rafayel: who said im letting u in

Rafayel: who said ur not gonna get stuck outside FOREVER

A few minutes passed, you were near his studio and once the cab turned onto his street, there he was.

Rafayel stood outside the gate of his studio, arms crossed over his chest, his sharp silhouette carved against the dim glow of the streetlights. His tousled hair, usually a careful kind of mess, was more unkempt tonight—like he’d run his hands through it too many times while pacing. Even from a distance, you could see the way his jaw tensed, the slight furrow of his brows. He looked intimidating. Unapproachable. Like someone who hadn’t just been blowing up your phone with ridiculous messages.

And yet.

Here he was. Outside. Waiting for you.

The cab slowed to a stop in front of the gate, the tires rolling over the uneven pavement with a soft crunch. Before you could even reach for the door handle, Rafayel was already there.

His fingers curled around the handle of the passenger seat, yanking it with a sharp pull—only for it to stay locked. A fleeting scowl crossed his face, irritation flickering in his eyes—like a storm brewing in a sky streaked with rose-colored clouds as he rapped his knuckles against the window, then motioned for the driver to unlock it.

The driver hesitated.

You could see it in the way his grip tightened on the wheel, his gaze shifting to you in the rearview mirror, uncertain. Concerned. And maybe, if you weren’t you—if you didn’t know Rafayel, if you hadn’t memorized the way he carried himself like an unspoken warning, all sharp edges and simmering intensity—you might have felt that hesitation, too.

But you only sighed, already reaching for your bag. “It’s fine,” you reassured the driver, voice steady. “I know him.”

It was only after you placed the bills into his hand that the lock clicked open.

The moment you pushed the door open, you barely had time to step out before Rafayel’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a tight embrace. His entire demeanor shifted like a switch had been flipped—gone was the intimidating figure who had been standing outside, waiting with crossed arms and a brooding scowl. Instead, the Rafayel in front of you was warm, playful, the same one who had sent you all those ridiculous messages. His hold on you was firm, pressing you flush against him, his chin resting atop your head like he had been waiting for this the entire time.

“You’re so stubborn,” he muttered, his voice laced with something between exasperation and relief.

You huffed a laugh against his chest. “I thought I was staying outside forever since you barricaded the door?”

Rafayel stilled for a fraction of a second before exhaling sharply, his grip on you tightening just the slightest bit. “Yeah, well,” he drawled, his tone slipping back into something teasing, “I figured you’d just break in anyway.”

You sigh into his arms before he’s leading you towards the entrance of his studio.

Inside, the studio was dimly lit, the scent of paint and turpentine clinging to the air. You had barely stepped in before Rafayel was already leading you deeper into the space, steering you toward the large canvas propped up on an easel. He didn’t give you a chance to bring up the real reason you had come—not his cryptic messages, not the weight in his voice, not the way he had been waiting for you outside despite claiming he wouldn’t let you in.

No, instead, he gestured at the painting, his voice smooth, light, deliberately avoiding whatever had been simmering beneath the surface. “What do you think?”

Your gaze drifted over the painting, but before you could answer, something else caught your eye—the mess surrounding it. Crumpled papers littered the floor, discarded sketches with deep, frustrated lines slashing across them. Streaks of paint smeared over the nearby desk, some dried, some still tacky, as if he had gone through so many iterations, chasing something he couldn’t quite reach.

It wasn’t hard to understand why.

The painting in front of you was unmistakably his—a swirl of haunting beauty, a dreamscape teetering on the edge of something sorrowful. And in the center, hidden within layers of colors that bled into one another, were streaks of red coral. Not just any red coral. The same shade, the same intricate, fractured formations that you had seen in all his works.

Rafayel’s work had always been laced with something more than artistry. It was a requiem, a quiet, painstaking tribute to a world long buried beneath the sand. His people. His home. The Lemurians, slaughtered and scattered, their blood mixing with the ocean until all that remained were these paintings, these desperate fragments of a civilization that humanity had tried to erase.

And yet, standing here, seeing the evidence of his struggle—all those discarded attempts, the restless, feverish way he had chased this image—you knew this one was different.

This wasn’t just another piece to be sold to the highest bidder, another silent form of vengeance wrapped in beauty.

This painting—this one meant something to him.

You exhaled softly, still taking it in. “It’s beautiful.”

The words left you before you even had time to second-guess them. And they weren’t just words—you meant it. This painting was raw in a way that went beyond his usual work, and knowing what he had gone through to reach this version of it only made it more striking.

But as soon as you said it, you felt his gaze on you. Heavy. Unwavering.

You turned to him, and your breath caught at the sight.

His eyes—those pools of blue and pink—were darkened, pupils blown wide, swallowing up the usual sharpness of his gaze. There was a strange kind of intensity there, something unspoken, something restless. Like he was waiting. Like he was memorizing the way you looked as you said those words.

You’d seen him like this before, but it never failed to leave a lingering warmth in your chest, a quiet awareness curling at the edges of your thoughts.

You cleared your throat, trying to steady yourself against the weight of his stare. “So… about that phone call.”

Rafayel blinked once, slow and deliberate, before tilting his head, watching you beneath thick lashes. The studio light caught the pink in his irises, making them gleam like crushed petals under glass. For a moment, he didn’t react, didn’t move, and then—like a tide pulling back—his expression changed.

His lips curled into something languid, lazy. A smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He ran a hand through his already-messy hair, tousling the dusky purple strands even further. “Tch. Here we go.”

You ignored his theatrics, crossing your arms as you leaned against the closest surface. The room still smelled like oil paint and damp canvas. “You sounded—” You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “Like you needed me.”

His fingers twitched at his sides.

For just a second, you saw it—the way his breath hitched, the way his eyes flickered, something raw flashing across his face. But then, as quickly as it came, it was gone. His shoulders rolled back, his stance shifting into something looser, deliberately careless. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, cutie. All I remember is telling you not to come and you showing up anyway.”

You arched a brow, tilting your chin. “Oh? So you didn’t mean it when you said you’d get mad?”

He scoffed, casting his gaze aside, suddenly engrossed in the streaks of dried paint staining his fingers. “I was gonna get mad.”

You stepped closer—close enough to catch the faint flush creeping up his ears, close enough to see the way his jaw tensed, just barely. “Then why were you waiting outside for me?”

Silence.

A long, stretching silence.

His tongue swiped over his lips—slow, deliberate, stalling. Then, finally, his eyes lifted to meet yours. Something swam beneath the blue and pink, something unreadable, something fragile.

He exhaled—a breath caught between a sigh and surrender.

“Because you were coming.”

Then, as if realizing the weight of his own admission, he turned away, raking a hand through his hair, mussing it further. “So you came all this way just to nag me? So unromantic, cutie.” His voice was all drawl, all lazy amusement, but beneath it, beneath the teasing, there was something else—something raw, something he didn’t want you to see.

You crossed your arms, unimpressed. “You were the one who called me first.”

“And you were the one who liked some other guy’s post at 3:30 AM.” He shot back without missing a beat, eyes flickering toward you, sharp even in his supposed nonchalance.

You rolled your eyes. “Thomas is not ‘some other guy.’”

“Don’t care.” Rafayel flopped down onto the couch with dramatic flair, draping himself over the cushions like an exhausted cat, arm thrown over his forehead. “What’s done is done. You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

You sighed, gaze drifting past him to the painting still propped on its easel. In the dim studio light, it looked almost alive—the deep reds and ink-dark blues swirling like something dredged up from the ocean’s depths. The scattered, crumpled drafts around it told you everything you needed to know.

“Rafayel.” Your voice was quieter this time, careful.

He didn’t look at you, but his fingers twitched against the couch cushion.

“You don’t have to pretend everything’s fine,” you continued. “I know why you called me. I know why you’re like this.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and weighted. Then, finally, he let out a slow exhale, tilting his head back against the couch, eyes meeting yours.

“Yeah? And what am I like, cutie?” His voice was light, teasing, but you could hear the thread of something else beneath it—something taut, something fraying at the edges. A quiet challenge.

Your gaze didn’t waver. “You’re scared.”

That got him.

His lips parted slightly, breath catching—just for a second—before he covered it up with a slow, lopsided smirk. “Scared? Of what? You?”

“Of me leaving.”

His smirk lingered, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

Rafayel didn’t answer right away. His fingers curled into the fabric of the couch, grip tightening for the briefest moment before he forced them to relax. The smirk on his lips wavered—just a fraction—but enough for you to catch it.

Then, with a scoff, he turned his head away, staring somewhere past you, toward the half-finished painting standing in the dim light. “Don’t say stuff like that,” he muttered.

You took a step closer, voice softer now. “It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

His jaw tightened, his throat bobbing in a swallow. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But you could see it—woven into the way his body tensed, the way his hands refused to stay still, fingers tapping restlessly against the couch. You knew him. You knew how he was when he got like this. When he tried to pretend things didn’t bother him, when he played the fool because it was easier than admitting the weight pressing against his ribs.

You sat down beside him, close but not quite touching. “Rafayel.”

Nothing.

You let out a slow breath. “I’m here. You don’t have to act like I’m not.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move. Then, suddenly, he let his body slump sideways, his head dropping against your shoulder in a heavy, boneless motion. His hair tickled your cheek, and his warmth seeped through the fabric of your sweater.

“I don’t like it,” he muttered. His voice was low, muffled against you.

“Don’t like what?”

“You being far.”

Your heart squeezed in your chest. Slowly, carefully, you reached up, brushing your fingers through his hair. He didn’t stop you. If anything, he melted further, like a thread pulled loose.

“I’m not far,” you murmured. “I’m right here.”

He huffed, but it wasn’t his usual theatrical sound of complaint—it was something quieter, something raw. “Still don’t like it.”

His arms moved before you could react, looping around your waist, pulling you in, pulling you against him like you’d disappear the second he let go. His grip wasn’t desperate—but it was firm, certain, stubborn.

You exhaled, smoothing your fingers over the fabric of his shirt, feeling the warmth of him pressed against you. “For the past week, I gave you space,” you murmured. “You said you’d be painting something for an exhibit. That having me around was… distracting.”

Rafayel let out a soft scoff against your shoulder, his grip tightening—like he knew exactly where you were going with this and didn’t like it one bit.

“So I listened,” you continued. “I gave you space. And yet—” you pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your head and look at him, “—you’re acting like I vanished off the face of the earth.”

His eyes flickered over your face, something restless, unreadable, shifting beneath the surface. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he pulled away, flopping back against the couch.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, cutie,” he drawled, throwing an arm over his eyes like he was shielding himself from a particularly blinding light. “I was doing just fine.”

You raised an eyebrow, gaze flicking pointedly to the chaotic mess of crumpled papers and paint-streaked cloth littering the room. “Yeah. Clearly.”

A pause.

Then—his fingers twitched. A tell.

You caught it—the way his fingers curled slightly, a fraction too tense, like a stray thread barely holding everything together. It was the smallest thing, but with Rafayel, the smallest things always spoke the loudest.

Your gaze softened. “Rafayel.”

His arm remained over his eyes, but his lips twitched—just a little, like he was debating whether to smirk or frown. In the end, he did neither.

Instead, his other hand lifted, reaching blindly for you, fingers curling loosely around your wrist. He didn’t pull you closer. Didn’t say anything. Just held on.

Your chest ached.

“You were doing fine, huh?” you said quietly, shifting so you could properly look at him. “Then why does this look like the aftermath of a war zone?”

Rafayel groaned, finally dragging his arm away from his face to glare at you. “It’s called the creative process, cutie. Not all of us can be effortless masterpieces.”

You snorted, unconvinced. “Right. Creative process. Is that why you sent me a hundred messages at three in the morning?”

He clicked his tongue, clearly about to dodge the question with something absurd, but you squeezed his wrist before he could. The reaction was immediate—his mouth shut, his eyes flickering toward your touch.

For a second, just a second, you saw it again—that restlessness, that hesitation, the war between wanting you close and pretending he didn’t.

Then, quieter, you asked, “You really didn’t want me here?”

His jaw shifted. He looked away, fingers tightening around yours, voice dropping lower. “That’s not—” He exhaled sharply, as if physically forcing himself to swallow down whatever instinct had been his first response. “Don’t twist my words, cutie. You know what I meant.”

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “You could have just asked me to come by, you know.”

Rafayel’s gaze snapped back to yours, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

“For the past week,” you continued, voice steady, “even when you told me I’d be a distraction… if you really wanted me here, you could have just said so.”

His fingers twitched again, his grip flexing slightly around your wrist. “That’s—” He clicked his tongue, his expression shifting like he was trying to rearrange his thoughts faster than he could say them. “That’s not how it works, cutie.”

You raised an eyebrow. “No? Then how does it work?”

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his tousled hair before letting his head loll back against the couch. “I don’t know.” His voice was quieter now, like he hated admitting it. “I don’t know how to want something and not ruin it at the same time.”

Your chest tightened.

It was the closest he had come to saying it outright—that he didn’t just want you here. He needed you here.

And it terrified him.

You sighed, shifting closer, your hand settling over his where it rested on the couch. He didn’t pull away, but he didn’t look at you either. His fingers flexed beneath yours, restless.

“I don’t want you to shut me out,” you said, gentle but firm. “Even if I know what you want by now—I still respected what you asked of me. I didn’t come by, I gave you space, because I thought that’s what you needed.” You hesitated, then softer, “Was I wrong?”

A muscle in Rafayel’s jaw twitched. His lips pressed together, something pensive behind his gaze.

Then, with an exhale, he finally looked at you.

“You weren’t wrong,” he murmured. “I thought I needed it too.” He huffed a soft laugh, humorless. “Turns out, I’m just an idiot.”

You smiled faintly. “I wouldn’t say you’re an idiot.”

“Then what would you say?”

You squeezed his hand lightly. “Stubborn. A little dramatic.”

His lips twitched like he wanted to smile, but instead, he only turned his hand over, fingers curling around yours. His thumb brushed idly over your knuckles, contemplative.

“You should’ve just ignored me,” he said after a moment.

You raised an eyebrow. “And let you suffer in silence?”

“I would’ve survived.”

You gave him a look.

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay, fine. Maybe I wouldn’t have.” He peeked at you from between his fingers, voice quieter now, more uncertain. “But you still listened to me, didn’t you?”

Something in the way he said it made your stomach twist—not with relief, but with something heavier. Like it hurt him in a way he didn’t know how to put into words. Like it would’ve been easier if you hadn’t.

You held his gaze, steady, unwavering. “I did,” you admitted. “But I would’ve come—if only you asked.”

You exhaled, your fingers tightening around his. “And now I did come, because I knew this wasn’t just about me liking Thomas’ post.”

Rafayel stilled. Just slightly. His hand in yours remained lax, but his grip on your other hand faltered for half a second—like you had struck something he wasn’t prepared for.

Then he scoffed, leaning his head back against the couch, gaze flicking elsewhere. “Obviously. You think I care that much about some dumb post?”

You gave him a pointed look. “You called me over it.”

His mouth opened—then closed. His expression twisted into something begrudging.

“Okay, maybe I cared a little.”

You rolled your eyes. “Rafayel.”

He sighed, rubbing his temple, before finally—finally—meeting your gaze. But he didn’t look teasing now. Didn’t look like the Rafayel who had whined about your stubbornness through text messages or tried to act put out when you showed up at his door.

There was something raw there. A flicker of hesitation, of want, of something he had trouble admitting even now.

“Fine,” he muttered. “It wasn’t just about the post.” His eyes searched yours, voice quiet. “It was about you.”

For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just looked at you. His lips parted like he wanted to speak, but the words hesitated—lingering somewhere between thought and voice.

Then, with a heavy breath, he raked a hand through his tousled hair and dropped his head back against the couch, exhaling sharply through his nose. “You really wanna talk about this, huh?” His voice was light, almost teasing, but there was something else beneath it. Something strained.

You didn’t answer right away. You just held his gaze, waiting.

Rafayel let out a soft, humorless laugh, dragging a hand down his face. “Shit,” he muttered. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Wherever you want,” you said gently.

He was silent for a while. Then, finally, he sat up properly, elbows resting on his knees, fingers lacing together like he was grounding himself. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. Not soft—Rafayel never did soft—but honest.

“I don’t like being alone.” The words came slow, deliberate. His thumb ran idly over his knuckles, a nervous habit you rarely saw from him. “Not really. Not when it’s—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Whatever. You get it.”

You did.

He exhaled, tilting his head, gaze flickering toward the painting propped up on the easel—the one he had clearly agonized over. “I told you I needed space. That I had to focus, that I—” He scoffed, pressing his fingers to his temple. “But the second you gave it to me, it was like—like something was missing.” His eyes flicked to you, laced with something almost accusing, almost vulnerable. “It was unbearable.”

You swallowed, watching the way his fingers curled, the way his expression twisted between frustration and something he wasn’t sure he wanted to name.

“I kept telling myself it was fine,” he continued, voice rough, like he hated the confession even as it left his lips. “That it was good, even. That I could work without distraction. But every time I tried to paint—every time—I just ended up staring at the damn canvas, thinking about you instead.” He let out a breath, shaking his head. “I hate that.”

You frowned. “Hate what?”

Rafayel clenched his jaw. “Hate that I need you this much.”

Your breath hitched. His words, raw and unguarded, settled between you like something heavy.

He laughed, short and sharp. “God, it’s pathetic, isn’t it?” His fingers curled against his knee. “I used to paint because I had to. Because it was mine. And now—now I feel like I’m dragging you into it too.” His expression darkened, something bitter curling at the edges. “Like I’m taking from you.”

You knew what he meant. Rafayel had always taken from the world. From pain, from suffering, from the ghosts of things that could never be restored. His art had always come from that—extraction. And now, you could see the fear in his eyes. That he had started doing the same with you. That his love for you, his need, had become something he feared he would drain dry.

But you didn’t move away. Didn’t recoil. Instead, you reached out, your fingers brushing over his, grounding him back.

“You’re not taking from me,” you said, firm but gentle. “I’m here because I want to be.”

He stared at you for a long moment. Then his fingers curled over yours, his grip tight—desperate, almost.

“…Yeah,” he muttered. But you could hear the waver in his voice. The uncertainty.

Like he wanted to believe you. Like he didn’t know if he could.

Rafayel’s fingers tightened over yours, his grip feverish, like he was anchoring himself to something—someone—before he could spiral too far. His eyes flickered, restless, torn between frustration and something else, something raw.

“It doesn’t help,” he muttered, almost like he was talking to himself. “That you’re always here. That you’re not—” His jaw clenched, and he looked away, shaking his head. “That you’re not pushing me away.”

You frowned, squeezing his hand. “Why would I?”

His laugh was sharp, almost bitter. “Because you should.”

You inhaled, steadying yourself. “Rafayel—”

“No, listen.” He pulled back slightly, though his fingers still lingered over yours, as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to let go. “You don’t turn me down. Not when I act like a pain in the ass. Not when I pull you into my mess. Not when I—” He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “You don’t even get mad when I tell you to stay away, then act like an idiot when you actually do.”

You swallowed, watching the way his expression shifted—tight, conflicted, like the words hurt to say.

“You don’t leave,” he said finally, quieter this time, almost accusing. “And it just—it just makes it worse.”

Your breath hitched. “Worse?”

His eyes flickered to yours, something turbulent beneath the surface.

“I keep thinking,” he murmured, voice rough. “That if you did—if you pushed me away, even just a little—maybe I could stop needing you this much.”

The air between you felt heavy, thick with something unsaid.

He huffed out a humorless laugh, tilting his head back against the couch. “But you won’t, will you?” His eyes, shadowed and tired, flicked to yours. “You never do.”

You didn’t hesitate. “No.”

Rafayel exhaled, shutting his eyes briefly before opening them again, something tired—something helpless—settling behind his gaze.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “That’s what I thought.”

Rafayel let out a slow breath, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. His fingers raked through his tousled hair, shoulders tense, like he was holding something back—like he was bracing himself.

“I don’t trust it,” he admitted finally, voice low, rough around the edges.

You frowned. “Trust what?”

His lips twisted, like he was trying to find the right words. “This. You.” A pause, then he huffed out a quiet laugh, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Not because of anything you’ve done. You’re—you’re too good to me, cutie.”

The way he said it—like it was an accusation—made your heart ache.

Rafayel’s hands flexed against his knees before curling into fists. “It’s just that…I know what it’s like. To have someone be everything. To be convinced that no matter what, they won’t leave.” His fingers twitched. “And then one day, they do.”

Your chest tightened. “Rafayel—”

“You can say it won’t happen,” he cut in, looking at you now, eyes dark with something heavy. “You can promise all you want. But I’ve heard it before.” He let out a shaky breath. “I’ve believed it before.”

Your heart pounded.

“And that’s why I—” He broke off, shaking his head. “That’s why I don’t know what the hell I want. One second, I need you here, and the next, I think maybe—maybe it’d be easier if you weren’t.”

Your breath caught.

“Because if I let myself have this—if I let myself need you—” He swallowed, voice barely above a whisper. “Then what happens when you leave?”

There it was. The real fear.

Not anger. Not frustration.

Just the quiet, aching certainty that he would be left behind. Again.

Your throat tightened. Slowly, carefully, you reached for his hand. His fingers were still curled into a fist, knuckles white, but you pried them open, threading your fingers through his. Warm. Calloused. Shaking.

“Then I won’t,” you said simply.

His breath hitched. His gaze snapped to yours, searching, uncertain. “You don’t—you can’t know that.”

“I do.” You squeezed his hand. “Rafayel, I’m not going anywhere.”

He let out a ragged breath, and you held his hand tighter. “No matter what happens, no matter what you do, how much space you need, or how much you push and pull—I’m here.” Your voice was steady, certain, because you meant it. “I’ll always be here.”

Rafayel exhaled sharply, as if the weight of your words had knocked the air from his lungs. He looked away, jaw tight, throat working like he was trying to swallow something down.

“You say that now,” he muttered, voice rough, “but—”

“But nothing,” you cut in gently, tugging his hand just enough to make him look at you again. “You’re not just some phase in my life, Rafayel. You matter to me.” Your thumb brushed over his knuckles. “I’m not leaving. Not now. Not ever.”

His breath shuddered out of him, his fingers tightening around yours like he was afraid to let go. And for the first time since you’d arrived, you saw it—that tiny flicker of hope beneath all the doubt.

Your lips curled into a small smile. “You know… you’re not the only one who needs someone, Rafayel.”

He huffed, shaking his head. “That so?”

“Mmhm.” You squeezed his hand, tilting your head playfully. “I just happen to be better at hiding it. Comes with the job, you know. Can’t have my client thinking his bodyguard is just as much of a mess as he is.”

That earned you a scoff, though there was the faintest trace of amusement in it. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

You shrugged. “I mean, think about it. If I didn’t need you, why the hell would I be here at three in the morning?”

Rafayel stilled. His grip on your hand faltered for half a second before tightening again. You saw his throat bob, his lips part slightly—like he wanted to argue, to throw something back at you. But he didn’t. Because you were right.

His gaze flickered, searching yours, as if trying to find a crack in your resolve, some sign that you were just saying this to make him feel better. But there was none. You meant it.

A breath left him, shakier than he probably wanted it to be. Then, quietly, he muttered, “…Idiot.”

You grinned. “Takes one to know one.”

You suddenly sighed dramatically, stretching your arms above your head before letting them drop. “You know, you didwake me up in the middle of the night. And I did drag myself all the way here, just for you.”

Rafayel arched a brow, skepticism flickering over his face. “You just said you came for me.”

Before he could go any further, you reached out, cupping his jaw with one hand and pressing his cheeks together, effectively smushing his lips into a ridiculous pout. “Shhh.”

His brows furrowed, a muffled noise of protest escaping him.

You smirked. “See? Much better.”

His eyes burned into you, but the effect was entirely ruined by the way his lips were puckered like a sulking child. You had to bite back a laugh.

Rafayel made another unintelligible sound, hands coming up to pry yours away, but you held firm, tilting your head. “Now, are you gonna make it up to me or what?”

Without letting go, you leaned in, pressing the softest, most fleeting kiss against his ridiculously pouted lips.

The reaction was instantaneous.

Rafayel tensed, his entire body going rigid beneath your touch. And then—

His face erupted in color. A deep, searing red that bloomed across his cheeks, climbed to the tips of his ears, and even dusted down the length of his neck. His eyes widened, pupils dilating, mouth parting slightly as if his brain had short-circuited entirely.

You pulled back just enough to see the full effect, utterly pleased with yourself.

His hands, which had been trying to pry yours off a second ago, twitched uselessly before dropping altogether.

“Wha—” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat, glaring at you as best he could while still blushing furiously. “What the hell was that?”

You grinned, finally releasing his jaw, tapping his cheek lightly. “You looked too cute not to.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, eyes narrowing. But the red across his face refused to fade. If anything, it darkened.

“I hate you,” he muttered, voice thick with embarrassment.

You hummed, utterly unbothered. “No, you don’t.”

He didn’t respond—because he couldn’t. Not when his body betrayed him so obviously.

Before he could recover, you leaned in again, this time pressing a soft, lingering kiss against his flushed cheek.

Rafayel froze.

A sharp inhale, his fingers twitching against your waist as if debating whether to push you away or pull you closer. The warmth of his skin burned beneath your lips, the heat radiating from him palpable.

And then—

A strangled noise. Half a scoff, half something else entirely. “You—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply, tilting his head away as if that could somehow hide the deepening red overtaking his face.

His ears. His ears were burning.

You smiled against his skin. “You’re really easy to fluster, you know that?”

His hand curled into the fabric of your sweater. “Shut up.”

You kissed his other cheek just to spite him.

Another sharp inhale. Another full-body flinch.

“Cutie.” His voice was strained, and when you finally pulled back to look at him, his eyes were dark, unreadable, something perilously close to desperate lurking beneath the surface.

It sent a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were. The way his breath fanned against your skin. The way his grip on you had tightened, like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers if he let go.

And then, quieter and lower—almost hesitant—he spoke.

“…You’re doing this on purpose.”

You barely had a second to process the way his eyes darkened before he moved.

A sharp tug—your breath hitched—then suddenly, the world tilted.

Before you could react, you found yourself toppled onto the couch, your back pressed against the cushions, Rafayelhovering above you. His grip on your waist was firm, his body heat overwhelming, and his beautiful eyes—flushed with something you couldn’t quite name—devoured you.

You blinked. “Raf—”

And then he kissed you.

No hesitation. No teasing remark. Just desperation, raw and unfiltered, poured into the space between you. His lips found yours in a feverish press, warm, insistent—taking.

Your fingers curled into his shirt instinctively, anchoring yourself as he deepened the kiss, as if trying to chase away something neither of you had spoken aloud. His weight caged you in, a solid, unrelenting presence above you, his hand sliding from your waist to cradle your cheek.

It was different from before—this wasn’t just his usual playful antics, wasn’t just him indulging in his own flirtation.

This was real.

A shuddering breath left him as he pulled back just an inch, enough for your lips to part but not enough to create space. His forehead rested against yours, his own breath uneven.

“…You came for me,” he murmured, almost like he still couldn’t believe it.

You smoothed your hands over his back, feeling the tension in his frame, the way he was holding himself back. “I did.”

His lips brushed against yours again, softer this time. “Say it again.”

You smiled, breathless. “I came for you.”

His exhale was shaky, his hold on you tightening. Then, he kissed you—slower, more lingering, like he was memorizing every second. 

For a moment, it was like that.

His lips pressed against yours again—harder this time, more forceful, less patient. The teasing, the usual playful give-and-take between you, was gone.

This was different.

His weight pressed you down into the couch, his hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair, keeping you exactly where he wanted. His other hand curled around your hip, firm, possessive—demanding.

You barely had time to breathe before he was kissing you again and again—deeper, slower, like he was trying to carve the feeling of you into himself. There was heat, unmistakable and consuming, but also a quiet desperation simmering just beneath the surface.

His lips left yours only to trail along your jaw, then lower—lower—pressing against the sensitive skin beneath your ear.

“You always do this,” he murmured, voice rough, breath warm against your throat.

You shivered. “Do what?”

He pulled back just enough for you to see his face, still flushed, ears burning, but his gaze? That wasn’t the usual playful Rafayel staring down at you. It was something deeper. Darker. Unrestrained.

“Make me want more,” he said, his thumb tracing slow, maddening circles against your hip. “And you don’t even try.”

Your breath hitched as his lips found yours again, more insistent, more relentless. His grip tightened, keeping you right there, letting you feel every bit of his warmth against you.

Your breath was unsteady as you tilted your head back against the couch, your fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt. His lips ghosted over your jaw again, trailing lower, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to make you feel him.

“What…” Your voice came out weaker than you intended, a soft, breathless thing. “What are you doing?”

Rafayel huffed a quiet laugh against your skin, his lips brushing against the hollow of your throat. When he pulled back just enough for you to see his face, his smirk was smug, but his eyes—half-lidded, dark with heat—betrayed something else.

“Making it up to you,” he murmured. “Like you asked.”

Then his lips were back on you—pressing, dragging their way down the curve of your neck, slow and deliberate. His hands, warm and steady, slid along your sides, mapping out the shape of you through your clothes.

You barely had time to breathe before his kisses wandered lower—just beneath your collarbone, just above the fabric of your sweater—his fingers toying with the hem as if debating how much further he could push.

He wanted to push.

You could feel it in the way his grip flexed against your waist, the way his breath came out uneven, like he was barely holding himself together.

But he was waiting.

Waiting for you to stop him.

Waiting for you to tell him no.

And when you didn’t—when you stayed still beneath him, your own breath shaky, your fingers curling into his shirt like you needed him there—his smirk faltered for just a second.

Rafayel barely gave you a second to register what was happening before his arms wrapped around you, strong and unwavering. A startled gasp left your lips as he lifted you, pressing you flush against him as he rose to his feet.

Your arms instinctively tightened around his shoulders, legs curling slightly, but he carried you with ease—his grip firm, his body heat seeping into yours through the fabric of your clothes.

He didn’t stop kissing you.

Even as he moved, his lips barely left yours, stealing breath after breath, deepening the kiss with each slow, deliberate step. His pace was unhurried, almost lazy, like he was indulging in every second it took to drag you both toward the bedroom.

His fingers flexed against your thighs, pressing you closer, and you could feel the way his heart pounded—just as wild, just as reckless as yours.

Somewhere between the hallway and the door, you tried to murmur his name, but he swallowed the sound with another kiss, tilting his head, teasing you, taking you apart one stolen breath at a time.

By the time your back met the soft sheets, Rafayel was hovering over you, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, his lips swollen, his breath uneven. His tousled hair framed his face, a few strands falling over his forehead, and his cheeks—his ears—were still red.

But his expression was different now. Not the usual playful teasing. Not the embarrassed flustered mess you were used to. Something deeper. 

And he was still looking at you like he was starving.

You felt yourself shrinking under his gaze.

But he doesn’t let you.

Instead, his fingers trail up your skin, his touch searing, possessive. “Don’t hide from me,” he murmurs, voice low, thick with something you can’t quite name “You said I had to make it up to you. What, getting shy now?”

You barely have time to react before his fingers curl into the fabric of your sweater, tugging it up with slow, deliberate intent. The air kisses your skin as he drags the material higher, his fingertips brushing along your sides—light, teasing, making you shiver.

His gaze never wavers. Heavy-lidded, sharp with intent, the dusky pink in his eyes darkening like the sky before a storm. He drinks in every inch of you as more of your skin is revealed, his breath coming a little heavier, his lips parting just slightly.

“See?” His voice is low, almost coaxing, though there’s an edge of something darker beneath it. Hungrier. “Nothing to be shy about, cutie.”

The sweater slips over your head in one smooth motion, and before you can even process the loss of warmth, his hands are on you again—this time against the curve of your waist.

His hands move with unhurried precision, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your pajama pants. The fabric bunches under his touch as he drags it down, knuckles grazing the curve of your hips, the dip of your thighs—his touch light, but purposeful.

He doesn’t look away, doesn’t give you the chance to hide. His eyes drink you in, dark with something unreadable, something smoldering beneath the surface.

“Still with me?” His voice is lower now, rougher, as if he’s feeling the weight of this just as much as you are.

You nodded.

The fabric pools at your ankles, and his hands return to your skin, smoothing over newly exposed warmth. His thumbs press gently into your hips, grounding, as if savoring every second. As if making sure you’re not going anywhere.

“You’re perfect—so perfect.” he mumbled.

“Raf—” you murmured, skin flushing at his words.

His lips curved, fingers tracing slow, reverent lines over your skin, as if memorizing every inch. He leaned in, pressing a kiss just above your knee, then another, his breath warm against your skin.

“You don’t even know, do you?” His voice was quiet, almost in awe. His hands skimmed higher, thumbs grazing your hip bones, his touch a slow burn. “How impossible it is not to want you. Not to need you.”

Your breath hitched. He was everywhere—his warmth, his presence, the way his eyes pinned you beneath the weight of his gaze.

“Rafayel—” You swallowed, trying to steady yourself, but he only hummed, the sound deep, pleased.

“I know,” he murmured, pressing another lingering kiss to your skin. “You don’t have to say anything.”

His fingers curled against your thighs, his grip tightening just enough to make you shiver. His touch was deliberate, lingering—like he wanted to take his time. Like he had no intention of letting you go.

You shuddered as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties. With a slow, deliberate tug, he began to drag them down, inch by excruciating inch, his knuckles grazing against your sensitive skin.

You could feel your heartbeat pounding between your legs as he finally eased your panties off completely, leaving you bare and exposed before him. His gaze was intense, almost reverent, as he took in the sight of you, his eyes darkening with desire.

Without saying a word, he parted your folds with his fingers, exposing your glistening, needy flesh to his hungry gaze. You felt a rush of heat flood your cheeks at the intimacy of the moment, your body trembling slightly under his touch.

Rafayel traced a single finger along your slit, not quite penetrating, but teasing you mercilessly. He gathered the moisture that had already begun to gather at your opening and brought his coated finger to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste you.

His eyes fluttered closed briefly at the flavor, a soft groan escaping his lips. “God, you taste so good, cutie.” he murmured, his voice rough and low.

A whine bubbled at your throat, “Rafayel, y-you…”

He dipped his finger between your folds once more, gathering more of your essence, before smearing it along your sensitive flesh. He didn’t push inside, didn’t give you the satisfaction of penetration just yet. Instead, he simply smeared your arousal along your slit and around your clit, teasing you with the lightest touch.

Rafayel reached for your hand, his fingers curling around yours as he guided it between your legs. He pressed your palm against your slick, heated flesh, urging you to start touching yourself.

“Touch yourself,” he commanded, his voice low and rough with desire. “I want to watch you pleasure yourself while I undress for you.”

With his other hand, he began to unbutton his shirt, his fingers working slowly, almost teasingly. He shrugged the garment off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor as he revealed his toned, pale chest.

His eyes never left yours as he reached for his belt, unbuckling it with deliberate slowness. The clinking of the metal made your heart race, your breathing growing more ragged as anticipation built.

“I want to see you touch yourself, cutie. Come on…” he murmured, his voice a low rumble. 

He shoved his pants down his hips, his hard, thick length springing free, already visibly aroused, slick forming at the tip. He wrapped a hand around himself, giving a single, slow stroke from base to tip.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered again, his voice leaving no room for hesitation. “Show me how much you need me.”

With trembling fingers, you began to touch yourself, tracing your slick folds and circling your aching clit. Soft mewling sounds escaped your lips as you pleasured yourself, your hips rolling instinctively into your touch.

Rafayel loomed over you, kneeling between your spread thighs, his gaze riveted to your face. He stroked himself slowly, his eyes dark and intense as he watched your every expression, every flicker of pleasure that crossed your features.

His other hand gripped your thigh, spreading your leg further, opening you more to his hungry gaze. “That’s it….” he murmured, his voice a low, approving rumble. “Touch yourself just like that.”

You could feel the heat of his body, the way his skin seemed to burn against yours. Your breath came in short, sharp gasps as you circled your clit faster, your fingers slick with your arousal.

Rafayel’s strokes grew more purposeful, his grip tightening around his thick length as he watched you. The sight of him touching himself while he stared at you with such raw, unbridled lust sent a surge of heat through your core.

“Rafayel,” you gasped, your back arching off the bed as you felt the first flutters of your impending release. Your fingers moved frantically over your clit, your body tensing, your thighs trembling.

“Don’t stop,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. “I want to watch you come undone. I want to see your face, cutie.”

His words, his intense gaze, the feeling of your fingers on your clit—it all pushed you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed through you, your body shaking and convulsing as waves of intense pleasure consumed you.

Through it all, Rafayel watched you, his strokes growing more urgent, more desperate as he chased his own release. The sight of your pleasure seemed to drive him wild, his chest heaving, his grip on himself almost punishing.

As your orgasm subsided, leaving you trembling and gasping, Rafayel let out a guttural groan. His strokes became erratic, his grip tightening around his throbbing length as he found his own release.

“Look at me. Just m-me.” he moaned, his voice cracking.

Your eyes locked, and almost immediately, thick ropes of his hot seed spilled from the tip of his cock, painting your stomach and thighs with his essence. The sight of his pleasure, the feeling of his warmth coating your skin, sent a fresh surge of desire coursing through you.

Before the last waves of his climax had even subsided, Rafayel pressed the swollen head of his cock against your sensitive, dripping folds. He coated himself in your arousal, mixing your fluids together as he teasingly parted your lower lips.

“Rafayel,” you whimpered, still sensitive from your own intense orgasm. The feeling of his hard, hot length pressing against your core made you clench and quiver with anticipation.

He didn’t push inside, not yet. Instead, he simply rubbed the head of his cock along your slit, up and down, coating himself fully in your slick heat. His eyes, dark and intense, stayed locked with yours, watching your every reaction.

“Tell me you want it,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. “Tell me you need my cock inside you…”

His words, the feeling of his hard length stroking your most intimate place, made your heart race and your breath come in short, sharp gasps. You could feel the heat of him, the way his skin seemed to burn against yours.

“I need it,” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please, Rafayel. I need you inside me.”

Rafayel cursed under his breath, “Fuck. You’re driving me insane.”

Agonizingly, he pushed the head of his cock inside you, a low groan rumbling in his chest at the feeling of your tight, wet heat enveloping just the tip. He paused there, his hips pressed against your inner thighs, as he savored the sensation.

Your back arched off the bed slightly, your hands fisting in the sheets below you. The stretch of you around him was delicious, the way your walls fluttered and clenched around just that small part of him.

“You feel incredible,” Rafayel breathed, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. His fingers dug into your hips, his grip tightening as he fought the urge to surge forward and bury himself fully inside you.

He rolled his hips forward just slightly, the head of his cock pushing in a little deeper, stretching you just a fraction more. The movement made you gasp, your fingers scrabbling at the sheets as a jolt of pleasure shot through you.

Rafayel’s eyes were glued to your face, watching every flicker of emotion and sensation cross your features. 

He let out a breathy chuckle, his lips curving into a smirk even as his cheeks and ears burned red. “Look at you,” he murmured, voice laced with amusement and something darker, more indulgent. “Clinging to me like this, and I’ve barely even started.”

You glared at him, your body trembling, “S-Shut up…”

His breath hitched, the smirk on his lips faltering for just a second before he leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours. “Can’t,” he rasped, his voice unsteady, tinged with something raw. “Not when you feel this good… not when you’re making it so damn hard to hold back.”

Rafayel couldn’t hold back any longer. With a low, guttural groan, he surged forward, burying his hard, thick length deep inside your tight, wet heat. He didn’t stop until he had pushed in to the hilt, his hips pressed flush against yours, his heavy balls nestling against your skin.

“See?” he murmured, voice rough, uneven. “Told you… I need you. Don’t ever—” His lips found your temple, your cheek, anywhere he could reach. “Don’t ever leave me…”

You bit your lower lip, before gasping, “I-I won’t Raf—”

Slowly, almost torturously so, Rafayel began to move. He withdrew until just the tip of his cock remained inside you, before thrusting forward again, burying himself to the hilt. He set a deep, powerful rhythm, each thrust pushing you further up the mattress.

His hands gripped your hips, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he held you in place. “If I ever tell you to leave me alone for a week again…” He let out a shaky laugh, pressing his forehead against yours. “Smack some sense into me, alright? Because that’s not me—never me.” 

He angled your hips to take him even deeper, his cock kissing your cervix with every driving thrust. The room filled with the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin, punctuated by your gasps and his grunts of pleasure.

His lips brushed against your ear, voice raw, pleading. “Let me hear you, c-cutie—oh!” A pause, a sharp inhale as he held you closer. “Don’t hold back.”

Your breath hitched, fingers clutching at him like he was the only thing keeping you grounded. “I—I’m not… just—” Your voice wavered, breaking into a gasp as heat curled in your spine. “Rafayel—”

His breath was hot against your skin, ragged and uneven. Then—sharp. A gasp tore from your lips as his teeth sank into your shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you shiver.

“Mine,” he mumbled against your skin, lips brushing over the fresh mark before he soothed it with his tongue. His grip on your waist tightened, like he wanted to pull you even closer—like even now, even here, it wasn’t enough.

He pressed another bite just below the first, this time lingering, as if engraving himself into you. Then he pulled back, gaze hooded, cheeks flushed, lips red. “There. Now you really can’t leave me alone for a week.”

Rafayel drew back, breathless, his lips hovering just above your skin. His eyes were heavy-lidded, dazed, his flushed cheeks still burning with heat—but then you saw it.

The mark.

Faint at first, but unmistakable, glowing softly against his chest, just above his heart, near his collarbone. It pulsed in rhythm with his ragged breaths, a delicate yet unyielding reminder of something ancient, something that had endured beyond time itself.

Your fingers lifted before you could think, you’ve always been drawn to it. Even more so now. The moment you touched it, Rafayel shuddered—a full-body tremor, like you had reached inside and wrapped your hand around his very soul. His breath hitched, eyes snapping to yours, wide with something raw.

“Cutie—” His voice was hoarse, almost pleading, but he didn’t move away. He couldn’t.

It’s like something in him snapped. Suddenly, Rafayel gripped your hips tightly, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises. He used the leverage to pull you towards him, meeting each of his powerful thrusts and pressing you even closer.

Your own body moved with the force of his actions, your breasts bouncing with every slam of his hips against yours. You could feel the coil of pleasure winding tighter and tighter in your core, your walls beginning to flutter and clench around his pistoning length.

“That’s it, c-cutie,” Rafayel grunted, his voice thick with desire and impending release. “Take it. Fuck, I can’t—you’re too much.”

He drove into you harder, faster, the bed creaking beneath the force of his thrusts. His balls slapped against your skin, the obscene sound spurring on his lust.

Suddenly, with a roar of your name, Rafayel slammed into you one last time. His cock jerked and throbbed as he found his release, thick ropes of his hot seed painting your insides. He ground his hips against yours, pressing as deep as he could go, making sure every last drop of his essence was buried inside you.

“Cutie—!” he bellowed, his body shuddering and convulsing above you. 

You could feel the heat of his release flooding your core, filling you up. Your own body responded in kind, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You cried out, your voice joining his in a symphony of pleasure as you came undone around him.

You both stayed like that for a while, the sound of your breaths mingling.

As Rafayel finally pulled away, you shuddered at the sudden loss of warmth, your body still thrumming from him. He huffed out a breath, his forehead dropping against yours as if gathering himself—his flushed cheeks and dazed eyes making him look almost boyish, despite everything he’d just done.

Then, in true Rafayel fashion, he smirked. “Tired, cutie?” His voice was hoarse, but smug.

You scoffed, swatting weakly at his shoulder. “You’re seriously asking me that?”

He chuckled, pressing a lazy kiss to your temple. “Just checking. Wouldn’t want my bodyguard passing out on duty.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t protest when he eased you onto your back, his hands already reaching for the discarded sheets to pull over you both. His fingers were surprisingly gentle as they traced over your skin, smoothing over every mark he’d left.

A comfortable silence settled between you as he ran his hands over your arms, your waist—touches more soothing than teasing now. Then, quietly, “You okay?”

You softened at that, at the way his usual bravado slipped just enough for you to see the raw concern underneath.

“I’m fine,” you reassured, brushing your knuckles over his cheek. “Though I think you owe me a week’s worth of massages for all that.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh, flopping dramatically beside you. “Demanding, aren’t you? First, you drag me out of my self-imposed exile, now you want labor?”

You smirked, shifting to drape yourself over his chest. “Shouldn’t have woken me up at 3 AM, then.”

Rafayel clicked his tongue but didn’t push you off. Instead, his arms curled around you, holding you so close it was almost suffocating—but in the best way. His lips ghosted over the crown of your head, lingering there.

“Not gonna make that mistake again,” he muttered. “Next time, just smack me back to my senses.”

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “Deal.”

likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated <3

if you want to check out more of my writings, head on to here — masterlist.

[chiramffn]

𝓪 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓮𝓬𝓽 𝓭𝓪𝔂 . . .

you and diluc have officially become husband and wife. finally alone in the quiet of your home after your wedding, the two of you embrace the intimacy of your first time together.

diluc ragnvindr x fem. reader — nsfw but not explicit. ♡ consummating marriage ノ diluc & reader are both virgins ノ reader is insecure ノ reader has tan skin ノ endearments: love, darling, beloved, sweetheart, wife, good/sweet girl ノ self ship coded. wc: 5.2k

꒰ this is a commissioned piece written by @wri0thesley. please consider supporting them! their comms are currently open. ꒱

it has been the perfect day.

you’d known it would be; you do not think that anything could really have spoilt it, even though you had worried and fretted in the month running up to the date. after all - you and diluc feel as though you have been waiting forever to be able to make everything properly, truly official. any day in which you and your beloved are able to be married in the eyes of barbatos and the law would have been a joyous occasion, you’re sure, even if you had done it with nobody to witness it but a hilichurl or two and you’d been wearing the same clothes as always and it had rained torrential downpour onto the two of you.

those things had not happened, of course.

you and diluc had a wedding ceremony that would not have been out of place in a fairytale; at once lavish and restrained, intimate but lovely. though he does wear the mantle of the uncrowned king of mondstadt (and, in turn, you suppose you have now taken the matching one as uncrowned queen - certainly, sometimes the citizens look at you with a fondness in their eye and a smile on their faces that you know comes from making diluc happy), he is at heart not a man who longs for ostentation.

diluc would have been just as happy as you to have gotten married in the middle of nowhere.

but adelinde had enjoyed the fuss of the wedding; of bedecking the winery in flowers and silks, in ordering the maids to pick fresh flowers from the gardens. diluc’s business associates, too, had seemed delighted to be able to recommend vintages - even now, there is a disused sitting room off from the main hall that is full of gifts both you and your beloved have not yet had the fortitude to face. it is such a lovely thought, of course, and you’re terribly grateful - but it is hard not to feel as though you have every gift you could ever want already, in the form of diluc ragnvindr by your side and the pretty plain golden band around your finger.

there had been a time you would not have thought yourself worthy of all of this. you wish, sometimes, you could go back to that version of you - the one with the bitten lip and the anxiety roiling in your stomach, convincing you that you would never be good enough - and simply tell them to be patient. there is somebody out there for everyone, even you - and your somebody? your somebody will be better than all of your wildest dreams combined. your somebody will kiss away your insecurities, gruff but sincere - he will open his heart for you and spill out his secrets and will listen to yours, and the two of you will be as entwined as two souls can ever be.

you would not have been able to imagine yourself in a beautiful gown with cecilia petals in your hair, walking down a sunlit aisle in the winery gardens with people who love you filling the ornate chairs dragged out from the hall for the occasion. would not have imagined the mondstadt citizens dabbing at their eyes with handkerchiefs (and certainly you would not have imagined the caliber of citizens that would come to your wedding! you would surely never have imagined the acting grand master, the cavalry captain, the most famous bards in the city).

but it has all happened.

it is all true.

the excitement has faded, now that the evening dusk has drawn in and the moon sits suspended in the night sky like a fat pearl amongst ripples of red-gold velvet. but you do not think the glow of the memory ever will; you do not think you will ever look back on this day and not see it as one of the most special of your life.

you sigh softly before the mirror as you finish pulling the petals out of your hair, your hand smoothing over the butter-soft satin of your nightgown. adelinde had asked you if you wished to put on your bed clothes before you and your husband had retired or if you wished to retire in your gown, a soft and knowing smile on her face at what she knew the wedding night would surely entail. she was not to stay in the winery for a week - you and diluc had decided for your first few days as a married couple (how strange it seems to say!), that you wanted to be the only two present. a honeymoon of sorts. a household ran by the two of you, as you enjoyed the matrimonial bliss and blindness that only two newlyweds ever do.

but still you had thought about diluc’s nervousness, the fiddly buttons and ribbons of the beautiful gown you’d spent the day in (and the structure of it, the lining and the embellishments), the tendency for his pyro vision to go a little haywire when his emotions were feeling muddled... and had haltingly asked her to help you put on one of the beautiful nightgowns that diluc had commissioned you for your bridal trousseau.

when you’d gone into the trousseau - in a beautiful cedarwood box, hand-carved all over with lamp-grass and windmills - you had found that he had already picked out a wedding nightgown, and your heart had swelled with love for him all over again.

it is hard to sit there in front of the mirror and hear diluc running a basin of water in the adjoining washroom and know what is coming. though you had briefly felt beautiful today, under diluc’s gaze in lovely fabrics and the perfect lighting of a beautiful summer day... confronted with yourself, you feel that familiar old insecurity creeping along your spine like an unwelcome friend. your nightgown is beautiful, too - the finest silk you’ve ever felt, the lace gossamer-delicate, the embroidery tiny and detailed and a work of art in its own right. you wonder if perhaps you do not deserve to wear it and you feel the familiar pricking at the back of your eyes.

if diluc walks in right now, and sees you like this... perhaps these past few years will mean nothing. perhaps he will see you as you really are and will realize that he has made a mistake, and you are not the woman he wishes to spend the rest of his life with. perhaps he will regret making you his wife.

the splash of water stops; you hear a familiar heavy tread on the floorboards. the door adjoining the bedroom creaks open, and you are poised to cry, poised to run, poised to apologize for the mere act of being yourself—

and then diluc is standing there, looking at you with his eyes so full of tenderness you can barely breathe, and he speaks your name in a voice that is more like a prayer. you turn, your hair falling over your shoulders, and he moves across the room as if he is in a trance to kneel before you.

even kneeling, he is tall; even kneeling does not take away the breadth of his shoulders or the way that his own nightshirt falls over his muscular arms. the collar is open, and you can see a hint of the scars lying beneath the linen, the promise of the dark auburn hair that spreads across his chest.

“you look beautiful,” he rumbles, his voice low and dark and adoring. one of his big hands finds yours - your own looks so small, caught in his like this. at the glint of gold in the oil lamps, you realize that the hands being held are both decorated with your wedding rings. diluc brings your hand to his lips, a dusky flush working its way across his high, proud cheekbones - and he presses a kiss over the band.

“mrs ragnvindr,” he says to you, his full mouth pulling at the corners - and then he sighs, dark lashes fluttering closed for a moment. “you have no idea how long i’ve waited to call you that.”

you smile at him, your insecurity briefly muffled by the reverent way he is taking you in.

“about as long as i’ve waited to hear you say it,” you tell him, and you win a slow, deep laugh from him that turns to concern when he notices, suddenly, that your eyes are reddened and there is a definite line of tension in your shoulders.

“my love?” he rumbles. “is everything alright?”

you don’t know how to put words to all of the feelings that are washing over you; it is a tidal wave of emotion that you are currently ensconced within, and it feels all so very much that you let out a ragged gasp. immediately, he is all concern, standing up and pulling you into him, cradling you like something small and precious against his bulk.

“you can tell me anything,” he whispers into the soft thick strands of your hair. “anything, beloved. i promise.”

your fingers twist anxiously into the soft linen of his nightshirt and quietly, you whisper against his chest where his heart is beating rapidly enough you fancy you can hear it;

“i’m afraid, ‘luc...”

his grip on you tightens, as if merely by holding you he can shield you from anything in the world that could make you scared. there are fewer places that feel safer than diluc’s arms, and it is almost enough to calm you.

“what are you scared of, my darling?” his voice is like the lap of waves against the sea, and you steel yourself to say it aloud, lest you saying it makes him realize it is true.

“what if... what if i’m not good enough? not good enough to be your wife. not good enough at... at this...”

he flushes again, and his skin heats up even through the fabric. his grip on you does not falter, though, and he takes you by the arms to gently, gently steer you across the room. you allow yourself to give in to the feeling of his guidance; to be gently pushed onto the bed as diluc takes a seat beside you. his hand finds yours again, comforting and calloused and warm as he rubs his thumb over your palm.

“if... if you do not want to, yet,” he says, “i won’t make you, darling.”

“i-it’s not that!” it bubbles out of you, and the vehemence with which you say it surprises both you and him - diluc’s big wine-dark eyes find yours, and you see them crinkle at the corners. a soft laugh falls from your lips before you can stop it, and diluc smiles at you with such heartbreaking sweetness it makes your teeth ache.

“well,” he says, lowly and just a little shyly. “i’m glad to hear that. because i...” he swallows, and you see the visible bob of his throat. “i have very much been looking forward to it, my love.”

a flare of heat makes itself known, low in your belly. your throat goes suddenly dry at the way his tone dips. you have thought about it before - you and diluc have discussed it, both shyly admitting that you have not yet given yourselves to other people in such a way... but this is all very real, now.

“i’m afraid,” you say, all in a rush to ensure that the words come out. “i’m afraid that you will find me lacking. that you’ll regret it. that i’m not...” helplessly, you gesture at yourself. “i’m not desirable or lovely or good enough for you—”

“no.” the force with which diluc speaks surprises you this time; you almost jump, but then diluc is lovingly curving his hot palm around your jaw and pulling you into him, making you look directly into his eyes. “you are more than enough for anybody. you are... beyond what i could ever have hoped for.” he swallows again. professions of love are not his strong point; he had wooed you with actions more than words, always a little gruff and awkward behind the gentlemanly looks and pedigree. “and if you could see yourself the way that i see you...” he exhales, his breath hot, shifting closer to you on the bed so that your own throat goes dry.

“‘luc...”

“my beautiful wife,” he whispers, and he leans into you - drops a feather light kiss upon your forehead, the apples of your cheeks, the tip of your nose. “will you allow me to show you how beautiful you are to me? how much i want you?”

one of his arms slips around your waist, strong and sure and certain. the silken fabric of your nightgown rubs against your skin and you feel that ache within you start anew, heat coiling tightly between your thighs as diluc’s mouth comes to a standstill a hair’s breadth from your own lips.

“only if i can show you the same,” you whisper to him in the space between your mouths, and then he is kissing you.

you and he have kissed before, of course. though you have reserved this most intimate of acts for your wedding night, you are intimately familiar with the feel of his embrace, of his mouth on yours. he tastes like the sweet grape juice that you had both imbibed at the reception of the wedding, neither of you wanting to drink and forget a single moment of the day. his lips upon yours are sweet and loving, adoring, just a little hungry. you sigh softly into his mouth as one of his big, warm hands slides up the side of your body again, as he traces the shape of you through the fabric.

“we ought to get on the bed,” you whisper, breaking the kiss for just a fraction of the moment. your cheeks go hot, and diluc cannot resist kissing them again. “for... for this part.”

“anything,” he says, fervently, and then he repeats it as if he cannot believe it is true; “anything for my beautiful wife.”

it does not matter how many times he says it, you think dimly, as the two of you rearrange yourselves on the bed so that you are laid upon the soft pillows and diluc’s hips have slotted between your thighs, rucking up the soft satin of your nightgown. you do not think you will ever get sick of it; not when it feels like you have waited an eternity to hear it.

he does not yet make any move to disrobe you. his mouth finds your jawline, your ear, your throat - and with every kiss, too, he murmurs sweet nothings against your sweat slicked skin. he murmurs how he loves you, how beautiful you looked today, how beautiful you look now - and you do not hesitate to whisper back adoration in return. your hands tangle in his hair, hanging loose about his face, fingers finding the soft crimson curls and tugging gently when you want him to return to kissing you.

it gives you both time to get to know one another’s body; to become comfortable with the idea of what it is that is about to occur, so that the thought of losing your virginity to one another no longer seems remotely frightening but instead simply a natural step. you learn what it feels like to have his body atop of yours; the heat between his thighs, the strength in his hands. and in return he learns the soft curves of you; the rise and fall of your chest, the give that your hips have when he takes ahold of them, the softness of your own thighs.

“‘luc?” you whisper, after a few more minutes of the kissing and the whispers. “my love?” you swallow. “may i... take off your nightshirt?”

his head moves from where it is pressed against your shoulder, kissing the soft tanned skin there. his cheeks are red again. you realize with a start that he is just as nervous as you are to be fully bared before you, and you cannot quite parse it - not when he is so beautiful he makes your breath catch and your heart feel as though it is about to stop. diluc being insecure feels like something unfathomable.

but he breathes through it. he smiles at you.

“may i take off your nightgown in return, sweetheart?” he asks you, and there is only the slightest shake in his voice when he does it. you go warm all over but the warmth is not merely embarrassment, you realize, as his big fingers gently curl around the delicate hem. it is excitement, too.

you give him a wordless nod. your breath sticks in your throat as he slowly and carefully begins to lift the hem of your nightgown, and you feel that fear again - your hand comes out and rests across his wrist for one moment, effectively stopping him in his tracks. you breathe in and out, deeply and slowly.

“my love?” he asks, and you nod, slowly letting go of his wrist. he smiles at you and presses a kiss to your forehead, murmuring softly; “good girl. you need only ask me to stop for a moment, if it’s... too much. and i will do the same.”

your heart aches at how perfect he is being, even now. you have heard stories of brutish husbands, as all young women do - you are indescribably lucky, then, that diluc is no such thing. that he is willing to go as slowly as you need, so this experience is not merely the loss of your virginities, but... gaining something more. something new and wonderful.

by degrees, he gently takes off your clothing - reverently places the expensive silk to one side. by degrees, he helps your own trembling hands remove his own, until the two of you are as the archons made you, utterly bare to gazes at once reverent and hungry and shy.

he’s just as beautiful as you always knew he would be.

you’ve seen him shirtless before; you’ve bandaged his wounds for him, on hard days. you’ve taken a dip in your underclothes in the lake behind the winery, laughing and splashing him. but you’ve never quite seen him like this, in the golden glow of the evening with the knowledge that he is your husband, and the two of you now belong to one another in a way that makes you breathless to even think.

his skin is paler than yours, littered with old scars from sword fights and training and time spent wandering teyvat he does not always talk about. dusted with dark red hair at the chest and over his arms, leading into a vee at his pelvis that sets your pulse racing. he’s wide, muscular and handsome, a kind of reassuring strength that makes you feel at once safe and delicate. he’s... so much bigger than you.

(he’s big everywhere, but despite how it calls to you, his gaze and his mouth and his adoring eyes call to you more).

he gives you a teasing smile, but the anxious tilt of his eyebrows speak of a fear he isn’t ready to say aloud.

“do i please you, sweet girl?” he asks, and you feel your cheeks go hot and you let out a little puff of air as one of those big hands slides up your own bare side, lingering on the soft skin of your stomach, curving over to cup the flesh of your breast in one hand. calloused fingers brush against the sensitive points and you whine in the back of your throat, back arching involuntarily. “because you . . .” a swallow again, his throat dry. “you’re even more beautiful than i thought you would be.”

“f-flatterer,” you whisper, but it doesn’t matter - for diluc can see how you melt beneath him, how you seem to almost give him yourself. “i bet you say that to all of the women you marry—”

“as if i could ever want anyone but you,” he replies tenderly, and he kisses you again. this time, you feel his naked body pressing against yours. any fears that you harboured before seem to float to the back of your mind in the luxurious sensation of his body, bare, where it meets all of the bare parts of you. he does not push, either - he does not try to hurry along the process, though heat and stiffness and slickness against your inner thigh suggest he is eager for what is going to happen.

he kisses you, instead. the two of you get used to the feeling of being together like this, naked body against naked body. the swell of your chest against the musculature of his; your stomach, a little softer, where his abdomen is planes of muscle. his hands, learning you by heart - and, too, teaching you new things about your body you had never realized.

before diluc’s fingers had skimmed them as softly as if they were glass, you had not realized the sensitivity of the soft part of your upper arms. before his mouth had brushed across it like a feather, you had not known that to be kissed on your collarbone like that would make your throat go dry and the twists of heat in your stomach almost unbearable.

too, you had not realized that the spot beneath diluc’s earlobe was such a perfect space for kissing, that it would make him groan and shudder. you had not realized how much tracing the scar on his hip would make him tremble with need for you.

you feel the answering throb of his own excitement - the twitch of velvety smooth skin against your thigh, the way his words get caught in his throat at the flurry of need. and you find that, like an answering beacon, your own body responds to it - your own body gives its own thrum of wanting, the desire for your husband echoing all through you like a drumbeat.

“diluc?” you whisper against his shoulder, pressing an absent-minded kiss there as the need inside of you grows too pressing to ignore. “i... i think i’m ready.”

diluc lets out a soft exhale that might be relief or excitement or nerves or any other thing, even as you feel the weight of him twitch against your inner thigh again at the words.

“are you sure, my love?” he asks, peppering your own face with kisses. “are you certain?”

you’d expected to be more nervous, actually. you had thought that there would be more hesitation in your words, that the idea of all of this might hang heavier - but it is not like that at all. you are certain that there is nowhere else in the world you would rather be. certain you have had one of the most beautiful days of your life. certain that diluc is your one true love, that you want to share the rest of your life with him...

and certain, too, that you want to share this with him.

you want to give him yourself and receive him in return. you smile up at him where he hovers above you, those beautiful crimson eyes so full of adoration. you give him a small nod, and whisper:

"yes."

he uses one of his hands to find yours; the left, where both of your wedding rings glint in the bedroom, a symbol of your love and your commitment and your intention to be with him for eternity. his thick fingers intertwine with your own as he gently presses your hand down beside your head on the pillow, and his other hand goes to help part your thighs, to rearrange you so that the position is comfortable for you both.

“tell me,” he whispers, “if you need me to go slower—”

your own spare hand curves around back, your fingers finding purchase in the muscles that knot and shift there - and as he presses forward, in the sting of being claimed, your nails dig into the skin.

there is no need for you to dwell on the particulars. all that matters is diluc, above you, inside you, joined with you - all that matters is his mouth when he kisses you, the beating of his heart against yours, the way the two of you gaze into one another’s eyes as your relationship breaches this final hurdle.

“my darling,” diluc whispers, in between the slow, unsteady rocks of his hips.

“my love,” he says to you, as his breath becomes unsteady in his chest, as his eyes flutter closed.

“my beloved,” he begs, as your fingers rake down his back, leaving pink crescent moon scratches that he will wear like badges of honour.

“my wife,” he murmurs to you, his eyes drawn to the wedding ring on your hand, as the world seems to narrow to a point of nothing but the two of you.

and oh, it feels good. to be filled and taken and claimed like this and to know you are doing the same thing back to him. it stokes the heat in your belly, makes the twisting warmth grow and glow with each breath and thrust and rock. your insecurities are chased away by the way he looks at you; the fears you will be found wanting unimportant compared to the sheer joy of what the two of you are sharing.

you respond to his words. you whisper how beautiful he is when he whines, his eyes closing, his hips rocking forwards. you whisper how much you love him with tears clogging your eyes, getting caught in your lashes— and with a whimper in reply, he kisses those same tears from your cheeks as delicately as he has every other time.

time stands still.

perhaps it still goes on, outside of the sanctity of your bedroom, but it does not matter to the two of you. there is just the slow soft inexorable stretch of your husband inside of you, the way your bodies are joined, the sparkling joy of being with the person you are supposed to spend your life with.

there is, too, the rising heat within you. the way that your hips begin to lift to chase his own, as you realize what that knot that has been growing in you all day truly signifies. diluc’s hips beginning to shake, as he chases it himself—

and then there is the climax, the pleasure and joy that rushes through you and fills you as diluc whispers out your name and you cry out his and the two of you reach that peak, together, the way it ought to be. you have done everything else together; you have always felt equal to him. it is only right that this moment, too, is shared so beautifully and equally between the two of you.

there is liquid heat within you and you allow yourself to dwell on it, for just a moment; you imagine a future where the winery is a family home, growing old with diluc beside you, the warm domesticity of a life that neither of you ever thought you would get. summers and winters and holidays. windblume and ludi harpastum, wedding anniversaries, the first cry of a child—

diluc collapses against you, slipping out, his breath hot on your skin as he whispers;

“i love you, i love you, i love you.”

you love him too. more than you ever thought possible to love another person. your fingers reach for his hair, gently tugging through the damp strands as he sighs and kisses your neck, your chest, the place above your beating heart.

“you’re amazing,” he tells you, and you glow with adoration for him. “my wife. my beautiful, perfect... my wife.” he says it like he cannot quite believe it, and you laugh, your throat sore from the cries he has recently wrung from your throat.

“i am only as beautiful and perfect as my husband,” you tell him, and kiss the top of his head - and diluc moves, draws himself up a little so that he can look down on you with a perfectly serious expression on his handsome face.

“you have no idea how much i adore you,” he tells you, and you feel tears of love bead in the corners of your eyes again, a swell of pure emotion cresting inside of you. “you have no idea how you make me feel... my beautiful wife. my safe harbour. if i can make you understand a fraction of how important you are...” he shakes his head, and you see a single tear track down his own cheek.

you cannot stop yourself launching yourself up to him, wrapping your arms about his neck, pulling him down to lay beside you in the bed again in the afterglow of what the two of you have just done. you stroke his hair, you kiss his cheeks, you brush his tears away.

“mr ragnvindr,” you whisper to him. “i am honoured to be your wife. and i will spend the rest of my life making sure that you know how much i love you in turn.”

“i suppose we’re both just romantics at heart,” he says to you, his smile tender and aching. there is sweat drying on your skin, the sheets are rumpled, the pillows displaced, your hair a mess and diluc’s no better... but you think you have never felt more beautiful, more right, than you do at this exact moment.

in time, diluc will run a bath with expensive oils imported from liyue. will ensure that his strength did not hurt you, will kiss the place there is a small bruise blooming on your hip from the imprint of his fingers, will insist you let him put the sheets to rights and will need your help to make sure that they are properly tucked under (adelinde being on her little holiday, whilst the two of you enjoy your honeymoon).

but for now...

for now, you lay beside your husband in your marital bed in the sweet glow of your first times. you look at your husband next to you, and the smile on his face, the creases of worry gone. you think of the future.

you think of more nights tangled within one another, learning each other’s bodies, giving and receiving pleasure in all of the ways that it is possible to do so—

and you smile as you kiss him.

a perfect day, indeed.

and you had ended it with a perfect night.

thank you again nat for this lovely piece! ♥️

[chiramffn]

#beautiful #lovehimsm

Hiya!! I have a WuWa request, how about Reader stargazing with Jiyan and them talking about some deep topic of ur choice while stargazing? Only if you’re up for it tho! Don’t push urself. Have a good day!

A/N: Thank you for your request anon! I hope you enjoy this :)

Contents: Jiyan x GN!Reader, angst and sadness

Low calls of an owl echo over the breath of the breeze, the soft sighs of nature enveloping you in its embrace. Your head is supported by the lush grass, and Jiyan’s bicep that he insisted you lay on. His tone was low and a soft timbre compared to its commanding tone when he was performing his duties. Jiyan’s body exudes warmth and comfort, and in all the ways you needed him, he was there.

“You shouldn’t be so reckless..” He’d mutter, golden eyes dark from drinking in the serene, dark scenery up above. Little stars were freckled across the sky like little faded droplets of milk, counting up to billions of the same, yet not one less beautiful than the other. 

The towering mountains sprouted from the ground so high, long rocks fingers reaching as far as possible, as if trying to grasp the fading lights and the moon itself.

“I know.. I try, Jiyan. Yet, I really can’t just stand by and watch, especially when I see you in the midst of it all, surrounded or cornered..” you respond back, quiet, not willing to disturb this serenity.

He hums, wordlessly in disagreement of your response yet he can’t bring himself to say anything in that exact moment. His mind is plagued by images of your exhausted form slumping behind a fallen tree trunk, and skin grimy with sweat and dirt. 

“I know you mean well, and you are doing your best. Yet, you are not a Midnight Ranger, love, you are not a soldier. This.. battlefield is not your place to be in” Jiyan says, his gaze leaving the midnight sky and falling on you, seeing the way your nose curved and how your eyes were much darker in the absence of a lamp or a fire. “I am the General, the leader of these men, and I don’t need you to step in for me, love..”

He sees your eyes lower to stare at nothing in particular, lashes fluttering while your throat bobbed with unease. His words rang true, but you couldn’t find yourself accepting them.  

“I need you alive... and I need you safe. While I can do my absolute best at shielding you while you are here, I cannot stand true to my promise to you if you’re jumping head first into hot water. Not when you do so behind my back”

“Jiyan… “ you sigh, trailing off, your lips opening and then closing as you try to pry your brain for a response that would get him to be more lenient, to see your side too.

“I know..” you say, your eyes finding his as you turn your face towards him. “I know.. I know you are doing your best, and I don’t wish to burden you with my-” “You are not a burden” “I know, Jiyan- let me talk.. please”

His lips press into a firm line and he gives you a small nod, encouraging you to keep going while his eyes apologize for cutting you off. One hand came to trace your cheek, he was almost laying on his side now.

“I don’t want to make your time more difficult, especially not when we’re in the middle of a battle. But don’t send me back to the city, please.. I can’t bear not being close to where I can see you. I am still useful here, perhaps not as a professional warrior or a soldier or a gunner, but I can help and I can learn too.. You talk about your promise to keep me safe, but what about our promise to stay alive... and with each other?”

Your question renders his thumbing of your cheeks slow before his fingers stop altogether in tracing your features, instead cupping the side of your face in his calloused palm. “I haven’t forgotten about that..'' he simply replies, the heaviness in his chest too great, making him unable to sigh to rid himself of it.  Fatigue hangs heavy over your heads, but neither of you are willing to cut the conversation or this moment short.

“Don’t send me back.. There is nothing for me there..” Not without you- it goes without being said, and he feels it in his bones that he can’t argue with you on this, you’ll both remain stubborn on your stances. He knows he’ll have to put restrictions on you, to keep you safe, but until then he’ll enjoy this night of reprieve with you. The tent he sleeps in feels like a bed of nettles without you, and the way he’s comfortable laying on nothing more but this lush grass speaks volumes of that. He does not feel cold or irritated. Jiyan is at peace.

But he has to send you back, he tells himself, but not yet.. Tomorrow, or maybe the day after, until you forget about this conversation, and until the next cargo drop off comes in. Then, he’ll send you back.

“And we will be together, my love. You must be patient. You are my northern star in these dark nights, are you aware of that? The most precious person to me, one I hold within my heart itself.. I can’t afford to lose you..” he whispers to you as you watch him with pleading and loving eyes. You tip your chin up, brushing your nose against his and with that simple motion he is leaning in to grant your wordless wish, satiating your desire for closeness with a kiss to your lips.

The arm underneath your head stirs and he wraps it around his shoulders, bringing you in closer, flush against him, and you’re wrapping your arms around him and kissing him with fervor and unspoken love. Closer, closer, stay with me, don’t leave..

He holds you with such tender touches, holds you like you may fade away like sunlight before the long night, feather light touches tracing your cheeks and chin and moving towards the back of your head. He pulls away for a moment, his forehead pressing against yours as you both inhale the same air. “I love you” - it’s you who blurts it out before he gets the chance to do so, and his eyes widen with surprise. His heart drums in his chest, and he presses his lips to your again, in search of water to quell his worry, and for a forgiveness. Every note of love is interwoven in his actions, his touches and his kisses. Were the world any less cruel, it would have granted you two the eternity of this night, to forever be here and watch the skies in tranquility. 

Black night covers you both in a blanket of stardust and far galaxies, bringing you safety if only but this night alone, undisturbed by monsters or people. And as Jiyan pushes himself to his elbow to loom over you, chasing your lips, a lone star flies across the vast sky, flickering out and leaving behind a silver fading tail.

Maybe.. just maybe, the universe heard your wishes. 

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[chiramffn]

I Love You

this is just a little brainrot of mine about Rafayel. I love him so much!

The sun is about to set. You and Rafayel are cuddling together in his bed, while looking at the colors in the ocean. Those colors are so beautiful.

“Have I ever say how much I love you today?” Your voice is suddenly breaking the silence.

 “No, not at all.” The smug in that sentence is very palpable even though you cannot see them. He have no idea what kind of scenario you have in your mind.

“Okay! That’s it, then. I will tell you a lot now!” You pull away from his embrace and stare at him.

“Wait…”

“I love you, Rafayel.” You cut him off.

And then you kiss his jawline.

“My amazing artist…”

Another kiss on his collarbone.

“My great lover…” You keep musing.

Another kiss on his chest, right above his heart.

“…who is also have a great heart…”

“Hey-I-“ His words being cut cause you kiss his jaw again.

“….and also very witty…”

Then you look up at him and say,

“…and he is also very cute when this part of him is pouting.”

A kiss landed on his lips as you finished saying that sentence. Speechless is written all over his face.

“Very cute.”

Another kiss. And then twice. And thrice.

His face is as red as the ocean with sunset in it now. But you are not finish yet,

“I love you very very much, my love.”

-fin-

[chiramffn]

Happy birtday, my love. Wishing the happiest birthday to you. And I am so in love with the cake I made you in game.

[chiramffn]

Sorry, It Was Me

(Rafayel x OC(f); hurt with comfort, fluff in the end)

(author made this while listening to Afterglow by Taylor Swift and Love Me Again by V a lot)

***

“Seriously, what was wrong with me?”

He yelled at his canvas for the fourth time of the day.

It was wrong. Rafayel knows this. Yelling and arguing with each other were not the answer to a problem. Perhaps they can blame their work for taking tolls on them.

Thomas kept bothering him with the deadline these days. He said something about the sponsor of the exhibition? Or was it something about the venue? He can’t remember anymore. And for her, the wanderers are just going rampant in Linkon. The news about the hunters is always in the air even now. All those stresses just resulting them head-butting each other on one rare occasion when they finally met. They are just on the edge of anger all the time and very sensitive. The usual playful banter just spiraled down into a yelling contest. A clear mind was nowhere to be found.

(Flashback)

“Oh, I’m sorry that I can’t be there for you, Rafayel. I’m just busy keeping the city safe these days. Have you seen the news? Wanderers appear more and more in this one week!”

Sara is walking back and forth, trying to calm herself. It’s not working though. She hears a scoff from the couch.

“Oh yeah? Sorry that I bother you so much by asking for your attention. This particular painting has just been so difficult and Thomas keeps pressuring me about it. So, I just want some attention from you! My lover! Who would have thought that you FINALLY could come here because he asked you? It’s been a while, Sara! And you came because he asked you?” tells him, eyes very intense with anger.

“I told you, I AM busy! And Thomas just worried about you, you know? I can’t help-”

Rafayel stands from the couch. “Ah, so you side with him!”

“There is no side here, Rafayel.”

“Well, you just defended him. You are on his side! I can’t believe it. I want some attention from my girlfriend, but she keeps working non-stop, and one time she finally came here, she defended another man.”

“Rafayel, you are being so childish right now. “

“Sara! I just want you to prioritize ‘us’ more!”

“That is rather demanding. You know how I love my job!”

“And I. Love. You. Honestly, Y/N, why did you agree to go out with me? Do you even love me?”

Staring at him from across the room, she didn’t believe what she just heard.

“Of course, I do! I wouldn’t go out with someone I don’t like?”

Crossing his arm, Rafayel stared back at her, “But your action now said the opposite!”

Silence followed for a while and she just murmured, “I can’t believe this.” and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I can’t be around you right now, Rafayel.”

And with that, she just walked out of the studio.

***

All of that happened three days ago. Yet, there is still no news from her.

He tried to reach out to her, yes. Even three days ago, after several minutes after she walked out. It clicked right away in him that they said things they shouldn’t have to each other just now. But of course, she didn’t answer her phone. Again.

Three days. Three days without anything from her. His heart cannot help but keep beating anxiously. Being new to this relationship thing, does not help with negative thoughts which are swimming around his mind. Is he being forgotten again? Was she walking out because she was giving up on him? Is this relationship going to be okay? Is she okay? What if she is hurt because of him?

He cannot help but keep making mistakes in his painting these several days. Every brush stroke that he did just feels very wrong. Nothing is right. All is a mess.

“Maybe I should just go to her place.” is what he is thinking. This will be going nowhere if both of them keep whatever is happening right now in between them.

He was just cleaning his hands in the bathroom when he heard a faint call of his name.

“Rafayel…?”

Oh, how he misses her voice.

Sara is walking in his studio. Her head is turning left and right, searching for him. And then their eyes met. Rafayel can’t help but walk fast towards her. But as he got closer, he noticed there are some bruises in her face and hands. Sweet smile that just adorned his face slowly fading into a concerned frown.

“What happened?”

“Rafa-”

His eyes are observing every bruise that he can see now. Very unhappy with them.

“Are they coming from a wanderer? Or is there someone I need to get my hands on?”

Sara is confused at first but then he realizes what he means. “What? No. No. It’s just wanderers. It’s okay. I want to talk to you first.”

He took her hand in his and said, “As much as I do want to talk to you first too, I can’t, you are hurt. Let’s take care of them first.”

“But, Rafa-” She is silenced. The intense gaze that he suddenly gave her made her lips just shut. And seeing her finally agreeing, he ushered her to sit on the couch.

“Wait here, I’ll take the first aid kit.”

***

Sara is staring at the beautiful man in front of him. God, he is beautiful, she thought. And I think I hurt this beautiful and kind man.

She still remembers them clearly. All the words that they threw at each other. She called him demanding, and childish, and then just walked out. What in the world was wrong with me? She thought. Now regret just keeps filling up her heart and mind. And so is sorry.

“So, are you going to tell me what happened or am I supposed to wait until you finish looking at me like I am an art piece?” says Rafayel who is cleaning up the last bruise on her knuckle.

She chuckles a little.

“It was just as usual. Wanderers. This one type is very fast and I was…not in the right head space so it got me. And apparently, they keep happening again after that.”

“You hesitate?”

“I was thinking about our..fight. Rafayel, my love, I-“

The pet name is back, Rafayel thought. And he cuts her to the chase and says it first, “I am sorry.”

She was just about to open her mouth again, but close it again after seeing him about to continue his sentence.

“I am very sorry that my stresses and emotions took the better of me three days ago. I know I shouldn’t have said all those things to you. I am very very sorry.”

He took both of her hands. His eyes are staring at his thumb rubbing gently the area he just bandaged.

“You have no idea how precious you are to me. Priceless. No one can compare to you, princess. And the idea I just hurt you with my words, I can’t bear that. I keep thinking about you. Especially after the fight.”

He continues again, “I said many thing I didn’t mean at all. Asking if you love me at all? I shouldn’t do that. Then, I keep thinking if things gonna be alright. I keep thinking of where you are at the time. I keep thinking if I should contact you first or give you some space. ‘Is it okay if I gave her some space?’ I said to myself. ‘Or will the space make things worse and make you feel I don’t care about you?’ Not to mention I was being so demanding of you so I don’t wanna burden you more. I have all these thoughts. Making me realize once more how irreplaceable you are to me, love.”

He moves his hands to hold her face. Unconsciously, Sara is leaning on one of his hands while maintaining their eye contact.

“I love you with all I am and with all I have, princess. And I am sorry for hurting you with my actions.”

Moved is an understatement to what Sara is feeling right now. Her heart is just bubbling with emotions and she can feel her eyes are getting misty. She tried to fix her sitting position and trying to get closer to him.

“As much as you hold my heart preciously…”

Sara took his hand and put it in her chest, right above her heart. Then Sara leaned down and kiss the area above his heart too.

“… yours is something I hold very dearly too. This is very precious for me…”

Sara heard his gasp. She also can feel the faster beat of his heart. Then she leans her forehead to his chest.

“I love you very much, Rafayel. You have no idea.”

She kisses his chest again.

“My love.”

And then she kisses his collarbone.

“My treasure.”

Another kiss.

“My amazing other half.”

Sara keeps muttering sweet-nothings as she kisses his jaw, his cheek, and then his nose. His face is getting redder and redder. Yet, his eyes hold so much. When their eyes met, Sara can see affection, love, and eyes that getting misty. Holding his face in her hands, she says what she has been itching to say since she entered this room,

“And I am very sorry if I hurt this precious heart. It was very wrong for me to call you childish, and demanding, and then just walk out like that. This love you have for me. There is no single intention in me to hurt you, my dearest. I love you.”

Rafayel’s gaze is intense right now. Those blue and magenta swirling emotionally around each other. Suddenly he turned his head away from her,

“Now you’ve done it! I can’t help but accept the apologies, aren’t I?”

He turns his head again and covers her hands with his on his cheeks. Smiling while leaning down, he said something that she would never get tired of hearing it.

“I love you very much too, princess. 'Till the end of time."

***

(a/n: sorry if this is still farrrr from good. I am still learning to write more and more these days. If you guys want to leave your critics, I’m open to them. Thank you for reading!^^)

[chiramffn]

Sunrise - Rafayel

Pairing: Rafayel x Reader

Warnings: none.

Summary: You visit Rafayel in your day off, and he asks you to watch the sunrise with him.

Word count: 1k-ish?

It was a warm day, uncharacteristically clear and sunny. There were no energy fluctuations and you were off duty —at the cost of the stitches on your side and a sore back, but you wouldn’t look a gifted horse in the mouth.

It must have been the strangeness of it all that made you visit Rafayel of your own volition, a quick call to let him know before leaving your house.

“Aw, miss me already?” 

“More like missing your absurdly expensive sofa.”

You could hear his smile from the other side of the line.

“What if I sold it? Would you sit on the floor with me?” 

“Maybe. Would you lend me your shoulder to rest my head on?” 

“I would lend you my heart if you asked nicely,” he flirted, playful and infuriatingly charming. 

You laughed, accommodating the take out bags in your free hand.

“Right now I only need your hands to open the door. I come bearing gifts.”

-

Once your bellies were full with Frutti Di Mare and a cup of Rafayel’s wine from half across the world and double the aging, you found yourself sitting by his side on the beach.

He was thankfully wearing a light, white shirt and loose navy pants, hair tousled in a way that felt oddly domestic.

The breeze was kind against your cheeks, and it wasn’t too crowded, nostalgic with the occasional laughter from children over the crashing waves.

“I woke up really early today,” Rafayel commented after a moment of contemplation. “Like, unnaturally early.”

You huffed, still admiring the horizon. It was close to sunset, and the sky was an explosion of yellow, orange, and lilac.

“Congratulations?” 

His following sigh rivaled the one of a martyr, or perhaps a saint bearing the burden of knowledge. 

“What I’m trying to tell you, Miss Antagonistic, is that I awoke just in time with the sunrise. As I opened my eyes, the sky was like a field of fire. 

“Anything could have been hiding there, a dragon whipping through wheat, or a mischievous fox hiding amongst golden bushes.”

Your full attention was fully on him now.

You’d never say it to his face, but you especially liked how he spoke. It was both whimsical and authentic, something rare.

It awakened a reflective side of you, validated questions formulated years and years ago in your childish mind.

He called your name, playful.

“Watch the sunrise with me?” 

You smiled. What a hopeless romantic.

“Mmm,” you tilted your head to the side, observing him from your shoulder. “I don’t know, what’s in it for me?”

“Beyond the pleasure of my company, you mean?” 

“You must have gotten some seawater in your brain if you think that your company is anything but trouble.” 

He pouted. 

“Don't come then, I’ll watch it with Ren.”

“You mean your pet fish?” You laughed.

Contrasting emotions bloomed in Rafayel’s features, his lips were twisting at the edge of a smile, but his brow was furrowed in annoyance.

“You are a bad, bad woman.”

You just kept on laughing, arms pressing into each other as you leaned against him for support. 

Without knowing why, he felt himself beginning to laugh too.

“What’s so funny?” He complained, irritation crumbling halfway as he felt your warmth seep into his side, chased after the creases forming at the sides of your eyes.

“How would you even get Ren to see, anyway? Were you going to bring his aquarium outside?” 

You leaned closer to meet his gaze, holding back your laughter for the sake of his dignity.

Rafayel felt his breath stutter, drunk on the scent of your perfume—the one he gave you. Even then, it still carried something uniquely yours.

He wished you’d only laugh that way with him, that he could hold on to the sound like a secret. He wanted to hide you from the world, so only he could experience the wonder of being with you.

He was selfish like that.

Your pupils were dilated, mirth dimming into something more as you realized just how close you were. He wasn’t wearing perfume today, so he smelled faintly of oil paint and his face lotion, fresh and almost floral.

“I have my ways,” he murmured.

You smiled again, but there was something different about it, unguarded.

“Liar.” 

“Seriously,” he promised, feeling much too out of breath for someone resting. “I could even show you if you’d like.” 

His hand was pressed to the small of your back. Close like this, he could count the flecks of color in your irises, and study the curve of your lips, the dip of your jaw.

With a mind of its own, your hand rose, pressing a finger to a dot of paint on his cheek. Once it faded, you traced a path from his undereye to the crest of his ear.

“It’s so red,” you teased. “Not so cheeky anymore, are you?”

There was a dazed look in your eyes that made something dangerous flutter in Rafayel’s stomach.

He held your chin between his thumb and his index finger.

“Likewise, Miss Bodyguard. I could get a sample of Perylene Red right out of your face.”

“Oh yeah?” You asked, just as out of breath as he was. “What about my lips?”

Rafayel found himself laughing at your boldness.

His eyebrows raised and dipped in a gesture that was uniquely his, both attractive and aggravating.

“I don’t know, I’d need to have a taste.”

Your blush deepened. 

You closed your eyes and tilted your chin—a silent invitation.

The first kiss was nothing but a peck, tentative and surprisingly sweet. 

“Carmine?” He wondered, lips touching yours with every letter. 

He kissed you again without waiting for a response, deeper, more than a hello, your mouths memorizing the shape of each other. 

He had been wrong. Kissing you wasn’t like floating, it felt like sinking. He was slowly diving, until he couldn’t tell up from down, surrounded by you.

Your hand cradled his jaw, your hair swayed with the wind, brushing against his cheek. 

His world had been reduced to every place your bodies met.

Coming to Linkon City had been a matter of perception, he had thought once. That was before getting to know you again, banter around, touch you. 

With his hands buried in your hair, reveling in the stands sliding between his fingers, everywhere he touched you burned. It stung in a way that made him want to come back for more, run the tips of his fingers through every inch until they became numb.

Now, it was a matter of compulsion. 

“Cadmium Red,” he whispered, kissing the corner of your mouth, already curled into a smile.

“Ultramarine.” He pressed his lips to your cheek, rounded, heated by sunlight.

“Pthalo Blue.” Your eyelids closed only for him, a quiet trust that he vowed to return.

“Burnt Sienna.” The bridge of your nose.

“Lavender.” Your mouth again.

“Rafayel,” you whined. “Stop teasing me.”

He smiled like a cat who had gotten the canary and its whole family too. Somehow, you had ended up on your back, with his arms framing your face.

Your hair, spread like a halo around you, and the color of the sand created a harmony that made his fingers itch for a paintbrush.

The hue of your skin beneath the sunset was romantic and dreamy.

“Never,” he promised, nosing at your neck.

[chiramffn]

"Yearning"

just a random poem that I made while thinking about Rafayel's POV regarding the MC. pls be nice cause this is my first poem in a while 👉🏼👈🏼

I miss you

And I love you

Waving these words is easy

Sayng it is a whole other chapter

When the 'I' is non-existent to the 'you'

I miss you

And I love you

Those words I used to said

As I was looking into the ocean

And mocking the ocean waves

Stupidly they are coming back to the same place

Reaching out as if wanting to stay

Just for the gravity cruelly pull them back

Yet they do it everyday

I miss you

And I love you

Yearning for something is tiring

And yearning for someone is pain

Like trying to catch a mirage in the sea of dunes

Hopeful, yet fake

I miss you

And I love you

Will the waves accept my apology?

Or maybe I just can't call myself stupid

Cause now I am them

Keep reaching

Keep yearning

Keep crashing

Yet in the same shore

Over and over

Probably forever

[chiramffn]

I don't know why but listening to Slow Dancing by V fron BTS really remind me to Xavier x MC in Love and Deepspace. Would love to see a song fic based on this 👀💕

and ngl, the "Love Me Again" song really feels like it fits perfectly for Rafayel x MC too

[chiramffn]

Crashed on Shore

AO3 || Rafayel x Reader || Nightmare Comfort || 1, 552 words

a/n: this is totally based off of fragrant dream tender moments audio but instead you guys are acc dating [early relationship] so rafayel can shower you in kisses and share a bed w you romantically not platonically ty

It was just a bottle of perfume - there's no reason it should be stirring up all these emotions in you.

Rafayel is anxious.

He knows that you’re busy, that sometimes, you can’t reply to his messages as quickly as he hopes you could or that you’ve got other things on your mind. The two of you are still figuring out what it means to be with each other and how to communicate your needs and wants. Rafayel knows he’s told you time and time again that he hates waiting, pouting and whining whenever you take too long to give him his long-awaited attention.

He knows you got his package because you opened his message and sent him a picture of you with the bottle of perfume, thanking him for the gift and telling him you were tired and needed to go to bed. He let you go with a goodnight message of his own.

You typically awake before him, texting him good morning or sending him a picture of your breakfast. Something would prove you were still alive and his erratic heartbeat would calm once again. He tries instead to distract himself with his work, ignoring how many times he has to stop his mind from wandering over to you and what you could have been doing.

He ignores the fact that right now, he’s haphazardly looking through his things to find that spare key you gave him under the pretense that it’d help soothe his separation anxiety (that he swears he doesn’t have) and grabbing his keys to dive over to your place. It’s been a day and a half now and you didn’t tell him that you had a mission and you normally would have picked up one of his calls by now. He pats himself on the back for driving safe despite how worried he is for you, knowing that he can use it to lord over your head if you scold him for getting to your place so quickly when he confronts you for driving him up a wall with worry.

Pretending to be calm, he rings the bell to your apartment. He’s going to be patient, crossing his arms and fiddling w the keys in his hand. He’s thinking up ways to scold you, how he’s going to get you now for not listening to him but when all that meets him is a deafening silence his demeanour really drops. He practically forces his way in, unlocking your door and seeing your shoes still just sat by the door unmoved.

Quickly, he makes his way to your bedroom and heaves a sigh of relief when he sees you’re asleep. The rise and fall of your chest as you’re curled around a pillow is slightly less noticeable. When he brushes back your bangs to look at your face, he’s glad to see nothing’s wrong.

“Stupid. Got me all worked up for nothing,” he scolds you quietly, intending to lean over to give your forehead a kiss right as your brows furrow.

He expects to see the lines smooth out but when you start to mutter something under your breath that he can’t make out he feels a wave of anxiety begin to crash down on him. You begin to look more and more distressed. You already tend not to sleep easily from how busy your days are and he can barely manage to put you down to rest so he’s conflicted about waking you up but when he sees tears slipping down your cheeks as you start to thrash, he decides he doesn’t have a choice.

You don’t notice any of this is happening. Your mind spins as you try to make sense of all the “memories” fragmenting in your mind. You can feel Rafayel’s arms around your body, the way he’s trying to reassure that it’s okay but you can’t think straight as you watch him disappear. You reach out desperately to grab him, hand tightly squeezing around a quickly dissipating arm and shout for him, not expecting to grab something solid. You’re relieved – maybe he won’t disappear now – but suddenly you feel your arms being pinned to your sides.

“Rafayel?” you ask hoarsely, unsure why he looks so flush and why your throat hurts so much.

Your eyes struggle to adjust to the light in your room, slowly coming to your senses as you realise you had been just having a horrible dream. The fight leaves your body as you slump into your bed a little more. It takes you a second to catch your breath and you wait to see if Rafayel will say anything to you.

“You’re a lot stronger than I thought you’d be asleep. You hit me so hard I thought I’d black out. I guess that’s why you’re a hunter, huh?” he says casually.

If you didn’t know him better you wouldn’t have noticed the way his eyes keep roaming over your body. His grip holds your wrists securely and he lets go of one hand to gently brush a knuckle against your cheek.

“You’re crying. What happened?” he asks softly after a minute, cupping your face in his palm. Your hand comes up to validate his observation, laughing shakily.

“I had a nightmare. I guess it just shook me up more than I thought.”

You’re about to tell him about it when it hits you. Rafayel basically died in your dream, leaving you all alone after trying to reverse whatever it was that happened to the you in your dream. He gave himself up for your life. Your breathing begins to pick up again and your tears begin to shed anew, making him panic again.

“I’m sorry – I’ll never ask about your dreams again. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here,” he tries to soothe, not knowing what to do since he’s never seen you cry before.

He sits you up, pulling you into his lap easily and hugging you tightly to his chest. Your face buries itself in his neck, arms wrapping around his shoulder and as you cry harder. You can feel the reassuring warmth of his palm against your back, his voice trying to calm you down and ground you. Your nails dig into his skin almost painfully, Rafayel holding back his tongue. He can tell you need this and he’s glad you’re being this vulnerable around him, rocking back and forth gently until you slowly start to calm yourself.

“How’d you know to come?”

“You didn’t reply to any of my messages. Surely that’s more than enough reason to come and make sure you’re alright.”

The words that would normally have a bit of his good-natured bite seem softer than usual, you hiccupping a little in response from how hard you were crying. You try to wipe away your tears but he stops you again, wiping them away for you and laying the two of you back on your bed.

“Do you want to give it another shot? Try to tell me what happened.”

You try again to explain to him what happened, choking a little on the end that put you in distress in the first place. He listens attentively, body stiffening as he processes why you were so upset. Before you can start to cry again, he simply holds you tighter, shaking his head as you take a deep breath of him.

“I’m flattered you care about me that much but next time don’t try to break my arms in an attempt to rescue me. I think you’d end up doing more harm than good.”

You feel yourself growing a little embarrassed, covering your face with your hands. The two of you haven’t been official for long and you’re flustered. To admit in such a dramatic way that he’s already become such an integral part of your being that the thought of losing him makes you this frantic is humbling to say the least and you sigh.

“Honestly, it felt so real. I was so afraid I lost you and the dread that I felt was just…”

Rafayel places a feather light kiss on your cheek, breaking you out of your stupor. You feel him press more and more, stopping when your eyes finally meet his. A hand on your waist squeezes you gently.

“Did you feel that?” he asks you, smiling softly when you nod.

“It was just a bad dream. I’d never leave you like that,” he mutters against your lips, stealing your breath in such an affectionate kiss that it makes your mind melt.

“You couldn’t have slept well like that and you still look tired. You can go back to sleep. I’ll still be here when you wake up, I promise.”

Your grip on his body tightens and you look at him hopefully, Rafayel laughing as he finally manages to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Yes, I’ll stay despite my incredibly busy schedule. You’re the only one who can ask such things of me.”

You hum happily, nuzzling your face in the space between his neck and shoulder. You can feel sleep coming back to claim you, Rafayel’s hold on your body continuing to ground you. He continues to press kisses to your face affectionately, thumb rubbing circles on your skin as he waits for you to fall asleep.

If you listen closely, you could hear him humming a familiar tune, lulling you back to sleep with promises of forever.  

[chiramffn]

Pillow Talk

wriothesley has something important to ask you

a/n: i am so in love with him.

warnings: fem reader, post sex but no smut, nudity, reader has a skin tone that blushes, self ship coded, fluff

Wriothesley swears that stars live in your eyes.

They always shine incredibly bright when he speaks with you, the hues of your eye color glittering while the corners of your eyes crinkle with a smile. You’re sunshine and stars, you’re the whole sky. The Duke might try to chalk it up to the fact you’re pretty, very much so, and doesn’t always realize that the reason your eyes grow so alight with wonder and affection is because you’re looking at him.

A big hand cups your cheek, and you nuzzle into it with a kiss to his palm, feeling tired but giddy. Your bare legs rubbing against his under the sheets while his other hand presses against the small of your back and his thumb rubs lazy circles against your skin. The space between your legs still ache deliciously, the tacky evidence of your lovemaking with your boyfriend remains as you cuddle into his burly, hairy chest where you pepper dewy kisses to his warm skin. Wriothesley chuckles, looking down at you and how you stay curled against him, so cutely snuggled against his frame. The hand that was cupping your face moves to tuck a tendril of hair behind your ear and you beam up at him, bringing your knuckles up to brush against his sharp jaw.

“What are you thinking about, Wriothesley?” you hum, watching his smile widen into a toothy grin,

“About you of course, what kind of man would I be if I wasn’t thinking about my beautiful lover mere moments after a roll in the hay?” he replies with a kiss to your forehead, laughing when you scoff and lightly slap at his chest.

“Roll in the hay sounds like we had sex in a barn and not in a bedroom.” you lilt, then looking at him in surprise when he rolls you onto your back and hovers over you with a smirk. He growls playfully as he descends to press kisses to your already flushed chest while you smile and sigh,

“Well you did say I was an animal, yeah?” he murmurs, kissing a path between the valley of your breasts and back up to your jaw, your curves soft against his mouth and hands. He looks down at you smugly, eyebrows slightly raised and watches your expression turn into a playful pout, but the stars in your eyes continue dance and twinkle.

“Brute.” you whisper, laughing when he goes in for a hard kiss, then pressing his forehead against yours. Wriothesley smiles widely in response, his jaw nearly aching from how much you make him smile.

His mind wanders for a moment while he looks at you, how you feel in his strong arms. How he doesn’t want to ever be apart from you. He already knew all these things rather quickly when you became a couple, the ring he had specially worked on himself to design and forge being carried in his pocket day after day. You deserve a lavish proposal, you really do. Flowers and your favorite meal, surrounded by fireworks and wearing a stunning dress the Duke bought you himself. But right now, it’s perfect. You’re perfect, and his love overflows for you like bursting waters.

Wriothesley swallows harshly, pressing a kiss to your cheek before leaning over the side of the bed to rummage a hand around in the pocket of his pants for the small velvet box. You watch him with curiosity, watching the muscled build of his body rippling, wondering how lucky you are that such a gorgeous and rugged man is always at your beck and call. You crane your neck with a bemused expression as your lovers eyebrows pinch together in concentration.

“What are you doing…?” you laugh, the sound dying in your throat when Wriothesley pushes himself back up into the mattress, a sapphire colored box in his fingers. You exhale in disbelief, your heart racing when he licks his lips and looks at you from beneath his long lashes.

“What are you doing?” you repeat, breathlessly, voice quiet as your eyes dart from his hand to his bright blue eyes.

“Asking you a pretty important but simple question, if you’ll hear me.” his voice shakes, surprising even himself.

“You feel like a day in the sun, you know that?” he murmurs while gazing at your face, even now feeling how you warm him.

“A day in the sun, and the stars at night to light my way. Sweetheart, I used to dream about this. About love and having a good life with someone by your side. I gotta say…you’re a dream come true. My dream. And..” just as he begins to open the box your smaller hand closes over his and you blink back the hot tears that threaten to spill.

“You’re supposed to kneel, silly.” you giggle and Wriothesley barks out a laugh in response. He nods in agreement, sliding from the bed and onto the floor where the sheets loose around his waist barely conceal him. You smile with a wobbly bottom lip, propped onto your elbows as he gets on one knee and opens the ring box to reveal the precious symbol of love and devotion, and you hiccup out a watery gasp.

“Like I was saying,” he grins, “and I love you, so much. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted and needed. Will you marry me? Please give me the honor of being by your side and growing old with you?” he smiles and you nod immediately with a pitiful whimper laden with enthusiasm that makes your lover chuckle.

His wide hand cups the back of your head and brings your lips to his for happy, tearful kisses until you part enough for him to slide the cool metal onto your finger. He pulls you close by the waist and rolls you onto your back yet again, your still bare bodies pressed hard together as to not leave any space between you, woven together with him like threads of a tapestry. Your fingers tenderly wind into his hair while he kisses you ardently, only pausing for the rough pads of his thumbs to wipe away the tears from your eyes.

You cup his face and the stone on your engagement ring glitters,

But it’s nothing compared to the way his eyes are shining when he looks at you. Like stars, you think.

[chiramffn]

— under clouds of gold.

zhongli x reader. wc: 500+

you bask in the fleeting rays of the sunset after a long and busy day, letting your worries flow out with the wind.

at the sound of footsteps, you turn, only to meet a pair of loving amber eyes looking intently at you.

“tired, dearest?” he is at your side in an instant. "would you like me to brew you some tea?” he asks, a gentle smile gracing his face.

“a bit, yeah. thank you for the offer, but i’ll pass. i don’t want to be a bother.” you reply, returning his smile.

“you could never be one, even if you tried your hardest.” he stands next to you, leaning his weight on a wall. “what has you so deep in thought?”

“oh, nothing too serious.” your smile grows, and you look away, turning your gaze to the horizon. “i’m just enjoying the last few moments of daylight.”

“it is a delightful time indeed. a sight to behold.” he turns his eyes to the horizon.

after an extended silence, he speaks. slowly, quietly. “this scene...it evokes so many memories, of a time shared with people who no longer walk on liyue’s soil.” his expression turns wistful.

“i’m sorry. it must be hard shouldering all that weight alone.”

“do not fret, my darling. as with all burdens of this nature, with time, i have become accustomed to the weight. besides,” he takes your hand and kisses the back of it softly, his amber eyes filled with tenderness, “it is not as if i am alone anymore. i have you by my side, whom i love with all my heart. i am not aware of what blessing brought you to me, but for as long as i live, i will forever be grateful for you.”

“you know, you remind me of the sunset.” he continues, without giving you a chance to respond. “short lived when compared to the vast expanse of time and the universe, yet so exquisite and astounding that all who see are struck with awe.”

“and even when long gone, i know, without a shadow of a doubt, that you will shine like gold in my memories.”

you pull him close, placing a finger on his lips to shut him up before he can continue. “zhongli, you sweet, sweet smooth talker.” you lightly squish his cheeks, fingers tapping his face, “I'm nothing compared to you, dear. you're intelligent, caring and gorgeous, i'm the one who's incredibly lucky to have you.” 

“any beauty you see on me only exists because your radiance casts its warm glow on my skin, my love.”

you swat at him. “oh, stop it, you.” you say, your lips forming into a small pout. “you, mister, have an incredibly bad habit of turning compliments around. accept them yourself once in a while, won't you?” at your words, he laughs, the sound flowing like honey, and pulls you into an affectionate kiss, embrace warm and secure.

and there, under clouds of gold, beneath the setting sun, hand in hand with your lover, you’re the happiest you’ve ever been.

reblogs are appreciated <3 thanks for reading! reposting my first ever zhongli drabble as the first work on the new blog hehe

[chiramffn]

our prelude and beyond .

pairing : tighnari x f!reader

genre : cotton candy fluff, slowburn, mutual pining.

trigger warning word count smh: 9.5k

summary : [ moments between you and your lover, based on tighnari's voice lines. from the moment when you first met to the future of your connection. ]

"to the silly encounter of fate that brought us together, forest watcher."

"to face perpetuity with you, young scholar" 

-

1 . " Hello . "

"archons above, what is up with this forest?" you couldn't believe you were lost inside an endless maze-like lush forest no longer than an hour after arriving at the gates of a new nation. so much for the sky-high expectations for a new experience. 

from left to right, up and down wherever you turned your sight, no sign leading to the place you were headed to was visible- not even a faint trace that looked anything similar to trails from people walking. you meddled with the wrinkled piece of note your mentor gave before you left at least ten times for the past hour. you scoffed at the tiny size and how it's almost ripped in half from how long it took for you to travel to this... still and unchanging forest seemingly in the middle of nowhere. besides, who writes "Gandharva Ville" on a piece of paper you could lose in less than a minute if you took your attention off it for one moment while traveling from one nation to another? clearly, your mentor didn't give a single crap regarding your journey to the actual research place you are supposed to stay at despite nagging your ear off about the etiquettes and reputation you were meant to uphold since you were “representing your entire nation”- her words, not yours. 

while you were staring at the paper in your hand like it was supposed to transform into a seelie and guide your pathway, you suddenly realized twilight would fall soon. you'd have no one around, no source of direction, no light and perhaps worse. when you heard sounds of unknown animals squeaking and creaking somewhere to your right, you were reminded that this was a foreign nation and even more unfamiliar forest. definitely worse out there.

you've been wandering around for hours now, it was a miracle how you haven't seen a single wandering soul around, not even enemies. it all felt eerily unfamiliar, lost somewhere in a foreign forest. and so with more anxiety flooding your thoughts than the proper, logical measures you’d need to find your way through, you walked around for what felt like another few hours.

amidst the endless wandering, you finally saw something that could be a place of significance, maybe a landmark- a sight of a giant tree towering over everything around it. 

in the light of the setting sun, the entire place looked marvelous, wildlife and plants prospering in harmony. when the sunray gently illuminated your skin, you finally had a moment for yourself to properly open your eyes and take in the beauty of your surroundings. dusk had painted the sky orange, scarlet and pink, even the clear air and gentle breeze looked like it was shimmering with the hues of sunset. a few verdant crystalflies fluttered around you, swiftly passing by and soaring to the skies- you had never seen such pretty green hued ones before. so this really was the land of dendro- you quietly pondered the obvious. lastly, traces and non-threatening (for now) sounds of wildlife brought quiet comfort to your anxious mind. hey, at least you weren’t wholly alone here. 

you returned your attention to the huge tree from a cliff above, wondering which route you should take to check out the surroundings. maybe it was the halo-effect of the prettiest sunset you had ever seen, but when you focused on the tree longer, you realized it looked faintly similar to a fairytale book you used to read when you were a child. 

"the tree of souls, a giant willow tree connected to all living beings around." you recited the familiar line under your breath, admiring how mighty the tree looked from above. was this the kind of giant willow tree the author was envisioning while writing the story? if so, you thought you could finally see the reason why everyone in the story seemed enchanted with its divinity and beauty. 

maybe a prayer could work, like it does in that little book you used to read? as silly as that sounded, you closed your eyes, brought your hands together and spoke out loud.

"dear mighty tree of souls, please aid me in finding the "Gandhara Ville" today safely. i'm not sure how many wishes you offer to faraway-land visitors, but for today, just me finding my way would more than suffice. thank you." a warm forest breeze swept past you, pleasantly caressing your skin as it whirled away.

"on a second thought, maybe add a loving boyfriend too while you're at it." you thought to yourself, slightly giggling at the additional childish wish. after all, you used to pray day and night for a lover you'd share your life with. not that Tsaritsa ever provided you with that, though. ironic and slightly unfair, seeing how your god was technically the archon of love. 

you were reminded of the need for you to move fast, so you intended on finding a way to at least make your way to the tree and climb up to see any sign of that mystery of a place you were to find. 

well, until a small piece of... something dropped right on top of your head painfully with a loud thud.

you immediately clutched your head and groaned from the contact- what the hell? you glared at the tree next to you, trying to see where it came from. since it fell right on top of your head, it was probably from the branch above- you came close to cursing out, but you held back and sighed. so much for your luck in praying to your childhood fairytale tree. 

"now what is this...?" what are the odds of a sturdy glass bottle labeled "dhayl oil" just dropping on your head out of nowhere? you picked it up and spun the small brown bottle around. nothing else was written on the sleek surface, the frosted glass body obscuring your vision to look clearly on what exactly was inside of it.

"what in the archons is dhayl, anyways?" you complained to yourself as you contemplated throwing the bottle down the cliff. 

"that would mean "tail", indicating that the bottle you're holding right now is the oil i use on my tail." right after you raised your arm to toss the bottle down the cliff, a voice suddenly broke the silence. your eyes widened at the voice and turned around at the unexpected presence of another... person. he was shadowed behind the tree a bit, it was hard to see just what his... species were. you were quick to realize that this person had to be a hybrid though, from his mention of a tail of his own. 

"plant-based oils are pretty complex to make, i'd appreciate it if you didn't throw my hard work off the cliff." when he approached you a bit, you finally confirmed your thought- this person in front of you was definitely a hybrid. you had never seen someone quite like him before, so you tried your best to examine his appearance as respectfully as possible without making it clear that you were gawking. 

two large ears stood tall on his head, and a bushy tail behind that he mentioned. you narrowed your eyes a bit and tried your best to silence your thoughts but- holy crap this man was pretty. were all hybrids this pretty? though you didn’t remember reading anything about the mere identity of a hybrid enhancing your physical features. 

"sorry, i didn't think it belonged to someone. it dropped onto my head above from the sky, i thought maybe it was a retribution from celestia." you managed to reply as normal while resisting the urge to roll your eyes. you remembered the thud sound it made when the hard glass bottle made contact with your skull. it still hurt, you managed to soothe the ache by rubbing it softly.

to your surprise, the man laughed lightheartedly at you. if he was keeping his distance from you first, maybe he had come to the conclusion that you weren't a threat. he came closer, standing right in front of you.

"you have a pretty big traveling bag. would you happen to be a part of the group of exchange scholars coming from different nations to sumeru?" ah, so he was aware of the program you came for. which means there was high possibly that-

"indeed, i am. are you a forest ranger, by any chance?" you finally felt relieved, running into someone local. maybe he knew the way to where you were supposed to have arrived approximately 5 hours ago.

"technically yes, a forest watcher to be precise." you narrowed your eyes in confusion, you admit you weren't an expert in sumeru's scholar titles and those who work for the Akademiya yet.

"it doesn't matter, i am a part of the crew, yes. you are correct on that." sensing your confusion, the man replied shortly. glancing at you up and down, he took out a small piece of note from his pouch.

"let's see, we have scholars to go to the Akademiya in branches researching the Akasha, the canned knowledge, historical runes and records, elemental incantation based charms, and elemental energy. which one of those are you assigned in? i'll find the location and find a forest ranger to accompany you safely there." the man checked his list again, then looked at you, expecting an answer.

"but i'm not here for the Akademiya." an awkward silence was shared for a few seconds before his ears perked up in realization. 

"ah, so you're that one... peculiar person who majors in a different field, yet applied to train for botany." during your conversation, you barely managed to divert your attention away from his fluffy ears, unsure if it would be offensive to stare. you wanted to touch them so bad for some reason. you’d blame it on the fact that you had never seen a hybrid before but you had a feeling that wasn’t the only reason, it was just to reassure yourself that you weren’t the odd one here.

"you don't get scholars to botany often?" you held up the conversation despite your mind being flooded with his ears. were these fox ears? you wanted to ask. it had to be, it didn't look like cat or dog's. then again, you really weren’t familiar with manners regarding hybrids- the last thing you wanted to do was somehow offend your only chances of finding your way. 

"botany, it does get an impressive number of students. it's just that most scholars choose Akademiya, not our base inside a foreign forest. they usually choose the safer option, unlike someone. highly peculiar indeed." you weren't clear if he was subtly making fun of your choice distinct from your major field, but his latter statement caught your attention.

"our base?" you tilted your head.

"you're headed to Gandharva Ville to experience first-hand botany and the forest ecosystem, correct? that is where we forest rangers live and work." your eyes lit up, finally with the realization that your small wish to that giant tree did come true after all. not to mention, with the help of this ... small bottle in your hand.

amidst your conversation, a memory of your mentor shouting at you about formalities of self introduction and its importance shot through your mind. wait, come to think of it-

"oh, now that i’m reminded... okay. hi, i'm (name), as you know i came here to study botany in relation to my field. i'm sorry for the late introduction." you finished your self introduction awkwardly . you thought of shaking his hand, but refrained once again due to not knowing the etiquette in a new nation and settling for a slight bow-down. perhaps they didn't shake hands here upon first encounter, judging from the way he isn't exactly offering you his hand either. he giggled a bit though, while you were unsure why.

"from the top, i see. hi there. i'm Tighnari, Forest Watcher of the Avidya Forest. my duty is to preserve both the rainforest's ecosystem and the safety of its visitors... that would include you as well, newbie scholar." he tilted his head a bit, looking at you straight in the eye with an amused glint in his amber eyes. wait- were they amber? you could’ve sworn you saw hints of green too. 

"could i please ask you to escort me to your base? i've been lost for a while now, as you see..." you reached out to him to hand him the bottle of his "tail oil", whatever the purpose of that was. the forest watcher gratefully accepted his oil back and slipped it in his pocket securely with murmurs of thanks. his somewhat amused look never left his face, even though it was faint.

"that would technically be my duty, newbie scholar. can i help you with your bags?"

-

2. Mistakes and… Leafmark?

time passed by quickly ever since you came to the forest rangers' basement. every day you would get up, spend time revising and learning about the ecosystem in Avidya forest, sometimes go experience it first hand with the forest rangers in training, then report to Tighnari by briefing on what you learnt that day. it was somehow rigid of a routine but it never got too dull. forest life surprisingly fit well in your living preferences despite the slight hesitation you had before coming here. 

tighnari surprised you in a way. you expected him to be a bit... different than he turned out to be. for starters, he didn't demand for you to submit a paper like your mentor did back home. it was trickier, he claimed that it was easier, and just that you had to simply visit him and prove to him through "civil, organized discussion" sessions that you've spent the day productively and learnt under his watch. unfortunately, tighnari himself is like a walking encyclopedia of every single plant, animals and who knows what more- known to teyvat. you were sure he didn't mean to be that condescending, but holy hell, was it intimidating at times when you failed to answer his questions. perhaps he was never aware, but he asked ridiculously precise questions often and would spend a long time bombarding you with information on the subject at hand. it was interesting, you admit but it turns out he was much, much more brilliant than you in somehow magically absorbing every ounce of facts he happens to encounter. 

of course, you never exactly outright avoided his discussion sessions. but you had to admit that after a month and half being here, some of what you learnt would get mixed or carried on misunderstood until the forest watcher corrects you or somehow tricks you into answering incorrectly or doubting your answer until you're sure enough to not fall for his word-mazes. the worst part was when tighnari suddenly brings up a random mushroom you discussed 2 weeks ago for approximately a minute, then asks what environment it grows well in, what herbs it's best mixed with, and your own personal insight on how you intended to use it in connection to your field if he’s feeling particularly tricky that day. 

it distressed you to no ends when you couldn't remember it as well as expected even if he has never, not even once discouraged or expressed disappointment in you. if anything, tighnari was an extraordinary mentor, always ready for questions, discussions and hands-on examination if you appeared interested enough. when you failed to answer correctly, he’d always nod with a soft hum, and explain from the top to ensure your correct perception on the topic. tighnari also always reassured you when you looked disappointed when you weren’t sure of the answer, claiming that mistakes are the key to success and that you should never be distressed or scared of him of answering incorrectly. 

though you adore him, it still stresses you out when you fail to answer his questions to your capacity. you reminded yourself again, tighnari isn't doing this to spite you- he merely wants to make sure you spent a worthwhile period of learning under him. he has enough work on his hands to begin with, why would he bother to tease you? he awoke well hours before you do, then always remains in his office after you two's little sessions, goes through tons of paperwork, research and whatever else his duty calls for until ungodly hours. come to think of it, you've never seen him sleep before- one time you caught him still doing paperwork at 4am and when you asked if he wasn’t tired, he merely responded with a “fennec foxes tend to focus better during night hours”. in other words, he didn’t exactly deny being exhausted. 

you were really concerned about him overworking himself, but you were frankly unsure if you were someone who could ask such things. sure, you two spent time together alone often, but most times, it was for academic purposes or obligatory meetings. (there were sometimes moments that existed outside of "most times", though.) so, there just wasn't any convincing reason as to why someone who barely has time to sleep would dedicate time for you. 

except, maybe you were wrong- you thought today.

"less with the reciting, (name). dictionary definition-style precise answers are your expertise, i know by now. give me an example on what difference it makes if you squeeze the juice out of Rukkhashava Mushrooms in comparison to pressing it into powder for making first degree burn ointment." your eyes nearly fell out of your socket when you heard the mention of that specific type of mushroom- Rukkhashava? not because you barely remembered any academically beneficial facts about it, but because of a faint memory of you reading it was viewed as an important symbol connected to the Dendro Archon that struck your mind. you opened your mouth to declare that people couldn't possibly make ointments with those almost-celestial mushrooms, but then you hesitated.

your memory wasn't clear enough. what if you answered and if you were wrong? tighnari worded the question clearly, specifying the procedure and even mentioning what purpose ointment it was used for. perhaps you were wrong? why would he ask acutely like that if it wasn't even truly used in the medical field?

before you could mumble that you didn't know, the forest watcher sighed and lightly poked your forehead gently with a book. then poked you again. and again.

"what-" as soon as you opened your mouth to complain, he answered it before it even left your mouth.`

"you're going to end up with wrinkles, you know? i asked you a question about botany, not philosophy. no need to look so distraught as though finding path through afterlife." tighnari really tried to help you be comfortable with him and not view him as an absolute superior, but you often had trouble doing it his way. it wasn't how you learnt it back at home, after all. old habits die hard.

just like that, you were unknowingly furrowing your brows again. your forehead was met with the book again, tighnari gently pushing it as if to straighten your eyebrows and possibly prevent you from getting wrinkles or something of the sort.

"see, that's the face. i keep on telling you over and over to just relax in front of me. tell me what you were thinking of, i know you had something in mind just now." you're on the right track most of the times, anyways. he wanted to say, but held his tongue.

"i... seem to remember that those mushrooms you mentioned weren't exactly the normal species." you analyzed his face to see if there were any hints of positive or negative reaction. maybe he'd look pleased if you were right. except, his face remained completely blank as always, only gesturing you to continue. he was exceptional at keeping his poker face during these discussions, you had to give him that. 

“go on.”

"...you know, with relation to the Dendro Archon and all? i seem to remember that it was a holy crystallization of the dendro god's legacy." you finally finished, slightly worried if your answer was correct. you distinctly remembered something along the lines, you were sure of it. and yet you couldn’t seem to be able to conceal the slight hesitation especially when you couldn’t grasp if you were right or not. 

to your relief, tighnari retracted the book from your face softly, then smiled slightly.

"good job. i could tell you knew." your eyes widened in pleasant surprise, struggling not to beam at him in happiness.

"that's probably the biggest problem i want to help you fix, (name). you're never fully sure of yourself unless you are able to carbon-copy book definitions on a piece of paper. you have exquisite memory, excellent interpretation skills and everything a scholar needs to continue their path, but you lack confidence in your own self." tighnari crossed his arms, still maintaining unwavering eye contact with you. he was being serious about this, and you couldn't deny his words either.

"i- sorry, it's just... a habit. i'll try to avoid it from now on." you awkwardly meddled with your fingers from the sudden memory of tighnari complimenting your learning skills and wit just a minute ago. his praise wasn't something you heard often, it made you feel... content. happy, if you may.

"don't be afraid to make mistakes. it's all part of the learning process. i'll be by your side to help you out if you need." if you were feeling happy before, you'd say you were over the moon now.

"from now on, i want to give you a small assignment." your eyes snapped open and stared at your mentor. already? you had just finished an encouragement talk just now and he's already thinking of your next move. except, what he suggested was very different from what you expected.

"avoid using ambiguous words like "i seem to remember", "i think", and "i guess, i believe" when talking from now on. in front of me, for starters. that's your first assignment from me personally."

"that's... a rather curious assignment, mentor."

"pay no attention to the academic aspect. even in your daily life, you're to practice it until you're comfortable expressing your ideas without outright bringing voice of doubt to yourself." at the mention of this not being a purely academic program, your confusion doubled. tighnari crossed his arms and spoke again.

"i'll explain to you later if you want to know why it's important. but for now, let it remain a mundane assignment you just have to complete. is that clear?" you nodded as confidently as you could muster. at least that was a start.

"alright, you're dismissed for today. but before you leave," he paused for a while, then skimmed through his book as if searching for something.

"ah, here it is." he mumbled and brought the book towards you.

"i remembered that you were talking to collei about not having enough bookmark to use on the parts you found insightful. you see, if you press a leaf between dry sheets of paper, you can make an attractive and handy bookmark. i can't guarantee how sturdy it would be, but it's very pretty isn't it? i call them leafmarks." on the book page he showed you, was a beautiful fresh hue of light green, swirled with brown colored leaf-bookmark as he mentioned. it reminded you of his own unique eye color, almost identical in color palette.  there wasn't just one, he had many of those 'leafmarks' in various colors. you had the slight question if it was intentional that he seemingly picked out a specific one resembling his orbs, but decided not to get too ahead of yourself. 

"you're giving them all to me?" you managed to ask, then took the hardcover book from his soft, warm hands. you barely even reacted to your skin touching his, too busy admiring how pretty the leafmarks all were. you even spotted a pink leafmark, you were positive you had never seen such mystic color of leaf before. although you didn’t seem to notice, tighnari’s hand softly shivered when they came in contact with your skin, seemingly lingering for no more than a second as his eyes softened at the pleasant sensation. 

"indeed i am, young scholar. you clearly are enamored and need it more than i do." you smiled at your mentor's kindness, and bowed respectfully.

"thank you, thank you!" tighnari's eyes widened, then made a conflicted face- almost bordering an offended look at your rigid etiquette even when you were alone with him. 

"i'd also appreciate it if you started treating me a bit normally."

"normally?" you questioned.

"i don't want to be regarded as your mentor back home. you and i are both equal scholars here." your eyes couldn't leave tighnari's face as he explained to you in detail.

"i just happen to have lived in sumeru all my life and my expertise is botany. that's the only reason why i know more than you for now. you came from a different nation, and on top of that you haven't even studied botany prior. you don't need to treat me like a superior, it’s unfair for you." the more time you spent with tighnari, you admired how down-to-earth he was. he was humble and warm, kind and responsible. he practically was the main guardian of the forest, yet remained the least arrogant person you've probably ever met. it was so... endearing in a sense, to see.

"...okay. thanks, tighnari. good night." you smiled, and left his office. tighnari, despite his best efforts to hide it, his ears perked up at the mention of his name. you pretended not to notice how happily his ears jumped and how he looked like he was fighting a small smile. 

that was the first time you called him by his name, not titles.

-

3. about Tighnari - under his care

"are you acclimating to the rainforest? I suggest that you keep your eyes and ears open. take care of yourself, and if anything happens, just flag down a Forest Ranger." the unexpected question took you by slight surprise.

"asking if i'm getting used to the forest after 4 months is a bit too late, no?" you tilted your head in confusion.

"it never hurts to make sure. the forest isn't a playground and i'd hate for you to get hurt." ah, so he was merely concerned about you.

"by forest ranger, would that include you as well, mister forest watcher? i could call you chief watcher, even." you jokingly stated, teasing him as you do often.

"of course i'm included. i'm always willing to take care of you whenever you need me. just a call and i'll be there." he said these words in such a casual tone despite your slight playfulness, yet it brought immense comfort with a wave of warmth blooming in your chest. you were certain that he held no deeper meanings, his duty was to ensure the safety of the people and the ecosystem. still, it brought a smile on your face. maybe, a small corner of your heart wished that just maybe you wished it was more than that. 

'whenever i need him, huh' you thought with a bashful smile you tried not to show.

"that's very assuring to hear, tighnari. thanks." you glanced outside to slyly hide the uncontrollable, giddy smile. 

little did you notice the small dust of rose hue on the forest watcher's cheek, his ear hanging a little lower than normal. he couldn't take his eyes off you, even when you averted his gaze and stared out the window. he had gotten so used to having you in his office, it felt empty and cold the moment you left. and tighnari was no fool, he had a hunch on why exactly he seemed to have difficulty tearing his eyes off you, why he suddenly grooms his tail even more than before, why he hurries to finish his paperwork so he could have more time with you without worrying about them. he knows, but he chose to cast them aside for now.

for now, tighnari opted to just cough, and then avoid your eye contact for the rest of your conversation.

-

4. mornings with tighnari.

you signed up for this yourself, you bitterly mumbled. you did this to yourself when you deliberately found tighnari and offered your assistance first on your own free will, for the morning patrols. you barely even thought it over, or found no necessity to. it was so that you could see first-hand which plants were which instead of burying your head in the books to no end. on top of that, tighnari was possibly the most knowledgeable person in the area to educate you more if you had trouble with anything. he never looked irritated when you asked questions, and explained in great depth within the best of his capabilities. again, he was an excellent mentor, you were grateful you applied for the Avidya forest section, after all.

but despite your blatant admiration towards your mentor, morning patrols were not a part of your duties as an exchange scholar. it was your thirst for knowledge and perhaps, the slight warmth in your chest when you realized you could spend time alone with your mentor that brought you to your conclusion, of course. you tried hard to dismiss the second half of your reason though, even to yourself. you conveniently concealed your lingering thoughts and acclaimed it to be mere curiosity and fascination with the ecosystem. 

unfortunately, you just weren’t expecting the forest to be this deep, with possibly millions of passages and places he was supposed to check. Avidya forest was big and vast, and circling it around to no corner unturned was certainly not written on your academic program before you left your hometown, neither did tighnari warn you about the insane amount of stamina necessity- not even half an hour and you were already struggling to keep up. you attempted to pretend like you weren’t on the edge of passing out behind tighnari, the desperate attempt at grasping your last shred of pride but you could’ve sworn he noticed your wobbly legs a while ago. 

"we already went over this place, right?" you tried your best to sound like you weren't on the edge of collapsing out of breath, but of course nothing escaped tighnari's abnormally huge ears.

“revising the area. you’re that exhausted already? do you need time to catch your breath?” you weren’t sure if you had the leisure to comprehend his playful, teasing tone.

“just a moment… just a moment is all I ask.” you finally swallowed your pride and stopped in your tracks. you held onto a tree next to you, slightly crouching to catch your breath. but just before you plopped onto the incredibly soft-looking soil below, tighnari gestured you to wait for a while and went through his belongings in search of something.

after a short moment, he pulled out a mat. a thick, warm-looking one at that.

“sit on this, the ground is still moist from the morning dew. can’t have you catching cold now under my watch, can we, newbie scholar?” you slightly frowned at his peculiar choice of nickname even after several months, but you still opted to quietly accept the mat.

“isn’t this too small for the both of us?” you mumbled after setting it down on the ground.

“indeed it is. because it’s for you.” he stated like it was the most obvious truth in the world. 

oh. 

you suddenly found yourself conscious of your movements. is this even good manners, to receive your mentor’s mat and then proceed to sit on it alone? then again, you recalled the conversation back at his office. he said it himself clearly, he didn’t like unnecessary formalities between the two of you. you were sure tighnari would sigh and flick your forehead if you put up the formalities again. 

well in that case…

“thank you so much, tighnari” you smiled and gratefully accepted his offer. when you finally relaxed on the ground, you sighed in relief. the mat he brought was as cozy as it looked, you loved how warm it was. Tighnari on the other hand, looked extremely pleased that you accepted his help without the frigid manners you seem to carry. 

“it’s so warm, do you carry this with you every day when you patrol? must be heavy.” you noticed how thick the material was as you ran your fingers over the material.

“…not quite.” i only brought it because you were joining today- he held his tongue from adding unnecessary remarks. you hummed in acknowledgment and enjoyed the small break.

out of the blue, tighnari crouched down to your level, silently reaching out next to your sitting figure to straighten the wrinkled part of the mat below - when you hadn’t even realized it was wrinkled and messy. his sudden actions left you unintentionally staring in awe at his unfairly pretty face and kind gesture. when he suddenly leaned in to finally finish pulling the mat to be as comfortable as possible for you to sit on, he looked directly at you.

you prepared yourself for the playful snarky remark he always shot after correcting your mistakes, but this time he didn’t. when he finished fixing the mat for you, he just smiled at you warmly and stared at you without moving away. you mind seemed to freeze when you noticed how he still kept crouching to your level, his body in a slight close proximity.  

suddenly, you were more nervous than you could’ve imagined from mere eye contact. after all, you weren’t sure if you’ve ever seen his face this up close before. his sunkissed healthy skin, brown eyes with prominent green hue swirling deep near his iris, and long lashes to compliment them. his hair seemed to be naturally straight, you'd never seen him prepare any oil of the sort like he grooms his tail. you huffed internally when you noticed how faintly pink his lips were, how was he this ethereal without trying? it really is unfair.

little did you know, he was having the exact same thoughts about you. his eyes seemed to silently observe the details on your face, pupils dilating slightly from the sight. the two of you looked into each other’s eyes one more time, then noticed on both ends, how heavy-tension the atmosphere was. 

almost at the same time, you two looked away, your head dropping low to stare at the ground as tighnari swiftly averted his gaze sidewards. 

thankfully, tighnari was the first to break the awkward silence, still crouched down to your level. something about him maintaining his stance was endearing, like he wanted to be closer to you despite his uncomfortable position- and who knows, maybe that was the truth. you silently hoped it was.

“listen! that’s the sound of morning dew dripping upon the leaves.” you blinked at the random remark he made. judging from his expression, he looked like he wasn’t making jokes, so you focused on hearing the oddly specific sound he mentioned out of the blue- of course to no avail.

"i don't have extraordinary hearing skills like someone, remember?" you squinted and tried your best to focus on the sound, whatever you could hear. unfortunately, all that graced your ears was the sound of leaves rustling from the calm breeze, and maybe the sound of sunrise if such thing even existed. it was no use, you had never heard dew droplets on the leaves before and was fairly positive that you never would be able to within capabilities of a human ear.

“i keep forgetting how unfortunately small your ears are. must be hard, unable to pick up pretty noises like these, hmm?” he diverted his attention to your ears, tilting his head and leaning in even closer to observe how different yours were in comparison to his own. your brows furrowed and you shot back playfully.

“excuse me, I seem to remember that you are a fennec fox, biologically programmed to have significantly higher sense of hearing. and my ears function normally as a human’s do anyways.” tighnari laughed, he always enjoyed getting on your nerves to an appropriate extent.

amidst your lively conversation, both of you noticed life slowly grow brighter inside Avidya forest. you couldn’t help but notice tighnari’s normally sharp eyes mellow at the sight of an ethereal sunrise. you stared at the rosy hue cast across the eternal sky, shining in its glory unapologetically. amidst the depth of Avidya forest, life awoke alongside the first shreds of sunlight. the strings of liveliness spread vastly from birds chirping giddily, some of the flower petals blooming as if awakening from slumber and curious sounds of the forest embraced the two of you.

and on top of that, you were equally busy admiring how endearing tighnari looked right now, his expression similar to a little boy who’s gotten a good night’s kiss on the forehead after his mother read his favorite bedtime story. the forest watcher looked peaceful, basking in the first rays of the day next to you. it was curious in a sense, surely he must enjoy this breathtaking view every day on patrol. yet, he looked as though he was the happiest one in teyvat at this very moment, like it was his first time experiencing such magnificent scenery. 

an adoring smile made its way on your lips as you rested your chin on your hand. quietly, you continued to admire the side of tighnari you’d never seen before.

perhaps, under the glassy orange skies and glory of sunlight pouring on his skin, was your favorite sight of him thus far.

-

5. afternoons with tighnari.

“catching the chief watcher slack off, today must be my lucky day.” tighnari’s ears did a small twitch at the sound of your familiar voice. 

“i’ll have you know i’m on my lunch break. there isn’t anything i’m slacking off on, young scholar.” tighnari replied as composed as ever despite the way his ears kept excitedly twitching even after he was long aware of your welcome presence. 

“besides, during lunch breaks, I like to sit in a tree and admire the sunlight streaming through the canopy. though if I'm not careful, I'll fall asleep…” his unexpectedly cute concern and habit of admiring the forest like he doesn’t live here permanently tickled at your heartstrings. you bit back a smile when he immediately moved to make space next to himself while looking at your approaching figure with an expectant gaze. a small hummingbird flew past you two, making tighnari’s ears twitch again. no matter how many times you saw that, his ears and the twitches, reactions were quite endearing. 

“you were already half asleep when i saw you, chief watcher” you giggled when he rolled his eyes at your accusation. 

“well, since you’re sensitive to sounds, you could be a light sleeper to begin with, right? maybe resting for a while during lunchtime isn’t so bad.” you continued lightheartedly, your concerns over his health and overworking tendencies showing in your tone.

tighnari seemed to pick up on your caring tone when his brows raised slightly in pleasant surprise. to tighnari, someone taking care of him and not the vice versa was uncommon. he was known to be pretty much the foundation of the forest watchers, chief in almost every branches of what happens in Avidya forest- there was nothing going on in this forest where he wasn’t aware. and maybe because of his “status of authority” he so-badly despised, most people knew better than to pry on their superior’s personal life even if it was mere concern. for tighnari, the way you treated him and regarded him brought warmth and gratitude. and his feelings were clearly evident in his gaze directed to you, if you had the determination to open up your eyes. 

“it’s amazing, really. seeing how much you care for the forest and ecosystem.” you mumbled absentmindedly while making your way next to him and sat down. almost immediately, you realized what he meant by the specific description of “sunlight streaming through the canopy.” it truly did look divine, Avidya forest always did. 

tighnari wanted to answer with a sassy comeback to your words until he realized you were being serious and was currently looking at the tree and the sunlight with a big smile on your face. he didn’t even have the leisure to wonder how close you two were right now, you looked so peaceful, so… beautiful. he felt warmth spread in his chest as he looked at you being so comfortable around him, he quietly wished he could help you release your tension.

“it’s… expected for a forest watcher.” he barely managed to reply, keeping his gaze on you as discreetly as possible. 

“except, it really isn’t. it takes a lot to appreciate the small things in life. you’re quite humble and down-to-earth, it’s refreshing really” you continued as you suddenly felt the urge to let him know just how wonderful company he was. 

tighnari wasn’t one to blush and hide his face at compliments, especially from scholars under his care. well, let’s just say that you were an exception with the way he awkwardly coughed and pretended like he was wiping his mouth as his cheeks flushed rosy red. 

-

6. a very good evening with tighnari.

“good evening! I'm preparing to go observe bioluminescent flora. want to come?” you jumped a bit from the unexpected voice coming from your door.

“tighnari!” you snapped your head to the direction, finally realizing that the intruder happened to be your mentor.

“did I startle you? I apologize, your door was open so I assumed.” tighnari mentioned. sure, your door was open but your original thought was to let fresh air in your room, not invite visitors. you admit that he wasn’t exactly unwelcome, though. tighnari was… different. 

“are you in the mood for a stroll, young scholar?” your ears perked in interest as you met his eyes glinting with evident joy. 

“bioluminescent flora glows every night, but their light is different this time of the year. the color changes, and they shine in an iridescent glow, almost. it’s very attractive for sightseeing.” his idea sounded absolutely beautiful, you nodded quickly in enthusiasm. besides, your mentor himself also looked unusually excited, he must be looking forward to looking at the floras probably even more than you were. his excitement brought a smile to your lips- his giddiness was highly contagious, it seems.     

“oh, I’ll just quickly grab my memo. I expect today will be another day of extended learning from our chief watcher.” you giggled and quickly went through your desk in search of that one small memo you keep visible in case.

except, your search was hindered when you felt tighnari reach out and place his hand on yours softly and slightly hesitantly. your eyes widened at the featherlight soft touch slowly turning firmer until his fingers gently laced around yours. your mouth gaped slightly, then heat flushed your cheeks in realization and the possible implications of his intimate touch- your stare fixated on your linked hands.

one thing that unexpectedly calms your nerves down was when you realized his own hand was shaking slightly, indicating his nervousness. you were no exception, your breath hitched the moment you felt his skin on yours. it was made even worse when he turned your other hand around and proceeded to slip his fingers through yours, entwining them together, now both hands in his. the reassuring squeeze didn't help your racing heart one bit.

you remained positively speechless, unsure how you should even reciprocate, squeeze his hand? speak?

thankfully, he spoke first.

“it’s not… academic, (name). no memo-taking or learning. just… a stroll with me. is that okay?” tighnari couldn’t tear his eyes off you, he had never seen you look this endearing before even when he always found himself admiring you in silence discreetly to you. perhaps he enjoyed your stiff body language out of nervousness and your wandering eyes traveling everywhere but him far more than he assumed. who knew you could look this adorable flustered. 

you finally realized his intentions clearly, still unable to take your eyes off your connected hands because you had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to look straight into his eyes without your heart threatening to leap out of your chest. you couldn’t deny the warmth you felt not only from his hand holding yours but also from how he keeps glancing at you for the slightest concern in case of your discomfort. his grip on your hand was nowhere near forceful, if anything it was tender and comforting, the way his hands wrapped around yours. you could easily pull away if you wanted, but you fought back a small smile as you squeezed his hand softly in response. 

tighnari’s ears twitched in excitement. 

so all along, you weren’t imagining his tenderness towards you. he felt warm and welcoming, you couldn't help but squeeze his hands again gently in response, biting the inside of your cheek in an attempt to control the growing smile. 

"of course. should we go?" you mumbled, gaze still lingering on your hands in his.

neither of you spoke about your still-connected hand when you left your room, and it stayed that way throughout the entirety of the "stroll". 

both of you quietly hoped that the linked hands would become a regular occurrence from now on. 

7. home.

surely enough, holding hands had become a more regular occurrence after your small date observing the nocturnal flowers and bioluminescent flora that one warm evening. you also decided you would accompany tighnari every morning for patrol even though you barely manage to drag yourself out of bed when the sun wasn’t even out yet, but it was all worth it every time tighnari picked you up with a gentle smile on his face and sometimes tucked a small flower he grew himself in your hair. it had become an unspoken habit to patrol with your hand in his, basking in your warmth as well as make sure you didn’t stray too far. perhaps it was his inner protectiveness, perhaps it was his monogamous nature speaking but he silently knew he felt uneasy when you remained out of his sight for an extended amount of time. tighnari knew how deep his feelings had grown, and he found himself more and more infatuated with you as he spent time with you. the feeling was highly mutual, and you two felt more comfort in each other’s company in the comforting depths of Avidya forest. 

come to think of it, your time in sumeru was limited from the moment you set foot into the lands. now, there wasn’t anyone on your trails that would kick you out of the borders should you extend your journey, and you were glad you hadn’t caused any trouble in sumeru as it would possibly make you the unfortunate candidate of general mahamatra cyno’s watch. tighnari seemed to be close friends with him, but from the way he not-so-subtly quizzed you of your intentions and studies you pursued like an interview, the awkward conversation intensified by his stone cold face with absolutely no hint of anything besides blankness. you couldn’t help but be reminded of how intimidated you were on your first encounter with him when you absentmindedly mentioned the occasion. tighnari had assured you with a quiet laugh that he was merely curious, and it made you quietly wonder how to not draw attention to yourself from now on. you couldn’t help but remember his awkward jokes he slipped in to potentially ease your tension but it might’ve had just the opposite effects. tighnari seemed pleasantly surprised and happy you and cyno seemed to be getting along as one of the two dearest people he held in his heart. you couldn’t help the slight hesitation if you actually were “getting along” but at least the general mahamatra seemed to care not to intimidate you too much. you suppose time would tell.  

your mind returned to the peaceful silence you two shared at present, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand as he kept a soft hold on them. you deeply enjoyed spending time with tighnari like this, but you couldn’t help but be reminded of your soon-to-leave plans every time at moments like right now. time was flowing fast especially now that you had found something- someone worth pursuing here in a foreign land. both of you were silently aware of the fact, and neither of you had the heart to bring it up just yet especially when the fresh start of a new relationship was so, so comforting and full of life. 

you were resting your head on tighnari’s shoulder, sitting on the branch as you looked at the willow tree you two met under. you couldn’t believe how peaceful and right the world felt when you were with him, you never knew your life could be like… this. amidst the comforting atmosphere, tighnari softly broke the silence. 

“(name)” his voice sounded quiet and somewhat unsure, a tone you scarcely ever heard him use. you looked at him in attention. 

“yes?” 

“i…” he spent a few seconds pondering on just how he could bring this up. just from his hesitance, you knew what he was thinking about, and it was perhaps the time to discuss the elephant in the room and hopefully get the slightly hefty conversation over with. 

with a single sigh, tighnari stabilized his voice and looked at you. 

“i think we need to discuss your time left here in your curriculum.” you bit the inside of your cheek at the expected, yet conflicting topic. it wasn’t as though you hadn’t thought about it before, it just demanded both of you to be present and willing to open your heart and opinions for you to come to a conclusion together. this tension perhaps was the reason why you seem to have been unconsciously avoiding this moment. with a soft sigh, you nodded softly in response.  

“less than a month left, yes” you softly replied, your eyes still focused on the willow tree you met him under. in a way, the tree had granted both of your wish. but you don’t seem to remember asking for a loving boyfriend “forever” or anything of the sort. a boyfriend, yes. but the duration… maybe you should’ve added the time while you were at it. 

before you could organize your thoughts and answer what your stance was, tighnari softly rested his head on your shoulder, gently wrapping his arms around your waist to draw your figure closer, to silence the slight hesitancy and worry of potentially being let down if you weren’t on the same page. 

“i can’t ask you to leave behind your life at snezhnaya and accompany me at a foreign land… but at the same time, (name)...” tighnari laced his fingers with you close, the warmth of his hand radiating in your palm as his other arm was holding you tightly in his embrace, his breath softly hitting your neck. 

“i… can’t just bid farewell and thank you for the memories. i didn’t start this relationship with you for lighthearted fun or for some teenage dream.” maybe you could have made a playful joke about neither of you being teenagers at his statement, but tighnari’s proximity, his protective embrace and his mellow voice echoing at the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but softly pat his head as he hugged you tight. 

“i’m not with you just for the thrill, dear.” you replied quietly, resting your cheek on the top of his head. tighnari seemed to let out a slightly shaky breath, an indication of relaxation when he finally got the confirmation he desperately needed from you. that he wasn’t the only one completely infatuated with you. 

“are you aware… of what we are? what we would become, and if you’re ready, if you’re sure?”

“I-” you opened your mouth to respond, then closed it to give him time to express his worries. 

“fennec foxes mate for life, (name). our kind is highly monogamous and i… have to warn you about it before our relationship progresses more than it already has. we aren’t as flexible as some humans prefer.” his soft voice cooed, his somewhat stern tone silently reminding you to listen carefully and give this matter a serious thought. you blinked and finally realized the reason why he was unusually clingy and vulnerable than usual, so he truly couldn’t let you go. 

a small, loving smile appeared on your lips as you snuggled closer to him, still running your fingers through his hair and sometimes gently playing with his ears, making him sigh in comfort. 

“what i mean to say is… you need to have your mind set. i take you very seriously, much more than you may think at this early stage of our bond.”

“... dear…” you softly whispered and held his cheeks with both your hands, carefully lifting him up from your shoulder to meet his gaze. he truly looked lovestruck, his eyes glistened with tender care, devotion and affection all directed to you, and the sight made your chest warm up in overflowing love. 

“tighnari, i don’t regard our relationship in a light manner. i don’t see you as someone less than my partner for life. i take us… very seriously too.” tighnari could’ve sworn he fell in love with you all over again, finally getting your final answer he desperately needed to hear. he loved you, loved you too much to let you go, loved you too much not to cling onto you tight and keep you with him, to care for you. yet, he always had the voice nagging to him about how humans weren’t like him, that you could walk away any time, that humans weren’t as devoted as his kind. and just like that, all of his worries seem to melt away at your soothing, promising words that you whispered. 

“you wouldn’t be asking me to leave behind my life at snezhnaya because i won’t. i’m a scholar here and a scholar back home, and sumeru is the land of wisdom, no?’ tighnari’s ears twitched and perked up beyond control at your positive implication of words. 

“you mean…”

“i wouldn’t be throwing away anything to start with, tighnari. i’ll just be moving onto a new lifestyle. change to my environment. you aren’t asking me to abandon anything, please don’t worry. i’m choosing…” you suddenly halted mid-sentence at your cheesy words, looking away from his eyes to seem as normal as possible.

“i’m choosing… you. on my own will. you aren’t making me do anything.” and with that final confirmation, tighnari all but leapt to embrace you tightly. his hand wrapped around your shoulders, holding the back of your head as he pressed your face into his shoulder. he held you like you meant the world to him, pressing soft kisses on your forehead as he happily caressed the back of your head comfortingly. 

“thank you, thank you… thank you, love…” your face heated up from how he repeated the words, pressing loving kisses all over your face after he pulled away. your lips connected softly, his hands gently holding your face like you were the light of his world, the reason for his existence. you were, from now on to him- his one and only. you smiled into the gentle kiss, placing your hands on his shoulder, tilting your head to move your lips in sync to his sugarsweet kiss. tighnari’s hold on your face was so, so tender, his thumb caressed your cheek ever so softly as your kiss prolonged, the warm rays of the evening sun wrapping you both in its cozy heat. 

you pulled away, smiling at tighnari as he still held your cheeks. you couldn’t help but lean into his hand, placing your own over his. 

“i love you… i love you so much” tighnari couldn’t take his eyes off of you, you looked perfect right now, the golden sun pouring on your skin, your cheeks heating up in his palm from fluster, and the relaxed smile on your lips- the enchanted, lovestruck glint in your gaze as you two looked into each other’s eyes. you were always beautiful to him, but you truly did look absolutely breathtaking when you were in his arms, just where you belong. 

with another soft gentle to your forehead and your soft laughter echoing through Avidya forest, even the sunsets seemed to embrace the young couple hopelessly in love, letting them bask in its ethereal glow. 

finale.