lightyagamifan

[lightyagamifan]

Welcome to my Masterlist!

Here, you'll find fanfictions, headcanons, and maybe a few surprises along the way.

Feel free to send requests from the following fandoms:

• Roblox Pressure [DISCONTINUED]

Incorrect Quotes: (1), (2), (3)

Trick-or-Treating Mishaps! | Human!Sebestian Solace x Reader

“Good Luck Out There” | Sebestian Solace x Reader (Swapped AU)

“I didn't think you would actually fall for it...” | P.ai.nter x Reader

First Christmas with You | Sebestian Solace x Reader

"Congratulations. It’s a Child" | Sebestian x Reader

• Obey Me!

Masterlist

• Cookie Run: Kingdom

To Rest Without Guilt | Pure Vanilla Cookie x Reader

• Honkai: Star Rail

Masterlist: (1), (2), (3), (4), (5), (6), (7), (8), (9), (10)

• Genshin Impact

Masterlist: (1), (2)

• ZZZ

Masterlist

• Wuthering Waves

Masterlist

• Love and Deepspace

Even Villains Need Sleep | Sylus x Reader

Gravity Starts and Ends with You | Caleb x Reader

Ma Meilleure Ennemie | Sylus, Noah x Reader

• Alien Stage

Missed Shots, Stolen Glances | Hyuna x Reader

Blink and You'll Miss Me | Luka x Reader

“You're Good With Your Hands” | Hyuna x Reader

Crown of Weeds | Luka x Reader

Heard Without a Word | Ivan, Till x Reader

• Arcane

Masterlist

• OCs

Masterlist

🎃!Halloween Special: Shadows of the Night!🎃

Trick-or-Treating Mishaps! | Human!Sebestian Solace x Reader

Temptation Awaits... Or Not? | Siren! Aventurine x Reader

☃️!Winter Special: Frosted Wonders!☃️

“Where The Cold Can't Touch Us” | Aventurine x Reader

Under The Mistletoe | Aventurine, Dan Heng, Boothill, Sunday, Mortefi, Xiangli Yao, Aalto, Kaveh x Reader

Love, Laughter, and Mistletoe | Obey Me Brothers x Reader

First Christmas with You | Sebestian Solace x Reader

The Best Present | Aventurine x Reader

Secret Gift for Special Someone | Mortefi, Kaveh, Aventurine, Sunday, Ratio x Reader

Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice | Ratio x Reader

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas | Aventurine x Reader

A Family of Our Own | Dad!Aventurine x Parent!Reader

Under the Mistletoe, A Christmas Kiss | Kinich, Ororon x Female!Reader

In the Spirit of the Season | Aventurine, Sampo x Dog Hybrid Human!Reader

The Greatest Present Awaits You | Aventurine x Reader

“Christmas isn’t a season. It’s a feeling” | Kaveh x Reader x Aventurine

💝 !Valentine's Week Special: Love Is In The Air! 💝

“The Rose of My Heart” | 7th Feb: Rose Day! | Agrenti x Reader

Through the Lens of the Heart | 8th Feb: Propose Day! | Xiangli Yao x Reader

Chocolate-Covered Honesty | 9th Feb: Chocolate Day! | Sampo Koski x Reader

A Heart Hidden, A Bear Given | 10th Feb: Teddy Day! | Aventurine x Reader

A Vow in the Starlight | 11th Feb: Promise Day! | Ratio x Reader

The Art of Letting Go | 12th Feb: Hug Day! | Sunday x Reader

Kiss of the Crimson Flame | 13th Feb: Kiss Day! | Mortefi x Reader

Say It Wrong, Make It Right | 14th Feb: Valentine's Day! | Ratio x Reader

(Read this before making a request! Also, Enjoy your stay!)

[lightyagamifan]

✦ bloodstains & bubblegum

you as their jirai-kei gf .ᐟ ft. kinich, xiao, kazuha, scara

cw. explicit sexual content, toxic romantic dynamics, co-dependent relationships, self-harm, mental illness (depression, implied ed, emotional instability)

an. requested by anon !! i rlly loved writing this one since i’m jirai myself :3 btw lol, dead dove: do not eat

✦ KINICH

blood doesn’t scare him. you do. kinich never flinches when he sees the fresh cuts. he doesn’t ask why. doesn’t try to stop you. he just sits beside you on the cold tile floor, eyes on your shaking hands, and mutters, “that one’s deeper than usual.” his fingers brush your wrist. not to clean the blood — just to remind you he’s still there. no lectures. no panic. he treats your scars like they’re part of you. like poetry. he kisses the newest one and whispers, “next time, do it with me.”

you smoke in silence. he memorizes your mouth. you’re both stretched out on the rooftop. his hoodie around your waist. your legs in fishnets and dried blood. you pass the lighter back and forth like a secret. kinich smokes slow. always watching you from the corner of his eye. he never says you look pretty. he just takes the cigarette from your lips and presses his mouth where yours was. he lets the smoke linger on his tongue. “tastes like you,” he says. you blow ash into the sky and mutter, “maybe i’ll disappear tonight.” he exhales. “not without me.”

he doesn't beg. but he waits. you ghost him for two days. no texts. no stories. not even your usual drunk posts. he doesn't call. doesn’t panic. but when you crawl back through your window at 2:47am, mascara wrecked, you see him — asleep on your bed, phone still in hand, a pack of cigs and a candy bar on your desk. he doesn’t wake up until you slide under the blanket with him. his voice is scratchy when he mumbles, “you smell like smoke and perfume. and i missed you.” you don’t reply. you just press your face to his chest and think, this is what being found feels like.

he fucks like he’s trying to memorize the way you break. it’s never fast. it’s never loud. he pushes your thighs open and kisses every scar like a signature. he fingers you slowly — two fingers hooked up, wrist flexing steady — while your eyes roll back and your voice breaks on his name. he’s still got his hoodie on. his cigarette burns in the ashtray next to your leg. “you gonna cry for me?” he murmurs. and when you do — body shaking, mouth open, hips trembling under his hand — he says, “good girl.” you fall apart against him. he kisses your damp cheek and keeps going.

he writes your pain in his notebooks. you leave your journal open on purpose. he always reads it. he doesn’t say anything. but then you find your words — scrawled in tiny, angry handwriting in the corner of his math notes: “i think i’m in love with dying slow.” he tears that page out and folds it into his wallet. carries it like a photo. when you ask why, he says, “if you’re gone, at least i’ll still have the ugliest part of you.” and for some reason… that makes you love him harder.

💬 CHAT MSGS

kinich: didn’t see u in class are you alive or just pretending again you: both lol slept on the floor. woke up ugly. kinich: you’re always pretty when you’re miserable i mean that in a fucked up way you: i know. that’s why i sent the pic. kinich: gonna carve my name on your thigh if you keep looking like that you: promise? bring cigs ^_^ kinich: i’m already outside open the door baby i’ll kiss you til you forget your name

✦ XIAO

he sees everything. even when you think he’s not looking. you post your usual 2am photo dump — ashtray, bandaids, thighs half-covered in lace and dried blood. caption: “rotting pretty again. don’t look if u care.” you get no likes from him. but twenty minutes later, he’s at your door. silent. hood up. he doesn’t ask what happened. he just sits on your floor, lights a cigarette, and says, “you left your window unlocked again. that’s dangerous.” you crawl into his lap. he lets you. he always lets you.

you make him feel like dying. but in a good way. xiao never smoked before you. now he does it just to feel your lips when you press your cig to his mouth and say, “don’t waste it.” he coughs on the inhale. you laugh. he stares at you like he’s memorizing the moment. like if you disappear tomorrow, he’ll still know the exact shape of your smile when you’re three pills deep and calling him your “little ghost boy.” “you’ll haunt me, won’t you?” you murmur. he flicks ash into the dark and replies, “i already do.”

he reads your scars like they’re lines in a book he’s afraid to finish. you pull your hoodie off. he sees the new ones. doesn’t gasp. doesn’t flinch. just breathes in slow and traces one gently with his thumb. “does it hurt?” you shrug. “it helped.” he nods once. kisses it, barely there. “then it’s part of you.” he never asks you to stop. he just wishes he could take it for you.

he fucks you like he’s scared it’s the last time. you climb into his lap wearing torn tights and cherry lip gloss. you tell him, “hurt me nice, baby.” he swallows hard. doesn’t speak. he pulls your panties aside and fingers you slow, eyes locked on yours like he’s watching you fall apart in real time. he mouths at your chest. your neck. your thighs. kisses every old wound, every bruise, like apology. when you come — legs shaking, lips bitten raw — he presses his forehead to your belly and says, “stay alive for me. just a little longer.”

he would die if you asked. but he’d rather live if it means holding you. xiao doesn’t believe in love. didn’t, until you. now he carries your lighter in his pocket. sleeps in your fishnet hoodie. texts you at 4am with nothing but: “still breathing?” when you answer, “barely,” he replies: “good. don’t leave me yet.” you tell him he’s sick for loving you. he leans in, eyes tired, mouth soft, and says, “then let’s rot together.”

💬 CHAT MSGS

xiao: did u eat today you: vodka does that count :D xiao: not really but it’s better than disappearing again you: u sound worried xiao: i am you scare me but i love you anyway you: then come scare me back ;3c come over hurt me a little. not too much. xiao: i’ll hold you til you stop shaking then fuck you like you asked for it

✦ KAZUHA

he smells the blood before he sees it. you show up to class with a ripped sleeve and dried crimson flaking off your wrist. you smile like nothing happened. he doesn’t say a word. just takes your hand under the desk and holds it tight — thumb grazing the edge of your newest scar, like punctuation. you feel him trembling. he writes you a haiku later: you cut your own skin but never carve out the ache. i would hold it all. you press it to your chest and don’t cry until he leaves.

he never judges. but he always sees. you post another filtered photo — smeared eyeliner, cherry lollipop in your mouth, thighs bruised on purpose. the caption reads: ♡ maybe if i die pretty they’ll love me ♡ ten minutes later, kazuha texts you: “do you wanna come over?” no lectures. no shame. just a soft place to land. you show up in fishnets and a half-unbuttoned cardigan. he makes you tea. wraps you in his blanket. reads you rimbaud until you fall asleep on his chest. when you wake up, he’s still holding you like you’ll disappear if he breathes too hard.

you’re not a poem. you’re a confession. kazuha has a notebook he never lets anyone read. you find it once while he's showering. inside are pages of your name, over and over. your voice, your smell, your laugh, your pain — written like scripture. one page just says: i think she wants to die. i think i’d let her, if she asked sweet enough. when you confront him, he doesn’t deny it. he just whispers, “i’ve never loved anything this much. it scares me.” and you kiss him like a sin.

soft hands, rough intentions. he touches you like you’re breakable, but fucks you like you want to be ruined. he fingers you slow, tracing the scars on your thighs with his free hand, whispering: “you hurt yourself so often… let me do it sweeter.” he eats you out like it’s penance. lets you ride his thigh with your fishnets still on, the friction just enough to burn. when you whimper, “i’m close,” he pulls you down by your hips and says, “then fall apart for me.” you do. he moans your name like a vow.

you bleed. he writes. kazuha keeps every cigarette you crush in half, every matchstick you break, every candy wrapper from your 3am walks. he turns them into collages. little altars to your pain. once, you catch him gluing one of your bandaids into a notebook. he looks up, cheeks pink, and says, “it’s the first thing that ever touched your cut. i wanted to keep it.” you tell him he’s crazy. he kisses your wrist and replies, “only for you.” you both believe it.

💬 CHAT MSGS

kazuha: did you eat today or just breathe in smoke again you: smoke tasted better than food i didn’t feel like existing in public (^_^;) kazuha: you don’t have to i’ll bring you tea and let you rot in my bed just be here. still breathing. you: u say the sweetest shit when i look like death kazuha: death has never looked so lovely send me a photo so i can write another poem i’ll never show anyone you: sent. my blood looks pretty in this one kazuha: it does. i want to kiss every part you hate til it bruises differently you: do it then ;3 bring the wine. bring your mouth. bring the bandages.

✦ SCARA

he calls you pathetic. but he’s the one sleeping in your bed every night. you post another blurry mirror pic: fishnets, cuts peeking past your thigh strap, smudged eyeliner. caption: “woke up ugly again lol <3” ten minutes later he texts: “you’re disgusting.” twenty minutes after that, he’s at your door. he kisses you like he’s starved. fingers digging into your hips like you belong to him. when you pull back and whisper, “you don’t mean it,” he scoffs, “yeah? then stop posting shit like that if you don’t want me to get hard in public.” you smile. you both know he’d burn the world if someone else called you names.

he’d rather die than admit he cares. you show up to his dorm wearing your usual: short skirt, ripped sleeves, bruises like accessories. he looks you up and down and mutters, “you look like hell.” but later, when you’re asleep on his couch — eyeliner streaked, arms covered in fresh band-aids — he tucks a blanket over you and stares for too long. “idiot,” he whispers. then, quieter: “don’t leave me too.”

he makes you cry on purpose. then wipes your tears with his hoodie sleeve. you’re drunk. you say something about wanting to disappear. he snaps: “then go already. no one’s stopping you.” you flinch. he sees it. you leave. ten minutes later, he’s blowing up your phone. “don’t ignore me.” “get back here. now.” you come back and he’s pacing, furious. he pulls you into his chest so hard it knocks the air out of you. “say that again and i’ll never fucking forgive you,” he growls into your neck. you sob. he lets you.

he fucks you like a punishment. then kisses you like he’ll never get the chance again. you wear his hoodie with nothing underneath. say, “bet you don’t even want me.” he slams you against the wall and grits out, “you have no idea what i think about when you’re dressed like this.” his hands are rough. his mouth is mean. he fucks you against the mirror you take your selfies in. moans low, possessive. “you’re mine. you hear me? if anyone else even looks at you, i’ll kill them.” you claw at his back and whisper, “yes, baby.” he comes instantly. later, he lets you fall asleep on his chest. he doesn’t let go.

you’re a mess. he likes you that way. you light a cigarette with your shaking fingers. he grabs it, takes a drag, then says, “you need help.” you raise a brow. “gonna save me, then?” he exhales smoke into your mouth, kisses you hard. “no. i’m gonna keep you like this.” you should be scared. you’re not. you’re in too deep. he stares at your scars and mutters, “at least now you match me.” you laugh. then cry. he stays.

💬 CHAT MSGS

scaramouche: why the fuck would you post that pic are you trying to piss me off or just be a whore you: can’t i be both thought you liked me like this scaramouche: i like you better with your mouth full and your phone off keep playing and i’ll ruin you you: promise? i want your fingerprints around my neck again scaramouche: you want everything my hands my knives my fucking attention you: mhm. want your spit in my mouth too. been bad again. scaramouche: pathetic. i’m outside. open the door. on your knees when i walk in. you: bring gauze i bled for you today thought you’d like it :3c scaramouche: i do. i’ll kiss it better after i make you cry

credits to @cafekitsune for the animated border lines!

[lightyagamifan]

⋆༺❀༻⋆ PERFIDY AND PERFORMANCES. (wanderer x fatui!gn!reader)

PLAY SYNOPSIS: the wanderer once forgot—and then remembered. his past was a painful thought, but even more so when he thought of you; because you were never one of his betrayals, but perhaps he was yours. and suddenly, you've come back into his life without knowing who he is. but he's the only one in sumeru who knows who you are. what you are. now, he's torn between his care for you and his present.

CONTENT AND WARNINGS: gn!reader, light fluff, heavy angst, tragedy (don't come at me i put the warning), betrayals, wanderer is not the sole point of interest in the series, deceit, reader is part of the fatui, pining?, the one that got away.

ACTING NOTES: okay. i promise i'll try not to ditch this one. without spoiling too much, there isn't a good ending. the relationship with wanderer (as he will be referred to in the play) is considered romantic as my work revolves around this, but you may read this as platonic (mostly). many sumeru characters are very important to the plot, and interactions with them can be seen as either platonic / familial or romantic, based on how you perceive them. unfortunate for some, but i may discontinue this based of traction. slow updates. slow start and very long waits.

TAGLIST: @riniaras, @procacao, @okukura, @aliceleste. please send an ask off anon or write a comment under any chapters / this post if you want to be added!

STATUS: not started yet!

SHOW PREVIEW.

PROLOGUE: A SINGLE, FROSTED SNOWDROP. ACT ONE: CRUSHED UP DAFFODILS AND MARIGOLDS. ACT TWO: THE HYACINTH THAT LEAD YOU TO LIE. ACT THREE: BUSY BEE BUZZING AROUND THE DECEITFUL DAHLIA. ACT FOUR: SCARLET PATH OF BLOOD-RED CARNATIONS. ACT FIVE: BLACK ROSES, HONOUR YOUR UNDOING. EPILOGUE: CHRYSANTHEUMS FLOODING AND DROWNING IN YOUR MEMORY.

© 2024-2025 aellesira. all rights reserved. please do not translate, feed to ai, plagarize, copy or repost any of my works anywhere.

[lightyagamifan]

⟳ 38. EPILOGUE

You don’t feel hurt seeing the message that once used to gut you.

My place?

It used to mean uncertainty. Ambiguity. A line you kept walking even when it cut into your soles. But now, it just makes your heart flutter, because you trust him. Kuni wouldn’t hurt you like that anymore. Not after everything he’s done to prove otherwise.

You grab your bag and rush down the stairs of your apartment, only to pause at the sight waiting for you at the curb.

His car.

Parked just outside, his car waits, headlights soft, engine quietly humming. You blink, surprised, heart tugging at how this still feels new. Back then, one of the things that marked the line between you was how he used to leave you to yourself. Made you come over alone, go home alone. But now, he’s always there. Picking you up. Driving you home.

Like it’s second nature. Like it matters to him.

He steps out and rounds the front of the car, one hand holding a bouquet of soft pink and ivory flowers. You laugh a little in disbelief, walking up to him.

“What is this all about?” you giggle, raising a brow as you take the bouquet from his hand.

He smiles gently. “Just get in the car.”

He opens the passenger door for you, a quiet, thoughtful gesture you still haven’t gotten used to. You slip inside, brushing your fingers over the petals, inhaling their faint sweetness as he shuts the door behind you and gets in the driver’s seat.

You glance at him sideways. “We’re not really going to your place, are we?”

You worry for a second because you’re only in your pajamas and an oversized shirt, barefaced with not a trace of makeup. Hardly restaurant-appropriate. But then you see him leaning against the car in a hoodie and joggers, just as casual, and you let out a quiet sigh of relief.

He shakes his head once, eyes on the road. “No, we are.”

You furrow your brow. “Really?”

A sly smile tugs at his lips. “You’ll see.”

The drive is quiet, but not awkward. Music plays softly in the background. His hand brushes over yours on the center console for a fleeting second before he pulls it away, like he’s thinking too much about it. You notice, and it makes your chest ache in the best way.

When you arrive, you’re expecting the usual. the building, the elevator, the familiarity of his apartment.

But as he opens the door and lets you in first, your breath hitches.

Rose petals are scattered across the floor, leading a trail deeper into the room. Soft golden candlelight flickers from every surface, along the counters, the bookshelves, the coffee table, casting a warm, amber glow over everything. The air smells like something rich and home-cooked.

Your eyes follow the trail to the dining area, where a small table is set for two. Two plates, two silverware, a folded napkin at each seat, and a pair of wine glasses already filled halfway. The table is adorned with small candles, more petals, and food that looks too good to be homemade.

You turn to Kuni, stunned, and find him looking at you with a barely-there nervousness in his eyes, so subtle you’d miss it if you didn’t know him like this. Like someone truly soft, someone unsure, someone who feels.

You tease, voice light, “What is all this?”

“It’s a late dinner date.” He clears his throat, looking mildly embarrassed, cheeks tinged pink. “Just before we graduate. I was going to take you to a restaurant, but I’ve already taken you to a lot. Figured this would mean more.”

You step closer, touched. “I didn’t expect you to go all out like this.”

He shrugs with that slight awkwardness you adore, not quite meeting your eyes. “Ajax helped with some stuff,” he admits. “But I cooked. And bought everything.”

Your heart skips. Literally skips. The warmth in your chest is too much to contain, and for a second, you forget how to breathe.

He moves to pull out a chair for you, visibly awkward about it. He tries to play it off nonchalantly. You giggle at how embarrassed he looks, like this sort of thing doesn’t come naturally to him. And it doesn’t, which only makes it sweeter. You can’t help but think Ajax or maybe even Kaz coached him on how to act like a gentleman.

He settles into his own seat after, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

“I’m not really dressed for a night like this,” you admit, glancing down at your pajamas.

“Neither of us are. You’re pretty either way,” he says without hesitation.

Somehow, thinking about it now, a fancy homemade dinner, shared in hoodies and pajamas, feels more romantic than any of the dressed-up dates you’ve ever been on.

The two of you begin to eat, conversation flowing easily. Familiar, yet charged with something new. It feels special. Different.

And for the first time, you’re tasting his cooking. Looking at the small cuts and fresh bandages on his hands, your heart swells just thinking about the effort behind it.

Toward the middle of the meal, you catch him watching you, his expression soft, unreadable, like there’s something sitting heavy on his tongue. You lower your fork and ask, gently,

“Why did you really prepare all of this?”

He exhales, like he’s been holding it in.

“We’re graduating,” he starts. “We’re about to get pulled in different directions. Jobs. Deadlines. Life.” He pauses, fingers tightening around his glass. “But I’m damn sure about you. I don’t want to let go now that I finally…” he trails off.

He shakes his head, as if resetting.

“[Name],” he speaks more confidently. “I want to be with you, wherever you go. I’ll support you, even if I suck at saying it.”

Your heart is screaming, thudding so loud it drowns out everything else.

“I hope everything I’ve done up until now is enough to back this up.”

He finishes in a softer tone, “I love you.”

You blink.

It’s the second time he’s ever said it to you directly. The first was sudden, raw, and emotional. This time, it’s more intentional. Steady.

Nothing but utter sincerity.

And before you can even speak, he stands and steps around the table. He pulls something from his pocket: a small velvet box.

Your lips part.

“Kuni…”

He opens it to reveal a delicate necklace—simple, elegant, with a small charm shaped like a feather. A promise necklace.

“We started off messy,” he states. “I was difficult. I still am. I’m still working through my past. But if you’ll have me anyway… I want this. I want to make this work.”

“Do you?” he asks. He searches your eyes for an answer.

You stare at him, eyes stinging. Your fingers curl around the box as he holds it out, and you try to speak, but your voice catches in your throat.

Because this is what you wanted. Always.

Back then, you would’ve killed for a sliver of his affection. You dreamed about being wanted like this. Soft. Pure.

You told yourself not to hope, and yet, here you are.

And it’s real. And he’s real. And he’s trying.

You let out a laugh, watery and disbelieving. He stiffens.

“What?” he asks carefully.

“Sorry,” you say, swiping a tear from your cheek. “It just… feels like I’m being proposed to.”

He pauses and registers what you said. Then he huffs a laugh under his breath, amusement curling at the edge of his lips.

“Sure, but not now.”

And then, almost shyly, he leans forward and presses a hesitant kiss to your hand.

You crumble.

You sit up and throw your arms around him. He stiffens in surprise for half a second before melting into you, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face in your neck like he needs you to breathe.

You pull back just enough to look at him.

Then, you kiss him.

His body responds in reflex, having done this with you multiple times with you in the past. He holds your waist with his one hand and cups your cheek with the other.

It’s hungry, desperate, full of heat and warmth, but it’s something gentler than anything you’ve ever felt before. No lust. No recklessness. Just everything you never got to say, finally being said all at once, in silence.

When you finally break apart, you’re both out of breath. His lips are pink. His cheeks are flushed.

Neither of you say anything for a moment, too focused on catching your breaths.

Then,

“I assume,” he says, voice rasped, “that was a yes?”

You beeak out in a laugh, chest shaking, and smack his chest lightly.

“Asshole.”

And you’ve never meant it more affectionately in your life.

⟳ BLURRED LINES — PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

You say you’re just friends. You say it every time you leave a party together, every time you wake up tangled in sheets, every time you swear it’s the last time. But habits form, lines blur, and pretending gets harder when jealousy starts to sting.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

aaaand that’s a wrap. Hopefully the ending didn’t feel too rushed since I mostly just added snippet screenshots :’)

From the bottom of my heart, THANK YOU for reading Blurred Lines — especially to those who stuck around since the beginning :’)

Finishing this means a lot to me, as it’s my first completed full-length SMAU. It’s been a goal of mine to see an AU through, and I’m glad I finally did.

I hope my writing satisfied you, even just a bit. If it didn’t, that’s okay too! I can’t say I’m completely proud of how I wrote or handled certain parts, which admittedly made it hard to stay motivated. But your kind words and support helped me push through — and now we’re here :)

I’ll be taking a break from writing, but I’ll still post oneshots here and there when inspiration hits. Mostly self-indulgent stuff. I hope you’ll still be able to support me then. <3

Here’s a BONUS SMUT (R18+) as an ending gift! I’m not going to tag you all since there may be readers that are minors. So only read it if you’re comfortable. Also, here’s a spotify playlist for this AU

If you have any questions, thoughts, disappointments, ideas, etc. that you want to say, FEEL FREE TO SEND AN ASK!

TAGLIST @joiurz @sketcheeee @mywillt0live @kyouzki @ylapsha45 @eternallykira-143 @bananasquash @kunikissr @swivi @ariesloves @lloversss @b-bbytears @kokoscutie @vi0let-writes @tomsishere @franaby @scaraenthusiast1 @iloveescara @usagiarchive @ilovecats-26 @quiechee @snetr @axquella @tatsuomii @lalalaloveallmydays @liyahbug @feiherp @jinjjjia @automaticpatroltragedy @mysterypotatoink @zuhahearts @adres-tia @ssetsuka @strwbrrybbpop @sesamemin @blvdmrcnry @aspinny @jiminscarmex @sammybeefangirls @lxkeeeeee @yu-yumii @linasxoxo @quiet-place-for-thoughts @randomhumans-blog @aaudreys @lesbi-snail @jayzioxx @meowpmzai @s-f-rants @cosmic-rainestorm @honey-and-sweetdreams @vincelikestomince @mono-dontidae @simeonmybabygirlicious @gugumioooo [50/50]

if your name is in bold, that means i can’t tag you

[lightyagamifan]

Choose-Your-Own-Adventure where you are a K-Pop Idol living in Seoul who gets a group of new bodyguards...

Their names are Kazuha, Xiao, Heizou, Venti, Wanderer and Aether!

🔗 READ/PLAY HERE 🎮 interactive fanfic "Mic Drop, Wind Rise" by bunnichu 📖 Episode 1 of ?

[lightyagamifan]

✦ disorders of 5wirl

what it’s like dating them through dysfunction, delusion, and decay.

cw: mental illness, emotional manipulation, self-harm, suicidal ideation, alcohol abuse, grief, trauma, gaslighting, toxic relationships, codependency, modern au, hurt no comfort.

a/n: i’m not a professional, and i don’t claim to perfectly represent any of the mental illnesses in this fic. i did my best to research each one, but a lot of it is also based on my own behavior, thoughts, and experiences — which makes this deeply personal to me TT i’m sorry in advance if it hurts to read. it hurt to write, too </3

venti – alcohol dependency + persistent depressive disorder (dysthymia)

he’s drunk when you pick him up from work.

again.

his manager texts you with something polite — “venti had a rough day again, would you mind…” — and you already know what that means. you don’t ask for details anymore. you just grab your keys and go.

he’s outside the building when you get there, sprawled across the front steps, a bottle in a brown paper bag clutched to his chest like a comfort blanket. he sees you and lights up like a child.

“my ride has arrived,” he slurs, pushing himself to his feet and swaying like a dandelion in the wind.

he leans into you, all dead weight and dizzy warmth, humming something tuneless, something about heartbreak and sky-colored dreams. he reeks of rum and bad decisions. you steady him without a word.

“i’m fine,” he says on the ride home, head on your shoulder. “just a little drink. i’m just… poetic when i’m tipsy, you know?”

you’ve heard that one before.

you’ve watched him drink through an entire bottle of wine before noon. you’ve had to carry him to the shower while he laughed and mumbled lyrics into your collarbone. you’ve held his hand in the emergency room after he fell down the stairs, pupils blown wide, breath soaked in tequila.

you don’t believe him anymore. but you still nod. because the alternative is asking him to stop, and watching him fall apart even faster.

he calls it his “muse.” you call it his slow death.

you’ve seen him sober, but it’s rare. brief. like a comet in the sky — bright, brilliant, and gone before you can hold onto it. he’s gentler when he’s clear-headed. softer. quieter. sadder.

sometimes he sings in his sleep. sometimes he cries. sometimes he stares at the ceiling for hours, eyes dry, lips moving like he’s praying — to who, you don’t know. he hasn’t believed in gods for a long time.

his apartment is littered with empty bottles and notebooks.

the bottles get recycled. the notebooks don’t.

he leaves them open, like he wants you to read them. and you do, even when it hurts.

his handwriting gets shakier the more he drinks — sometimes whole lines slant sideways across the page. sometimes the ink is smudged with tears. sometimes you can’t tell the difference.

one morning, you find one sitting on the kitchen counter, still warm with the shape of his hand. the last line reads:

“i’m sorry you had to love a corpse with a heartbeat.”

you tear the page out. quietly. you fold it and tuck it into your pocket, hands shaking.

he never asks where it went. and you never bring it up.

instead, you kiss his forehead when he stumbles in at 3am, breath sour with gin, cheeks flushed. you hold him as he collapses into your arms like a child. he sighs against your neck and says,

“you’re the only thing that makes the world feel less loud.”

but it’s not love. it’s dependency. inertia. decay.

and you don’t know if he’s killing himself on purpose anymore — or if he’s just given up trying not to.

xiao – depression + complex ptsd

he doesn’t speak unless spoken to. he doesn’t touch you unless you touch him first. even then — it’s hesitant. fragile. like he’s afraid he might break you just by existing.

being with xiao feels like trying to hold fog in your hands. he’s there. and then he’s not. you reach for him, and he lets you — but only barely. only long enough for your heart to start hoping before the silence settles in again like dust.

he never says i love you unless you say it first. he never texts first. never asks if you’re okay. never initiates anything beyond presence.

he just exists. on the edge of your bed, in the corner of a room, near you — but never really with you.

you ask him, sometimes, why he disappears.

he shrugs. looks down. fingers clench in his sleeves like he’s trying to fold himself smaller.

“i didn’t want to be a burden.”

he says it like it’s a fact. like that’s just what he is.

he vanishes for days at a time. no calls. no warning. sometimes he turns his phone off completely. sometimes he leaves it behind. you panic. you spiral. you sit by the door with your heart in your throat, waiting for a knock that doesn’t come.

and when he returns — it’s quiet. like it never happened.

sometimes he looks like he’s been in a fight. bruises on his knuckles. cuts on his cheek. dried blood under his nails. he never explains.

you ask, “where were you?” he answers, “walking.”

you ask, “are you okay?” he answers, “i’m here, aren’t i?”

you start to wonder if he’s trying to die.

you don’t say it out loud. but it clings to the silence like smoke.

he never cries. never yells. never breaks. he just carries this still, heavy sadness everywhere he goes — like it’s welded to his spine.

he stands in the doorway after each vanishing act, face pale, hair damp from rain or sweat or grief, and says,

“sorry. i didn’t mean to make you worry.”

like it’s not the tenth time this month.

like you didn’t think you’d have to identify him in a morgue. like you didn’t sit on the bathroom floor at 2am, shaking, wondering if loving him is the same as bleeding out slowly with your hands tied behind your back.

he tells you you’re too good to him. he tells you he doesn’t deserve this. he tells you not to wait for him if it gets too hard.

but then he clings to you in the middle of the night — softly. like it’s accidental. like it hurts him to need you.

you feel it when he breathes: the guilt, the numbness, the way his ribs tremble when your fingers brush over his scars.

he never says thank you. he never says stay.

but he looks at you like you’re the last light left in a world that’s long since burned.

and you stay. because you don’t know how to walk away from someone who already believes they’re gone.

heizou – persistent complex bereavement disorder + obsessive traits

he loves you like he’s afraid you’ll die.

not just leave — die. vanish. disappear. go cold like the last person he loved. like the boy with bright eyes and a sharper mind who bled out because heizou was twenty minutes too late.

he doesn’t say his name anymore. he doesn’t have to. you see him in the way he checks your location ten times a day. you hear him in the silence after every argument. you feel him in the way he panics if your phone rings twice without an answer.

he doesn’t call it trauma. he calls it “being prepared.” calls it “rational.” calls it “not making the same mistake twice.”

he keeps track of everything. every password. every safe word. every route you take to work. he memorizes your calendar and reminds you to eat at 2:15pm exactly. he checks the locks twice before bed, then again after you fall asleep.

you say, “this isn’t healthy.” he says, “you think being dead is healthier?”

his voice never rises. he’s never cruel. but there’s a steeliness in him — something inflexible. obsessive. something that says: “i already lost one person. i won’t lose another.”

and the truth is, he doesn’t trust the world. doesn’t trust you. not to survive. not to stay safe. not to stay.

you try to love him gently. he doesn’t know what to do with gentle.

you reach for him in the morning — he flinches. not because he’s afraid of you, but because he’s afraid of comfort. because it feels wrong to be held when someone else is six feet under because of him.

he won’t let you touch the box in the back of his closet. you do, once. it’s full of old newspaper clippings and case notes and a photo printed so many times it’s starting to fade.

you confront him.

he doesn’t get angry. he just goes quiet. quieter than usual.

“he was my friend,” he says. and then, softer: “i think he would’ve been yours, too.”

you ask if he’s ever let himself grieve.

he laughs. just once. hollow.

“this is me grieving.”

he doesn’t believe he deserves happiness. he tells you that sometimes, when he thinks you’re asleep.

“you should be with someone normal.” “you’d be safer without me.” “i think i’m just keeping you here to punish myself.”

you reach for him. he lets you. but his shoulders stay tense. his hands stay cold.

loving heizou feels like wrapping your arms around barbed wire and pretending it doesn’t cut you.

you tell him, “you’re not broken.”

he whispers, “then why do i bleed on everything i touch?”

and you don’t have an answer. so you just hold him tighter. and pray he doesn’t vanish into his grief before you do.

kazuha – self-harm (cutting) + dysthymia + avoidant personality disorder

you stopped asking about the bandages months ago.

they show up in the laundry sometimes — clean gauze, stained edges. rolled too neatly for accidents. they’re always on his forearms. left wrist more than right. layered under his sweaters, always hidden, but never that well.

he never flinches when you look. he just smiles. soft. tired. unreadable.

“don’t worry,” he says, like that’s ever worked. “they’re old.”

but you touch his arm one night, gently — just a brush of fingertips — and he inhales too sharply to be casual. you pull back like you’ve touched fire. he laughs it off and kisses your forehead.

you don’t sleep.

his poetry never helps either. it’s beautiful. it’s haunting. it’s the only time he ever tells the truth. you read the drafts left on the kitchen counter, in the notes app, in the corners of receipts and torn envelopes. they always end the same:

“i want to vanish like the last light of dusk.” “some things weren’t made to stay.” “even the wind knows when to let go.”

you memorize them. just in case.

you don’t find out how bad it really is until you catch him by accident. bathroom door unlocked. early morning. you weren’t supposed to be awake.

he doesn’t hear you at first — he’s too focused. sleeves rolled up, blade against his skin, methodical and quiet like he’s brushing dust from a shelf. no panic. no mess. just another routine.

when you whisper his name, he looks up.

he doesn’t hide it. he doesn’t apologize. he just says, “i thought you were asleep.”

his voice is so calm it terrifies you.

you don’t yell. you just kneel beside him, hands trembling, trying to take the razor away without breaking the fragile stillness between you. he lets you. not because he wants to, but because you look like you’re about to fall apart.

“i don’t do it because i want to die.”

you ask him what he does want. he doesn’t answer.

you beg him to let you help. he says, “i don’t want to be a burden.” you say he’s not. he doesn’t believe you.

after that, he disappears more often.

not for long — a day, two, sometimes three. no goodbye. no explanation. just silence.

you learn the patterns. when you cry, when you raise your voice, when you say you’re scared — that’s when he leaves. not out of cruelty. out of fear.

he doesn’t know how to be needed. he doesn’t know how to exist without apologizing for it.

he always comes back. quiet, sheepish, empty-eyed.

sometimes with flowers. sometimes with food. sometimes with a poem folded in half and slipped into your hand like a confession.

“i’m sorry. it won’t happen again.”

you both know it will.

but he smiles like he means it. and you smile back, because loving kazuha feels like holding your breath underwater — peaceful. delicate. just painful enough to ignore.

you start doing everything more gently.

you knock before entering rooms. you lower your voice even when you’re upset. you stop crying where he can see you.

you shrink yourself so he doesn’t run.

and still — he runs.

you stay. because he needs you. because he’s beautiful when he’s hurting. because you don’t know where your sadness ends and his begins anymore.

and somewhere deep down, you think: maybe if you’re soft enough, small enough, safe enough — he’ll stop trying to disappear.

but he never does.

and you keep pretending that’s not killing you.

scaramouche – borderline personality disorder + emotional dysregulation

your phone rings at 2:37am.

you don’t even look. you already know who it is. it’s always him. always at this hour. always when you’ve just drifted into sleep deep enough to feel safe.

five calls in a row. then a voicemail. then a text: “please don’t leave me. please. please. please.”

you’re up before you can think. shoes on. jacket over your pajamas. keys shaking in your hand. there’s no logic anymore — just instinct, panic, guilt that blooms fast and poisonous in your gut.

because what if this is the time he means it? what if he’s hurt? what if you don’t answer and he —

you don’t let yourself finish the thought.

his apartment door is unlocked. you rush in, breathless, heart in your throat. and there he is. on the couch. dry-eyed. perfectly calm. laughing at some trashy late-night reality show, wrapped in a blanket he stole from your place weeks ago.

he looks up like nothing happened. like he didn’t just drag you out of bed with a near-suicidal panic attack. like he didn’t just twist the knife in your chest for fun.

“you made it,” he says, grinning. “knew you would.”

you don’t speak. you just stand there, soaking wet from the rain, mascara smudged under your eyes, your breath caught somewhere between a scream and a sob.

he pats the couch. “c’mere.”

you do. because of course you do.

being with scaramouche is like weathering a storm that never ends. no warning. no pattern. just destruction. you used to try and read him — map the triggers, trace the moods. now you just flinch when the wind changes.

sometimes he loves you so hard you can’t breathe.

he cups your face and says you’re the only good thing in the world. he kisses you like he’s starving. he texts you twenty-five times in an hour to ask if you’re still thinking about him. if you still love him. if you’re sure.

and sometimes —

sometimes he looks at you like you disgust him. like you’re a joke. like you’re a traitor just for needing five minutes of space.

“you’re obsessed with making everything about yourself.” “stop acting like i’m abusing you.” “you think you’re better than me? then leave. go ahead. just like everyone else did.”

you used to argue. now, you just sit there. you’ve learned the hard way that defending yourself is blood in the water.

he accuses. he spirals. he weeps.

you get good at patching him together. you stop patching yourself.

he’s already reaching for you now, wrapping himself around you, arms clutching too tightly like if he lets go you’ll vanish. his voice breaks into your shoulder.

“don’t let me ruin this too. please. i’m trying. i swear i’m trying.”

he is. and he isn’t. he wants to get better. but only if it doesn’t hurt. only if it doesn’t mean giving up the parts of you he feeds on.

he cries and you wipe his tears. he rages and you take it. he threatens to die and you believe him every single time.

and when it’s quiet again, when he’s breathing soft against your neck and the chaos has burned itself out, he says:

“you’re still here. i knew you would be.”

like that’s proof you love him. like your survival instinct isn’t dead.

and it is. because deep down, you already know:

he’s going to do this again. tomorrow. next week. the next time he feels hollow and furious and terrified and too full of love to hold it right.

he doesn't mean to hurt you. but he doesn't know how not to. and you don't know how to stop letting him.

you keep calling it love. maybe it is. maybe it's just what love looks like when neither of you knows how to survive it.

[lightyagamifan]

𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥.

✦ ┊ seeing you at the bar he went to with ajax.

what to know ┊ this is in a modern era, no one is mentally well, you are they/them, you are from mondstadt, and despite what the header says, the name "kunikuzushi" will be mostly used.

When Kunikuzushi thinks back about his upbringing, he would've assumed that he would end up in bars or clubs as much as the bard he's familiar with or the ginger friend he's known since he was a child, but he did not.

Ajax happened to invite him to a bar at the right time to celebrate with his previous co-workers, and knowing them, it was less likely they would even show up, so the two of them were left with two cocktail towers.

As far as he knew, Ajax wasn't such a drinker either, but he spends Mora relentlessly, regardless, it's a waste to leave the two towers three-fourths full, so Ajax opted to invite more people to help them empty them.

One of the people invited was the bard that he doesn't really talk with, but knows that he has a fixation on alcohol; it's controlled when he pays for it or if he has duties, but if there are none, he is relentless.

Kunikuzushi doesn't understand alcohol addiction, but he's familiar with the concept of addiction itself.

There's the repetitive flashing lights and dancers on stage, but people seem much more focused on their own group gathering rather than the people on the stage or the disorientating background of the dancers.

"Aether said it was [name]'s birthday," the ginger said, his gaze directed at his screen and can't help but think to himself that he could care less if you appear or not since it was not like he knew you. "We'll merge with their groups and they'll go ahead here first."

"They're coming?" he asked, his surprise lowering the volume of his voice that he was muted by everything that was happening in the bar and was only understood due to his lips. "Just the both of them together?"

He knew Ajax would nod to that answer, so he just looks away, finding his own question dumb, because Aether was known to always be stuck with you since the current month had started for some unknown reason.

Granted you have a kind personality and have been friends with him as far as everyone knew—but he was suddenly close to you now as far as everyone also noticed.

Thinking about it just gives him a headache that he'd rather not have this way, so he grabs a glass and puts it under the tap of the cocktail tower; he doesn't like thinking about the business of other people anyways—unlike you.

Ajax talked about his work as a corporate worker under the Tsaritsa while waiting for the rest, only getting himself a glass and sipping ever so often, not wanting to get wasted before the rest could arrive.

Kunikuzushi was the opposite, wanting to nearly incoherent by the time you arrived; he’d once heard that alcohol increases relaxation because of some brain chemical—something about neurotransmitters—that he doesn't remember the name, and he very much wants to be relaxed.

Still, despite wanting to be drowned in what he was drinking, he made sure to give Ajax replies that he was listening, after all, Ajax's coworkers were once his too before he left to—

"Oh, it's Ajax."

It's sickly sweet.

He placed the glass down to look up as Ajax stood up saying, "Welcome, birthday celebrant and Aether! It's been so long, and you two came together?"

"Thanks to [name]'s car at least," the blond replied, giving Kunikuzushi a smile after noticing him much there wasn't much to say since he looked quite tipsy already.

"I heard you came from Snezhnaya until the Tsaritsa set up another branch here, how are you adjusting?" you asked, smiling while shaking hands with Ajax since he offered it.

"It's... hot, to say so at least," Ajax said before his eyes trailed down to your clothing at to your companion. "Matching tops?"

"More like his clothes," you laughed. "Lumine nearly tripped the stairs with bleach and, well, there goes my top, and Aether's clothes are nearly all the same."

Right, the same black, tight, and cropped shirts that Aether usually wears was something you were also wearing.

"I'm surprised to see you here," Aether speaks, his voice nearly being drowned out with the volume of the entire bar as he sits beside the individual with an indigo-colored hair. "Last time I saw you, you were with the Harbingers."

"He's changed now," Ajax said, moving to sit in his earlier place as you politely sat on an individual chair outside of the couch. "Said he's here because of a breakup."

You were eyeing the contents of the table, being noticed by Ajax and he said, "Did you want anything else?"

"You ordered two towers for yourselves?" you asked the obvious, much to Kunikuzushi's irritation that he can't help but scoff.

He knew you noticed, it was just that you were granted with the patience of a saint with him that you didn't even comment or feel insulted; that was just one of the rewards you got from the course you took and finished in College.

"There are people that are supposed to come with but ended up canceling, corporate work gets busy for them," Ajax said and you nodded to yourself. "But I paid for them, take it as my gift, comrade. If you want, we can order more."

"I appreciate it, but I'm not a drinker," you laughed. "But if you're still insisting later, perhaps I could go for two more towers for the rest of the group."

"Kuni was dating?"

Aether seemed to be the only one to be surprised about that fact, because the ginger was aware of it and you were just looking pleased since you had a past bet with Aether about it; you won, basically.

The fact that he was dating seemed to just past through you too, when you would often be disturbed and ask the speaker if they should be saying such to you without the person of the topic's consent.

"Pay up," you smiled towards his way, a little too happy to be receiving money despite your already impressive wealth.

"Why was Kuni dating a topic of a bet?" Ajax asked.

"Good question," Aether said, almost bitterly, albeit a little irritated to be giving away cash as he tries to hand them to you but fails short. "The bet was years ago and I forgot why."

Kunikuzushi did his best not to react to see the blond's hand over yours as you reached for the Mora in his hand; he so did not need you two to be doing that in front of him especially after knowing he just underwent a breakup.

It makes him feel bitter that he pushed the empty glass underneath the tap of the cocktail tower again for another one.

Aether continued, "I'll send the rest to you online."

"You didn't bring cash?" you asked as you counted the Mora on your palm to see it wasn't the amount of money that you should be receiving. "But you remember my number, right?"

"Did you even ever changed numbers?" Aether asked as Kunikuzushi raised the tap to fill up his drink.

"No, had the same number for seven years already."

"That's quite a feat," Ajax commented, side-eyeing his friend that took a large swig of his drink before back to you. "I change every two weeks."

"Well, to be fair, I'm not that popular so..." you responded, smiling a little that you don't mean to be offensive about what you thought about the life of Aether's friend. "But is... your friend okay...?"

"Funny of you to ask that," the person with indigo-colored hair said with evident hostility making you look away; he doesn't look happy.

Perhaps it was because you were a stranger to Kunikuzushi that he was wary of you, but Aether still couldn't help but lean to you making you lean your side near him, assuming he's going to whisper.

"Did you bring your evil eye?" he whispered and you leaned away to smack his thigh for saying that, but he leaned close to continue his words. "I don't understand why he dislikes you so much, but he usually has the best gut feeling out of all of us."

Aether basically insinuated that it's either your jewelry was the problem or you, and that caused you to frown, hissing at his way, "I bring it for protection, not to hex. How could you doubt me now? You're such an ass."

"Is this your way of flirting?" Kunikuzushi frowned. "Right in front of my drink?"

"But what happened to the rest of the group?" Ajax asked, trying to make proper conversation with you and Aether. "I thought you said the rest of the Anemo would be here."

4NEMO, to be exact, odd name, but that's a band group consisting of Venti, Heizou, Xiao, and Kazuha—majority being light-weights in terms of consuming alcohol.

"Kaeya, Diluc, and the rest are coming too," you said, meaning there will be a large crowd later that will be coming for your birthday. "They said that they would be a little late."

In summary from how Kunikuzushi understood it by listening and not talking, apparently the drinking was supposed to start later 8pm, but Venti and the rest wanted to move it in a later time because he hasn't recovered from the previous attended with Kaeya and the rest.

You and Aether only read the group chat when you were already in the middle of driving close to the bar, and it was fortunate that Ajax texted the group chat and tried to invite people, thus there you were.

Aether's words kept overlapping with yours when you were trying to tell the story, and halfway, you gave up and started serving yourself a drink—that Aether took for himself.

"Is this your revenge because I won our bet?" you said, quite bitter as you frowned, but you weren't truly offended or that serious about it. "Real petty, Aether."

If Aether took Kunikuzushi's, he would've been offended, then again, he did already mention that you were granted with a patience of a saint—he just realized that you had the compassion of one as well.

He stayed quiet, drinking a few more since that was the reason for him being present there anyways, and of course, he's not dumb enough as to not see you glancing at him often each time he puts the glass beneath the tap of the cocktail tower.

It wasn't shot glasses, but usual 8 ounce glass.

Ajax and Aether started talking while you muse yourself in your phone to keep yourself updated about the people who wanted to go to the bar to celebrate your birthday even if the location was voted based on the drinkers of the chat.

Since you came with your car, you wouldn't drink too much when you knew you would be driving; he did notice you tasted the drink of the tower, and then you just left the ice to melt in the drunk as you tried your best to stay connected with the rest.

You weren't a drinker so you were waiting for the ice to melt so it would be drinkable for you, but you failed to notice that the ice melts quite quickly since some of the gourmet ices were hallow.

"I'll leave you guys for a bit," you said, thinking you were heard until you lifted your head to see Ajax and Aether talking and Kunikuzushi being the only one attentive enough to hear you despite his flushed state.

"What?" Kunikuzushi asked, sounding quite irritated to see you hesitate on speaking up again.

"I... I just..." you murmured, very much looking like you're reluctant to talk to him. "I wanted to see if the VIP room was available now, just to double check since the rest were going to come early so we could move there."

He nodded to your words; he heard you well, he's flushed but definitely not drunk—it's reassuring and you seem to trust him, considering that you blinked a few times in his way.

Still, despite telling him your plan, you hesitated on leaving them, and you seem to glance at him and then at the reception desk, only making up your mind when he waved at his hand for you to go.

It was quite funny.

You got up and left to ask about the room that you and your group most likely shared money on to be able to drink in a secluded spot.

Aether watched you when you left but when he connected the dots together, he went back to talking to Ajax while Kunikuzushi tried to sober up a little now, taking bits of ices in his mouth now to chew after realizing that his thoughts are going in a direction he didn't want.

"I thought that you'd get along well with them, Kuni," Aether said, referring to you as he went to refill his drink as well, he sounded quite surprised.

"What made you think so?"

The question escaped his lips before he knew it, of course, it's because he's tipsy, but he didn't like not being able to think before he say anything, considering his withdrawn personality.

"I mean... they smile a lot," the blond said, earning a chuckle from Ajax by the implication that smiles would be enough for you to earn the favor or trust of Kunikuzushi.

From his previous encounters with you, he can say that the blond was not wrong about you; for someone with an eye like him, he would know that you smile at everything even if you were nervous, or that you smile merely to comfort.

He looked down at the bucket filled with ice; your eyes crinkle when you smile as well, it's like when you smile, so does your eyes, you smile even when you're alone or just on your phone like you were capable of smiling even if you break someone's heart.

"Even if I smile a lot, it didn't get me the favor of Kuni, did I?" Ajax said as he leans back on his seat with a hearty laugh.

Aether's head turned towards Ajax as Aether responded in a playfu banter though he half-heartedly actually meant it, "Unlike [name], you have ulterior motives, they're really genuine and I thought... I just thought they'd be the person you might need."

Aether's words hit a nerve, especially when Kunikuzushi placed the thongs down and replied coldly with, "You're saying this to someone who just underwent a breakup."

"I... I was insensitive, sorry," the blonde murmured and it was drowned out in the loudness of the bar, but Kunikuzushi read his lips well. "But who even was—"

"They said we can go in."

You appeared behind the couch Ajax sat on, placing your hands on the headrest of the couch as you looked at the three of them, not knowing you cut in on Aether's words.

The flashing lights of the bar made you look like a silhouette as you made your way around the couch the ginger sat to go back to your earlier seat as you continued, "But only if you guys want to since we're still waiting for the others."

"Let's stay for now," Aether responded. "Just wanna stay in this loud environment first since it's quiet without Venti and the rest."

"Oh, Aether, thanks for giving my glass ice," you said, much to the blond's confusion.

Perhaps you felt like a small connection has been formed between you and Kunikuzushi, but you weren't being discreet in your glances anymore when you looked at his empty glass and asked, "Are you trying to sober up?"

He scowled in response to your question as if to put up a wall, and it's obvious enough that he was still irked by what the blond tried to insinuate between you and him.

As usual, most likely thinking that he was not in the mood for your bullshit, you smiled apologetically at him and then murmured, "Sorry."

Not like he heard your apology that was too quiet in the vast place, he just happened to be able to read you lips and body language; he tried not to mind so much as he scoffed and looked away.

He does not want to sober up anymore, pushing his glass under the tap, his mind repeating the words Aether dare utter when his emotions are already all-over the place—not that the blond would know he's a part of his ill feelings.

Was it so wrong to see if you would react to his fifth glass, since someone in his life did mention that that number was dangerous?

You minded your business too much after he scowled at you, which is something he's supposed to be thankful for considering that's the reaction he was supposed to incite from any usual human being he's ever interacted with.

"I think we should move the towers, Diluc and the rest—" you said, raising your head from your phone and turning to them to realize that most of them were all already a bit tipsy.

His judgement or perception was probably clouded already and the flashing lights of the bar wasn't helping; he feels like standing would be enough to send him hurling—it's what he gets for rushing his drinks.

"I'll help," Ajax said, having quite the tolerance for alcohol, or perhaps because he was still in his second glass.

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┊ ✦ ┊

ㅤ

Much to the favor of a certain bard, the couch in the room were nearly full; Venti was like the star of your birthday because of the way he takes many drinks while Kazuha was quietly muttering and asking Xiao to pour him more.

From what Kunikuzshi noticed, Xiao had the same tolerance as he did, and you haven't touched your glass except for the time people asked to click drinks with you; clearly, there are other places you could've celebrated your event.

Was he staring at you the entire time to notice that?

Not at all, but Venti wanted to switch places with you earlier since he did not want the couch since he goes around when he drinks; you were in his line of sight since your thighs are literally mushed beside his.

Though prior to the drinking, people actually presented their gifts to you, there were obvious things such as alcohol or wine's boxes or gift bag, or maybe Venti's gift that was an instrument with random rose that made majority of the people feel interested.

Majority of them translated to people of Mondstadt that Aether, Ajax, Xiao, and Kazuha was just as confused Kunikuzushi was.

You reacted rather nervous, and now you're still looking at the flower making Kunikuzushi glance at the flower every now and then while Kaeya engages on a drinking competition with the bard.

The word competition had set Ajax off and now he's in the game as well despite being in a clear advantage, while the rest were drinking, you were in a conversation with the rest of your guests.

"You... ordered a cab to get here?" you questioned, rather looking offended at Jean's words.

While you appreciate their attendance, you much preferred if they asked for your help considering it's late in the night; you were strict with your money, but not when it comes to your companions or your gas money.

"No, we were with her," Diluc responded much to your relief. "Albedo and Sucrose were supposed to hitch a ride with us, but they got busy when we were supposed to get them."

"Rosaria and Barbara couldn't make it because it's Sunday," Jean adds. "Eula is... just as busy."

"Your sister texted me prayers, and I understand they're not around," you said. "I'll drive Aether home, so if any of you needs a lift, let me know."

"Ask Ajax," Kunikuzushi suddenly spoke up in a casual manner, which you should be concerned about. "We came in with a motor."

The information was troubling, because Ajax was obviously tipsy, and while the rest were having fun, you all weren't truly going to stay for too long since it was a Sunday night and everyone should be heading home by midnight.

"How about you, Xiao?" you asked, tilting your body forward to have access to the person beside Kunikuzushi. "Or the rest of Anemo in that matter."

"We took the cab," he answered, looking down at his drink. "Though if you need my assistance..."

Now that Xiao said that, Kunikuzushi now can't help but wonder if the popular people he's with right now were just so lax with their security, because what did the person beside him mean that he just took a cab despite being a literal celebrity?

You can't even hide your concern as you glanced at Kunikuzushi and then at Xiao, but then you murmured, "Then again, it's Anemo we're talking about... I shouldn't even be surprised anymore."

"Does Ajax lend his motor?" you asked, now looking at Kunikuzushi.

It's the alcohol, because there was no way he would look at you like that, he knew it himself as someone who underwent heartbreak; he knows better, he has to know better.

You looked away and murmured to yourself, "Of course he does, he'd just buy a new one if he has to."

"I'll drive if I you insist," Xiao spoke up, much to your immense gratitude despite you not really insisting anything, but that's his way of offering.

"I suppose six people can fit in the car if we try hard enough..."

Ajax would surely agree to Xiao taking his motor home on his stead, and you'll just tail him for security and drive Anemo, Aether, Ajax, and Kunikuzushi—all in order—home since you were that concerned whether or not they'll live another day.

It's something you do, and when Kunikuzushi thinks about it, it feels exhausting, because at the end of the drive, you'll be alone driving home in suffocating or relieving silence.

"You can leave Aether to us."

You trust Diluc to drive his own car, but you don't trust Aether to be with them in his current state; your emotions are at your face that anyone coherent can tell you were mildly uncomfortable.

Jean adds, "Lumine texted us to make sure he's sober before we go home, it should be okay. She told us it's important, we'll make sure to follow through."

"Lumine did?" you whispered, though the music outside could still get in the room, you just mouthing the words were enough. "Okay."

You love your friends loudly and your concern was palpable; the least the people close to you could do was to help you even if you don't actively ask for it.

The thought could've come from the alcohol, but it's the first time Kunikuzushi had seen you be with your friends physically in his presence—you were capable of loving them so loudly, and yet you were so quiet about him.

There's a slight jolt on you when he suddenly leaned on you, making Jean, Diluc, and Xiao look at you in concern that you might not be okay with what he's doing, but you shook your head as if to say you were okay with it.

He's very much drunk.

It's the alcohol in his system that moved his hand to rest on your knee, and it's the alcohol in his system that tells himself that he wants to be loved too—not loudly, but maybe to let your friends know about him too.

It was the alcohol in his system that broke his heart as you continued to talk to your friends about work and that there was little reassurance that you want them to know anything about your private relationships.

He can't resist the shiver on his spine when you clasped your hand on his underneath the table by your lap, your cold palm over the back of his hand.

Something must have changed in you to do that, maybe you were intoxicated too, because there was no way—there was no way you ever wanted anyone to know about him—not with his upbringing, especially his mother.

But you were sober, you barely touched your drink, and your body was cold unlike his that were heating up.

It's suddenly hard to breathe, and he can't blame it on the alcohol, because this was the very thing he longed for despite your impressive wealth and the affections behind closed doors; he won't take it as hallucinations.

God forbid this wasn't real; you could be friendly, but you don't accept that much affection from anyone with a fragile background since you were trying to keep your name clean in the public view.

Being a Harbinger wasn't something questionable, it was a occupation that gave chance to those who needed it—the flaw in his background was his mother that he ran away from thus backlash for his choice.

Your companions were all popular as well for different reasons, and the clearest background he knows of was Aether's and his twin, anything in their childhood could barely be traced, not even when he was a Harbringer.

The rest was a blur, because all he remembers were what you did.

An hour before going home, some stopped drinking already and there was a lot of empty jugs of water; he wasn't so coherent but he remembers the tumbling of the glass and his wet lap and your pants—what he remembered most was the tissues in your hand while you tried to keep him from growing cold from the water.

Thank goodness for the shorts.

Ajax did lend Xiao his motorcycle, and Ajax was the one to assist Kunikuzushi out—by that, he was just watching him the entire time as they exit the place to the parking lot because he refused to be held.

He remembers it because you told Ajax to put him on the passenger seat while you checked on Diluc, Kaeya, Jean, and Aether.

It was still loud considering Kazuha didn't entirely sober up and Venti was still just as loud, and he can't rest with Ajax shaking his seat and asking if he was obviously barely coherent; he can't even be convinced by Venti to trust you.

He supposes Ajax was just worried that he was drunk and that he might not be safe with you, since he was going to be the last to be dropped off; he wanted to feel embarrassed how Ajax was so openly telling you that you were odd, but he was too exhausted.

"He lives with me," you clarified after you got in the car, adding to the loudness of the car. "He had enough GABA from the alcohol, he should be fine after relaxing—and stop bouncing in the car!"

Suddenly, he's not so exhausted anymore, because you had just declared the fact that you were in a relationship with him, but made Ajax just argue with you further, because as far as he knew, Kunikuzushi broke up with someone—rather—you.

And you mentioned GABA, that's the neurotransmitter you've learned in your first year that you kept mentioning to memorize; he remembers now.

He's coherent when it comes to these moments, that, at least, he's sure of, because he remembers the following hours despite being in and out of sleep.

He was the last to go home with you, but he remembers that after dropping off everyone else, you drove to a nearby convenience store for water and you knocked for a minute for him to wake up and unlock the car for you.

You had to get him water, chips, and then you two stayed somewhere you can park the car, because he wants to vomit out all that he drank since he wants to make out and you kept refusing.

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┊ ✦ ┊

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rxn ┊ had an writing that focused on both of their perspectives, but i think it would be better to focus on scara's side muna (first)... not that i'd publish your or [name]'s pov... this was supposed to be something exhausting but i feel too bad T-T maybe in another time.

[lightyagamifan]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ WANDERILLUSTREOUS!: Chapter Four!

(YANDERE GENSHIN VARIOUS x READER)

[F/N] [L/N], a twenty-two year old college student goes about her mundane life. Most people would describe her as content, and maybe [F/N] would've described it as such too- Her life. Over and over again, day after day, the cycle never stops. That is, however, until she suddenly drops into Genshin Impact out of nowhere. In any other case, [F/N] might have been glad to be there. In a fantasy land where she had only ever visited in her dreams, with a feeling she couldn't describe flooding her entire being. However, [F/N] couldn't be further from excited.. she had never played Genshin in her life. [F/N] threw her head into her hands, holding back the urge to scream. “I’m absolutely screwed, aren’t I?”

*ੈ✩‧₊˚AO3 LINK *ೃ༄

GENDER: Femme LIST OF YANDERE'S: https://pastebin.com/ErsuA2cz SONG: PIN-EYE! - Jhariah NOTE: anyways so sorry for this being late ya girl was experiencing the horrors <3

PREVIOUS PART *ੈ✩‧₊˚ MASTERLIST *ੈ✩‧₊˚˚ NEXT PART (ON AO3) *

To be frank, Kaeya didn’t know what to think.

It had been a long time since the sun set over the horizon. Blue to orange to red to black. The wispy clouds had already dispersed into mist, leaving only the spilt glitter of stars to adorn the great sea above.

Kaeya rested a hand on his chin. He’d gotten here when the sun was still visible, halfway over the horizon, and still burning shapes into his sclera. He paced back and forth, the soles of his boots clacking sluggishly against the stone.

Wind. It brushed against his skin like dandelion tufts in the spring breeze. 

His eye narrowed, catching a glimpse of the figure in the distance.

She emerged from the grass and the ferns from afar, skipping and hopping down the paved road usually traversed by knights on patrol. Even though Kaeya couldn’t see her face, He could almost feel the child-like smile on her face as she made sure not to step on the lines on the dirt, her movements airy, A skirt of vermilion swaying like a hypnotist's watch behind her.

[F/N] [L/N], Finally, she had arrived.

Kaeya had expected her to take a little later than usual, considering her rather notable disorientation, so he supposed that he couldn’t be too annoyed at her being late. He wouldn’t have been anyway, He was used to playing the waiting game.

His lips upturned as he watched her finally approach, the heels of her riding boots thudding to a stop.

“Apologies for the wait..!”

[F/N] called out as she dusted herself off, shaking away all the dirt from her outfit.

She was dressed in usual Mondstadtian attire. A loose blouse with poet sleeves, draping down her figure. With a leather corset, tied not too tightly around her midsection. A skirt matched with a frilly petticoat that peeked out from under the rose cloth.

It was surprisingly fitting, guessing that it was most likely something Amber had gifted to her. She seemed happy in it, too. Considering the way her boots clacked excitedly against the path she skipped along, Laced up to the knees, Blossomed into a bow.

It was.. Cute. In a naive way. He must admit.

“Ah.. Finally, you’re here.” Kaeya greeted, His voice echoing out into the night as he looked down at her. The glint in his eye resembled the stars that glimmered above. “I was wondering when you’d arrive. Hm, I see you have a wardrobe change.”

[F/N] grinned at his observation. Foot turning, her skirt raising ever so slightly as she gave him a spin.

“Amber handed it to me! It was an outfit she got a while back for becoming an outrider, but it didn’t fit her right. So. She gave it to me instead..!” She said, giving a small bow at the end of her twirl.  “Don’t I look pretty? I feel pretty. That’s for sure. Good to get outta that nightdress at least..!”

Ah, just as he thought.

“And Amber didn’t decide to come along? I admit I was expecting to see her following behind you.”

“Well.. She wanted to, but Amber’s already helped me out a lot. I didn’t wanna keep her from her job so.. I insisted that I come here by myself, you know?” [F/N] explained. “She didn’t like it since Paimon was asleep and out of commission, but.. I’m a convincing person when I want to be.”

[F/N] gave him a smile, Hands trailing to rest on her hips. It was strange, really, the outfit she was wearing. A corset and such a frilly blouse weren’t exactly something she wore often, which was probably why she found it so appealing in the first place.

Amber had said that it would do for now. It wasn’t the best for moving around in, but it was better than nothing.

“Well then.. Now that you're here, I suppose there’s no point in waiting any longer, Hm?”

“Woah..!”

[F/N] let out a small gasp as Kaeya unsheathed something from behind his back. Tossing it up into the air in a quick motion, [F/N] only catching a glimpse- A shine rolling down polished steel. 

Her feet skittered forward. A weight dropped into her hands.

[F/N] blinked. It was a simple sword, an iron blade that shone like silver under the pale moonlight. Glimmering. Clean and polished. [F/N] gawked as she tested the weight in her hands, her nails digging into the leather coating the hilt.

Kaeya smirked, finding amusement in her reaction.

“You can consider this little adventure to be your crash course on swordsmanship, and this personal training from me is a form of compensation for assisting during the earlier Storm Terror incident,” Kaeya said as he watched her adjust to the weapon in her hands. “Besides, the Acting Grand Master took the time out of her busy schedule to request this of me. How could I say no?”

[F/N] held it carefully, yet with an almost childish excitement, looking at it like she had just torn off the sword’s wrapping paper on Christmas Day. This was what a sword looked like up close? [F/N]’s hand moved to the hilt, Fingers wrapping around the leather. Was she actually supposed to swing this thing? No way..

“Well? Are you ready?”

[F/N] turned her head upwards, A smile spreading on her face as her knuckles tightened around the hilt. Swing it? She could definitely do that.  

“Lead the way, Oh Captain Kaeya.”

She didn't need to be asked twice as he beckoned her onwards, His strides long and quick, forcing [F/N] to catch up. A grin framed on her lips as she skipped up the steps like a child playing hopscotch.

Kaeya pressed his hand against the temple door. A bright, Blinding blue hitting their faces as the door grumbled- Dust and pebbles dislodging from the cracks. He breathed in, that same burnt scent of ashwood and overdone meat wafting out from inside.

The scent of Pyro Slimes.

Something must have happened in there.

⭒❅✸✪✸❅⭒

“Watch your step!”

“Woah!”

[F/N] let out a gasp as she felt Kaeya’s hand wrap around her forearm, keeping her steady as she dangled over a ledge. Stars in her eyes and swirling around her head as she was yanked back up onto the platform, His grip being rather firm.

“Careful now. Tripping mid-battle isn’t exactly a proper move..” Kaeya spoke smoothly as she regained her footing, having almost tipped over into the shallow water. His hand let go of her wrist, His palm rather warm and leaving a rather pleasant heat in its wake.

[F/N] shook it off. Exhilarating. Observing the way he snapped right back to the gang of hilichurls.

Yet his eye darted backwards, A glint, landing just behind her.

“Keep an eye on your back, too.”

“Got it!” She grinned, her heel quickly spinning as her sword knocked back an oncoming Hilichurl, who babbled out at the sudden slash- No matter how flimsy.

The Domain seemed much bigger than it did on the outside, [F/N] prancing in, expecting to find some cramped, Dingy rooms filled with cobwebs. Somewhere she’d need to squeeze her body through, and presumably apologise to Amber later about dirtying her new clothes.

And granted, it did come with its fair share of cobwebs, but the spiders were few and far between. Instead, she had entered into a rather cavernous set of catacombs. Solid, Stone bricks fortifying the walls. Trims lined with the cold sheen of gold. The only light came from the flicker of fire coming from shoddy torches.

It didn’t take long for [F/N] to find out who had built them.

“Move your foot forward, don’t give the enemy any chance to counterattack!”

[F/N] nodded. The heel of her boot was digging into the stone, letting out a titter as she swung down her sword.

Words rushed onto her tongue, spilling out as if it were second-nature.

“Windblade..!”

“Yah!”

The hilichurl babbled out in surprise or pain as it stumbled backwards. The shoddy old shield fell to the ground along with the club it had. Charcoal ashes burned from the cut on its gaunt chest.

[F/N] breathed out, Energy exploding from her palms. Fingers twitching.

“Nice..” She breathed.

[F/N] stepped back, watching with interest as the hilichurl collapsed to the floor, exploding into nothing but dust in the wind.

“Do all creatures here die like that?” [F/N] called out to Kaeya, her sword pointed at the remaining few who still remained, waving their clubs.

“These are called Hilichurls, and yes, they happen to do so.. And I’m sure there’s more who do the same.” Kaeya responded as another one was knocked down effortlessly.

His words were proven true when [F/N] drove the hilt of her sword, however crudely, into the top of a pyro slime. She shivered at the texture, but didn’t take her eyes off it as it melted into nothing but sticky residue.

“I don’t need to guess what these are called..” [F/N] remarked under her breath. Sweat dripped clean down the side of her brow as she observed the residue. Barking out a huff, she handled the sword, slipping it back into the small leather strap attached to her corset.

Though as soon as she did, she heard a tutting sound from behind her.

A hand grasped her shoulder, Firm.

“Don’t be so quick to sheathe your sword.” Kaeya admonished, though that omnipresent smirk never seemed to leave his face. “You don’t know what might be lurking in the shadows, waiting for that opportune moment.”

[F/N] sighed, wiping the sweat off her brow.

“Sorry, Sorry.” She spoke, her lips upturning. “I guess I just got a bit too comfortable with the expert around.”

Her hand raised, Fingers dancing as they gripped his hand, just as tightly.

Kaeya’s eye narrowed along with the widening of his smile.

“Just because I’m an expert doesn’t mean you don’t watch your back,” Kaeya spoke as he tugged his hand off of her shoulder. [F/N] laughed under her breath. “That’s how you get a sword through the middle of it.”

He was the flirty kind of character. [F/N] hummed, A smile lifting upon her lips. She could deal with that.

“You’re the only blade wielder I see here, Captain Kaeya. Does this mean I need to be careful around you now?” She teased.

Kaeya chuckled.

“Maybe. You don’t know who might try to strike when you’re unguarded, It couldn’t help to be a bit.. Wary.”

[F/N] laughed at this, His words striking a chord in her. He was certainly a character, in more ways than one. She watched as he twirled his sword in his hand, observing the now-empty crypt in which they stood.

Nothing but the scorched ashes dancing off into the air.

“Don’t fall behind. If I’m not mistaken, the end of the temple should be just up there.” He called out as he waltzed forward, the clicks and clacks of his heels making their way down the stairs. [F/N] following close behind.

She could already see where he meant. A pinnacle visible through the broken ceiling of this domain, swirling, harnessing, bursting with what [F/N] now knew was some kind of power.

Funny.

[F/N]’s palms felt like a lightbulb still cooling off, fingertips still coursing with elemental energy- Or at least that’s what she thought it was. Whatever that ‘Windblade!’ was that took out that hilichurl certainly seemed elemental in nature..

Speaking of..

“There’s a real weird aura about this place.” [F/N] commented as she followed along with Kaeya. Her lips pursed. Eyes scanning the vicinity. “It’s like.. The elemental energy you told me about earlier with those vision thingamajigs. But it makes my skin crawl. Not in a fun way..”

Kaeya’s eye glinted.

“So you can sense it too?” He mused as they turned a corner, wordlessly avoiding the band of hilichurls situated in the other room.

[F/N] tilted her head.

“Sense what?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

[F/N] rolled her eyes, watching as he strutted ahead. Cryptic as he was, she couldn’t deny the eagerness to see what exactly it was- What that feeling was that made her ribs rattle so thoroughly in her chest.

They continued to move throughout the domain, the brick walls eroding and breaking to reveal a vast expanse of ashen gray skies and harsh winds that made her eyes dry out and her lips go coarse.

The wind roared as they navigated the domain with ease. [F/N] gawking at the roaring fire- Only to be pulled back by Kaeya when she had nudged too close. The slimes hopping around, making good targets- 

Truly, maybe being Isekai’d into a video game wasn’t too bad after all..

I mean, [F/N] had always been a big fan of such anime and manga ever since she laid eyes on the stuff. She had an entire collection under her bed filled with the Re:Zero and Inuyasha manga, It wasn’t like she was unfamiliar with the trope- Not at all.

But when it came to imagining herself in such a situation, [F/N] had never thought that it would be a good thing. 

Who wanted to be stuck in some unfamiliar world? Not understanding the rules or laws or how to survive- And [F/N] didn’t want to get started on how the protagonists got there in the first place. Dying.. Meeting some eldritch abomination that siphoned her there..  And don’t even get her started on Truck-Kun.

So [F/N] had always been content to leave it in fiction- Snapping the cover of her manga shut just to tuck it under her bed and call it a night.

[F/N] giggled slightly, her mind wandering off as she continued down the hall along with Kaeya. He had described all these wondrous things as they walked earlier- Visions, Elements, The Seven - 

Maybe she had been a bit too harsh on the idea of being Isekai’d..

“Careful now..”

[F/N] stopped, shaking out of her stupor as she looked down-

A pit of spikes lay below the ledge she was about to waltz off. Hidden under a layer of water that rippled, almost as if beckoning her foot forward. 

“We wouldn’t want you tripping again, would we?” Kaeya mused as he stood there, folding his arms. 

She suppressed a smile. 

“Ah.. Come on. I'm a beginner, surely you can give me a pass.” [F/N] rolled her eyes, though there was no annoyance in it. Hands running up to rest on her hips as she mock-glared at him. “You can at least admit that I'm not that much of a hazard, 

“That is correct.. As much of a beginner you are and how flimsy your skills may be.. You're better than the usual recruits.” Kaeya mused to himself as he sauntered forward, His sword still gripped in his hand as he moved towards the ledge. 

[F/N], Sensing something off, watched him closely. 

“Say.. It doesn't seem to me that you have an Anemo Vision.. Yet you're still able to control the element..” Kaeya commented. A remark on the surface, but [F/N] could feel something brewing just a bit deeper underneath. 

“Pretty much. I don't know how either- Just feels natural.” She responded idly. 

“I see..” Kaeya responded slowly. “For the common person, they'd need a vision to control even one of the seven elements. As such..”

[F/N]’s eyes widened as she saw the glow of the vision on his hip. Kaleidoscopic. The colour of the sunlight against dewy snow- A burst of spectral colours on a melting white canvas. 

“Woah..!” [F/N] gasped both in surprise and awe as she watched ice burst out from his fingertips. Mist and splinters. A cloud of tundra that came out like an avalanche from his very palms.

The water below them froze. Solid and firm. 

“..It would look like that,” Kaeya spoke, looking back at her awe with an almost prideful eye. He enjoyed the way she tittered at the edge now, a foot lowering, the tip of her boot pressing against the ice.

It didn’t crack or splinter.

[F/N] breathed out, her lips upturning as she set her foot down onto the ice now.

“Damn..” [F/N] marvelled. She swallowed back her trepidation as she finally stepped down onto the ice, her heels digging into the frost now. “So that’s the power of a vision? It’s pretty impressive, Captain Kaeya..!“

“If I’m being honest, this is rather simple for someone with a vision,” Kaeya spoke as he rested his hand onto his hip, flexing the other as if brandishing a weapon. “Which is why I should probably be calling you impressive for doing it without a vision.”

Kaeya spoke as he stepped down onto the ice with her, their bodies nearby- Both having to press closer to the center. [F/N] rolled her eyes as she looked up at him, feeling the warmth of his body in contrast to the frigid ice below.

“Hey, what can I say, I’m a natural..!“ [F/N] smirked as she lightly elbowed him. “Maybe I’m just special like that!”

Kaeya chuckled.

“Maybe you are.”

Another burst of mist exploded from his fingertips again, slowly but surely creating a bridge that they sauntered across, avoiding the spikes hidden under the water below. She nearly slipped a couple of times. Though [F/N] loved the heels Amber had provided for her, they certainly weren’t doing any favours for her on the ice.

She nearly slipped, gasping.

Kaeya’s arm was quicker.

“You seem to be making falling a habit.” He spoke, his tone sly as his hand rested on her back. “You might as well hold onto me.”

“So chivalrous..”

That got a chuckle.

Visions. [F/N] hummed to herself as he guided her along the ice bridge, an energy lying up ahead she couldn’t help but be attracted to. Was it the same kind of energy that Kaeya had used to create ice? No.. [F/N] didn’t think so.

It was pulsating. Corrupted, yet coursing through her veins like a drug. 

No doubt there was something strong up ahead. Maybe not in the physical, hulking, muscular sense, but in a mystical- Never seen before sense. Something that could be stabbed and wouldn’t take it lying down.

Something [F/N] was just itching to tear her nails into.

She grinned as they finally got to the other side, her heels clicking as she quickly hopped to the other side. Not bothering to look back as she sprinted forward, turning around corners and hopping up stone steps.

The energy grew closer.

Her eyes flickered like a broken bulb, yet they were bright, fixing on anything- anything that could entice her to draw the blade around her hip.

She skidded forward, heels digging into the stone-

“And that is the end of your crash course.”

“..Excuse me?”

She stopped, pausing; it was like a pin had dropped in the room.

[F/N] turned around, her eyes wide as she watched Kaeya catch up to her without issue. Strolling along with that ever-smug expression on his face, slowly clapping, though it seemed.. Somewhat impressed?

“For a beginner, you pick up on the basics quite well.” Kaeya applauded as he stopped a few feet away from her. “Of course, I can’t say you’d be competent on your own, or that you could hold yourself in a proper fight. But you can handle the regular hilichurl or slime on your own.”

What?

[F/N] stood there not moving a muscle, her face fallen, eyes blank as she registered the words he had just spoken to her. A breeze continued to drift throughout the room she had just rushed into, the open space bearing opportunity yet..

Was he saying..

“Wait.. hold on. Are you saying that we’re not going to go any further..?” [F/N] spoke, her voice controlled as she looked at him. Her fingers twitched as she stared at him, wide-eyed.

“We can end our training here.“  Kaeya spoke, folding his arms as he glanced at her. His gaze locked right on the dissonance of her face. “We’ve reached the source of Stormterror’s power, I can handle it from here.”

[F/N] stopped.

Wait.. No.

That’s not..

She turned her head, taking a glance behind her. 

It was a stone, the colour of sunstruck leaves in the wind. Glowing. Radiating. The source of that enticing elemental power that called to her like a siren at sea. [F/N] could almost feel saliva pooling in the bed of her mouth, just begging to grab the hilt of her sword and dig in to reach that flavour -

And he wanted her to just.. What? Go home? Call it a day?

“But.. But I want to continue-” [F/N] tried to say, her voice wavering slightly.

“There wouldn’t be any point. All that’s left is to just dismantle the power source, and I don’t need any help for that.”

His words rang in the air, an echo in her ears. She opened her mouth to speak, considering her words for a moment. [F/N]’s voice dropped to a flatline, quiet and steady as she looked down at her shoes.

“I just..”

“If you want to keep yourself occupied, perhaps you should look around the Adventurer’s Guild,” Kaeya suggested, cutting her off. “If you plan to stay in Mondstadt for a while, then the Adventurer’s Guild would be a way of getting extra cash. That, and you get the opportunity to explore. Not just in Mondstadt, the Guild spans across Teyvat, of course.”

The Adventurer’s Guild..? [F/N] blinked, the words foreign to her ears. It was.. Unsettling. Disturbing how a knot began to form in the pit of her stomach. Twisting and turning, sinking deeper and deeper into the depths.

Kaeya’s words barely even registered with her anymore.

“If you’re looking for something to do, why don’t you go sign up?”

She paused for a moment.

“..Alright. I’ll.. go do that.” [F/N] trailed off, just staring blankly at him, as if deep in thought. She.. She should go sign up. The Adventurer’s Guild. Adventure. She should go sign up at The Adventurer’s Guild to go.. Adventure.

Right.

[F/N] blinked before turning around in a languid motion. Her eyes untrained as she began to walk off, her arms pressed to their sides-

“How about we go out for a drink sometime? Consider it a celebration. I know a good tavern, and you can tell me about your time with The Guild over a glass.” Kaeya called out to her, his voice cool and composed as he watched her walk away.

[F/N] nodded, but she didn’t stop walking- Nor did she look back at him. 

“Yeah.. Uhm. I’ll see you then.” [F/N] called back, though her voice barely echoed as she stepped out of the room, back into the expanse of the domain. The cold air hit her skin, but she didn’t shiver. Not one bit.

She didn’t feel.. Right.

Kaeya watched as she stumbled off, her form getting lower as she descended the steps. The clicking of her boots getting further and further away, echoing, until he could no longer hear her.

Just as he thought..

He hummed, ignoring the presence of the abyssal mage beginning to emerge from a pillar behind him. Chittering with a rotten tongue, the verses of an acursed spell. It was nothing new, of course-

But she, on the other hand?

She wasn’t talented with a sword by any means, but she picked it up like an old skill- Grabbing the hilt with a sort of excited fascination. If it came down to it, she wouldn’t be able to do any real damage. Not to someone like him or any other person with basic training.

In that regard, Kaeya didn’t need to worry about it.

However, the way her nose twitched when she sensed abyssal energy, the way she commanded the air to swirl and vacuum without the help of a vision. It came to her like a heeling dog, obeyed her, swirling with one hell of a bite.

There was something off about her.

Too off.

And Kaeya would find out what it was.

One way or another.

“Knights of Favonius, Always so insufficient..”

⭒❅✸✪✸❅⭒

The sun was held high in the sky, beaming, smiling down from where it was placed.

It was unfortunate that Mondstadt didn’t get to see or enjoy it.

Flower pots were knocked and cracked on their sides. Wine bottles shattered on the stone. It was strange to see the ivy and moss that festered on the buildings, now ripped into salad and spread like garnish throughout the city.

The atmosphere around them was shrouded in a grey mist that had gathered, the aftereffects of Stormterrors' wrath. The sky was dark and thunderous. Tree leaves continued to fly by with a whistle, out into the broken and chipped streets.

The roof’s in need of retiling—signs ripped from their post. Fresh fruit smashed, their remains spilled from their display boxes.

“So.. What can you tell me about The Adventurer’s Guild?”

[F/N] skipped along the cobbled streets of Mondstadt, Paimon floating idly by her side as she pranced along. She waved to the occasional person who was busy sweeping rubble or picking up fallen roof tiles, wishing them a good morning, all the while conversing with her companion.

The people were surprisingly.. Friendly with her. More friendly than [F/N] expected.

The scent of spoiled fruit and fresh wind entered her nose, caressing her cheeks and entwining in her hair.

“The Adventurer’s Guild.. Right! Paimon remembers! The Adventurer’s Guild is an organisation that hires people to do quests!” Paimon spoke happily as she flew along, drifting by her side.

[F/N] raised a brow.

“Quests? Quests for whom?”

“Uhhhmm.. Paimon isn’t sure.. Paimon isn’t exactly an adventurer. Are you going to sign up?“

“Well.. Unfortunately, yes. I’m gonna need to get a job. I need food, clothes.. I need a lot of things, actually- Now that I’m thinking about it.” [F/N] groaned as she rubbed her temples. God, she felt like she was eighteen again and doing the walk of shame to an interview.

Would she need to interview?

[F/N] shivered as she recalled the stuffy rooms filled with whirring AC. Being forced into a beige dress and a sanquine smile as she tittered off answers to every question they threw at her..

And then never getting a call back.

“Bleugh. I’m getting all icky and depressed again.” [F/N] stuck out her tongue in disgust as she rounded the corner. She shook off the chills that crawled up her like caterpillars. “Come on, Paimon, the quicker we get there, the bette-”

Oh, curse her lack of spatial awareness.

“Ah! Traveller..!” Paimon cried as she watched [F/N] stumble on her feet, her feet scrambling to keep their balance as she fell back. Books and binders of parchment falling around her like rainfall as she tumbled back onto her backside.

“Ow..!” [F/N] yelped, rubbing her forehead, which had been roughly slammed into some strange solid surface. She groaned—a dull ache in her noggin, which seemed to only worsen with every rub.

“Are you alright?”

A calm and somewhat monotone voice called from above her.

“Eh..?” 

Looking up from her daze, she spotted a younger man. [F/N] blinked. He was of medium height and stood almost perfectly straight. Striking blue eyes like the once clear sky looked down at her, observant as they analysed her condition.

Perfect skin. Perfect blonde hair, groomed to perfection.

“O-Oh no..” A girl with vibrant green hair gasped from behind him, a hand over her mouth, and a flushed face at what had happened.

Uh oh, had she bumped into someone important?

“Aw, jeez. That was my fault, I was distracted and knocked into you- lemme help you pick these up-!” [F/N] blurted out, quickly sweeping the dust off of her clothes as she scrambled to pick up the fallen books from the street. Plucking papers and organising them back into their binders.

He swiftly knelt to assist, helping her reorganise his things.

“It isn’t a problem. It was just an accident.” He spoke, his voice unbothered as he took the books and parchment paper from her hands. “Though I suggest keeping an eye on where you’re going for next time.”

[F/N] felt embarrassment creep up on her.

“Yeah.. My bad, my guy.” [F/N] laughed awkwardly as she got up from where she had collapsed on the floor. She shook off the remaining dirt on her attire, nodding to them both. “I hope I didn’t break anything, don’t exactly got the mone- mora on me to pay for it.”

“Everything seems fine.” He spoke as he examined his luggage. He nodded before looking back up at her. “Besides, these books are durable. Hard covers. I doubt a simple fall would be enough to damage them.”

“Ah.. Great. So no property damage..” [F/N] sighed in relief, metaphorically wiping the sweat off her brow.

Looking between the two new faces, the man she had bumped into and the girl behind him, with reddened cheeks, she didn’t recognise either of them. Though [F/N] did take particular note of the girl’s vulpine ears nestled in her ears, that, and the odd diamond shape on the man’s neck.

[F/N] felt her curiosity spark.

Just who were these two?

Thankfully, Paimon had the courtesy of asking that for her.

“Who are you two anyway? Paimon’s never seen you two before..!” Her chipper voice called out, seemingly just as curious as [F/N] was about their identities.

Albedo turned his attention to her. Though his gaze remained composed, calm, [F/N] could see the hint of aloofness. Did he look at everyone like that?

“I am Albedo, Chief Alchemist of the Knights of Favonius.” He, now Albedo, introduced himself as. His hand pressed idly to his chest as he greeted her. He nodded towards the girl behind him. “And this is Sucrose. She is currently serving as my assistant.”

“G-Good morning..! I hope you didn’t hurt yourself..!” Sucrose greeted, resettling the rims on her face. 

[F/N] tilted her head to the side.

Albedo and Sucrose, huh?

Well, [F/N] certainly didn’t know what their deal was, but they looked to be rather important considering the way they stood out from the crowd. Hair that shone like gold, a bob of alchemical green chasing after it. And don’t even get her started on the eyes, both of them had colours that could cause a myriad of questions.

[F/N] could barely contain her curiosity.

“Oh, I’m fine..! Don’t worry about it. It’s my bad for not looking where I was going, I’m just a bit new around here, you see.” [F/N] grinned, waving off Sucrose’s concern with a reassuring look.

Albedo blinked.

“I see.. You don’t seem like you’re from around here, but I can’t quite place where you come from.” 

“I’m [F/N] [L/N]..! I can’t tell you where I’m from since I have amnesia and all, but I arrived here recently with my travel buddy Paimon over here! Nice to crash into you, Albedo, Sucrose.” [F/N] grinned as she stuck out her hand, presenting it to either of the two with a spark in her eyes. 

Albedo’s eyes widened a touch, as if processing the name.

“[F/N] [L/N].. Yes. I’ve heard about you.” He spoke as he took her hand, a firm, methodical shake as they took each other in. 

“Heard about me? I only arrived a few days ago.” [F/N] raised a brow.

“Yes. Heard about you. You were the one to drive off Stormterror.” Albedo murmured as he raised her arm mid-shake. [F/N] letting out a small “Ehh..?” of confusion as he started to examine the muscles and tendons in her wrist. 

[F/N] blinked. Hold on..

“Wait.. People know about that?” She asked, tilting her head as she watched him play around with her joints.

“Yes. While we were travelling down from Dragonspine, I had heard from the townsfolk about a woman who had been lifted into the sky during the recent attack.” Albedo explained, his brows furrowing as his gaze turned to her general figure. “You had been seen using anemo-related abilities to drive Stormterror away from the city.. Yet I don’t see a vision on your person.”

Ahhh.. A vision. That thing Kaeya was talking about yesterday.

“Ohhh.. Right. I don’t have one of those.” [F/N] scratched the back of her head. “I can just use Anemo powers without the need for a Vision. I’m guessing people haven’t been talking about that part?”

“No. However, it’s fascinating..” Albedo seemed in a world of his own as he absorbed this information, his eyes wide as he finally let her arm go free. “To use elemental abilities without a vision..”

Paimon and Sucrose observed the two’s interactions on the side. Paimon looked rather antsy while Sucrose fiddled with her thumbs for the fifth time since they started talking, both perplexed by their companion’s conversation.

“Erm..What is going on?” Paimon commented, folding her little arms in confusion. 

Sucrose’s eyes widened, looking at the weird little anaemic fairy.

“I.. Uhhhh..”

Albedo turned to look up at [F/N] in contemplation as he finally took a step back. How strange. When he had come down from Dragonspine in light of the recent Stormterror attacks, he didn’t expect the excited chatter of Mondstadtians.

A woman lifted into the storm, driving off the attacking dragon. A sign from Barbatos? The whispers had spoken. An omen? A forecast of hope? Someone who was sent by Anemo Archon himself? 

Albedo couldn’t say. Of course, not every result could be calculated. And it was only through testing and experiments that a theory and eventual outcome could be made.

“I would like to study you.” Albedo stated plainly, his voice assured. “If I had the time, I would ask for us to start immediately. But currently, I am occupied with Stormterror and assisting with the repairs to the city, however, when we have the opportunity, I would ask if you let me perform some experiments based on your elemental abilities.”

“Wait, wait, wait-! Study her..?! You make it sound like The Traveller’s an animal..!” Paimon gasped, her eyes going wide at the audacity of Albedo.

“Hold on, Paimon, no need to be so hasty.” [F/N] cut in, her eyes focused on Albedo. “What kind of experiments are we talking about?”

“It’s hard to say, considering I haven’t seen you in action before, however, I’d assume there would be general fighting and combat assessments and..”

“Done!” [F/N] grinned.

A gasp rang out from beside her.

“Hey..! Paimon doesn’t think you should be agreeing to something like this..!!” Paimon squeaked as she quickly floated over to [F/N]. “I mean, we barely even know who these guys are..!”

“It’s fine, Paimon..!” [F/N] laughed, her voice assured as she looked at her companion. Patting her back, “We can do pleasantries beforehand. Get a cup of tea, have idle chit-chat, then we can get onto the fighting slash experimentation.”

Paimon didn’t seem too comforted by that. Albedo, on the other hand, nodded as he settled the cargo in his arm, nodding as he got her approval for further testing.

“I see.. So you are open to the idea. I’m glad.” He spoke. Though his tone remained balanced, [F/N] could see a hint of gratitude hidden behind the surface of his eyes. “We must get going now, however, please don’t hesitate to come find me later on. I am usually situated on Dragonspine. If you need the location, you could ask the acting Grand Master or Timeaus near the city center. Thank you for your time.”

[F/N] nodded as she spoke her goodbyes to the two alchemists, a grin as she waved to Albedo and Sucrose, already anticipating the future visit to wherever Dragonspine was for testing. What an interesting pair they were, Albedo certainly wasn’t the only one with questions to ask.

She watched as they walked off, heading towards the Knights of Favonious Headquarters. Albedo is making his way along with Sucrose stumbling in tow.

“What a pair.. Eh, Paimon?” [F/N] sighed in contentment, glancing over at her companion.

“You could say that, alright.. Paimon’s never seen such audacity! He was looking at you like some kinda animal in a cage!”

“I’m an interesting specimen, I’ll take it as a compliment.” [F/N] hummed, stretching her arms. “Besides, I’m more miffed by the fact that there were people who saw me up there in the sky that day. Call that embarrassing..”

Embarrassing? Not really, more of a conversational term for her right now. [F/N] had assumed that it was just The Knights of Favonious that had the pleasure of watching her flail about mid-air, however, the fact that it was seen by more than just a few was a bit of an.. Unexpected twist.

People were talking. Chatting. Gossiping. That must have been why people had been openly friendly to her earlier..

[F/N] hummed. At least she made a good impression.

“Oh, whatever. Paimon still isn’t sure about those guys..” Paimon huffed, shaking her head in dramatic dislike.

“We can make a judgment about them later, don’t worry, Paimon. But right now I think we'd better get back to our own business, eh?” [F/N] grinned as she gestured at the pathway ahead. The Adventurers Guild, according to the locals she had spoken to, was growing fairly near.

Paimon quickly calmed down, though, muttering grievances about the situation under her breath. [F/N] giggled airily at her words, patting the fairy on her back as they continued to skip down the cobbled path. Heels clicking. 

[F/N]’s eyes gleamed, catching sight of a booth with a four-pointed star.

Bingo.

Though, somewhere not too far on in the city, where the houses remained damaged and in need of repair, Albedo and his dutiful assistant continued their trek towards the Headquarters. Their journey was lengthy, and the trouble the city went through even more so.

Sucrose was already muttering thoughts under her breath.

Albedo, however, deemed it best to keep his silent.

His body felt strangely odd. Tingly, yet it seemed like it was covered in a sheet of slush and ice. Albedo twitched. Could it have been the lingering effects from his time on Dragonspine? No, impossible.. The journey from Dragonspine to the city took a day to complete.. The effects would have been rendered completely null by now.

But his body still felt like it was thawing under an inferno. Melting. Chipping. Drenching it in a wave of cold heat that left him scalded.

“Mr. Albedo..?”

Sucrose’s voice rang out from in front of him.

He had stopped midway through his walk, his boots digging into the ground as he was suddenly snapped out of his train of thought. 

“How strange..” Albedo mumbled.

[lightyagamifan]

⟳ 27. BLUEPRINT

Love terrified Kuni.

It was why it’s easier to pretend he didn’t care than to deal with the mess of actually feeling emotions. Because the truth was, he knew what came after. 

He learned too early that love doesn’t mean staying. It left him shattered and alone.

He'd lived it twice too many times.

It started with his mother. 

Sharp, elegant, composed. Always with one hand on her tea and the other on her schedule. She was the type of woman people admired from afar. Untouchable. Unshakable.

But to Kuni, she was simply his mom.

Though distant, she taught him everything he needed to, reminded him to be independent and never show weakness. A kind of tough love that you’d feel cared for.

She wasn’t perfect, but she was his entire world.  She made a silent promise to be there. To guide him. To raise him right.

By fourteen, she was gone.

No explanation. No goodbye.

Just a letter and a cold set of instructions.

Kuni later found out her whereabouts through his mother’s friend. Apparently, she left the country. Started over with her life. A life that didn’t include him.

She left him the apartment. A trust fund with enough to cover school, food, a quiet kind of living. She left instructions, contacts, legal arrangements, everything a responsible parent should leave behind.

But she didn’t leave herself. 

And that was the part Kuni never forgave. He felt rejected. How could someone who taught him everything just walk away? How could someone who gave life to him disappear like he wasn’t enough to stay for? She made sure he’d live. But she never once asked if he’d be okay.

But no matter how much he tried to harden himself, no matter how often he repeated her lessons in his head—

Don’t feel. Don’t break.

He still loved her.

And the thing is, the more someone taught you not to feel, the more devastating it was when you still did.

Since then, Kuni learned:

Love doesn’t mean permanence. Love is something people say until they decide they’re tired. Since then, he built a wall no one could scale, no one could touch. He never let anyone try.

But Kuni’s defenses were paper-thin.

Just before his senior year, Mona came into his life. 

Bright-eyed, sharp-tongued, ambitious and brilliant in ways that scared him. He didn’t mean to let her in. He told himself not to. 

But she made it so goddamn easy.

She made him feel seen, like he wasn’t just someone people tolerated but someone they actually wanted. For a while, she made him believe he could be enough. To be loved. To be chosen.

But dreams don’t wait for love. And Mona had big ones. She was always chasing something—her career, the stars, a future that didn’t leave much space for someone like him.

There were days she didn’t answer his calls, weeks when she barely looked up from her screen. At first, he understood. People get busy. He could wait.

But then weeks turned into months, and Kuni slowly got tired of waiting for someone who no longer remembered to wait for him.

Still, he clung to her.

Even when the silence between them was louder than any words. Even when she drifted so far he could barely hear her voice anymore. Even when it got to the point where even he pitied himself.

He told himself she was just busy. That she’d come back. 

That people could stay.

He was wrong.

Mona sits at the edge of Kuni’s bed, hands folded, back too straight. She’s already dressed, coat draped over her lap. The air between them is thick. Final.

“I got the offer in Berlin,” Mona had said, barely above a whisper. She wasn’t smiling.

Kuni didn’t ask what offer. He already knew.

“You’re leaving,” he said, even though it wasn’t a question.

She nodded.

He stared at the coffee table between them. The untouched tea. The silence.

“When?” he asked.

“Next month. It’s… it’s everything I’ve worked for. It’s my dream.”

Right. Her dream. What is he, then? Just something she happened to like along the way?

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. His chest ached, but he didn’t let it show. Just leaned back against the couch and looked at her. Really looked. Memorized the way her brows furrowed when she was nervous, the way her fingers tapped her knee when she was holding something back.

“You’re not coming back,” he said as if it’s a statement.

It took her a moment to respond. She gave a small, hesitant shrug. “I don’t think so,” she said quietly. Her voice was composed, but not cold—just honest. “This is something I have to do, Kuni. For myself.” 

He nodded slowly, lips pressed into a thin line. “Yeah.”

He knew. But knowing didn’t make it hurt less.

It wasn’t her fault, not really. He knew from the start who she was. Knew she had dreams bigger than this city, than him. It was his fault for being weak and indulging in something he knew was a risk.

He wanted to come with. Drop out, leave everything behind and live a quiet life with her in another country while she pursues her dream. But he knows she would never agree to that. And staying with her while she’s away would only be a distraction and hold her back from the things that she wanted to accomplish. And he knows he would go crazy worrying about her whereabouts. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He gave her a tired, bitter smile. “Don’t be. I already expected this.”

And he did.  He just hadn’t realized how much of him she’d take when she left.

Kuni never hated Mona. He couldn’t.

She was doing what she had to do—what Ei had done, too. 

They were both selfish, yes. Except Mona had a valid reason. And he thinks maybe that’s why he didn’t react out of anger.

He didn’t cry that night. Didn’t beg. He just sat there, eyes wide and empty, letting her go. Because he knew better than to fight for someone who’d already made up their mind.

The next morning, she was gone. And in her place was silence.

Kuni knew, deep down, that he was fragile.He let someone in, even when every part of him screamed not to. Naive. Stupid. Too soft where it mattered most.

So this time, instead of just walls, he built thorns around himself. Weapons. Barbed words, sharp silence, cold detachment. Anything to keep people at a distance. He started hooking up, messing around, destroying his reputation, losing himself in the temporary comfort of bodies that didn’t ask questions.

Because love, he decided, was just a longer word for loss. 

And he was tired of losing.

But then you happened.

And Kuni wanted you.

He didn’t know it then.

The start of fourth-year.

He didn’t realize the girl at the bar, the one that suddenly sat beside him, was about to become the most emotionally confusing part of his life since the people he loved walked out and took parts of him with them.

Back then, you were just a stranger. A friend of a friend’s. A blur in the crowd. Another girl to satisfy his needs. You weren’t supposed to matter. Weren’t supposed to be more than just a one-night stand.

But you did. Somehow.

Somewhere between the stolen glances and clumsy laughter over shared drinks, between the way you didn’t flinch at his sarcasm or walk away when he got harsh and quiet—you started becoming unforgettable.

And Kuni didn’t remember people. Not like that. Not after just one night.

But that was the thing about you.

Even then, when you were both pretending, both half-lost in your own ways, you had this way of slipping under his skin like you belonged there.

He just didn’t know it yet.

“You look depressed.”

He turned to see a face he was sure he’d seen multiple times before.

Who were you again?

Oh, right.

[Surname].

The girl he usually saw with Ajax’s girlfriend in photos and parties. Usually somewhere across the room, half-laughing at something your friends said. He didn’t think you’d ever spoken directly to him before. Maybe in passing. Maybe not at all.

“And you look like someone who should mind their own fucking business,” he muttered, taking a slow sip of whatever was left in his glass.

Kuni wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone’s shit. Today was already bad enough. It was their anniversary. And he wanted to mourn it alone.  So either you leave him alone or deal with his asshole attitude.

Except you didn’t go away. 

Just slid onto the couch next to him like you were old friends, slouching on the backrest.

“Just saying. You’ve been sitting here for like thirty minutes, scowling into your drink like it said something rude.”

He gave you a side glance. Your lips were smirking, but your eyes were something else. Curious. Too perceptive for someone who had probably been drinking all night.

“What do you want?”

“A less boring night,” you said plainly. “You seemed like a good place to start.”

That made him laugh, just barely. People often don’t approach him first like that. 

“Why are you here alone?” he asked.

“My friends bailed on me. Had a rough week,” you answered. 

He simply looked at you with a side look, mulling over whether he should entertain you or not.

Well, maybe small company is okay. He decided.

The both of you talked.  Nothing deep. Just enough to fill the space between glances and refills.

It was surprisingly comfortable.

Your sarcasm met his in the middle. Your eyes lingered just a little too long. You leaned in when you laughed, nudged his shoulders when you disagreed. And the longer you stayed like that, the more the air between you shifted.

Warmer. Tighter.

Every brush of your knee against his felt more intentional. Every look a little heavier. You stared at him just a second too long.

Kuni found himself drawn in, caught in the way your gaze lingered. There was something disarming about you. Not in-your-face attractive like most of the girls scattered around the bar, but effortlessly magnetic. Your outfit was modest by comparison, yet the bare line of your shoulders and the way your top hugged your figure left just enough to wonder about.

Teasing, intentional, but not trying too hard.

He shook his head. He shouldn’t be thinking about what you looked like underneath it.

And yet—

Yeah. Something stirred. 

Shit.

He hadn’t come there to take anyone home. That wasn’t the plan that night.

He licked his lips, feeling them dry.

You looked at him again, head slightly tilted, a silent invitation hanging in the air, like you were waiting for him to say something.

Fuck it.

He mirrored your tilt, voice dropping low and lustful. “My place?”

There was no hesitation. Just a nod. 

A small, knowing smile.

Kuni thought you were odd.

Not in a loud, obvious way. Just odd enough to make him notice.

Most people who came to bars like that, looking for a warm body and a night of distraction, understood the unspoken rule:

Leave in the morning.

No lingering. No breakfast. No awkward small talk pretending that what happened meant something. 

One-night stands came with that silent agreement. Hit and run, no strings. It was safer that way. No messy emotions, no confusion. Either he slipped out first, or the girl did. Always.

He usually brought them back to his place, so he was used to waking up alone. On the rarer occasions when he woke up first, he’d lie in bed longer than necessary, sometimes even missing a morning class, just to avoid making it uncomfortable for the girl to make her quiet exit. It was routine. Predictable.

So when he woke up that morning after the bar, bare mattress on his back, the hangover still settling behind his eyes, he assumed it was the same as always.

You were gone. Of course you were.

He sat up, dragging a hand down his face.

But something felt off.

Kuni woke abruptly from his sleep, sweaty and heaving.

He stared at the wall, in a trance. Head throbbing from the hangover.

Fucking nightmare.

He shook the dreaded feelings away and scanned his surroundings.

The room was quiet, too quiet. But not in the empty kind of way. There was a presence still hanging in the air. The subtle sound of movement outside the room.

And that was when it hit him. He walked out of his room and into the kitchen.

“What are you doing?”

You glanced over your shoulder casually, flipping something in the pan. “Cooking breakfast.”

His eyebrows twitched. He blinked.

“Right,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “‘That’s not necessary.”

“I want to.”

There was no hesitation in your voice. Just calm certainty, like it was the most natural thing in the world to be in a sort-of-stranger’s kitchen making breakfast after a one-night stand.

He leaned against the counter, eyeing you like you’d just sprouted a second head. “Have you ever slept with anyone before?”

You didn’t even look up as you answered. “Yes.”

His brow furrowed deeper. “Do you always cook breakfast for them?”

That time, you did glance at him, smirking a little. “No.”

“The hell—”

“You looked lonely last night,” you said simply. “And depressed. You looked like shit. Still kinda do, honestly.”

Kuni opened his mouth to respond, but you kept going, unfazed.

“Also, your apartment’s a disaster. I had the overwhelming urge to clean it. Cooking seemed like a good start.”

Kuni looks around his place, seeing all of his belonging scattered. Laundry. Trash.

Oh.

He didn’t have a strong desire to clean much ever since he started fooling around. Keeps most of the girls away.

You slid a plate with food onto the counter in front of him with practiced ease. “It’s not that deep. I just thought you could use a small win today.”

He stared at the plate, then at you, silent for a long moment. 

You just smiled, turning back to the stove. Like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t completely, utterly confusing.

He takes in the sight of you cooking in his kitchen. You were standing there, his shirt hanging off one shoulder, hair messily tied back, completely at home in a place you’d only stepped into for the first time a few hours ago.

And something about that made his chest tighten. Not with warmth, but panic. It was too much. Too close. Too dangerous.

So he looked away. Swallowed hard. He walked back into his room, grabbed his phone, and when he went back out, he didn’t bother hiding the edge in his voice.

“This was a one-time thing,” he said flatly. “Don’t get comfortable.”

You froze, spatula mid-air.

He didn’t look at you.

“I’ve got shit to do,” he added, colder now. “You should head out after you eat.”

A beat passed. Silence stretching like a knife.

Still, he didn’t look.

Because if he did, he might’ve apologized. Might’ve said he didn’t mean it. Might’ve let you stay.

And he couldn’t afford that. So he hardened his voice one last time.

“Lock the door behind you. And leave my shirt.”

Then he walked out of his own apartment.

Ironically, Kuni let it happen a second time.

The one thing he swore he wouldn’t do.

Never repeat a girl. Never fall into the same pair of arms twice. Never give anyone the power to make him crave them more than once. He made that rule for a reason. To keep things clean, forgettable, and detached. It wasn’t even about morality, it was survival. Once was already too much for someone like him, someone who’d learned the hard way what happened when you let someone past the surface.

The plan was simple: drink, fuck, forget. Find a new face, a temporary escape, rinse, repeat. He didn’t even bother to learn the names of most of them.

You were supposed to be just like every other. A face he’d forget by morning.

But you weren’t.

Kuni wondered about you.

Not just in passing, not just in the shallow, fleeting way he did with others.

Unlike the others, he was already acquainted with you. He’d seen you around campus, around his friends, knew your name before he ever touched you. Got to talk to you before he even touched you. 

Back then, you didn’t even cross his mind. But that night and the morning after, something shifted.

You were different, not because you tried to be, but because you didn’t. You were sarcastic, annoyingly perceptive, and knew how to keep up with him in the short time he got to talk to you.

And maybe that was the problem.

That was what scared him.

The way you deflected all of his attacks. The way you lingered in his head long after you were gone. And that was dangerous.

So when he opened his door and saw you again, three days later, he was already on edge.

Kuni opened the door halfway, eyes slightly bloodshot, a half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand.

He stared at you in disbelief.

“Didn’t I say it was a one-time thing?”

Cold. Defensive. Because if he let it get soft, even for a second, someone would crawl past the walls again.

You didn’t flinch. “Relax. I just need my ring.”

He took a sip before answering. “What ring?” he says, tone bored.

“The gold one. I left it by your stove.”

He blinked, recalling it, then remembered exactly what you were talking about. It was the ring he saw when he got back to his apartment. 

He figured it was yours, obviously, since you’re the only girl that had the audacity to cook in his kitchen. But he didn’t really think you’d go back for it.

“You left it on purpose.” He stares at you.

“You wish. It’s a ring with sentimental value, unlike you. I just forgot about it.”

“If it’s really important, you wouldn’t’ve forgotten it,” he accuses.

“Would you just give it to me?” you glare at him.

He sighs in defeat. He walked back to his messy couch and gestured lazily. “Go get it yourself.”

He hears you mutter a frustrated ‘finally,’ before focusing back to drinking. 

You walked past his living room and headed straight for the kitchen. His eyes follow you, watching with half-interest, half-irritation, nursing his drink in silence.

You found it easily, sitting there like it never moved. You stared at it for a second longer than you needed to before sliding it back onto your finger.

Then thunder cracked loud outside. 

The rain had come fast and hard, lightning flickering in the windows.

“Shit,” you muttered, glancing out. “You got an umbrella?” you called over your shoulder.

“Nope.”

“Wow. Responsible.” Sarcasm. “I’m out,” he heard you say.

He didn’t respond. But he noticed how your steps slowed. How you lingered by the door, fiddling with your ring, eyes darting toward the storm. You didn’t want to go out in the pouring rain. You didn’t say it, but he could tell.

He let out a sigh and muttered without looking at you, “Stay until it stops. I’m not driving you.”

Simple. Emotionless. But you stayed.

You ended up on his couch while he poured himself another drink. He didn’t offer conversation. Not wanting the night to steer differently.

The silence stretched for minutes, but then, you surprised him again. You walked over and grabbed the bottle. Poured yourself a glass. Sat beside him like you’d done it a hundred times before.

“Seriously?” he asked, raising a brow.

You took a sip and shrugged. “What, you don’t share?”

He didn’t reply. Just let you do whatever you wanted. 

Just what is it with you and being too comfortable around him. 

He tried so hard not to interact, tried hard not to linger his eyes for too long. But he had a few shots already and the liquor is starting to take effect.

He took a subtle glance at you.

Then your eyes unexpectedly met his, and he was caught—just looking. 

At the curve of your lips, the slope of your neck, the way your legs crossed under your oversized hoodie.

“You’re staring,” you said, lips twitching into a smirk.

He snapped his gaze away, regretting his actions.

Something was growing on him. Hard.

He shouldn’t’ve let you inside. He should’ve just gave you back the ring himself.

“I thought this was supposed to be a one-time thing,” you added, voice laced with laughter and teasing.

It hit a nerve. He didn’t reply.

You leaned in closer. The air shifted. He clenched his jaw, still silent. Still pretending it didn’t affect him.

Your fingers grazed his knee. And that was it.

He was tipsy. Tense. Tired of pretending.

And just like that, everything he’d tried to bury lit up like fire under his skin.

The rules broke. Again.

You didn’t stay that night. You left quietly early in the morning while he was still asleep. But when he woke up, the apartment was clean. The dishes were washed. The clutter was gone. 

A plate of food sat on the counter. Next to it was a folded napkin with a note in what he assumed was your handwriting:

‘Just fucking eat it.’

It made him chuckle.

And that’s what pissed him off most. 

That you left no trace of yourself, except for something so human it stuck with him the whole day.

So Kuni let it happen. Again.

If the second time was unexpected, the third was deliberate.

You showed up at his door a week later, around midnight, cheeks pink from the cold. Or maybe from the fact that you were reeking of alcohol. Your hair was messy, jacket half-zipped, and your lips pulled into a crooked line that told him this wasn’t planned.

You didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Can I come in?”

He blinked. “What are you doing here?”

You shrugged. “Didn’t wanna be home. Fought with Lumi. Needed a distraction.”

And he was the first person you thought to come to?

“You’re drunk.”

“Sober enough to walk here.”

He almost shut the door in your face. But something in your face, tired, but still sharp with defiance, made him pause.

You didn’t wait for him to invite you. You pushed past him like it was your place, like you belonged there. 

And when he tried to say something, you kissed him. 

Fast. Desperate. Familiar.

He almost lost his balance. But he didn’t push you away. Maybe that was his mistake.

The two of you didn’t fall asleep this time. Both of you just lay there, skin warm, breaths uneven from whatever that just was.

Kuni stared at the ceiling blankly. “I swear, this is the last time,” he mutters.

You turned to him with a questioning gaze.

“I don’t do repeats. You already crossed that line.”

You stared at him, half amused, half insulted. “Right. I forgot, you’re the infamous campus heartbreaker.”

He didn’t respond.

You waited. Then asked, “Why do you do it?”

“That’s none of your business.”

You sat up a little, tugging the blanket higher. “It’’s about commitment, isn’t it? Doesn’t it get tiring? Having to find someone new every time?” you tried to pry more.

He didn’t answer. You studied him for a beat. He looked calm, but you knew better. You didn’t press further.

“Never mind. It means nothing to me. I don’t like commitment, either. So you don’t have to worry about reusing me,” you laugh. “Rather than worrying about your sex life, I should worry about my health. You probably have STDs, or something,” you hug yourself and shiver dramatically. 

He rolls his eyes.  “I always use a condo–”

“Relax, I was joking,” you snort.

This irked him. 

“Get out of my apartment.”

And you did. With an annoying giggle at that, too.

Kuni mulled it over long after you were gone. 

This meant nothing to you. You said it yourself.  Maybe that’s when everything took a turn. Because to him, this never meant anything, not really. But he was scared that he’d start to consider giving it meaning.

You were a risk.

But then again… so was everything else.

The exhausting nights of downing drinks to build the courage to flirt. The meaningless hookups. The silence in his room afterward. The emptiness that clung to him even when the bed wasn’t. He kept running from commitment, kept choosing chaos, but in the end, it still left him tired. Worn and bitter and bored of it all.

And then there was you. Bold. Audacious. The kind of fun Kuni didn’t have for a while.

He didn’t trust himself. Not to stay cold. Not to keep the distance. Because, again, he knew he was fragile despite everything. But when you said it didn’t mean anything to you, something in him relaxed.

Maybe, just maybe, if you could control yourself, he could too.

The next time it happened, it was Kuni who approached you first.

Then it was you. Then him again.

A quiet back-and-forth, a rhythm born from stressful weeks and late nights, each of you seeking the same kind of escape in the other.

It was unspoken, effortless. Friends with benefits. Fuck buddies. A fling. Whatever label people might throw on it, neither of you bothered to define it.

It was easier that way. Easier to pretend it was simple. And for a while, it was.

Because Kuni was careful. Always.

He set his own rules. His own boundaries. After every night, he made sure to be the one who woke up and left first, even when it was in his own apartment. 

Sometimes, you beat him to it. And he took it as a sign that maybe you got it, too. Maybe you were just as good at keeping things distant.

When both of your friend groups found out what’s happening between you two, despite all the teasing and doubts about the nature of your relationship, you both kept denying it.

We’re just friends.

A short sentence that he repeated a hundred times. And you followed.

The two of you never hung out outside of bed. Never spent quality time. Never got to know each other beyond the surface level. Most of the time, when life was going fine for the both of you, weeks would pass in silence. No check-ins. No texts. Just distance until the next bad day came, and one of you reached out, needing relief.

So it continued. Wordless. Measured. A mutual understanding held together by silence and restraint.

For months, you both clung to the comfort of routine, anything to stop whatever complicated feelings were quietly growing in the spaces you refused to look at.

He appreciated you for it. How you never crossed the line he silently drew. You never asked the wrong questions. Never prodded at the past he kept buried. You never tried to peel back the layers he guarded like armor.

You were content with what little he gave. Fragments of deep conversation, fleeting touches, the kind of closeness and banter that never demanded more.

And somehow, that made it easier. Safer. It was comforting to him, in a way. Knowing someone could be there even when he offered next to nothing except his body. Even when the two of you barely qualified as friends.

But over time, something shifted. Because the more times it happened, the more curious he became. He became restless. He found himself wondering:

If you were willing to stay through the bare minimum—no promises, no answers, no depth—

what would happen if he gave you more?

Four months in, things began to change.

It was subtle at first. So subtle that it went past Kuni.

Maybe it was when you started ranting before getting intimate. Stating your reasons for calling him. You’d drop onto his couch with a sigh, words spilling out like a routine. And he just listened. Something he didn’t even realize was way past his boundaries.

“I swear this prof. hates me.”

“I keep getting migraines lately, it fucking sucks.”

“My thesis partner thinks ‘editing’ means changing the font.”

Then there were other things. You started checking if he had eaten, always in the form of an insult.

“Don’t tell me you’re surviving on caffeine and alcohol again.” And he’d roll his eyes, but the next time, you’d still ask. Even urged him to buy food that he can cook.

He started keeping snacks you liked. The ones you always brought when you were hungry, stating, “I want to eat before we do anything.” 

He later went on a grocery run and mindlessly stocked up on them. Kept them in a drawer in his kitchen. Along with headache meds. “Emergency stash,” he claimed when you noticed. Didn’t say whose emergency he meant.

Or maybe it was the time when nothing happened.

You showed up, visibly stressed, visibly shaken, and instead of touching him like he initially thought you’d need, you asked if you could just stay.

No ulterior motive. No need to touch.

So you sat beside him. On the floor. In silence. Shoulder to shoulder. And you didn’t even say a word. But somehow, it made all the noise in his head quiet.

That was when it started to really terrify him.

Because in all the flings he had, no one ever reached that far. They got his body. Never his quiet. But you? You found your way into both. Without even realizing.

Suddenly, Kuni wasn’t sure if this was just physical for him anymore.

Because for the first time in a long while, he started to wonder to himself how your day was. If you were sleeping okay. If you went out with your friends today. He started to replay the way you laughed when he humors your playful banter and insults. The way you looked proud when you beat him at a dumb card game one night after leaving the bed in a storm.

And worst of all, he started calling you up more often even when he didn’t really need to. Granted, it always ended in sex, but a part of him simply did it to hold you.

That’s when it changed.

The lines between you didn’t blur with the heated touches or the nights tangled in each other’s arms. No, those were expected. Part of the deal. What truly blurred them were the quiet, gentle moments that had no place in whatever this was.

It was never the passion that confused him. It was the tenderness. The kind that shouldn’t exist between two people who swore they were nothing. Because despite everything he tried to avoid, he started to silently care.

And caring was the one thing he swore he’d never do again. Not after what happened before. Not after everything he’d buried just to survive.

But he found himself forgetting what it felt like to be left behind—ironically, in something destined to end that way.

Because with you, it didn’t feel like survival anymore.

It was something dangerously close to living.

So much so that for a while, Kuni thought about ending it.

Not because he was tired of you. It was the opposite. It was because his feelings were changing, and that was never part of the plan.

He believed that it meant nothing to you. That it was all him making something up in his head. That the quiet care, the shared silences, the way you both stayed longer than necessary were just convenience. It simply stemmed from your personality.

After all, neither of you ever defined what this was. In those rare, intimate moments, where one of you would do something only people who cared would do, there was always a wordless agreement to never speak of it. To pretend it didn’t mean anything. There was always awkwardness hanging in the air.

So he convinced himself that if it continued, you’d leave. That one day, you’d see him for what he was—someone wrecked and weak—and you’d reject him for it.

But then the what-ifs started to creep in.

What if you felt it too? What if the small things mattered to you just as much? What if you weren’t staying because it was easy, but because, like him, you hoped?

And if he pushed you away first, he’d be losing you. Not because you left, but because he didn’t let you stay.

So Kuni continued. 

He continued to keep you around.

Continued to dance back and forth between acceptance and denial.

When Kuni woke up before you, he didn’t leave.

He used to always leave before dawn. Always.

But lately, every morning, he stayed longer than necessary. Half-asleep on the edge of your bed, shirt discarded somewhere on the floor, arm lazily draped around your waist. Close. Closer than he ever let himself be while conscious.

Shit.

He wanted to avoid cuddling, as much as possible. But it happened sometimes, blamed it on the cold or on reflexes. He’d usually slip away before you stirred. No trace. No warmth left behind.

But this time, when you shifted in your sleep, back brushing against his chest, he didn’t move.

You were turned away from him. Breathing slow. Completely unaware of the way he looked at you.

He let himself look. He took it all in. The calmness of your features, the way your hair fell across the pillow, the slight twitch of your fingers like you were dreaming. The kind of softness he’d convinced himself he wasn’t allowed to want.

He could’ve left. Should’ve, probably. But instead, his eyes fell to your hand, resting loosely on the blanket.

That ring. The stupid ring that started it all. If you hadn’t left it that night, maybe none of this would’ve spiraled into whatever you were now. Maybe he wouldn’t be here wrapped up in warmth he told himself he didn’t need.

But he was.

And without thinking too hard about it, he reached for his phone on the nightstand. Quiet. Careful.

He didn’t point the camera at your face. Just the way your back curled slightly toward him, the way the early morning light traced soft outlines across the sheets, the stillness of it all.

A snapshot. One he’d keep for himself. Just to remember. He observed the photo, thinking that it didn’t give justice to the real thing.

Pretty.

He never said it aloud. Not to you. But maybe someday, you’d see it.

And maybe you’d understand.

Kuni hadn’t been subtle.

Not lately.

And maybe that was the point. He knew he was slipping. Letting things show. Letting you see. The in-between, too heavy.

He started leaving hints on purpose. Not loud gestures that would risk scaring you away, but little things. Quiet gestures. Nothing he expected anything back for.

He just wanted to show you the change. Wanted you to know without him having to say it, and to see if you felt the same too.

He thought about everything—about how easy it would be to pull away again. How easy it would be to just keep things as it was.

But a part of him didn’t want easy anymore.

Kuni didn’t reply to your message, in a hurry.

He didn’t think. He just moved. Grabbed the snacks he knew you liked and stopped for coffee, even though it was already late and the café near his dorm was closing soon.

He didn’t have a plan. He just… didn’t want you to feel alone tonight.

When he spotted you hunched over a table in the library, looking one breath away from falling apart, something sharp tugged in his chest. So he walked over and dropped the coffee and snacks in front of you. Didn’t say anything grand. Just eased into the seat across from you like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You blinked at the table, then up at him.

“What is this?” you asked, wary.

He shrugged, trying to play it off. “You look like you’re two pages away from losing your mind.”

That was it. No ulterior motive. Just… worry. Quiet, uninvited worry.

He saw the way you hesitated before touching the cup. Like you were trying to figure out what he wanted. Like you were weirded about him just showing up.

You stared at the coffee like it might bite. Like it meant more than it did—or maybe exactly what it did.

“Seriously,” you murmured, not meeting his eyes. “Why are you here?”

He leaned back, tried to keep it light. “Dunno.” Then softer, “Just figured you’d need a recharge.”

He watched your fingers curl around the cup. That was enough. He didn’t need a thank you. He just needed to know you were taking care of yourself, even if it was through him.

Your notes were a mess. Your eyes were dull. He could tell your head hurt.

“You sure you don’t wanna take a break?” he asked.

“I can’t.”

“You look like you need one.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, well, I don’t have that luxury.”

He bit back the urge to argue. You were always so stubborn. Always acted like you had to do everything on your own.

So instead, he offered what little help he could. “It’s late. Continue studying at home.” He hesitated. Then, quietly, “Or at my place. It’s closer.”

And just like that, your expression changed. He saw the way your hands stilled. How you immediately shut down.

Why?

You laughed, cold and hollow. “Right. And I’m sure we’d get so much studying done there.”

He blinked, confused. The edge in your voice was sharper than usual. “What do you mean?”

Oh. 

You thought this was about that. Of course. 

He felt a heavy feeling he couldn’t describe.

You didn’t answer. Just brushed him off. Told him you still had a lot to do. And maybe he should’ve argued. Explained himself. But what would’ve been the point? You’d already made up your mind. So he let the silence sit. Then stood up quietly.

“Fine,” he muttered, trying not to let the sting show. “Don’t overwork yourself, moron.”

It wasn’t what he wanted to say. Wasn’t what he wanted to do.

But it was too late, and all he could do was walk away.

Kuni didn’t plan to call.

He read your message that you planned to do an all-nighter, and his thumb was already tapping the call icon.

He told himself it was to check on you. To keep you company while you worked. Not because he missed you. Not because the silence of his room felt louder without you in it.

When you answered, the image of you lit up his screen, half-tired, eyes ringed with stress, but still managing that soft ‘Hey’ that landed somewhere uncomfortably near his chest.

“Hey,” he answered. He kept it easy. Familiar.

You asked why, and he gave the first excuse that came to mind:

“You aren’t here and I didn’t have anything else to do.”

A lie, kind of. 

There were things he could be doing. He just didn’t feel like doing them knowing you’d be staying up all night.

You asked about studying, and he brushed it off like it was nothing. Said he already did. Said he doesn���t pull all-nighters like you losers.

Made you laugh. That was the point.

He didn’t say he’d been thinking about you since earlier. Didn’t say he regretted how that went. How you looked at him like he was just another interruption. Like all he ever wanted was you in pieces, never whole.

So he stayed quiet now. Watched you twirl your pen. Half-listened as you thanked him for the coffee.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

“I know. I wanted to.”

Truth, laid bare without thinking. He waited for the blowback, for you to read into it and pull away again. But you didn’t. Not really. You changed the subject like you always do.

You didn’t know that he stayed on the call for your voice. Watching you frown at your notes and bite your lip grounded him more than sleep ever could.

That he was trying, really trying, to just be there without asking for anything.

Even when your eyes started to flutter shut. Even when your voice got quieter and softer until it was barely there.

He teased. Called you an idiot when you couldn’t remember what he last said. Then watched you drift off, your figure slackening in the frame.

He didn’t end the call right away. Didn’t hang up like he should’ve.

He just stared. You looked peaceful. Safe.

And under his breath—too quiet for you to hear, but loud enough to mean something—he whispered,

“Goodnight, pretty.”

Then he hung up.

And stared at the empty screen a while longer.

Kuni knew he was being too careful.

Why you couldn’t see what he was trying to show you. Why you assumed things that weren’t pure.

He wanted to make it more obvious. Not by saying something, but by doing something. Asking you out.

He remembered Ajax once casually mentioning how he gets his girlfriend little gifts when she does well. Sometimes for absolutely no reason. Something small. Something thoughtful.

Kuni had rolled his eyes at the time, but the idea stuck.

So when he saw the charm, delicate glass petals with a little space for initials, he didn’t even hesitate. He bought it without overthinking.

Well, maybe he did. A little.

Because it wasn’t just a gift. It served as a starting point. A declaration.

He stood outside the lecture hall, leaning against the wall, pretending to scroll through his phone. He heard your laugh before he saw you, that breathless, giddy kind that only came when you were running on adrenaline.

And then there you were.

You looked light.

Freer than you had in days. Weeks.

And the way your eyes found him—like you were surprised by him being there—it settled something restless in his chest.

“Hey, genius,” he said, tone flat, like this wasn’t a big deal. Like he hadn’t waited ten whole minutes rehearsing, nothing to say.

You lit up. You tried to play it off, made a joke about maybe not passing, and he scoffed.

Please.

He knew you passed.

He saw it in the way you carried yourself, like you finally remembered you were brilliant.

You laughed, and he felt it more than heard it.

So he pulled the charm from his pocket. Held it out to you with no ceremony. No big speech. Just a quiet offering.

“I figured you deserved something,” he muttered. “Should’ve gotten a bigger one, since you aced it and all.”

He watched you freeze. Watched the way your fingers curled around it carefully, like it might break. Like it meant more than you were ready to say.

And maybe that was the point.

This wasn’t like the coffee, or the food, or the study calls. 

This wasn’t fleeting. It was something you could hold on to. He didn’t need you to give it back, or throw it away, or overthink it.

He just needed you to keep it. To know he was proud of you.

When your voice faltered, he looked away. Shrugged. Stuffed his hands into his pockets like it was nothing. Like his pulse wasn’t racing.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” he said, already walking ahead.

Then, over his shoulder, with more ease than he felt: “C’mon. I just finished my own practicals. We need a proper celebration. Nothing big, just us. You in?”

He didn’t wait for your answer. Didn’t look back. But a big part of him hoped you’d see it for what it really was.

The hair thing.

He hadn’t meant to do it. It surprised him, as well. Like it was instinct, like your presence was already stitched into the rhythm of his hands. But the moment his fingers grazed your skin, he felt it. Too soft. Too familiar. Something that felt less like impulse and more like yearning.

You looked at him like you felt it too. That made him hope. Made him more confident.

He could feel that you wanted more.

So when you reached your dorm and he opened his mouth—finally, he thought. 

Just fucking say it. 

That he wanted more than what you had now. That this thing between you wasn’t just about satisfying cravings anymore. That he was starting to look forward to the in-betweens more than the aftermaths. 

That he was falling—fast, hard, and quietly—for the only person who might or might not catch him.

But then his breath caught.

His courage flickered.

What if saying it ruined this? What he got the wrong signals?

So he smiled, bitter and tired, and said, “Never mind.”

And you looked at him like you knew. Like you were waiting for something, too. Like you were hoping.

“Kuni…” you trail off. Your brows furrowed and your lips frowned, clear disappointment.

Seeing that almost made him cave. Almost. But instead he flicked your forehead, the safest affection he could manage. Told you to get some rest, and turned away before he changed his mind.

Maybe next time, he thought.

When he walked off, he didn’t feel lighter. He felt everything all at once. Tight in his chest, sharp in his ribs.

Kuni was still a coward.

And he continued being a coward.

For days, he said nothing. Did nothing. Just existed on the edge of every what if.

He kept thinking about that night. Your laugh echoing in his chest, the way your eyes softened when you thought he wasn’t looking, the warmth of your skin when he tucked your hair behind your ear. Stupid. It was so stupid. But it stuck with him like a song he couldn’t turn off.

He should’ve said something. That night. When he hesitated. When he looked at you and wanted—really wanted—for the first time, something more than what you were.

But he hadn’t. Because hope is dangerous, and he wasn’t brave enough.

A part of him started to regret his actions. Started to regret stepping over his own boundaries. Because he realized again that it really was easier to pretend it was nothing. 

At some point he hoped you’d do something instead—reach out, push the line, call him out. Anything that would make the leap easier. Something that would let him off the hook.

And still, he couldn't do it.

Because he knew it was his responsibility. 

Instead, he buried it under silence. Let the days stretch on with only a few texts, safe and distant.  Played it cool like he wasn’t checking his phone every few hours, like he wasn’t searching for your face in the halls more than usual.

It drove his friends insane.

“You’re being a dick,” Ajax told him flat out one afternoon. “You start treating her like she’s special, then keep denying to everyone else that you feel something. Do you know how that looks like to others?”

"There really is nothing to it,” Kuni spat. Denied.

“You sure? ‘Cause you’re sure acting like a guy in love.”

He had no answer to that.

Vague denials, dismissive shrugs to his friends. He clung to them like they were lifelines. But the cracks were starting to show. Even he could feel it.

And Kuni had always been good at many things—sarcasm, pushing people away, hiding behind sharp words and sharper silence.

But love?

It was something he swore to never feel again.

And you? You were becoming too important to risk on a maybe.

So he stayed quiet. A coward still.

But even he knew—

He couldn’t keep hiding much longer.

Kuni was genuinely curious.

He was looking forward to hearing your request after winning the bet.

What would you ask of him? It seemed like something you’d been dying to say.  Maybe it was dumb, but he was already prepared to give in to whatever you asked.

But he didn’t expect to get blindsided.

She was back.

He found out just not through whispers, but straight from her—texting him out of nowhere.

Hey. I’m back. Can we talk?

She told him months ago that she wouldn’t return. That she needed to do this for herself. And he accepted it. Quietly. Painfully. 

And now?

He stared at his phone too long. Didn’t answer. Thought ignoring it would make it go away. But fate had other plans, because next thing he knew, she was there, in the hallway, walking toward him like time hadn’t passed at all. 

Same familiar perfume. Same old eyes that once made him lose himself. And for a second, he forgot how to breathe.

Déjà vu didn’t come gently. It came like a wave, dragging everything he buried right back to the surface.

He agreed to meet her. Maybe for closure. Maybe out of reflex. 

The world felt muted.

“You look good,” Mona said softly. “Tired. But good.”

He didn’t return the compliment. Just looked at her, quiet.

“What happened to Berlin?” he asked, his voice low, guarded.

“I finished what I had to do there,” she said, smiling. “They let me come back. I’m gonna graduate here. Take some time to figure things out.”

Kuni nodded. Nothing inside him moved the way it used to. There was no ache. Just… a distant memory.

“Did it go well?” he asked out of courtesy.

“It did! I learned so much and had countless opportunities.” She smiled proudly, remembering the things she did and experienced.

After a pause, “I’m glad it went well. You did good,” he said, to his own surprise. And he meant it. She laughed at the sudden compliment, nudged his arm playfully. He didn’t mind.

And that’s when it happened.

He smiled. Soft. Brief. Real.

But it wasn’t for her. Not anymore. It was for who she had become. For who she fought to be. 

Because even as he looked at her, it wasn’t Mona’s face in his mind.

It was yours.

He remembered the way you clenched your pen when you were focused. The way your eyes sparkled when you got fired up talking about something. The way your voice shifted when you were nervous but pretending not to be.

God.

He wanted to see you like this too.

Thriving. Smiling. Accomplished.

And he wanted to be there beside you when you did. To be someone who stood still beside you while the world changed.

That’s when the guilt hit. That’s when the confusion clawed its way back in.

Mona being here—she complicated things. She was a symbol of everything he let go of. And now she was back. It’s the last thing he needed right now.

“I’m happy for you,” he said coldly, slowly walking away. “Really. But I’ve got to go.” He waved her goodbye, turning his back on her.

“Wait, Kuni…” she called out.

He stopped.

“Um.. There’s more,” she said. “Please hear me out.”

He turned, facing her again.

“My parents. They’re trying to arrange a marriage with someone in Germany. Says it was for a partnership. Pay back for accepting me in Berlin.” she said. “That’s… also partly why I came back here.” 

She continued, “I told them I’d go along with it after graduating here for a year but… I don’t want to. I don’t love him.”

He stared at her, silent.

“I want to try again. With us,” she said, stepping forward. “Maybe if I show them I’m in love with someone else, they’ll back off. If we can rekindle what we had…”

His heart dropped.

“No,” he said, voice cold. Sharper than before.  “You want to pick up where we left off like it was nothing?” he said quietly. Kuni really couldn’t blame her for leaving. Couldn’t get angry. But asking this of him?

“I—” Mona looked taken aback.

“You left. You said Berlin was your dream, and I respected that. I let you go without begging you to stay.”

A pause. The wind rattled through the open halls. 

“You don’t get to come back now that I’ve found reasons to move forward. You don’t get to do this to me.”

Her expression faltered. “But—”

“Goodbye,” he said. Then he left. No second glance.

He didn’t touch his phone that afternoon. Forgot to. 

Not with everything in his head. 

Kuni noticed your silence immediately.

You always replied. Sometimes late, sometimes short, but you always said something. But now, days have passed. No “lol.” No reactions. No dry sarcasm. 

Just… nothing.

He told himself maybe you were busy. Research, projects, a nap that turned into three days of recovery. 

But when the silence stretched longer, a dull throb of worry settled in his chest.

Had he messed up?

Was it the late reply?

The bet?

He hated how his first instinct was to spiral. And he hated how the thought that maybe you’re done with him made his throat tighten.

Still, he swallowed his pride and looked for you. In your usual hallway. Outside the library where you liked to sit. Even tried knocking on your dorm and waited for you to come out.

But you didn’t.

So he kept texting you. Even asked Ajax to ask your best friend if she’d seen you. 

None of the things he did resulted in a response from you.

He knew something felt off.

And it didn’t help that Mona was everywhere now.

She waited for him after class. Sat beside him during lunch like they were still something. Talked to him like nothing had changed.

Maybe to her, nothing had. But everything had changed for him.

He didn’t want this. Didn’t want her here. Didn’t want the past making itself comfortable beside him when all he could think about was you.

But when he tried to distance himself, when he gave her cold shoulders, short answers, quiet indifference, she just smiled and brushed it off.

“I’m an irregular student. You’re the only friend I have right now,” she said once. “It’s not like I’m trying to get back together. I just… feel safe around you.”

And he had nothing to say to that. So he let her stay. Even when it felt wrong. Even when it made him look like someone he wasn’t anymore.

Because what could he have done? Mona leeched on him.

What he didn’t realize was that you saw it. Everyone did.

Saw her sitting beside him. Saw her waiting for him.

It looked exactly like what he swore he didn’t want anymore.

He was blind.

Kuni didn’t expect your reason.

Didn’t expect you to disappear because of him.

For days now, Kuni’s been turning that silence over in his mind, retracing every interaction, every message he sent that went unanswered. But then he noticed, how you were replying to others since they started mentioning you again. How you posted that one tweet.

You weren’t offline. Just off with him.

That’s when it hit him.

Maybe he had pushed too hard. Maybe you were pulling away because he stepped too close to a line you never agreed on crossing.

He hadn’t even asked to sleep with you again lately. Neither of you had.

No excuses this time. No impulse to hide behind.

Just him, choosing not to make a move. Because lately, every time he looked at you, he didn’t want something casual. He wanted to stay. Stay even when it wasn’t convenient. And he thought you were somewhat on the same page.

And maybe that was the problem.

You didn’t ask for that. You never said you wanted more.

Maybe he got the wrong impression.

So he stopped messaging. Not to punish you. Not to give up. But because he thought maybe he’s the reason you’re backing away. Maybe you're trying to breathe and he kept hovering too close.

He didn’t want to make it worse. But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

He noticed how fast you distanced yourself the moment things felt real. Something he thought he’d be doing. Though it ached him, because he was hoping otherwise, he thought maybe you’d call him up again when you needed relief.  That things would go back to how it used to. 

How it should be.

That rainy Sunday night confirmed it. 

He didn’t expect to see you. He didn’t expect to feel the ache surge back up like it never left when he spotted your figure across the store. Hoodie. Hair damp from drizzle. Your eyes darting away like he was a stranger and brushing past him.

An unforgiving storm poured down, as reflecting his heavy feelings.

You didn’t dare run through the storm, staying outside the convenience store, stuck. Thinking about it, it was similar to when you went to retrieve your ring and ended up staying at his place because it was raining.

Except this time was different.

He watched you. Watched your silence from inside.  He waited for you to go back. To talk to him. He waited for the words. But you didn’t make a move, just hugging yourself from the cold, waiting out the storm.

Feeling discarded again, he confronted you. Not wanting to face the same hurt he experienced in the past once more.

He came off strong at first, but he wasn’t angry when he asked. Just tired of pretending it didn’t sting. Tired of acting like he didn’t care, when he did.

And the way you answered—empty, vague, careful—it only confirmed what he feared: you were never going to tell him the truth unless he forced it out of you.

But he didn’t expect what you said next.

“I want to claim my bet.”

Then his heart sank the second you said you wanted to stop. 

No more late nights. No more whatever-this-is. No more excuses to see each other. Essentially, it was the only thing that held your relationship together. 

He was wrong. It was never anything deeper. 

Not to you, evidently.

He thought about saying something. Thought about asking why now, why like this, in the middle of a storm that sounded like the world was falling apart around you.

He wanted to argue. Wanted to reach for your hand and tell you that he wasn’t ready to let go.

That it wasn’t a fling anymore. Not for him. But he didn’t. He just accepted the hurt once more. Because it was what he’s used to. His first instinct. 

“Alright.”

Because, again, what else was there to say to someone who already made up their mind?

So he pulled his hood up. Took one last glance at you—quiet, expressionless, unreadable. And walked out into the storm. Not because he didn’t care, but because staying felt more humiliating than being soaked to the bone.

Each drop felt like punishment.

Every step away from you a reminder:

You were never his to begin with.

And still, as the rain drenched him and blurred the streetlights ahead, all he could think about was the sound of your voice, flat and final—

“Let’s just leave each other alone.”

And maybe, in the end, that’s what he’ll do. Not because he wants to. But because you asked him to. Even when it felt like a punch in the gut when someone he cared for left him again.  Even if it means walking away with the one thing he never admitted out loud:

You were more than just something to satisfy his needs. You were the risk he wished he took earlier. Something real that he wished he had established earlier.

Maybe your view of him would’ve changed. Maybe you would have opened up to him. Maybe it could’ve been easier than easy.

If he only had the courage back then.

Kuni regretted that stormy night.

The silence that followed. The words he didn’t say. The look on your face. He told himself it was better this way, easier for you both. But every day since, the hollow ache in his chest reminded him otherwise.

He didn’t text. Didn’t call.

He couldn’t. Because what would he even say? That he missed you? That he was sorry? That the space between you felt like it was swallowing him whole?

So instead, he waited. By the gates, where he knew it was around this time if the day when you left the campus that day.

He didn’t tell you he’d be there. He couldn’t handle being ignored again, or worse, watching you walk away with that same look in your eyes.

He knew you’d refuse to talk to him.

He waited.

Hours passed. His legs ached. But he kept looking. For your silhouette. Your steps. The familiar weight of your presence in a crowd.

And then—

He thought he saw you.

Or maybe just the shape of you. He blinked, unsure, stomach tightening with something bitter and hopeful all at once.

But Mona appeared. 

Her voice broke through his thoughts, casual and teasing. She said something about him being distracted again. He didn’t answer right away. Just kept his eyes in that direction, heart pounding.

He didn’t even realize Mona had reached for his arm until he felt her hand. He didn’t pull away. But he didn’t lean in, either. Not really. Just stood there, letting her talk, letting the moment slip.

And then—he saw you. 

Clear this time. 

Your eyes met his across the campus distance, and the world went still for a breath. You looked at him with an unreadable expression, but it was evident that you didn’t want to talk to him.

His chest ached. He wanted to move. To say something. Anything.

He noticed Lumi beside you, giving him a cold glare. He sighs, giving up, and turns to Mona, “Let’s go.” 

As he walked away, he kept thinking about that split second. The look on your face. He didn’t know if you’d ever talk to him again. But he hoped that you’d seen it.

That you’d seen him waiting.

That you’d understand he hadn’t stopped.

Not really.

Not ever.

Kuni considered entertaining Mona’s offer.

She made it easy. Familiar smiles, old jokes, the kind of comfort that used to mean something. Maybe if he let himself fall back into that rhythm, he could use it as a distraction. Maybe he could pretend her presence filled the space you left behind.

Maybe he could trick himself into believing he still had it in him to feel that kind of fondness for her again.

Though, it seemed unlikely. Because even as Mona laughed beside him, even as her hand lingered on his arm like it used to, his mind kept drifting.

His mind kept drifting to you.

He knew it was pathetic.

Going back to the past that caused him pain. Maybe it’s because the pain he felt with you hurt more. 

Unlike Mona, you didn’t climb over his walls, didn’t tear them down. You never pushed, never crossed the lines he set.

He let you in on his own terms. He wanted you. A conscious decision. One he made willingly, recklessly, because it felt right at the time.

And now, he regrets it.

But because in doing so, he cost you.

But at this point, he just wanted the ache to stop. Wanted the nights to pass without your name sitting on the edge of every thought. Wanted to stop remembering the exact way you looked when you said goodbye.

So he let Mona talk. Let Mona hang around, fooling both of them in the idea that she had him again.

And his friends didn’t take it well.

Lies. All fucking lies.

Truthfully, he agreed with his friends. But he couldn’t help but defend himself. Maybe it was mostly his pride talking.

They didn’t know the whole story to judge and reprimand him.

He knew that was one of his many faults too.

Kuni tried to reach out to you again.

He wanted a final attempt. Even knowing you probably wanted nothing to do with him anymore. Still, he found himself driving, on impulse, on hope, to your street late at night, at a time he was sure you’d be home.

He parked nearby, lights off, waiting in silence.

But your dorm windows were still dark. No signs of life. He knew you weren’t asleep this early, so he waited.

Ten minutes. Twenty. An hour.

And then he saw it. Headlights cutting through the street. A car pulled up to the curb right in front of your building. A car he recognized immediately.

Kaz’s.

The tinted windows were light enough to make out the face in the driver’s seat.

Tall. Relaxed. Familiar.

And then his breath caught.

You were in the passenger seat. With Kaz. At night. Alone.

What the hell were you doing with him?

A pit opened in his stomach, heavy and bitter. He watched as you smiled at Kaz. Soft, warm.  A smile he hadn’t seen in weeks. A smile he could recognize anywhere even through tinted windows.

You opened the door, stepped out. Kaz stayed in the car, waiting until you were safely inside before pulling away. 

Kuni’s hands clenched the steering wheel. Jealousy and betrayal burned through him, sharp and ugly. He didn’t have the right to be angry. But that didn’t stop him from seething.

Is that why Kaz was so angry at him? He thought it was weird how he seemed personally affected by what he’d done.  And you. How could you replace him so fast? Flash someone a smile so soft, so easy, just like that?

He considered stepping out the car, knocking on your door, and confronting you. But he knew better than that.

Kuni banged his head on the steering wheel, feeling his head throb from the pain of all these thoughts.

Was he really just nothing to you?

For the first time in a while, Kuni genuinely considered crying.

As pathetic as it sounded.

Not out of anger. Not even heartbreak. Just… exhaustion. The kind that creeps in after weeks of pained emotions.

He started seeing it everywhere. His friends’ tweets, their replies, their subtle jabs that weren’t so subtle at all. Mentions of you. Mentions of Kaz.

He ignored the provocations, pretended they didn’t get under his skin. But it all chipped away at him.

And the one time—the only time—he finally gathered the nerve to text you again, he found out he was blocked. Everywhere. Every account.

You were done.

His anger toward Kaz? It fizzled into something colder. Not hatred. Not even bitterness.

Resignation.

Because he saw the photo he posted.

You looked happy. At peace.

And if someone else could give you that, what right did he have to hate them for it? To ruin it for you? To demand something?

So he never confronted Kaz. Didn’t call him out. Didn’t throw a punch. Didn’t do anything.

Instead, he focused on Mona, as much as he didn’t want to. She was persistent. That night, she texted him out of nowhere. 

‘Let’s get ice cream’

He didn’t even think about it much before replying. 

He needed a distraction. Anything to quiet the thoughts screaming in his head.

Kuni didn’t bother opening any of his phone that night. 

Despite his circumstances, Kuni knew he could trust Ajax.

He was the constant in his life. His childhood friend. 

The only one who knew everything. What Kuni had been through. What shaped him. Why he shut people out. Why he was so goddamn difficult and confusing.

When things got too heavy, too loud in his own head, Ajax was the one person he could run to, whether he wanted to or not.

So he told him everything. How it started between the two of you. How somewhere along the way, it stopped being casual for him. How terrified he was to lose you, to lose someone again, that it paralyzed him. 

Made him act weak. Act like a coward.

And Ajax… understood. Almost as if he knew it all along.

Of course he did. 

Even with that annoying, too-loud personality that always got on Kuni’s nerves, Ajax had never been the type to judge a person for baring their soul.

He listened. Really listened. Because that’s the kind of person Ajax was.

Ajax simply expressed his disappointment in how Kuni handled it. How he made it worse by letting Mona back in his orbit.

"You set so many boundaries between everyone, even [Name], and yet didn't bother with Mona? That's stupid, dude."

What Ajax revealed to him after made things more complicated. More confusing.

Ajax told him that it was a misunderstanding on both sides. That he should talk to you properly.  He didn’t elaborate further, even when Kuni insisted and even threatened him. 

“Sorry, it’s not my story to tell.”

He said before leaving Kuni confused.

Kuni didn’t know what the hell possessed him to say yes to Ajax’s invitation to Ven’s birthday party.

He knew you’d be there. He knew Kaz probably would be too. He knew damn well you’d want to stay as far away from him as possible. And worst of all? The party was being held at the same bar where he first met you.

Just the thought of that night—, ow everything started, threatened to pull him under.

But still… he went.

Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was some desperate, silent hope that you’d talk to him. That what Ajax said was true. That it was all a misunderstanding. Or maybe he just needed an excuse to drink and see you again. One last time.

And he did see you again.

…Wrapped around Kaz like it was second nature, that is.

Close. Too close. 

He told himself it wouldn’t matter. That he was past this. He respected your happiness and that the ache just needed more time to fade.

But watching it unfold right in front of him, you and Kaz, set something off in him. Bitterness. A fire he thought he’d already drowned.

And maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was the week-long frustration burning at the back of his throat. But when he saw Kaz leaning in to kiss you, something in Kuni snapped.

He didn’t mean to grab you on the dance floor. Didn’t mean for it to spiral the way it did. But he couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand him. Couldn’t stand seeing your lips on someone else.

So when your eyes met his—startled, angry, confused—he acted on impulse.

His body moved before his mind could stop it. Tomorrow, he might drown in the regret. Maybe this was the moment he finally destroyed whatever was left of you both.

But god, did you taste good.

⟳ BLURRED LINES — PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

You say you’re just friends. You say it every time you leave a party together, every time you wake up tangled in sheets, every time you swear it’s the last time. But habits form, lines blur, and pretending gets harder when jealousy starts to sting.

NOTE yeah, i got frustrated with kuni too lol. there was a point where i got confused with what i was writing but honestly? that reflects kuni’s turmoil lmfao. sorry it took too long i’ve been busy and part of me was avoiding proofreading this chapter bcoz it’s so fucking longgg. anw, thoughts? i’m scaredddd. also feel free to correct any typos, plot holes, whtv u see fit bcoz honestly the cho is so long i couldve missed a lot of things

TAGLIST @joiurz @sketcheeee @mywillt0live @kyouzki @ylapsha45 @eternallykira-143 @bananasquash @kunikissr @swivi @ariesloves @lloversss @b-bbytears @kokoscutie @vi0let-writes @tomsishere @franaby @scaraenthusiast1 @iloveescara @usagiarchive @ilovecats-26 @quiechee @snetr @axquella @tatsuomii @lalalaloveallmydays @liyahbug @feiherp @jinjjjia @automaticpatroltragedy @mysterypotatoink @zuhahearts @adres-tia @ssetsuka @strwbrrybbpop @sesamemin @blvdmrcnry @aspinny @jiminscarmex @sammybeefangirls @lxkeeeeee @yu-yumii @linasxoxo @quiet-place-for-thoughts @randomhumans-blog @aaudreys @lesbi-snail @jayzioxx @meowpmzai @s-f-rants @cosmic-rainestorm @honey-and-sweetdreams @vincelikestomince @mono-dontidae @simeonmybabygirlicious @gugumioooo [50/50]

if your name is in bold, that means i can’t tag you

[lightyagamifan]

The best part of kissing Wanderer is the affection he pours into it. He's changing so much about who he is, still learning—but right now, all he wants to learn is how to kiss you in a way that melts you in his arms. Please never stop loving him. He loves you so much.

[lightyagamifan]

I’ve got to ask for a letter from Wanderer 🙏🏽

A Letter Has Arrived From...

You,

What were you thinking, deciding to prance around while the Fatui were around? You left yourself completely out in the open, just waiting for someone to sneak up on you and attack you. Seriously, how could you do something so idiotic? You were lucky I was there and saw you. Any old Joe Schmoe would have just left you to die.

Do you know how worried I was Kusanali was when she saw you unconscious? I know you’ll say that you’re capable of handling a couple of Fatui members, but you don’t understand how worried I Kusanali is. She was pacing back and forth, nearly crying. Good job, you made an archon cry. 

…

It was her that was pacing okay??

Why the hell would you leave without your weapon? Was your trusty sword not trusty enough or something? Sumeru literally has blacksmiths and I know you know where they are. I asked Kusanali where you were going, and she said something about Rukkhashava mushrooms.

…Wait. Is it because I like– 

Ignore that.

Whatever, just let me know when you’ve recovered enough to have visitors. Kusanali, of course. Don’t get ideas. I’ll just be there to make sure no one tries to break in when you’re in bed.

Wanderer

[lightyagamifan]

"Despite everything, it's still you."

[lightyagamifan]

"oh how the tables have turned" ft. aventurine

what happens then, if the chaser becomes the chased? based on @iceunhie post! that fic speaks to me fr

common ratio w

taglist <33

------@moristhesecond @hunnieknight @haithxm-main

@mikoochaan

@greyrain23 @reideneris @bro-im-just-playing @teabutmakeitazure @meimeimeirin

@psychopomp-enthusiast @jade1605 @mochinon-yah @eussstasss @lillieofth3valley

@ichikanu @harmonysanreads @yellowelectroslime @miraclecherryblossomsblog @rossithepixie

@schoenpepper @cadesthings @creationsabyss @hirotasama @jth12

@alhaithams-malewife @oliaxter @angeveins @sakisud @xhongshan

@materlux @lost-in-the-night-skiess @shinha @m1kuz0ne @vashyuu

@n0rmalsimp @biytdtdatmirsmlys @mad-girlfan @wriomii @fyodorssimp1

@pastelmitzuki @latimeria-fell-from-heaven @feral-childs-word @sunyandmony

@seelie-buddy @xiaosantenna @elvira44578i @lolitalarva @liliabrary @f1nd1ng-yuki

@vikaflora2 @ume1sii @whodissbitj @mageofthelibrary @lilisgardensblog

@hypermanica @noisy-seelie @rarealienbutt @taisami @yuutryingtowrite

@chanontherun @almostfuzzyharmony @boothillsbootyeater @lobbitack

@hydroarchon-furinaa @pleniluneg4ze @keirennyx

[lightyagamifan]

nonchalant & majestic mfs (y/n team)

losers club (childe team)

YOURS TRULY

introductions

masterlist ౨ৎ

— to finally get over her hopeless crush on her best friend diluc, y/n decides to send love letters to all her past crushes—because hey, one of them might just like her back, right? the plot twist? she accidentally mails a letter meant for her current crush... and now things are officially a mess. ୨ৎ

author's note: helloooo!! i'm so excited to share this with y'all. this is my first time making a smau so pleek forgive me if its not up to the standards 💔 also ignore the watermarks lmao im too lazy to edit it out 😭😭

edit: i forgot to add reader's priv account sorry 💔

[lightyagamifan]

synopsis : you work under the sixth fatui harbinger orders, and you seem to notice that you might have some privilege from other underlings. pairing : yan scaramouche x reader (no gendered pronouns used for reader) warnings : yandere themes. author's note : this idea has been plaguing my mind for the last few days.

you are neither remarkable nor outstanding—at least, not in a way that warrants the strange privileges you've started to notice.

serving under the sixth harbinger was a gamble on your life. everyone knew it. those who failed his orders rarely walked away unscathed. you have seen him tear through subordinates with the cruel precision of a blade slicing through silk—swift, merciless, and irreversible. a single misstep was a death sentence.

and yet, for some reason, he never raises his voice at you.

it starts subtly. the first time you avoid his wrath, you convince yourself it’s a fluke. someone else bore the brunt of his temper that day, and you were simply fortunate enough to have slipped under his radar. but then it happens again. and again. and again.

you see it in the way the others glance at you when you stand before him, their faces tight with barely concealed confusion. why aren’t you trembling? why hasn’t he struck you down? you aren’t sure yourself. you’re not exempt from his cold glares or sharp words, but compared to the verbal lashings the others receive, yours feel… muted. lighter. almost restrained.

you should be relieved. you should be grateful. but it unsettles you.

at first, you chalk it up to coincidence. maybe he has bigger things to deal with. maybe you simply haven’t messed up badly enough to incur his full fury. maybe he hasn’t noticed you. but then he starts noticing you too much.

the shift is so gradual that you don’t recognize it until it’s already settled in. he calls your name more often. assigns you tasks that keep you close to him. his orders, once barked out to the entire unit, are now directed at you specifically. and the worst part? the others notice too.

it begins with stolen glances, quiet murmurs when they think you aren’t listening. the weight of their stares presses down on you during meetings, during missions, during every waking moment spent in his presence. some are envious. some are wary. but all of them share the same unspoken question—what did you do to earn the balladeer’s favor?

he is watching you. you realize it too late—weeks, maybe months, after the first shift in his behavior.

it’s not obvious at first. his eyes don’t linger when you’re looking. his movements are too calculated, too precise for any suspicion to take root. but then, one evening, you feel it. a chill creeping up your spine. a weight settling on your shoulders. and when you turn around, he is already looking at you.

expression unreadable. posture relaxed. there is no anger, no irritation—none of the usual sharpness that carves itself into his features when addressing others. just patience.

something coils uncomfortably in your chest. you offer a stiff bow and return to your work, pretending you didn’t see anything. but the feeling remains. you are being watched.

then, the orders begin to change.

you’re sent on fewer field missions. others are sent in your place, while your assignments conveniently keep you stationed at headquarters—closer to him. reports that should go through multiple chains of command end up on his desk with your name attached. supplies you never requested start appearing in your quarters, neatly stacked, as if someone had taken careful note of what you might need.

none of it is overt. none of it is something you can point to and say, this is strange. but it feels strange. it feels deliberate.

your quarters, once sparse and cold, are suddenly filled with small comforts. a finer blanket. fresh ink and parchment before you even realize you’ve run out. a meal, still warm, left on your desk after a particularly long meeting. nothing extravagant. nothing blatant. but you know better than to believe in coincidence.

you tell yourself you should be grateful. that if this were anyone else, they would relish in the safety his interest provides. but safety is not the word for it. this is not sanctuary. this is confinement disguised as protection. this is the tightening grip of a hand just before it clenches into a fist.

the air in his presence grows heavier. you’ve learned to recognize the shift, the way his mood darkens when your attention drifts too far from him. a single misstep, a fleeting moment of distraction, and the temperature in the room plummets. he never raises his voice. never punishes you as he does the others. but you are not free from consequences.

it starts with his words.

“you seem distracted.”

a simple observation, spoken without malice. but his tone leaves no room for evasion. he is expecting an answer.

you scramble for an excuse. offer something vague, something neutral, hoping it will satisfy him. he hums, unimpressed but willing to let it go—for now.

then, it becomes proximity. he lingers. too close. too often. the space you once had to breathe is slowly stripped away, piece by piece, until you are left with nothing but him. a brush of fingers when he hands you a report. a shadow that mirrors your every movement. the distinct scent of verbena and something metallic, hanging in the air long after he’s gone.

and then, the final proof. your door, locked when you left, is slightly ajar when you return.

your breath catches. every instinct screams at you to turn back, to pretend you never noticed. but your feet betray you, carrying you forward with cautious steps. the room is undisturbed—almost. the blanket on your bed is slightly askew. your desk, meticulously organized, has one drawer left open just a fraction more than it should be. 

and then, the final proof. your door, locked when you left, is slightly ajar when you return.

your breath catches. every instinct screams at you to turn back, to pretend you never noticed. but your feet betray you, carrying you forward with cautious steps. the room is undisturbed—almost. the blanket on your bed is slightly askew. your desk, meticulously organized, has one drawer left open just a fraction more than it should be.

you hesitate. a trick of the eye, perhaps. the air in the room feels untouched, undisturbed. but when you step closer, your pulse hammers against your ribs. something is different.

your fingers tremble as they reach for the drawer. it slides open without resistance, revealing its contents—neatly arranged, just as you left them. almost. nestled between papers and forgotten trinkets, a single flower rests atop your belongings. verbena.

its violet petals are fresh, unblemished, as if plucked just moments ago. a small thing, delicate in its solitude, yet its presence weighs heavier than stone. you stare, breath shallow. there is no reason for it to be here. no explanation that does not send a shiver down your spine. you have never kept flowers. you have never received them. but the familiar smell of it doesn't deceive you.

a message, left in silence. no demand. no warning. no threat. just proof. of what, exactly, you do not know. but when you close the drawer, the weight of it lingers.

[lightyagamifan]

"Bye bye, I love you!"

Wanderer flinched at your words. His back that was facing you tensed and his hand that was reaching out to twist the doorknob was trembling as it was essentially hanging in midair. The air was thick and quiet as you eyed him in curiosity, waiting for his response, or what you would've assumed would've been lack there of. Typically when you said sweet things to the man, he'd brush you off with little grunts piercing glares.

"What'd you just say?" He asked cautiously, still facing the door. His voice sounded strange. Weaker. Softer. Possibly the nicest you'd ever heard him sound.

"I said goodbye and I love you," you repeated. And his reaction was the exact same, with him flinching like you'd tried to hurt him, "Is something wrong with that?"

A shrug was his answer. Trying and failing to play the entire ordeal off as nonchalant, but it was clear that those three words had caused him a bit of distress. A hint of guilt passed over you. You didn't want to pressure him to do or say anything he didn't want to.

"I didn't mean it like that if that's what you think. It's just a habit-"

"-no." He cut you off with a trembling, breathy whisper. He finally turned to face you, cheeks flushed and eyes glossy. He was wearing an expression that you couldn't quite decipher. A mixture of sorrow and adoration, "I-i love you too. Plenty."

He seemed to be testing the words on his tongue, almost as if he'd never said them before. There wasn't much time for you to be able to even register that he'd said it back. He tipped his hat to cover the raging blush that now spread across his face and walked out the door with even another glance back.

AN: I come from a family where we always say: "I love you," whenever we leave. As I've learned from doing it to people outside my family, apparently, it's not common. So I decided to write Wanderer's reaction to a reader who does the same :)

[lightyagamifan]

⟳ BLURRED LINES

— a genshin impact smau

pairing scaramouche / wanderer x fem!reader

You say you’re just friends. You say it every time you leave a party together, every time you wake up tangled in sheets, every time you swear it’s the last time. But habits form, lines blur, and pretending gets harder when jealousy starts to sting.

tags friends with benefits, college / university setting, fluff and angst, comedy

warnings mature content, profanity, suggestive jokes, alcohol, intimacy, tba

status 2/9/25 — [on-going sporadic updates]

taglist open

⟳ PROFILES ⟳

⟡ 00. LAST

⟡ 01. BET ⟡ 02. MASK ✦ 03. FALSE HOPE ⟡ 04. CALL

✦ 05. GOODNIGHT ⟡ 06. FURTHER DOWN ⟡ 07. TBA

⟡ 08. TBA ⟡ 09. TBA⟡ 10. TBA ⟡ 11. TBA ⟡ 12. TBA

note not a new author, just a new account. you may have read some of my deleted works before so say hi if you recognize my writing style ^^ it’s not guaranteed that i’ll finish this work. i’m doing this smau for fun so i’ll update when i feel like it. sorry in advance!

© lmvari do not repost, translate, or plagiarize any of my works on any platform.

likes and reblogs are appreciated!