rrasado - Tumblr blog

rrasado · 5 months

Text

;RE1999 PAVIA - Love Languages (giving)

Headcanons and analysis on Pavia's love languages and the way he likes to show affection.

yeah ok ive been playing reverse 1999 what about it <3

it might be a little too early to write anything for it, given the lack of in-depth content, the awful translation and all, but who cares lol

Pavia as a whole - his speech pattern, the way he presents himself, his appearance, line of work, relationships, etc - can easily be described as brash and straightforward. That direct sincerity and lack of restraint is part of what makes him dangerous. One can always count on Pavia to do and say whatever he wants, whenever he feels like it, regardless of time and situation.

When it comes to showing affection, no one thinks Pavia is capable (let alone willing) of forming lasting or meaningful friendships with anyone other than his pack of wolves. They all expect the same direct and selfish behaviour from Pavia in romantic endeavors, and he delivers wonderfully.

If someone manages to catch his eye, then he'll pursue them and make his intentions very clear - romance is optional and reserved for more "difficult" targets, but he's not the type to put in the effort. All of this inevitably leads to heartbreak and a long line of partners, each and every one fully convinced on being "the one" that would steer Pavia back onto the right track, into a more honest life.

Of course, this just applies to all those fleeting flings and whims, the superficial relationships everyone around him takes at face value to justify their hatred and disapproval of him.

Unless you're part of the pack, it's near impossible to know how Pavia acts around those he truly cares for because of his solitary lifestyle, to the point where those people might not even realize that Pavia cares about them and is actively trying to be nice. His love languages are unorthodox - as well as hidden under a few layers of nonchalance and casualness, I'd even argue that Pavia himself struggles to wrap his head around the concept of caring for someone other than himself - but with enough patience and attention to detail, they'll get easier to spot! Once you understand Pavia and his MO, it all just clicks into place.

Giving: Quality Time, Gifts

[Quality Time]

In this case, the term is used very loosely, as it doesn't exactly match the usual definition - there's no uninterrupted outings nor intimate one-on-one conversations, just an intense presence orbiting around as you go about your day.

This is what Pavia considers "quality time": inserting himself into the lives of those he cares about, entirely unannounced, to follow them until he's had enough or drag them around to do whatever he feels like doing if their routine is much too boring for his taste. The confidence he displays when disrupting people's lives paints him as a jerk with little to no care for their business - after all, how can it be quality time if you can't go buy groceries in peace because Pavia keeps trying to sneak weird shit into your cart and expecting you to pay? It's all pretty on brand for him, to use his presence as an obstacle and annoyance, the same way others have used it in the past as punishment.

But this is Pavia we're talking about. He prefers solitude, he doesn't care for company and he's turned loneliness into both a weapon and a shield.

It's always been very clear to him that no one wants to stick around, so for Pavia to offer his company in this manner is not unlike a stray dog testing the waters, seeing if it's safe enough to come out of hiding. He's gauging your reaction to his antics, his existence as a whole, under the pretense of bothering you because "he feels like it". It's kind of a privilege (and a miracle) to have Pavia seek you out without a bounty for your head! Consider yourself lucky.

But to address the two most common outcomes of this love language - if Pavia takes the lead and drags you around, it means you'll be involved in the most random fucking shenanigans.

Sometimes, he just lets you hang out with him, and you know you're dear to him if he allows the pack to play and relax around you. Sometimes, you're witness to his mercenary work and other shady jobs, willingly or not (he'll call you a coward if you don't want to bury a body with him). Sometimes, he takes you shopping only to dare you to get a five finger discount with him because he sure as hell isn't paying for all this shit. Sometimes, you see him argue for fun with people he doesn't even know. Sometimes, he shows you the hidden gems of his city and then leaves to see how you find your way back.

On one hand, it's a test - to see how you'll do should he choose to stick around for longer than what's acceptable for someone like him. On the other, he wants you to be part of his world, not only small glimpses of it - it's all or nothing. So it's only fair that he shows you the type of shit that you'll be getting into if you allow him to stay. Or rather, to welcome him when he comes and goes as he pleases.

On those scarce days when he prefers to follow you around, he's mostly driven by curiosity. Pavia rejects every conventional notion of leading a "normal" life, to be part of all those blubbering idiots and their made up rules, but he's still curious about how it all works. Do you really just wake up early to get prepared and then go to a job you don't even like? For like, a third of the day? Then you go home? And then you pass out for eight or more hours? Why the fuck would you even do that? Quit your job, what's the point. Live a life of reckless abandon.

He pokes fun at everything that he doesn't like, teases and bullies nonstop (one would have to be delusional to think Pavia's attitude softens around his loved ones, in fact, it gets worse), gets in the way and makes everything harder for you - but then you realize...

No one else has given you any sort of trouble, if else they've been nicer. There's been a sale everywhere you've gone to buy whatever you need, maybe you've been given a surprising discount. If you bump into someone, they apologize profusely. If you make any sort of mistake, it's forgiven immediately. There's always a seat for you no matter where you go, and the world seems to bend at your will for a split second.

You can thank him for that, by the way. Others would kill to have such scary dog privileges. And if things don't go the way he expects them to, that's fine too! He's ready to throw hands at the drop of a hat!

[Gifts]

This one is pretty easy and straightforward! Pavia likes to give things to his loved ones, as long as he doesn't have to pay much for them and as long as they don't ask anything from his personal collection or belongings (he's very territorial). Easy! Oh, and if you ask him directly for something, chances are he'll end up not getting you absolutely fucking nothing - but he'll praise you for trying anyway!

He's a hoarder, so he assumes that others also want lots of interesting and pretty trinkets to spruce up the house. His collection is more of a statement, and one could argue that him wanting to hoard is a direct consequence of the way he was brought up.

Somewhat unrelated, but I do like the specific headcanon about how Pavia is very easy to scam based on various lines in-game, like his glasses being a cheap copy of an actual italian brand and how most of his accessories are described as just garbage with no real value. Either that or he simply doesn't care enough about really owning any expensive brands, but likes to brag anyway.

No matter the reasoning behind it, giving gifts is an important part of Pavia's love languages.

However, he never aims to get you something that you've been eyeing for a while or something that could be useful - it's usually things that remind him of you, for better and for worse. Or really, anything he gets his hands on.

Pavia might show up one day with the ugliest little creature on a keychain, saying that it looks like you. And then, some other day he might show up with some matching earrings he made from scrap metal. If he's feeling particularly nice, he treats you to gelato, his favorite, or he'll have a bunch of fancy clothes or jewelry. Some of the gifts are questionable, and their origins even more so knowing the way Pavia operates and all, but it's up to you to ask him where he keeps getting all these things. It's pretty easy to tell, especially when the clothes are definitely not your size and the jewelry is all pure gold, with small blood stains. You'll have to forgive him, the guy is messy!

If you ever choose to throw away his gifts, Pavia won't hold it against you - it's your shit now, he couldn't care less what you do with it. Sometimes, you think he's simply using you as extra storage or as his personal trash bin.

You'll only see him visibly angry if you lose or throw away something that he specifically made for you. Those are the only gifts that really mean something to him, that should mean something to you! Pavia expects you to wear those little earrings, bracelets or whatever he ends up making - none of his wolves wear collars, so this is the closest thing you'll have to being officially accepted into the pack.

#Ofc this got to me #it's always the Italian #WHSGDGRGR he makes me go static #reverse 1999 #rras' recs

186 notes · View notes

rrasado · 6 months

Text

thinking about idol reader and fan alhaitham except he’s very lowkey about it and secretly goes to every concert and fan meeting you have, wearing thick black-rimmed glasses that really shouldn’t work to conceal his identity but miraculously does.

alhaitham who calls himself a casual fan but has all of your albums displayed on a rack in his room along with an entire wall of posters of your face, the signed note he has from you is framed and placed right on top of his desk to be looked at whenever he needs a boost when he’s studying.

alhaitham who just got out of a thesis defense wearing a whole ass suit, looking entirely out of place in a sea of sweaty teenage girls and middle-aged men wearing merch with your face in it, but he’ll brave through the whole ordeal if it means getting to talk to you during a fan meeting.

alhaitham who has you as his phone’s wallpaper, which is why he never opens it when he’s in campus nor does he let anyone borrow it, even during emergencies. one memorable time was when kaveh broke his leg and needed alhaitham’s phone to call his mom, and after several arguments, alhaitham agreed but only after changing his wallpaper and locking several apps so kaveh wouldn’t be able to snoop.

alhaitham who knocks into kaveh during a concert, so now he’s stuck having to do the chores because of blackmail.

alhaitham who grits his teeth to keep from outing himself as your fan whenever kaveh goes into long monologues during class about your songs, having to bite back his tongue in order to stop himself from blurting out that no, your songs aren’t just full of cutesy lyrics, they have a deeper meaning to them that goes into the realities of the real world and how it affects people blah blah blah.

and it isn’t until the entire room is silent save for the sound of his long-winded rant that alhaitham realizes that he may just be a little in too deep to be called a casual fan.

“maybe the literal wall of posters should have clued you in on it,” kaveh tells him with an unimpressed stare.

#this had no right making me chuckle #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #rras' recs

2K notes · View notes

rrasado · 7 months

Text

When Filipino Rook:

HC :: Not only is he partially conyo he's probably worked at selecta to write these godforsaken pick up lines.

#twisted wonderland #twst shitpost #rook hunt #twst rook #twst meme

55 notes · View notes

rrasado · 8 months

Text

flawless night, forevermore

feat. ayato, baizhu, alhaitham, childe, kaveh, raiden ei ( separate )

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 they are so obviously in love with you

( or, in which i tie them to a taylor song i’ve been crazing over, but you don’t have to know the songs to read / understand )

note. reader’s gender unspecified, no other warnings

KAMISATO AYATO. lover

His lips curled up with a fathomless fondness he did not even notice about himself. His ticklish gaze, his admiring eyes, his comforting silence—such a poor, poor man drowning in his hopelessness, falling love struck into the night.

Even atop the dewy grass that stained his carefully tailored clothes, he paid no mind to the mess as he preferred to hear you talk instead. The intelligence of a Kamisato was long forgone in the melody of your voice, and perhaps you had strum his heartstrings too much to the point he loses his senses. He forgets a lot of things about himself when he’s with you, perhaps at one point, even his own name.

Kamisato, the name that ties him to a lifetime of formality and not a single night of rest. A dreary lifetime that does not allow him to learn the wonders of love. But oh, how he loves you.

“I’ve always wanted one of those cute little tea tables,” you muttered into the cool winds under the glowing moon. Your finger absentmindedly traced an oval into the air, a motion that had his head following your invisible drawing. “We can sit together in the mornings and have tea before work.”

“Then we’ll get one,” Ayato affirmed. He failed to notice how his own grin had widened, simply as an automatic reaction from seeing your pleased smile at his response. “Little cushions for us to sit in, too,” he added on. “You know those round ones? We can have them in our favorite colors.”

Look at him, blushing over silly cushions.

There’s a dazzling haze in his eyes when he’s like this. It’s a spark that never runs out once ignited, for he has a history of rambling when he’s with you. “There is this porcelain tea set we can get, which has a pattern I know you’ll like,” he’ll say, further jumping to “And it comes in a set of four—we can always invite Ayaka and Thoma over to drink with us.” He’ll go on and on like this, fantasizing of a life where you lived together, happily ever after.

He’s imagined this for eons in his head. Such innocent-presenting ideas and remarks, but it’s obvious in the way he talks so fast. It’s ridiculously evident the more excited he gets as the night stretches on, that he’s been daydreaming of the moment you move in with him, so he may love you every day.

All he asks is to be forever yours, for as long as time permits.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

BAIZHU. sparks fly

It almost never rained in Liyue.

But his words were such a booming thunderstorm that no water droplet could ever compare, even amidst this cold, grey afternoon. And only when he finally blew you away like a thin stack of cards, did he feel a sharp sense of emptiness at the sight of you running off into the pouring rain.

Baizhu admitted that you were a burden to him. Boring, unintelligent, annoying—that you were a hindrance to be around. You were only a distraction to Qiqi, and more importantly, a bothersome presence to him.

It took all his willpower just to spit such venom from his tongue straight to your face—all his might just to convince you that seeing him is a bad idea. And yet, you still called him a liar.

“You mean none of those words,” you sharply inhaled via short, speechless breaths. He could tell you were breaking down from his hateful speech, but to his guilt, it was exactly what he wanted to see from you. “You’re just trying to drive me away again,” you spat out. You were trying to convince yourself: that fact alone was clear to him. But the longer he stayed quiet despite biting back the truth—biting back that he has fallen so immensely deep in love with you—you began to doubt yourself.

But the moment he watched your figure break down past this storm, he immediately crumbled with a sense of guilt much stronger than any curse he has ever wished upon himself.

Perhaps he was too harsh on you. Archons, perhaps he was too mean—this was exactly why he didn’t deserve you. You deserved better than such a sick, lowly man who could not even live for himself, instead binding his life to save others instead.

But still, even after all his own revelations and realization of his nonexistent self worth…

He was still a greedy, selfish man.

And that selfishness had him running right out of his door and into the pouring rain, not caring at how the sudden cold nipped and picked at his skin, or how the winds beat at his frail body. Not even the Archons could halt such a starvation for salvation—it was the only spark he had left to chase.

In this cold, dreary life—in this cold, dreary day alone—you still shone like the sun under the dim streetlights of Liyue upon this pale grey sky. His body still eased the moment you caught his eye, almost as if your gaze alone had suddenly removed every drop of sickness he self-injected into his own bloodstream, or as if you were the cure he was looking for all his life.

Such selfishness once again had his body fighting from collapsing when he desperately fell into your arms that held him so dearly. And the greed of mankind only snapped when found his lips settled so hopelessly against yours, clinging onto your kiss as if he would die tonight.

Truly, maybe he would. But for now, in your embrace, he feels the strongest he’s ever been since he sold his soul.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

ALHAITHAM. enchanted

Archons, he hated these events, though he had no choice but to attend. No one could ever allow the Acting Grand Sage, even if he held so much spite, to escape the demeaning eyes of Sumerean publicity.

Alhaitham held himself as an independent soul. But this formalwear, this clanging of champagne glasses, this suffocating air—were definitely not so independent nor free.

This hall of aspiring young scholars and old men, all in one exhibit for the sake of research and networking. Academics is what they acclaim, but the Acting Grand Sage may be too thick of a personality for them (if he had one at all). But the only thing keeping his eyes open from boredom, quite surprisingly a person, was you.

You, who looked young compared to these much older alumni and long-time scholars. And it was truly you, out of the many faces in this room, who he could not name.

Your eyes met from across the room. Such a sliver of a chance—his eyes whispered a curious glance from the opposite wall among this dreary sea of scholars. There was a spark graced by the Electro Archon, perhaps; or maybe even a gush of wind from the God of Anemo. But every sense of composure was lost when his body moved on its own, walking himself closer and closer just to meet you.

It begins with hello; it always does. It continues with quick remarks, with “I’ve never seen you before,” and with “Have we met?” And soon enough, he feels like he’s in school again. He feels a flutter he has not known in years, an urge to talk quicker than he can think. The crinkle at the corner of your eyes has him immersed in amazement. The sole fact that you can crack a smile at him; a smile that wasn’t fake politeness like all these scholars.

For some reason unbeknownst to him, that expression of yours alone had his feet glued to the floor, like you’ve trapped him in such an engaging conversation he desperately could not let go. It was a forcibly dreadful night—you turned it flawlessly enchanting in a way that you read to him like a book, all in which he could not put you down once he begins.

And once the event ends, and he is forced to leave you so soon, he watches you walk away with an expression that he himself could not even read.

Wonderstuck.

He would never notice the light tint on his face, staining his cheeks all the way home.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

CHILDE. cruel summer

Left foot, right foot, tiptoe, right foot—hold the counter, hold the wall, hold the rail all the way up the steps… He’s got this.

One step down the hall, another foot down, a third one until he finds a steady rhythm. The room is hazy, the walls are spinning. His head hurts and he feels like a baby taking his first steps, so helpless and unsteady that he almost wants to cry again from exasperated frustration alone. Why was this so hard? Did he really hate himself so much, that he would stagger his way home from the bar like this?

One hand on the door, turn the knob, and—

Ah. He dropped his keys so loudly on the floor.

You woke up with a start from the bedside, immediately turning to him wide-eyed in both starling surprise from the noise, and more importantly, concern. He didn’t mean to wake you. He hated feeling guilty, but it was the exact feeling that crept up his spine once he saw the devastated look on your face. Frenzied eyes and dark circles—clearly you had stayed up just to wait for him, too.

“Ajax,” you voiced—a tone full of worry and heavy exhaustion, God, he felt so horrible. “Oh, Ajax, come here.”

As much as he didn’t like it when you cared for him like this, he was not immune to the sounds of your calling. His shaky legs carried him immediately, as if the alcohol in his system was pulling him towards you, too. “I’m fine,” he barely stuttered out. It was a claim he had to make immediately, a sign he was desperate to reassure you.

Your eyes grew heavier, though he did not know if they were lidded from concern or from sleepiness. Either way, he practically melted from the touch of your palms resting against his cheeks. So warm, but a much more pleasant warmth than the burning summer air that he just walked in, all the way home with a liquor-dazed mind.

“Have you been crying…?” Ah, and that was why your eyes were narrow—they were squinting at the sorry stains of tears that lined his cheeks. He forgot to wipe them, it seemed. It was almost laughable.

“No, just sweat from the heat.”

Crying over you… He’d never let you know that. To cry, to bleed, to die—you would never be the first person he tells.

“You reek of liquor…” Quite disgustingly so, he thinks. And yet, you still held his face so fondly, moving his head in such a gentle manner as you swiped his tear stains with the pads of your thumbs.

He stayed silent. He had no answer to this one.

“I love you,” he mutters, though it’s a confession nevertheless. And he says it so sadly—so miserably that you couldn’t help but sigh. He hates it, too. He hates it when you sigh. Because when you sigh, it means you’ll just let it go; No matter how many lies he tells, or how many times he cries, or how many secrets he keeps, you’ll still accept him like always.

“I love you, too.” And, that was the worst line he’s ever heard.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

KAVEH. foolish ones

“Oh, woe is me…” Loves me, loves me not, loves me… “Did you happen to see anything in the mailbox?”

His roommate stared. “Go check it yourself.”

Kaveh heavily sighed. He couldn’t; He physically could not bear to do it. It’s not that he was lazy to get up, no. The real issue was the genuine grief he would feel when he opened the mailbox, only to see nothing inside. No special gifts, no romantic letters, and absolutely no confessions of love signed with your name.

It was embarrassing, really. To feel this dramatic and obsessed with words of admiration from you—oh, especially when Alhaitham found out about this whole lovesick ordeal. But he could not help his mind from just imagining it: the reflection of himself in your eyes as you finally confess your feelings of passion and love for him (feelings that didn’t exist, feelings he merely imagined you having, all so pathetically).

But he’s so weird, and he’s so terrible. To imagine a fabled life with you when you probably did not think about him this same way. How foolish. Did you daydream about him like he daydreamed about you every night before he slept? Did you think about him like he thought about you every time he sees your favorite color in the passing? Did you wait at your mailbox like he waited for any letters from you? No. No, you didn’t.

And he’s cried, quite humiliatingly. He’s cried that the perfect life he could picture himself having with you at his side would never be a reality. He’s cried a downpour of tears, simply because he allowed himself to be so caught up in a delusion that was so sick of him to conjure up.

“Are you free for dinner tonight?”

“So sorry Kaveh, I already have plans…”

Plans with someone else. No wonder you hadn’t written him any messages, or contacted him in a while. That… was not the scenes he had in his head. His imaginations, his hopes, his dreams—they did not have someone else in them. For someone he was so hopelessly in love with, he felt so much hurt. A foolish lesson to be learned by a foolish romantic.

In the end, he’d just be talking himself to sleep again. He’d just smile at the sight of you flourishing. Without him, your world will go on turning. A world full of reciprocated love and devotion, one that he would never know.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

RAIDEN EI. you belong with me

The Raiden Shogun was self-destructive. No more than a few people knew of such a fact, but she was certainly one of them.

Because if she cared for her own wellbeing, truly, then she would not fall for selfish desires. Nor, would she be here now, sitting next to you outside a sliding screen in her private gardens of Tenshukaku, sipping your favorite tea and hearing your sweet voice ramble about something so unpleasant to her ears. If she prioritized her own emotions, then maybe she’d be living in blissful ignorance right now instead of listening to your woes over a lover… A lover that was not her.

“And then, she teases me,” you complained, though it was clear you hated it. You didn’t like whining about your partner, which was a good thing—but it made Ei feel sick, because it meant you really loved that woman. “I know she does that all the time, and I just need to get used to it,” you continued, “but sometimes, it gets too much, and she still doesn’t stop.”

But I wouldn’t do that to you, the archon thinks to herself. And suddenly, the tea isn’t as appetizing anymore, because her own words felt drilled onto her tongue, forever forbidden to speak aloud.

“Miko… Has always been like that,” Ei quietly admits instead. She doesn’t want to insult your lover, for that same person was also her own friend. She wanted to be supportive, but it was impossible when she was so in love with you, that she spent every second of each passing day just wishing she was in Miko’s place instead.

“Yeah… But—still, I mean…” You sighed, coming to a loss for words to describe the pink haired shrine maiden. “Is it really so hard to ask just for her to understand how I’m feeling…?” you whined in what seemed like genuine distress. Your face sunk into your hands, and it took all of Ei’s willpower just to keep her respective distance from a romantically taken friend.

But I understand how you feel, Ei once again thinks. She feels so dirty of a friend for comparing herself like this. I understand you better than she will ever.

“Ei…” you muttered. She almost chokes from the way you say her name. “What should I do…?”

Be with me, instead. “Don’t cry over something, or someone, you cannot control. It’s possible your personalities are just not fit for each other, you know.”

“But I love her, Ei…”

Ouch.

She clears her throat, recovering from sharp breath of air she just inhaled. A part of her just broke in that moment, and it was so obvious, too—her expression quickly changed, her body became stiff, her balance suddenly shifted, and yet…

You noticed none of it. Your head was too clouded over love for another woman that was not her; So clouded, in fact, you did not notice the way Ei almost began to tremble. The misery you carried only crafted tenfold for the archon, eternally unbeknownst to you.

But you don’t belong to her, anyways. So why was she crying?

#childe x reader #ayato x reader #baizhu x reader #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #raiden ei x reader #rras' recs

2K notes · View notes

rrasado · 9 months

Text

Drunken Confessions

Alhaitham/Reader

It's hard to deny your feelings for the Acting Grand Sage and dear friend when your drunken self speaks them so earnestly. It's a shame you can't seem to recall them.

a/n: i have such brainrot for this man it's not even funny anymore

wc: 3.1k

The first thing you awoke to was the harsh light of the morning sun streaming through the curtains. Groaning, you moved an arm across your face, covering your eyes in an attempt to block the offending light from view.

The second thing you noticed, however, was the smell of freshly brewed coffee wafting into the space. It was an alarming scent, considering you lived by yourself and never gave anyone a spare key. Shooting up, you blindly reached around, looking for something to defend yourself with. Though, your momentary panic was short-lived, as a familiar laugh cut through the air, the sound drawing closer with each second.

“So you’re finally awake,” Alhaitham mused, sitting on the edge of the bed, holding out the cup of coffee for you, “Are you feeling alright?”

Relaxing, you let out another tired groan, taking the warm cup from his hands. “I feel like I’ve been thrown off a twenty-foot cliff,”

“That’s a bit dramatic,” He chided, though a hint of laughter could be heard in his tone, his hand resting on your knee, “Considering the only painful experience you had last night was trying to out-drink Kaveh,”

Taking a long sip, you felt your eyebrows furrowing, trying your best to remember the night before. Bits and pieces came to you, with Alhaitham’s anecdote filling in some of the picture. All you could remember was Kaveh asking if you were available, citing some issues with a current client of his and wanting to drink his sorrows. Besides that, you couldn’t remember any other details, including how you found yourself in your current predicament.

Hesitantly, you set the coffee cup on the nightstand, taking in your surroundings. Large piles of heavy tomes and small, eclectic Aranara statues seemed to stare back at you. The comforter beneath your fingers felt soft to the touch, the olive green hue matching the rest of the house. It was also surprisingly heavier than you thought it’d be, its weight soothing your worries and inviting you to fall back into slumber. You felt Alhaitham’s thumb gently caress your covered knee, drawing your attention back to reality.

Looking back at the man in front of you, you felt your cheeks begin to heat up. It appeared that he’d gotten up earlier than you, all of his usual attire neatly in place, save for his cloak and headphones, both of which were surprisingly nowhere to be seen. In the time you were observing his room, he seemed to shift closer to you, his head tilted slightly as he continued to stare at you in curiosity. His watercolor eyes followed your every move, dipping from the fidgeting of your hands to your own wandering eyes. If you were any more delusional, you would’ve thought his gaze softened at your morning form, as if he were somehow enchanted by your disheveled self.

Subconsciously, you ran a hand through your hair in a poor attempt to tame any unruly pieces before tucking yourself into the weighted blanket, covering yourself as much as you could. “So, you brought me back to your home?”

Though it was an obvious question, he nodded his head, answering you seriously. “I did.”

You nodded your head along, your eyes landing upon a pile of clothes neatly folded on his armchair, looking suspiciously like the ones you were wearing the previous day. Peering beneath the weighted blanket, you felt your eyes widen in shock and embarrassment as you gazed upon a shirt that was indeed, not yours.

Your head snapped up, eyes wider than you thought possible. “I—You—Did we?”

At this, Alhaitham’s eyebrows furrowed. “No, I wouldn’t take advantage—” Pausing, the corners of his lips tipped downward, his eyes narrowing as if he were piecing the puzzle together, “Do you not remember anything?”

You winced at his tone, feeling as though you were no better than a child being scolded by their parent. “I’m sorry…I didn’t,” You hesitated, unsure if you should press the topic further, “I didn’t say anything bad, did I?”

For a short while, Alhaitham’s expression became unreadable. While normally he wasn’t easy to read, you were always able to get an idea of how he was feeling; whether or not he was happy and content, if he was irritated or overstimulated. Now, though, you couldn’t even begin to decipher what he was thinking. Before you could question him further, he suddenly stood up from his spot, dusting off imaginary dust from his pants.

“You didn’t say anything important,” He stated, back facing you as he moved to leave, “I have work. Feel free to use the shower, and make sure to wash my shirt before you return it.”

With that, the door to his bedroom closed behind him. If you listened closely, you could hear his footsteps growing further before the front door slammed shut. Though Alhaitham had, rather bluntly, told you that nothing happened, you couldn’t help but feel anxiety gnaw at your stomach, feeling as if you’d missed something important.

Not wanting to take advantage of the man’s hospitality for longer than needed, you quickly hopped into the shower, ignoring the fluttering of your heart as you washed yourself of the night before, and grabbed your clothes from the chair and changed, cringing at the thought of wearing your dirty laundry. Tidying up his bed, you hesitated on whether or not you should leave his shirt behind, before ultimately remembering he’d wanted it cleaned before you returned it. Tucking the aforementioned shirt underneath your arm, you made a break for the front door, not wanting to risk anyone seeing you leave the Acting Grand Sage’s house.

You would’ve made it too, had it not been for the blonde architect who was at fault for the entire night.

“Archons, Alhaitham, would it kill you to be a little quieter—” Kaveh complained, looking equally as disheveled, pausing as soon as his eyes landed on you.

For a few seconds, the two of you were in a standoff, both of you processing what was happening. Kaveh seemed to grasp the situation first, letting out an ugly snort.

“What’s this?” He started, an eyebrow arching playfully, “Bedding the Grand Sage? What, did he promise he’d approve your research proposal?”

You pointed an accusatory finger at him, eyes narrowing. “Do not start with me, Kaveh.”

Your warning did nothing to dissuade the architect, in fact, they only seemed to embolden him. Smirking, he sighed dramatically, placing a hand on his chest for added effect. “Oh dear, you know I’m teasing. I know you’d sleep with him with no ulterior motives, though I can’t fathom why on Teyvat—” Cutting himself off, he frowned, peering around for the aforementioned sage, “Wait, where is your loverboy?”

“He left for work,” You sighed, arms crossing protectively across your chest, “And he’s not my ‘loverboy,’ we didn’t even sleep together.”

Kaveh seemed surprised at this revelation, his lips parting in shock before he fixed his expression. Sensing a shift in the atmosphere, he gestured towards the coffee table, beckoning you to join him. Despite wanting to leave as soon as possible, you knew that as soon as Kaveh caught wind of your problems, it would take nothing less than a natural disaster to make him not help you. So, you took a seat, watching as he moved around the kitchen, brewing himself some tea, putting away the second cup when you politely declined.

As the two of you waited for the water to boil, he turned to face you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What’s going on with you two? You seemed to be okay after your little conversation,”

Your little conversation. So you had said something weird. You groaned, rubbing your temples as you processed everything. “That’s the problem, Kaveh. I can’t remember what I said last night.”

A pause. “Nothing?”

You hummed an affirmative, “When I asked Alhaitham about it, he seemed upset, but I don’t know why, and I can’t apologize for it if I can’t remember what I said.”

At your words, you watched as Kaveh’s expression shifted from one of surprise to one you couldn’t read. For the second time this morning, you found yourself utterly useless at reading others’ emotions.

“You truly can’t remember what you said?”

“I just told you—”

“Think about it,” He started, a hint of exasperated humor tinting his voice, “What could you possibly say last night that would make Alhaitham upset you couldn’t remember?”

“If I knew that I wouldn’t be in this position, you—”

“Think harder.”

When you only continued to look confused, Kaveh sighed, deciding to take pity on you. “Let me rephrase: did you notice anything…different, about him this morning?”

Huffing, you crossed your arms, leaning back in your chair as you thought back to earlier this morning. “I mean, before he left, he seemed, softer? He made sure I was okay but didn’t say much.”

Fingers drifting to your knee, your fingers traced the area where his hand was, heat slowly traveling back to your cheeks. “He was also more touchy?” You pouted, looking back up at the blonde man, “But I don’t see how—”

“Archons you’re dense,” He started, not stopping when you cried out indignantly, “You told him that you love him last night. That’s why he’s upset you can’t remember.”

The two of you were silent, the only sound being the whistling of the kettle, angrily announcing its presence. As if solving a puzzle, bits and pieces of your fragmented night began to replay in your mind, starting from your first drink with Kaveh, to Alhaitham walking in, helping you steady yourself as he led the two of you out of the tavern.

You also remembered how you’d immediately clambered onto the man as soon as you saw him walk into the tavern, a drunken smile plastered on your face as he attempted to steady the two of you, the lightest of blushes crawling up his neck.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked, before craning his neck to look at his roommate, “What did you do?”

You giggled as Kaveh protested behind you, refusing to accept fault for your current state. Smiling up at the gray-haired man, you leaned forward, resting your chin on his chest. “Don’t be mad, Haitham,” Moving your hands to cup his cheeks, you laughed, “‘S not a good look on you,”

“Oh?” He questioned, letting you manhandle his face as you wished, “I suppose I can’t be mad anymore then, can I?”

“Nope!” You chirped, tugging the corners of his lips into a lopsided smile, “Too pretty to be mad. Should smile more,”

As you trailed off, Alhaitham felt you slipping slightly. Gripping you tighter, he attempted to pull you towards the door, “C’mon, it’s time to get you home.”

He expected you to put up more of a fight, but instead, you seemed to melt into his touch, letting yourself be dragged along. “M’okay, thanks Haitham. Love you,”

At your words, he froze, his eyes snapping back to your figure. Taking his silence as disbelief, you pouted, pulling away from his grip slightly to face him.

“S’not nice. I said ‘love you,’” You reiterated, swaying slightly, “Say it back, asshole.”

When he still hadn’t said anything, your frown deepened. Pointing at him, your finger waving in his face. “You don’t believe me? Fine, I’ll shout it to the whole world—” Turning to face the rest of the tavern, you began to shout, “Hey! I’m in love with—!”

A calloused hand came to cover your mouth, and you felt Alhaitham’s strong arm wrap around your waist, tugging you toward the entrance. “Alright, I get it. Let’s go, we’ll talk about this later.”

Though his words were blunt, you noticed that his face was bright red, and there was a smile he couldn’t quite mask in time.

The scraping of a chair against wood floors caused you to snap back to reality. Lifting your head, you watched as a smug smirk began to overtake the architect’s face, though he tried to hide it with his cup of tea.

“Well?” He asked, setting his cup down as he watched you go through all five stages of grief in mere minutes, “Remember now? I’m sure everyone at Lambad’s remembers if you don’t.”

“I told him—”

“Yes.”

“In front of—?”

“Unfortunately,” Kaveh sympathized, though it was short-lived, “It was rather entertaining, though.”

“And he,” You started, voice faltering as you came to your next realization, “He feels the same way?”

The look Kaveh gave you was a mix between relief that you finally came to that conclusion, and disbelief that it took you that long to realize the younger man’s affections. Though, he supposed, it was better late than never for you to realize it.

Grabbing your hands in his own, Kaveh looked you in the eye, exasperation clear in his posture. “My dear, he’s felt the same way about you for a long time, and if I have to watch the two of you pine over each other for another minute I think I’ll snap.”

Looking at your intertwined hands, you squeezed his before dropping them, rising from your seat. “I need to go.”

You barely heard Kaveh wishing you luck before you let the door shut behind you, your legs taking you to the Akademiya as fast as they could. It was almost as if you were on autopilot for the entire way there, as you weren’t entirely sure how you’d managed to secure yourself access to the Acting Grand Sage without a prior meeting appointment. Though, if you were to guess based on the information you’d recently been enlightened to, you figured that Alhaitham had told the Akademiya staff that there was a list of certain people he’d allow into his office at any time, and you were most likely one of them.

You continued to go through the motions until you found yourself standing before the doors of Alhaitham’s office. Hesitantly, you knocked on the door, waiting for his answer.

“Come in.”

Taking a steadying breath, you pushed the doors open, peeking in only to find Alhaitham leaning back in his chair, his eyes scanning the document in his hand. You couldn’t help but stare, watching as his fingers tapped against his desk, seemingly subconsciously.

A loud sigh snapped you out of your daydreaming, the fingers tapping against the desk becoming more rapid. “If you have more proposals, just set them on the table and leave.”

“Oh,” You started, realizing that you hadn’t planned out what you wanted to say, “Sorry, I’m afraid I don’t have any proposals for you to review, but I do have some information from last night that you might like to hear,”

At the sound of your voice, Alhaitham’s eyes moved from the document, widening a fraction once they met yours. Slowly, he set down the papers, his arms crossing against his chest.

“I thought I told you that you didn’t—”

“I remember what I said last night.”

For the second time today, you’d managed to render Alhaitham speechless. Before he could come back with any sort of remark, you cleared your throat, shifting your weight. “I would just like to inform you that I am still very much in love with you, and hopefully it’s more believable now that I’m no longer ‘under the influence,’”

For what seemed like an eternity, the two of you were silent. You began to fidget with your hands; the tension in the office felt suffocating, and it didn’t help that Alhaitham just continued to stare at you, as if he were dissecting you, trying to find the truth within your words. Eventually, as anxiety continued to shred up your insides, you heard the sound of a chair being pushed back, and footsteps drawing closer to you. Long, elegant fingers wrapped around yours, pulling them apart from each other in order to intertwine them. Thumbs gently rubbed circles into the backs of your hands, similar to how they did this morning.

“You know,” He started, the smallest of pouts gracing his lips, “That was quite rude of you, to confess while under the influence and then not even remember the next morning.”

You laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. “Well, it’s rude of you to not even give me an answer. I laid out my love for you in front of everyone last night, and you didn’t even say it back!”

He hummed, the ghost of a smile lighting his eyes. “I suppose I was rude, wasn’t I?” Leaning closer, he reveled in the way you froze up, tensing underneath his touch, “I should make it up to you, right?”

Moving his hands to caress your cheeks, he smiled, unabashed and unrestrained. “I am unequivocally and irreversibly in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for ages, and I’m so thankful that you’ve finally decided to open your eyes and see it.”

When you continued to stare at him in awe, he laughed, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. He waited patiently for you to come back down, his hands trailing down to hold your waist.

Once you finally regained your ability to speak, you said the first thing on your mind. “I didn’t wash your shirt.”

You heard an unelegant snort come from the man in front of you, turning his head to the side in an attempt to hide his mirth. “I noticed.”

You nodded your head, humming as if you were lost in thought. “I love you too, by the way.”

“I figured,” He drawled, squeezing your waist teasingly, “Otherwise you wouldn’t barge into my office without notice.”

“Oh, so I’m that predictable, huh?” You challenged, eyes narrowing playfully.

“Habibti,” He tested, enjoying the way your face heated up, “I’ve been in love with you for so long, there’s almost nothing about you that I can’t predict.”

“Oh really?”

Before he could make a snide remark, you cupped his cheeks, surging forward to press a kiss to his lips. You could feel Alhaitham stiffen against you, before melting into your embrace, his hands moving to card through your hair. His lips were soft and warm against your own, allowing you to take control. You could feel his breath tickle the skin beneath your nose, and you eventually had to pull away, giggling at the way Alhaitham’s lips chased you.

You pressed a quick kiss to this cheek, enjoying the slightly dazed look in his eyes. “I bet you didn’t see that one coming, did you?”

At this, he laughed along, pulling you closer to him. Dipping his head for another kiss, he smiled against your lips.

“I can’t say that I did.”

everyone say 'thank you kaveh' bc these fools certainly won't </3

#im wriggling #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x reader #rras' recs

834 notes · View notes

rrasado · 9 months

Text

|〘 ⋇ Content Warnings: 〙This fic is riddled with personal HCS about Yona’s vague home and herself and her relationship with her attendants. This fic has light spoilers from both, BOTW and TOTK Zora Quest line, and general totk. |

|〘 ⋇ 〙 Summary: Yona’s devotion and love for her new home and husband knew no bounds; the pair had been childhood friends but are now being thrust into an arranged marriage. Was it all too fast? The young queen dwells on her doubts, amplified by cruel words.|

|〘 ⋇ 〙 A/N: Hey guys, I’m sorry for dropping out of the plane of existence, I got really busy, stressed and burnt out from writing, school and irl. This is my first Canon x Canon fic ever and I am so freaking proud of it. I cannot wrap my head around this fic being 5.2k words at all, like 😳 jfc. Also!! YONA lovers unite!! She’s very cute and sweet I hope I did our girl justice. Pspsp @enigmaticfossil FOOD. This should go without saying but if you don’t like this couple scroll past. |

"The Zora Domain was once again saved from tragedy by your heroic Swordsman and our beloved King Sidon… I wonder what you might have said seeing your brother and him fighting side by side. While most unproductive, I cannot help that my mind often strays to what could've been, Lady Mipha."

Yona's words swell with bittersweet wonder as she wistfully sighs and peers at the Champion's memorial. Yona's speckled amber eyes searched the tranquil statue's face. What for? She didn't even honestly know herself. Perhaps a sense of relief, or Yona wanted a sign that their demure Champion was watching her brother thrive. What would Yona's childhood hero have said to their union? So many questions that would stay unanswered, the foreign Zora concluded. Her mind wandered to her dear husband, the stars to her night sky.

Despite his unending enthusiasm and carefree air, the Queen knew her husband well to know there was so much more lurking underneath his energetic and hopeful personality. From the outside, it seemed even fear allured him. If only they knew it was the very opposite. Sidon was and still is profoundly affected by his sister's tragic passing, more to say, the fear it caused. Who would blame him for his fear? One hundred years were a blink of an eye for the Zora. Yet time did not heal all. The emptiness in everyone's hearts still aches, just not as much anymore. Everyone can say her name and recount their memory of Mipha with a smile, but her presence would still be longed for.

Finally, Sidon resumed his monthly visits to Mipha's Court, something he hadn't done in a while, even prior to his fight with Ganon. It may be silly for some to speak with a figurine. But this simple action always made Zora fondly smile, recalling days when Mipha would always listen with kind words and a warm aura as she always did before her death.

At the Champion's memorial, Yona recalls an instant from their shared childhood when heavy rains poured down a river they played next to. The torrential downpour rose above the bank, capturing the tiny crimson-screaming prince down the waterway. The foreign Zora was the first to swim after him, willing her smaller verdant fins to move her faster. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she reached her fellow royal. The current lashed the young children, but undeterred, Yona carried him into a small cape. A moment of peace after a hurricane of freight, the water continued to thunder behind them. The tiny child tried to calm the quivering Sidon in her arms while attempting to mend a wounded foot of her own. Then, as all hope seemed lost, frenzied cries welcomed the duo as a frazzled Mipha and royal guards caught up quickly. Mipha soothed their cries, touching their cheeks and promptly healing any injuries.

"My Queen, it's well past the early evening hours. We wouldn't want the subjects, least of all His Majesty, to worry about your disappearance." Webbed footsteps lightly tread behind the Queen as Khira stirs the royal to the present, her voice woven in respectful concern for Yona. Her attendants always stayed close to each other and their Lady out of duty and fondness for each other's company.

Even if Chroma's youthful airheadedness got on the latter's nerves, it was still a comfort brought to the Domain.

Their homeland was nearly unattainable to those who couldn't breathe and tread water as swiftly as the aquatic race. In contrast, Zora's Domain flourished to the elements. While New Bay seldom had hazardous weather. Their home had air pocket caverns filled with seashell shops nestled deep into the sea's safe tides and swaying colors, hidden from the land and its residence—a true secret treasure amongst the merpeople.

"Yes, yes. Of course, I wouldn't wish for Sidon to worry. My apologies to you both. It is late, Chroma, Khira. You did not have to accompany me to the Court. No monsters have dared step foot after that Sludge Like." Yona turns, smiling at her loyal, protective attendants. Her golden headpiece jewelry gingerly clinks as she steps down the stairs; verdant hands glide down the polished handrails. The Caregiver knew full well her guards knew their way around the weapons and their water magic, but still, she felt bad for her friends staying with her so long. Yona was no stranger to marksmanship or training herself in purifying wounds and tainted water.

"Please don't worry about it, Lady Yona! We like looking after you; you're our friend, plus his Majesty asked- Ow!" The youngest Zora cheerfully bubbles, and the older guard swiftly jabs her. The new Queen tilts her head, sighing to herself. Even now, Sidon's still quite protective, isn't he? But still, a loving gesture all the same that makes her heart flutter and cheeks warm.

"Hush you! Do you not know when to flap your lips and when not to? On that note as well, how many times must I lecture you? It is Queen Yona, no longer 'Lady.' Have you no respect or idea of the importance of these titles? My goodness, do my words fall on deaf ears?" Exasperated, Khira shakes her head while glaring at her fellow attendant. The trio starts their short journey home as Yona's muffled laughter spills from her lips, watching her dear friend's antics. The young women stare down the waterfall leading down Lulu Lake.

"Please, be nice. Any more of your reprimands, and I'll go deaf." Squeaks the distraught retainer, dark gray eyes pleading to their Queen for help as they descend through the waters.

Even from an immense height, the radiant city's glow softens the carved-out cliffs, and the bright ore deposits dot the wet landscape, becoming a beacon of beauty and splendor. The sun's wonderous warmth far retreated past the Domain's reach, a touch of cold breezes caressing Yona's skin. Coming to the halfway mark, the Caregiver answers her friend's silent pleas. Standing before the marbled platform, the Zora Queen shifts her attention to her bickering friend.

"Khira, come now, I believe that's enough, we wouldn't wish any harm, and it is only the three of us. You can indeed allow one moment of reprieve. I need not worry about titles, my precious friends." Yona coaxes her friend's long-winded lectures, seeing the elder Zora sigh in defeat and allowing this rare moment of informality, much like the old times. Marching down, Khira and Chroma flank their Queen's side, scanning every direction for any monster or Yiga sneak attack. The clansmen weren't interested in the Zora royal line, but being cautious with the newly crowned royalty never hurt.

Their serenity shatters as a high-pitched undignified whine carries through, cutting into the air as they swim down the final waterfall. The young guards perk up and quickly unsheath their weapons, pushing their Queen further near the falls, providing a swift escape. "Your Majesty, Chroma, stay here. I'll go investigate." A hushed command tumbles from the dark dolphin Zora's lips, eyes narrowing and head tucked down for intimidation.

The royal guard crawls out of the pool, spotting a cluster of thick foliage suitable for an ambush. Rushing to the forest green bushes, Khira ducks down to spy on the ruckus while Chroma guards Yona with her spear, guiding her safely away from the unseen danger. The new ruler braces herself, summoning water to snake around her sharp claws.

"I can't believe Sidon's married already! Come on. He's hitched to some random Zora girl we've never heard of? It doesn't sound like a union from love, y'know? And that, too, he doesn't talk much about her. I don't know; it sounds so fishy. That wasn't supposed to be a pun, by the way." A brown-haired Hylian woman clad in some strange mushroom hat walks into sight, and it seems she isn't alone. The woman's other companions stroll by, a pair of other Hylians complain, and another person in glasses fiddles with their leather satchel.

This group seems relatively young while they remain unabashed, glad to blabber, Khira thinks. Anger wells up in her as the group's voices had no intention of stopping with their ill-meaning talk. She knows that Yona could hear this noise. How could she not? Even a Bokoblin would understand their mad rambles.

"Well, I mean, Khole, we don't know much about Zora's politics, so I don't know if it may be an arranged loveless wedding," The glasses wearing sheepishly, state as they twiddle with short brown hair looking back at their friends. It seems this group was returning from visiting the East Reservoir.

"Amia, you're talking as if we know about our own. After all, our Princess had up and disappeared. Only Hylia knows where she is. Of course, she's nice, but if she were our Princess, she would try to reinstate the crown rather than twiddle around in Hateno. We've been in shambles for a hundred years, and only now are we starting to come back. If my great-grandparents could see how this panned out, they'd give Zelda a big lesson about responsibility. I know they lived on the outskirts of Castle Town. They saw she didn't put her all into protecting us from the Calamity." Another crude voice cuts into the cloud of gossip, and the tallest of the group groans. This one must be Khloe, according to them.

"Khloe, that's not nice. She does some things like building the school. I appreciate that, and even the fact she's somehow alive makes the older and more devout folks more invigorated." The shortest man answers the group, trying to reel in their chat, eyes darting around the wandering travelers.

"I like that she made the school too, but that's all our Princess does; twiddle around, now poof! She's gone along with her silent little knight throwing everyone in all corners of Hyrule for a loop," The mushroom-wearing Khole snorts, not taking the hint and wrapping her arm around the small man.

"Besides, there's only so much teaching can do if they don't know how to fight; you're dead. But I don't even know if this royal has done anything substantial to this, 'Zora Queen.' She appeared out of nowhere too, and I heard the women who had their little fan club are still reeling." Yona has had enough of this slander, slashing into the dancing streams around her hands, instantly dropping into the tide. The young Queen knew their last statement wasn’t true in the slightest, reminiscing the many moments the club members loudly fawned over her and the coupling.

The Zora, as she evades Chroma's eased guard, at brazen conversation in their Domain where these Hylians should be more mindful. These ignorant speculations about their Princess; they didn't see how Zelda collapsed to her knees, too choked on her grief to properly beg forgiveness from former King Dorephan and the royal line. When she emerged from the ruins of Hyrule Castle alongside Link, they didn't see the solemn strength and wisdom that welled behind those teary eyes, renewing her vow of protecting everyone no matter the cost.

But what pained her more was that, deep down, their prodding at the royal coupling hit a sore spot in her heart. The optimistic prince and herself had no say in their engagement. Of course, they had visited each other's kingdoms as young teens. Her heart never wavered in her affections for him and his people, but she often wondered what he felt when King Dorephan told him. The royals scarcely had time to talk and be with each other in private, away from others, along with helping the ill-stricken Zora from the sludge, repairing the Domain and Sidon becoming the Water Sage, and finally helping Link defeat Ganon.

Years after the Calamity and its sting aftermath, they grew dearly fond of each other. He changed, his glowing with unending enthusiasm and the occasional naivete all genuine. But he seemed to hide his deeper emotions from the public, even with his dear father. Either for fear that it would make him seem inexperienced or because he wished to truly earn the crown, Sidon's grown used to hiding his whole heart even now. Yona hoped she'd prove herself to him and eventually be blessed to reach those parts of his soul, knowing he was safe with her.

They've had many conversations about their situation and the future after Link helped Sidon slay the beast that floats in the sky. But old habits formed from grief and feeling inadequate die hard. The King still hides from the outside, so much so that he loathes to admit it. After the kingdom's announcement, she doubted if he truly loved her the same way as she did him as the century passed and their visits grew prevalent. Throughout their youth, they eventually graced each other with the title of a beloved friend.

Did his heart worry for her out of genuine care or for appearances or necessity? Did he yearn to have her beside him as his bride, Queen, and equal because he loved her? Would there be a day that Sidon would smile and proudly show his love to the world like Mei and Fronk?

Yona understood betrothal gifts were essential to the Hyrulean Zora culture, but she wasn't taught that way. Only learning how to mend the armor from other fish scales, her people learned a sacred courtship dance to show their interest. Yona summons her rapid heartbeat to the clearing out of the pooling water, allowing them to see her. Chroma whispers for Yona to stay but emerges from the pool trailing her Lady.

"Enough of your useless babble," The zealous guard seethes, lunging at the group from the overgrown shrubs. Jumping out of their skin, the rowdy quartet leap into each other's arms. They shudder like leaves, eyes firmly screwing closed, far too absorbed in their well-being.

The Zora spear inches away from the supposed root of all this meaningless noise, "You have shown an inexplicable disrespect and regard for both your Princess and our Queen. Your prattle proves nothing among you and your ilk. Your eyes will never see the true nature of these critical figures, and perhaps that is not your desire," Khira grits her sharpened teeth, even the air around them stilled in anticipation.

The grip on her spear tightens with every passing breath as the group hesitantly opens their eyes. The spear aimed at the frightened woman pulls back, and the guard's posture loosens, showing a reluctant sign of mercy and growling while pulling her weapon back. "But I will allow you this grace as well as one warning. You will not sully any of the royal's names here—especially Queen Yona. One would think that Princess Zelda's diplomatic nature would pass for all her subjects. Consider yourselves lucky. I want to avoid pushing more work on their Majesties, so relieving the burden of taking your tongues is out of the realm of possibility."

"Khira! Enough! Stand down." Yona calls out to her fearless attendant; in her mind, she notes how uncharacteristically aggressive the Zora woman is and how strange it is to see her threaten visitors. The Hylians take shaky steps back, looking at the emerging figure. Startled gasps erupt as the attendant glances over her shoulder. Faltering in her angered resolve, seeing the smaller Zora's displeased face. Lifting the sharp spear away, the Caregiver walks in front so the visitors can see her, bowing her head to the cluster of people as they stay silent. The royal could feel their pensive eyes staring into her as if trying to figure her out by tearing her apart.

"I sincerely apologize for my attendant; this is the first time I've seen her act out in such an unsightly manner. This will not go unreprimanded, while this flagrant threat does not deserve quick forgiveness. Please do not think lowly of us. I seem to have pushed my guard to the brink of exhaustion, so much so that one believes violence would be the answer if I can do anything to appease you. You need only ask, and I will do it. But know that I am Queen Yona." The Queen steadies her breath as she lifts her head, jewelry gently clinking. Scanning their faces, Yona watches the group hastily cover their jabber. However, their words have done their damage making Yona feel miserable but still overwhelmingly riddled with uncertainty.

"O-oh, no, no, no, we're sorry. Uh, you don't need to do that. It was immature of us to talk like that. Sorry, you heard that, but you seem nice, but we're just going to go."

The group leader nervously chirps up as she eyes the serious Khira. Another ally of Khloe's speaks up, nodding and clinging to each other's arms. "Thanks for not hurting us. Bye." Making their escape, crossing the connecting bride to the city. Yona's forlorn eyes linger on their retreating forms.

"What was that? That wasn't an apology at all! And Khira, what in the world got into you." Chroma scoffs as she perches her weapon on her back, eyes frantically scanning her two friend's faces trying to understand them. The younger guard pouts to herself and quietly mutters, "And you always get after me for not bringing shame to the Zora name..."

Despite the rowdy crowd's departure, the young women felt the air thick with tension. Meekness gnaws at Khira as she ducks her head down, too ashamed of her reckless actions and making Yona speak for her. She would indeed badger the younger guard, but to think she would act so brutishly was beyond hypocritical.

"I am profoundly ashamed that you had to see that, your Majesty. But saying I feel guilty for silencing their larks would be a lie. I will not tolerate such belligerence towards you and things they don’t wish to comprehend." The Zora grits her teeth, spitting out a response, rising to look at her liege's back. The young woman partially turns, sapphire flecks eyes glance at her taller lady-in-waiting, Yona dutifully declares.

"Allowing emotions to cloud and open the way to conflict isn't like you, and I understand your reasoning. I find myself appreciating the wild gesture, but I will not tolerate any of your outbursts. Lest you want to stay in my service, being the head of state, is to preserve the peace to all that come and go from Zora's Domain, even to those without respect. We must rise above and show kindness," Light Green's side fins sway as she shakes her head. Yona's hand waved for Chroma and Khira to follow suit. She swallows the biting taste in her mouth, cupping her hands before her chest. She absentmindedly picked at her claws; the sound of clicks enveloped the girls as they fell in line, resuming their protective flank. Exchanging worried looks between each other.

"This should go without saying, but please don't tell Sidon. He's been busy, returning from his valiant battle alongside the other sages protecting the land and handling a kingdom. Something so small should not plague his mind. I'm certain I will forget this soon enough." Yona sharply inhales as she tries to lift her spirits, but her words drip despondence. Her heart twists in painful knots, knowing she's going back on her promise of being truthful and open to her love.

"We won't breathe a word." The duo candidly answer as they make their way across the pristine bridge. While a robust familiar figure happily waves in the distance, welcoming them blissfully unaware of what occurred.

The sinking feeling did, indeed, not disappear from Yona's mind. Their words echo in her head, and the festering sense of inadequacy and insecurity lurks in the corners of her mind. It had been a few days since her encounter, and she knew allowing such heated words to get to her was folly. Yona couldn't help her mind slipping into the depths of her doubt. Even to the point, her melancholic air alarmed the elderly councilmen and Exalted Dorephan. The new Queen lacked her signature sweet nature, replacing her charming aura with an absent mind.

While busy creating safe pathways and removing the debris strewn along the narrowing passage from the mainland to their Domain. Sidon grew worried for his Yona. It's been hard not to notice his citizens concerning whispers about her well-being circled the Domain, and his dearest barely stayed by his side after she visited Mipha Court. She seemed off-put and fidgety whenever he was near her. Even the little ones seemed fretful with Yona's unusual behavior, and her attendants acted peculiar, seemingly hiding something.

The warm afternoon sun beams down on Zora's Domain, an occasional breeze passing through his magnificent home. It's almost ironic that the weather contrasts the new King's worrisome thoughts.

"Naydra's eyes, What am I missing?" Sidon mutters, standing before the pristine balcony overseeing the Domain. His sharp eyes longingly linger on Zora's soft green form, watching her speaking with the fisherman, Mei. He was beyond glad the forgetful citizen returned from the Floating Fish Island. Admittedly busy, ensuring his best soldiers to Lookout Landing returned, Sidon remains steadfast in giving his people protection and grace as those before him. He was dutiful in looking after his people's well-being.

So many things happened in a whirlwind of events; first, it was the Upheaval, then the vile sludge desecrating his home, and finally, his unexpected coronation and marriage to his beloved, then assisting Link in his fight against Ganon. The royal Zora ponders if it was as overwhelming to her as it was for him. The young King certainly has no regrets, but the stress of it all tends to invade his mind even when the epic battle has ended.

Rambunctious giggles erupt from below, stirring him from his daze. His sharp eyes flicker between Mei waving to the young King and his darling Queen, now turned up to see him. A magnetic force pulled their eyes to meet, and he could feel his heart stop, breath hitch in his throat when a ghost of a bashful smile graced Yona's lips. Her golden adornments shine, accentuating her beautiful features. His cheeks flushed against his cold skin, and a heart-stopping smile painted his face. It could be only them in the world.

The moment broke too soon for his liking as Yona shyly averted her gaze. It looked like the floor was more enticing to her now; soft laughter rolled from him, uncaring of the whispered swoons and muttering about young love. Unable to tear his gaze away from Yona as the giggling fisherman bows and parts from the royal Zora. Nodding to something Mei told her, the young woman walks the stairs. Sidon's eyes follow her each step, and soon she stands by his side, making the void of her absence the past few weeks far more prominent than before.

"May we speak in private?" Yona's soft, tantalizing voice asks, her eyes peering up at him with sorrow and meekness clouding her usually cheerful aura. Sidon observes her expression, questioning what caused her heart such sadness.

Nodding to her request, he pauses, thinking of places for a private conversation. He knew the open grandeur of the Domain wasn't much for a solitary chat, so they had to travel somewhere close in case a danger arose but far enough so no curious ear listened. Coming to a solution, the crimson Zora answers, nodding to his Yona. "Of course, I'll have the guards notify my father if they need us."

The couple stroll beside each other to young Zora guarding the stairs to the Throne room. "If anything arises from my absence, find Queen Yona and I atop the Veiled Falls. Please tell the Exalt, thank you." Sidon instructs, giving them a polite smile and watching the faithful sentries obediently comply. In the corner of his peripheral vision, he hears the young woman's gasp. Yona’s eyes widen slightly at his chosen place.

"Now, shall we depart, Yona?" Sidon looks to his side. She doesn't meet his gaze but nods all the same. 'Still absorbed in her thoughts. I wish to know what's plaguing you so, my love.' The perplexed Zora thinks to himself, making their short journey to the Falls.

The two sit on the edge of the Veiled Falls. Sidon surveys the landscape before them, the glistening architecture proudly towering as his head turns. An overwhelming sense of pride and wonder swirls in him, overlooking his gorgeous home. The loud water tirelessly tumbles down the Falls, creating white noise and protecting them from potential eyes and ears, allowing them to speak as they please. The extroverted man feels the atmosphere melt away into a reflective air. His sweet empathic nature shines through, but so does a familiar nervousness, worrying he may say something unintentionally unkind. It's truly a marvel how Yona's mere presence reduced him to his shyer, composed side like they were still children.

"I know that I have been busy and thus haven't been with you by becoming crowned king, but it doesn't allow me to negate my husbandry duties… Now love, what plagues you so?" He tenderly questions his wife, seeing her steady her breath, and comes to terms with whatever tortured her.

"My King," Yona starts to wonder aloud, trying to gather the scramble of words in her mind. Her hands are cupping each other in her lap tense, and her shoulders tighten. While Sidon's brow furrows, she never addressed him formally like that before, not even when they were little ones. "I find myself wondering, has our union been too hasty? Am I truly the one you want besides you? Surely someone far more courageous would be a better match." Concern coupled with mere shock overtook him. His eyes widened, looking at her words. He desperately wants to cut her off and ask her, but he holds his tongue, wanting her to feel safe with him. 'Where in the world did this come from?'

"Those days ago, my attendants and I came across a group of people that brought up the validity of our union. I know it's foolish to listen, and in hindsight, it’s minuscule compared to the intrepid battle you returned from only months ago, but I want to be truthful about it." The woman explains. Yona stops turning to look at him. Vulnerability is etched on her face as he patiently waits for her sign to speak.

"If this has made you worry for this long, it’s no small deal. So that's what you've been dwelling on. Do you doubt my feelings?" He politely utters out, the sick tightening in his chest as he waits in anticipation of her answer. Yona says nothing, in silent agreement. She scolds herself for hurting him so much as he rises from his spot, holding his crimson hand for her. The young woman reaches for him as they stand together.

"You recall the importance of this place, yes? This was the last time I saw my sister alive. Days after, we came to mourn after being informed about my sister being trapped in Ruta. I ran to this place to drown in my tears, where no one could hear me. My desperate attempts to swim upstream, this mighty Fall, fell flat. Then miraculously, you came. You found me in the pool,"

"Crying together in each other's arms, I remember. I asked where you were, and I found you here trying to hide." Sidon's large hands engulf Yona's as she jumps in. The young woman knowing this story well, caressing her thumbs around his palms.

"Yes. At that moment, I saw someone I could call a friend. I discovered someone who could see all of me without fearing judgment. Someone that looked at the depths of my sadness and allowed me to grieve unashamed. Someone that I could share my accomplishments with. We were arranged to marry, but I was elated when my father informed me. I could not imagine anyone else by my side. You've continued to be a beloved companion. I fell in love with your compassionate, intelligent, selfless nature. Your ability to know what's troubled me among countless others made me want to return the favor tenfold," Sidon tenderly divulged, finally noticing Yona meet his eye.

The pure warm adoration in his remarks left the doubtful royal speechless. Strings of wispy white clouds pass overhead, shading the two. "I want to continue growing alongside you as the years pass. I want you to know that I will always love you. You, Yona, Are the only one I want to have on my side. I love you with all my heart." Sidon slips his hand away and brushes underneath her side fins, cupping her cheek and stroking her face as if trying to dispel all her worries from her mind. The smaller Zora nuzzles into his calloused hard-working hand, feeling at peace now unyielding to keep her gaze away from his steady eyes.

"I-I should not have allowed a stranger's words to cause such dismay. I'm sorry for doubting your devotion," She pauses, golden eyes fluttering closed, smooshing her cheek into his hand, angry at herself for significantly impacting how she acted towards him and those in the Domain.

"Will you forgive me?" Shame and relief wash over her, watching Sidon nod at her inquiry. His arm snakes around her waist while tugging her close to his chest. She hears the rapid pounding of his heart, feeling tears threaten to spill from her eyes. Willing them away momentarily, she peels from his broad chest, tugging at the gleaming silver prince his chest piece down.

Standing on her tippy toes, Yona wraps her arms around him, leaning into him while Sidon's finned arms securely encase her body in his. They share a sweet moment, their eyes slowly shut, and their lips collide in a kiss. Sparks fly across the two as Sidon deepens the kiss leaning toward her soft lips, wishing to melt into her touch. Quicken groans and gasps escape their lips, and hot puffs of air roll onto their mouths as they kiss again. It felt like gravity pulled them together again, as if it was torture to stay apart for even the air.

Savoring the taste of salt on their tongues, their lungs burn, taunting them to breathe momentarily. Begrudgingly, Yona pulled away. First, labored rasps heave from her petite frame, now noticing that Sidon lifted her from the ground pressing her close to his chest and sitting in his arms. The loud drumming of their hearts pounds in their ears as they silently look at each other. The noisy waterfall downs out their unsteady breaths as they slowly feel a smile perk on their warm faces.

"That wasn't an answer, my love." Mischievously scolding her loyal husband, Yona laughs to herself as he feigns cluelessness. She doesn't want to let go, reveling in his arms and in the love he gave her. "It wasn't? Well, I might need more time to convince you then." Sidon releases a husky chuckle, his voice a tinge of playfulness and desire, his eyes crinkling as his charming smile shines down at Yona, bringing her close again to steal another kiss.

Tagging: @hey-its-cweepy, @millybesippin, @twistthenoches @luvielle @millybesippin @rrasado @cxlemon

#i may not be in the fandom #but the writing is muwah #tears of the kindom spoilers #Queen Yona #king sidon #rras' recs

33 notes · View notes

rrasado · 9 months

Text

default icons but it's solomon, luke and simeon

special thanks to @anonymous-leemur for the idea and the angel default icons!!

feel free to use (on any website too!) as long as theres credit somewhere and also pls let me know if you're using it! i'd like to see :DD

#these are so cute wueueuru #rras' recs #obey me #obey me solomon #obey me luke #obey me simeon #obey me icons

208 notes · View notes

rrasado · 9 months

Note

*waddle waddle*

...

*waddle waddle*

What's funny here is that it's been roughly a year, and I still don't know who the waddling anon is. They could be multiple people, and I wouldn't know.

#this is my mystery lore </3 #anyways i miss this whahshdhd #mooncaf staff #anonymous customers #waddling anon saga

16 notes · View notes

rrasado · 9 months

Note

Hihi

#Hihiii #lowkey ominous but hello wahhshd #countertop asks #anonymous customers

2 notes · View notes

rrasado · 9 months

Text

I haven't posted any writing here in roughly a year 🤡. But if I were to write a Scarlet King!/King Deshret Al Haitham X Reader fic—

#actually im gonna do it regardless whahshd i had a good setting in mind when i was trying to make yumeship scenarios for myself #Plus i need more people playing with the concept #genshin impact #al haitham #al haitam x reader #countertop discussions

20 notes · View notes

rrasado · 1 year

Text

Bonus because I can:

Happy birthday to the muse and artist :D! DW malleus I'll eat the cake for us.

*click for better quality* [ ⚠️ Do not Repost without Credit || Likes and reblogs are welcomed ✅️ ]

#twst fanart #ツイステ #twisted wonderland fanart #malleus draconia #twst malleus #twisted wonderland malleus #rras' reblogs

158 notes · View notes

rrasado · 1 year

Text

HAPPY NEW YEAR FROM THE PHILIPPINES EVERYONE!!!

#Happy new year to us all :D

28 notes · View notes

rrasado · 1 year

Text

It was definitely a field trip.

*click for better quality* [ ⚠️ Do not Repost without Credit || Likes and reblogs are welcomed ✅️ ]

#The movement 😭#leona kingscholar #ruggie bucchi #twst leona #twst ruggie #twisted wonderland leona #twisted wonderland ruggie #twst shitpost #helveroz 2022 #rras' recs

758 notes · View notes

rrasado · 2 years

Text

amor vincit mortem

pairing: zhongli x gn!reader

summary: there’s a fragility to each moment spent with you, finite and fleeting as all mortal lives are. but you always find your way back to him, even when you return missing fragments of yourself. he has loved you ever since he was naught but a mere hatchling you’d dug from the earth, and he will continue to do so through war and peace and retirement. (reincarnation au)

note: writing for one of my favorite tropes again, zhongli my beloved i will always give u happy endings, might be a bit inaccurate in some lore and timeline aspects but i tried my best to stick close, multiple character death/s (reader), depictions of blood and death

word count: 4.1k

“Hello again.”

Morax—back in the days when he was just a little dragon incapable of much thought, back when the name Morax hadn’t even been granted to him—nuzzled his little snout against your hand.

You smoothed your fingers over his soft scales, an indication of youth in dragons, and smiled as he melted at the simple affection.

There had been a softness to that moment, a memory untouched by the grimness of war, in a time when peace reigned and the three sisters ruled over the skies, not a floating celestial castle to be seen.

He remembers your voice and your touch, the way your eyes brightened when you smiled and the way the corners of your mouth quirked when telling a story. He didn’t know your name then, only that you were a local in the nearby village who ounce unburied a small dragon from the earth as a child and had taken care of it since.

That dragon was, of course, him.

“Here for another meal, little dragon?”

You brought a small piece of meat to his snout, cooing when he took it from your fingers and delicately chewed on the meat.

He doesn’t remember what it tasted, only that it had a soft, chewy texture that made it easier to eat for his soft teeth that were still in the process of hardening as he aged.

A hand ran over the scales on his head.

“You’ll need a name, won’t you? Something to be remembered for all ages.” The sun had hit his eyes then, making him incapable of seeing what kind of expression you’d had. “I just know my little dragon will grow to be a fearsome one.”

“Morax!” You laughed, running as the dragon that was now at the same height as your hips chased you across the clearing. “I told you, no more meat or else you’ll become overweight!”

It wasn’t about the meat, he remembers, it was how you always seemed to shine brightest when you were running about without a care for the world around you. He’d only wanted to keep that smile on your face.

You leaned on your knees, gasping for breath, and still, you shone as radiant as the sun to his eyes.

You struggled with carting a box full of all sorts of fruit and cooked meat. He used his hardened snout to help you push the cart near the entrance of the cave he usually dwelled in.

“Thank you.” You softly patted the scales beneath his chin. “I’m not as young and spritely as I used to be.”

He huffed an indignant snort as if to disagree with you. A soft exhale left your mouth, fondness evident in the quirk of your lips.

“You understand me, don’t you? You always have, my smart little dragon.”

He sat beside you, quiet and solemn as you hummed a tune beneath your breath.

“Morax,” you started, something different in the inflection of your voice. It never returned back to its normal cadence after you caught an illness that had lasted a year and nearly took your life. “I’m not long for this world—”

He shifted in protest, a snarl in his throat that you wave away with a wrinkled hand.

“Don’t be so upset,” you soothed, “It’s simply the way of life.”

You ran a hand through the underside of his chin, feeling the hardened scales that will continue to grow stronger until it can withstand the force of steel—or a meteor.

“You’ll live for a long, long time, and by the time you reach your prime, I will be nothing but a distant memory to you.”

He remembers disagreeing but never outright conveying it to you. He had thought you understood what his silence meant. If only he’d been able to speak back then, he would have spent hours upon hours telling you how much you meant to the little dragon you had dug up from the earth.

You laid down for a nap beside him, still managing to look at him with those bright eyes of yours amidst a face weathered by time.

“My little Morax, you’re as big as a house now, aren’t you?” You had softly pet the side of his head as he curled around you. “Wake me up when the sun rises, okay? I want to hand feed you meat like I used to...”

He closed his eyes and let dreams sweep him away once he felt you fall into a deep sleep.

In the morning, he would awake to the sun casting light over him and the stillness by his side.

You never woke up again.

He took to guarding your small village from petty thieves and the occasional mercenaries sent by neighboring villages. It’s what you would’ve wanted, he thought then. You had no family, but the elders and the children and the workers you’d made friends with were dear to you, and so, they were dear to him as well.

Word spread of a village being granted the protection of a mighty dragon. More people came asking for shelter and to settle in, he never showed protest to it.

Years passed, the village grew, and he continued to wonder what it would have been like to watch over these people with you by his side.

He remembers days spent lounging in the clearing he buried your body in, an era where peace still reigned and rest was not yet a luxury he couldn’t afford.

You appeared on the second century after your passing, wide-eyed and mouth parted in awe as you stared at the large town that used to be your homely little village.

“Morax?”

He had thought it a dream then, a mirage his mind consumed. There was simply no fathomable way you were here in the flesh, alive and whole and young—so much younger than he remembered you being.

But your eyes were still the same, still as bright and resplendent as the sun. You were here. You were real.

He doesn’t know how he ever managed not to squish you beneath his weight back when he’d been young and excited with less restraint to his actions. It is a memory he remembers fondly, stored tightly within his chest, a moment of peace amidst the war looming on the horizon.

It was a comical sight, a human holding their arms out to their side yet still not managing to encompass the entirety of a dragon’s snout. He used to fit so snugly at the palm of your hand.

“Look how big you’ve grown.” You press your lips to a single scale, already as large as your head. “I have missed you, old friend.”

It was a worry that niggled at the back of his head amidst questions of how you came back and why you remember him.

Morax, for all his years alive that would seem many to mortals, was still but a young dragon then. Even when he was roughly the size of five houses.

He didn’t want to see you grow old, to watch as time eroded your spirit and left nothing but a husk of what you once were. The thought of having to relive those days when you could barely stand up to meet him at the clearing outside your village made him want to curl up and burrow deep into the earth.

He didn’t want to sleep beside you only to awake to the sight of your chest still and your breaths nonexistent.

He didn’t want to watch you die again.

The choice was taken out of his hands when he returned to his town—your town, just as much as it is his—and found it burning.

“There’s a nearby village that needs your help. Go, Morax, lend your hand to those who need it,” you had told him as you caressed his scales, and he had obeyed, because while the elders and the people come to him with their pleas and their wishes, he will only ever answer to you.

It had been a trick to place his attention away from your town.

He learned what anger meant that day, learned what it felt to crush a house beneath his claws and how to move the earth to his will and what it meant to take a life.

He was young and furious and mourning. It is a dark memory he doesn’t like to dwell on, full of pain and regret and the vicious sense of satisfaction that came with killing. It was the first time he had ever shed blood. It wouldn’t be the last.

As he watched the village be buried beneath the earth and the stone he’d called upon, he turned his back and made the long trek back to a home that was now nothing but ash and dust.

And as he rooted through the rubble in the vain hope of finding your body to bury, Morax learned what it meant to be an unwilling participant in a war.

It was as if fate was paying back the abundance of time you’d spent with him in your first life with short moments that were always cut too soon.

In your third life, you found him sleeping on the remains of what was once your town. You had wept and embraced him as much as you could, and he, in turn, tried to convey how much he had missed you.

The two of you traveled together for a while, and that life was where you rode on his back for the first time as he soared the skies.

“They’re like your eyes,” you once said, holding onto his scales as he flew above the clouds, the light of the setting sun casting the two of you in molten gold, “Golden. It’s been my favorite color ever since I first saw you open your eyes. They always shine so bright.”

You died that same day, having encountered a vengeful deity after he set foot on the ground. He had won that fight, but he wasn’t able to protect you.

It was in a battlefield that he saw you again.

He remembers how the small deity’s blood had felt upon his tongue, dripping down sharp teeth and soaking the battle happening in the ground below with blood. It had been sunny then, he remembers, when he descended from the skies in triumph and looked down the masses gazing at him with fear.

And then there was you.

Blood and dirt and other unnamable things clung to you like a second skin as you clumsily held a spear close to your chest, but you had beamed at the sight of him and yelled out his name.

“Morax!”

It was short-lived.

It had been a stray arrow, they would later plead with tears and mud streaking through their terror-filled faces. But all he cared about at that time was that one moment you dropped your spear to run to him, and the next you were falling to the ground, an arrow lodged right where your heart lay.

He left that field bloodied with corpses, your body strewn on his back as he flew to the clearing in your first life. There, he buried you beside your other incarnations.

“I’d like to settle one day, once all the fighting and killing has stopped. Maybe in a house overlooking the sea. Somewhere surrounded by mountains. Just a place where there’d be lots of space for you too.”

You leaned against the bulk of his frame, burrowed in a cliffside to wait out the fight between two gods happening on the other side of the lake.

“That was never there before,” you said, squinting at the castle in the sky as you laid on his back.

He rumbled his agreement.

You sighed, hearing the war going on below and wondering when it was all going to end.

“The stars don’t shine as bright as they used to.”

“Are you alright?!” You yelled as you frantically helped the woman—a deity—up from the ground.

Morax’s thundering roars echoed in the air as he summoned pillars from the earth and shattered the feeble ice that the opposing god put up.

The woman stared at you with wide eyes, noticing how labored your breathing was but otherwise looking unbothered by the fight happening in front of you.

“Are you not worried…?” She asked, her voice sounding as delicate as she looked.

You turned to her with a grin you’d hoped was encouraging. “There’s nothing to fear, Morax is strong!” Then, you offered her your hand. “Here, you can hold my hand if you’re afraid.”

She accepted it, feeling the tremors in her fingers calm at the warmth emanating from your palm.

“Guizhong,” she suddenly said, looking up at you, her heart racing. “Forgive my rudeness but… my name is Guizhong.”

You smiled, as bright and lovely as Morax would have described had he been there to see it. “Allow us to lend you and your people a hand, Guizhong!”

And for the first time since the war began, she felt hope blossom in her chest.

“Which life is this now?” Guizhong asked him.

“Nineteenth,” he answered, more of a growl that resembled a word. Morax, in his newly obtained form, was still not used to the ways of mortals, namely, the fact that he can now speak his thoughts out loud.

You were conversing with Cloud Retainer, something regarding a weapon that could be used to help the war. The mechanics were lost to him. For all that he could now be considered a deity, for all that the people have started calling him Rex Lapis, he was still so oblivious to the ways of the world.

Guizhong placed a hand on his shoulder, a reassuring smile on her deceptively gentle face. On that day, she promised to help him protect you.

And that life was one of the few where he got to watch you grow old.

“You don’t know how to read?” Guizhong asked you, surprise coloring her face.

You sheepishly laughed, “I’ve never been taught in all the lives I’ve lived. And most of my time with Morax was spent fighting and running from the war.”

You looked down your hands, feeling the smooth, unblemished skin of them. Young and unscarred. There had been a large gash that ran across your back in your previous life, and when the night got too cold and you were left alone with your thoughts, you felt the ache of thousands upon thousands of wounds you’d collected throughout your lives.

A dainty hand covered your own. You looked up to see Guizhong watching you with a fond smile.

“Let me teach you, then.”

Guizhong always invited you to sing to the glaze lilies scattered around the Assembly. She claimed your voice was like a melody that soothed the flowers to bloom.

In truth, she only wanted to hear you sing.

“No, that’s not how you hold chopsticks, Morax!” You laughed, taking hold of his hand and rearranging the chopsticks haphazardly held in his fingers. “There, much better.”

His fingers remained clumsy, unused to such sensations, but you promised him that he’ll get used to it in no time.

You slowly guided him through each step, gently correcting a mistake in his footwork and adjusting the spear in his hand when needed.

Morax was a fast learner.

Soon, he would develop his own way of wielding the spear, but for now, you coached him through the right techniques and laughed whenever he dropped the spear in a spin.

“The moon,” he suddenly said, looking at you with wide, earnest eyes.

“Yes, what about it?”

He seemed to struggle with finding the right words to convey what he wanted to say. You patiently sat and waited for him to gather himself.

“It’s beautiful tonight.” Then, as an afterthought, he added, “Isn’t it?”

You tilted your head to the sky, a nostalgic smile on your lips, lost in memories of days spent lazing about in that old clearing and staring at the starry sky. “It is.”

His hand felt warm around yours.

“I don’t want to die anymore.”

He held you as your blood seeped from your clothes and painted the grass a dark shade of red. It was a slow process, bleeding out, to wait for your blood to drain until your heart stopped beating and your eyes lost the light in them.

“Morax.”

You were crying, clutching your side where a god had pierced their blade clean through. You were dying so slowly, yet there was no time to get a healer.

“Please.”

Your eyes begged for an end to this pain.

His tears fell and mixed with your blood.

On your twenty-ninth life, he cradled your head to his chest and wept as he gave you a quick, painless death.

When he saw you again, he held you until the sun disappeared and his arms felt numb before reluctantly pulling away.

You held his face between the palm of your hands and kissed his forehead, your eyes red and smile brittle at the edges.

“I’ve missed you,” was all you said before you leaned close.

Your lips felt impossibly soft against his.

“Morax,” you whispered against his skin, on your thirty-first life when he finally found the courage to show you what being loved by him meant. “I love you.”

It was the first time you spoke those words to him.

It wouldn’t be the last.

He kept you awake all night, ignoring the war happening around him and pretending, just for a moment, that the world only consisted of you and him.

During your forty-second life, an anomaly happened.

He and the rest of the adepti were unable to gauge how it happened. Guizhong, for all her smarts, was not able to discern the reason for it either.

And then there was no time to ponder upon it anymore, because Osial attacks the Guili Assembly, and not only does he lose you, he also loses a friend.

Her last words to him consisted of a riddle and a memento in the form of a lock. “I never stopped searching for a reason. I think… this may be it.”

And in her eyes, he saw a confession — she had loved you too.

Thousands of years later and he is still no closer to opening it, and thus, no closer to figuring out what caused the loss of your memories.

On some lives, you remember, eyes lighting up with recognition as you abandoned everything you’d been doing to run into his arms.

“Morax,” you would whisper as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck.

On some lives, you would pass by him with blank eyes, the same lilt to your voice but without the fondness that came with it.

“Hello again,” he’d say.

You would smile awkwardly. “Hello?”

And he would mourn you all over again.

“He’s suffered enough, hasn’t he?”

Your words were enough to still Morax’s spear.

You knelt in front of the young-looking deity, offering your palm to him. “We will not shackle you, and neither will we force you to serve.”

His eyes were wary, yet so incredibly full of disbelief and hidden hope.

You gave him a smile you hoped was as gentle as it seemed.

Rough, battle-hardened hands clasped onto yours like a salvation.

“Please,” he whispered, something so undeniably broken in his tone as looked up at you the same way one might look up at the stars.

Later on, Morax would name that young deity Xiao.

There were tales and poems written about you. Rex Lapis and his undying lover.

It was widely romanticized and highly inaccurate. For one, he didn’t meet you in your first life as a large and intimidating dragon. He was naught but a hatchling you used to feed fruits and meat with a childish laugh. The two of you had grown up together, but where you had grown old, he remained young, a dragon who hadn’t even reached a fourth of his lifespan.

You always laughed as you read to him some of the more outlandish ones, in those lives where you remembered enough to love him as deeply as you used to.

“‘And they fornicated upon the moonlit night, a dragon and a mortal—’ I’m sorry, I can’t take this seriously.” You burst into a fit of giggles, leaning against him on your shared bed as the book you’d been holding fell to the side, forgotten.

“Shall I have a word with the authors of such books?”

“No, no!” You were quick to refuse, placing both palms on his cheeks and grinning. “They’re amusing to read. Perhaps I should commission a play, that would be so entertaining…”

He gazed at you fondly, cherishing each precious, limited time the two of you have.

When he ascended the throne of Celestia, you were the first person to greet him upon returning to Liyue.

There was a nervous edge to your smile, but still, it came as naturally as breathing to you. You often questioned it, how everything just seemed to come easily for you.

“I think I know you,” you once told him a week after you met in this life, “I just can’t remember where.”

And you would always come across the numerous retellings of your lives, hands shaking and so full of regret and grief for a life you could never quite recall.

You never failed to apologize to him after.

I’m sorry I forgot.

I’m sorry I can’t remember.

I’m sorry I don’t love you.

It became increasingly frequent with each century that passed. Only one incarnation of you every six lives remembered your past.

He made you love him in each one. Even if he had to start from the bottom, even when you looked at him without a spark of familiarity, even when it hurt—he never failed to capture your heart again and again.

The Cataclysm happened in a lifetime where you remembered.

Morax, to this day, wishes it hadn’t been the case. Perhaps then, you wouldn’t have insisted on fighting alongside him.

Perhaps then, you wouldn’t have died so early.

Your body was left beneath the rubble and ruins of Khaenri’ah’s Royal Palace. The only thing that stopped him from upturning it to search for you was the Sustainer of Heavenly Principles.

In the twentieth year after the destruction of Khaenri’ah, he made a contract with a golden haired traveler who carried the aura of the stars.

Five years after the contract was signed, your body was returned to Liyue in a casket covered with Inteyvat flowers.

He remembers waiting, and waiting, and waiting a little more until he looked up and realized that four hundred years had passed without you.

He searched each nation, visiting village upon village, hoping to hear news of you or a past life of yours having lived there, but there was nothing.

It was as if you had simply ceased to exist.

He refused to believe it.

Mountain Shaper advised him to rest.

It was strange to walk the streets of Liyue again after a hundred years of absence. He never failed to appear during the Rite of Descension, but taking on his draconic form and parading as a mortal man were two different things. And the latter, he found in all the years he’d been ruling Liyue, was much more preferable than the former.

Conversations flowed around him, and he wondered what you would have been doing had you been here with him.

He stared into the Harbor, smiling as he remembered your quiet musings during the early days of the Archon War.

I’d like to settle one day, once all the fighting and killing has stopped. Maybe in a house overlooking the sea. Somewhere surrounded by mountains. Just a place where there’d be lots of space for you too.

Settle.

It was a wishful thought, but…

He turned on his heel, mind made up.

If he couldn’t look for you, then he would have to wait for you to come to him. In the meantime, he would arrange the finest house for you to live in peace after five hundred years of being apart and a lifetime of war and bloodshed.

Morax—Zhongli sits at a table at Third-Round Knockout, leisurely sipping tea as he listens to the story teller regale the tragic tale of your second life. A little inaccurate, on a few accounts, but for the most part, it was as he remembers it.

The tea tastes exceptionally sweet today. A good omen, perhaps.

He feels the vibrations from the ground, telling of a person approaching him from behind. He lets whoever it is get close, unable to detect any malicious intent.

“That’s completely false. I, for one, never ‘wept in delight as I was reunited with my dragon lover’.”

He nearly drops his tea in shock.

He turns his head to the right, his heart in his throat as he hopes and begs that his ears did not deceive him. He sucks in a breath—

And meets the loveliest pair of eyes gazing down at him with mirth.

You smile.

“Hello again.”

#i'm crying #I felt things and that's bad/pos #genehin x reader #zhongli #rras' recs

2K notes · View notes