original-person

[original-person]

Ngl I want to see some manipulative Yandere x Reader but whenever the Yandere tries to manipulate, gaslight, or just straight up say concerning things Reader they just go “Wait really??” While having the most innocent sunshine face ever or something

Like the Yandere could just be looking down at Reader cupping their face and saying something like how much they’re in love and obsessed with Reader while having a very deranged face thinking about what Reader’s reaction might be..Will Reader be scared? Creeped out? Disgusted? Run away?

Then Reader looks up at the Yandere smiling(with imaginary sunflowers in the background and sparkling) and said “Aw! I love love love~ you too!”

Yandere thinks Reader reciprocated their feelings and loves them(Yandere) back romantically

And Reader thinks the Yandere loves them in a platonic way and not romantically that’s why they said “ilyt”

Then the two go about their day normally..One is thinking they’re in a relationship/dating and one thinks they’re just hanging out as super best friends!

Does the TWST, Enstars, And Genshin Tag even count in this?? I mean I didn’t mention someone specifically but I’d like to think it’s someone from these fandoms like Izumi(I still hate him) or maybe Tsunotarou

[original-person]

You guys know how in some Genshin Sagau fics it’s usually like the NPC’s can see what the playable character is doing?

If we control them to collect some fish in a pond the NPC’s can see it. Which makes them whisper things like “Oh gosh..A new person..” or “I hope my son never gets a vision..!” Bc it’s humiliating (especially for playable characters with high authority or are popular)

Soo..How does it work with story/archon quests?

When we go to the destination we use a different character that obviously isn’t the Traveler(unless you main Traveler) and then the character you were using is switched to Traveler and the dialogue starts

After the talking Traveler is switched back to the character you were using and you can go to the next destination the quest wants you to go to

What do the NPC’s and on-field Characters see/feel?

For example:

You started Chongyun’s hangout event

Do they just see (for example) Kazuha walking/sprinting towards Chongyun then suddenly Kazuha is gone and the Traveler replaced his spot?

[original-person]

The Reasonable Price

I've seen people write headcannons (or headcanons ?) about their favorite characters. I want to do the same and talk about Kinich since I haven't seen much said about him.

In my opinion, Kinich has always lived in his own world. Ever since he was young, he would dissociate from the world around him and his childhood had made this worse. When he got the chance to act for himself, it was the first moment where he embraced his person.

He can always tell what the true meaning behind someone's actions is since he is able to put himself in their shoes but dissociating also means functioning in an unusual manner, one that may not be understood by many. Though the former statement may sound convenient to most people, they do not know what the boy has been through in his youth.

His job always has surprises in store which works out well for him since it helps him dissociate by engaging with the matter at hand. The thrill of an ambush, a surprise counterattack or even a landed attack on his body are one of the few things that help the boy relax, as nonsensical as it may sound. Something should always be happening.

He didn't get to know himself throughout his childhood since he had to survive day to day. He deems this 'journey of self exploration' as unnecessary now that he has found a way to make money.

Since there is no sense of self, he uses up all his energy solely to provide to his tribe and the people he surrounds himself with. In his eyes, it is the price he has to pay for inheriting the Ancient Name, Malipo.

Overall, he is a calm person. Sometimes though, he finds himself enjoying the harm he is causing to the person he is fighting. Once the fight is over - which most of the time, if not always, victory is on the side of the Saurian hunter - Kinich shakes those thoughts away, blaming the excitement that is caused by the nature of battle.

He has it under control. In his world, this is all working out well. In his world, things solely occur and the price is paid.

[original-person]

Kinich coming across Reader scolding the newer couriers for losing the packages and letters because said couriers were goofing off during delivery, and this happened multiples times (with the items sometimes coming back damaged) before Reader finally snapped and started screaming like Citlali.

The sheer volume of Reader’s voice really shows how pissed they are that even Ajaw seems to have disappeared. 😅

Fury’s Unraveling

Summary: When the younger couriers repeatedly mess up their deliveries, you, the dedicated and no-nonsense delivery overseer, finally snap. Frustrated by their incompetence, you unleash a storm of fury on the culprits, startling the village with your intensity. In the midst of the chaos, Kinich observes the situation from a distance. As the couriers cower and the storm of your anger settles, Kinich offers a rare moment of advice, his pragmatic approach cutting through the tension.

Tags: Kinich x Reader, Emotional Outburst, Anger Management/Issues, Intense Situation, Practical Advice, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn.

Warnings: Strong Language (when Reader scolds the couriers), Intense emotions and yelling, Slightly chaotic confrontation.

Kinich had always been a creature of observation. The wilderness had taught him the value of watching from a distance, to assess, to understand, to plan. He had become skilled at navigating the world quietly, often unnoticed, his calculating eyes scanning his surroundings with the precision of a predator.

Today, however, he found himself drawn into the heart of the village—a place he'd often avoided. The usual bustle of daily life was interrupted by raised voices. Kinich narrowed his gaze, stepping into the shadows of a nearby structure, careful not to be seen. His ears picked up the harsh words before his eyes found their source.

“You’ve lost it again?!”

Your voice rang out like a storm, cutting through the hum of the village. Kinich’s sharp hearing didn’t miss a single word, and the intensity in your tone was unmistakable. His head tilted slightly as he watched you. Normally composed and calculating, today you sounded more like Citlali, the village elder renowned for her temper. The sight of you standing in front of a group of newer couriers—hands clenched into fists, eyes wide with fury—was enough to make even the toughened warriors of the tribe pause.

“I told you once! I told you twice!” Your voice echoed through the air, making the younger couriers shrink back. “You can’t be goofing off while you’re supposed to be working! You think this is a game? You lost packages! You lost letters! And I can’t even count how many times you’ve brought things back damaged!”

Kinich's sharp eyes scanned the group, catching the guilty expressions on the couriers’ faces. He wasn’t surprised—they were young and inexperienced, still learning the weight of responsibility. But the way they flinched under your wrath? That was something new.

He raised an eyebrow, noting that not even Ajaw, who was always nearby, seemed to be around. The relic (?) had a strange way of disappearing when the situation became too chaotic. Kinich had seen it happen before.

“You’ve ruined everything! This is serious!” Your voice escalated, becoming louder and more furious, a storm of anger crashing over the hapless couriers. “We’re supposed to deliver these things with care, with responsibility! Do you understand that?!”

Kinich couldn’t help but smirk to himself, his hands resting lightly on his jacket that's tied around his waist. His cold, calculating demeanor was the opposite of yours—he would never let his emotions slip to such an extent, even in the face of failure. But watching you tear into the couriers like this was strangely fascinating.

He remained hidden in the shadows, observing you with interest as your fury reached its peak. Your frustration was tangible, and for a moment, Kinich felt a rare, fleeting sense of amusement at seeing you like this. It was… unexpected, to say the least.

“Answer me!” you screamed, your voice almost deafening as you stood, fists trembling in anger. Kinich felt the heat of the moment in the air, the tension practically crackling around you.

For the first time since he had started watching, Kinich took a step forward, his presence finally breaking through the chaos. The couriers didn’t even notice him at first, still too caught up in their own unease. But you did. Your fierce eyes immediately locked onto him, your frustration morphing into a mix of confusion and exasperation.

“Kinich,” you said, your voice more composed now, though still filled with irritation. “What are you doing here?”

Kinich’s eyes narrowed slightly, taking in the scene. “I was watching,” he replied simply, his voice low and steady. “You were… quite loud.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing your temples as you turned away from the couriers. “Can’t you see I’m dealing with idiots? They keep screwing up the deliveries and—” You cut yourself off, not wanting to waste any more energy on the mess.

Kinich tilted his head, observing you with an unreadable expression. “You did warn them,” he said, his tone pragmatic as always. “But if they don’t listen, then what is left to do?”

You shot him a glare, though it lacked the venom it had moments before. “I don’t know… maybe I just wanted them to get it before it was too late. But they don’t seem to care about the consequences.”

Kinich’s eyes flicked to the young couriers, who were now awkwardly standing in silence. “They’ll learn eventually,” he said, stepping closer to you. “But maybe you need a different approach. They’re not as experienced as you.”

You let out a frustrated huff, crossing your arms over your chest. “Yeah, well, I’m sick of dealing with their mistakes.”

Kinich regarded you for a moment, his expression unreadable. “It’s not your fault they failed,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a calm, measured tone that was almost foreign to the situation. “But you might need to show them more than just your anger. Teach them what you know. They can learn from you if you guide them.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his words. It wasn’t like Kinich to offer anything resembling advice, let alone the kind of calm wisdom you desperately needed. For a brief moment, there was silence between the two of you, and even the couriers seemed to shrink back slightly under the weight of his words.

You nodded, reluctantly acknowledging the point. “Yeah, I guess… I just… I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Kinich stepped back, his eyes still focused on you, unreadable. “You’ll figure it out,” he said simply. “If you need help… ask.”

With that, he turned away, his footsteps silent against the dirt path. The couriers, for the first time, seemed to breathe a little easier. But your gaze lingered on his retreating form, a strange sense of relief mixed with frustration in your chest. Kinich, with his practical approach and cold demeanor, was never the one to show compassion in the way you might have expected. But for a brief moment, it had felt like… maybe he understood.

[original-person]

immortalized by guilt—

TW: mild themes and descriptions of cannibalism, unhealthy relationships, mentions of death, implied unconsenting cannibalism.

as a mortal, he always knew your time was fleeting. Every moment felt too fast, like your life was slipping right through his fingers and gods he couldn’t fucking stand it. there was no way to save you, no matter how hard he fought, how persistent he was, and time was an indiscriminate reaper who moved without hesitation.

he couldn’t imagine an existence without you. the thought of one day forgetting your voice, your face, your touch— it was too much. how could he find a way to cement you into his brain, immortalize you, keep you safe regardless of the passage of time?

that’s when the idea popped into his head. the safest place you could possibly be, was inside him. yes, this way, you’d be safely tucked away within his being and he’d never have to let you go. you’d be with him till the very bitter end.

your voice cemented in his brain by your screams, your touch etched into his skin from your nails desperately clawing into him, the sickeningly sweet scent of your fresh bone marrow, the image of you would be committed to his memory; every single nerve, muscle, and bone would be meticulously laid out for him to study and consume. the twisting feeling of you desperately trying to claw your way out of his gut will keep you alive inside of him.

your memory will plague his every waking thought for the rest of time. He will never know a moment of peace again. a moment without you ever again. he’ll swear up and down he can still feel your heart beating within him— swear he can feel your lungs rise and fall in the depths of him; swears he always hears your voice echoing in his head.

yes, you’ll haunt him for the rest of eternity. in this way, you’re safe, you’re alive, and most importantly, you’ll never, ever, leave him.

You’ll be immortalized by his guilt, his conscious falling heavy on him as you torment him into his grave.

but at least in this way, even death cannot do you part, because you both are one now.

[original-person]

𝑫𝑶𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑹, 𝑫𝑶𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑹.ᐟ

⟡ content — xiao x gn!reader ; absolute fluff, i'm talking very silly and cute ; baizhu and qiqi appearance ; reader has a massive crush on xiao and it goes utterly over his head ; but xiao is just trying his best to be caring ; 3.2k words

⟡ a/n — xiao lovers please rise 🙂‍↕️ banner art by dsmile9 on twitter!

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In his time as a doctor, Baizhu had seen it all. Every weird and wonderful thing about the human body. Every high and low of the human experience. He thought there was little that could shock him now. However, he was disproven at this very moment when the Conqueror of Demons showed up at Bubu Pharmacy.

There actually didn’t seem to be wrong with the yaksha in terms of ailments. No gaping wounds or visible signs of karmic corruption. Baizhu did observe that he appeared more bashful that usual with how tight his arms were folded across his chest, but he did well to hide it under his stone-faced expression.

What was wrong was that he was standing here.

Willingly standing here.

Not being dragged in a half-conscious state by little Qiqi or another one of his companions who certainly cared about his health more than himself.

If Xiao was at his doorstep, the situation must be rather serious.

“Conqueror of Demons,” he greeted, resting his chin on his hand. “Now, isn’t this a welcome surprise?”

Qiqi hopped down from her stool behind the counter, shuffling towards Xiao with unbelieving eyes. She poked at his leg, checking that it was really the yaksha in the flesh. Xiao let the young girl prod as he unfolded his arms and spoke.

“Baizhu, I need your assistance.”

A request for aid? From the Conqueror of Demons himself? Baizhu stood up straighter, his curiosity changing from amused to serious.

“I-it’s about Y/N.”

Ah, I should have known. Yes, he was familiar with you. The person who had brought Xiao to the pharmacy in the aftermath of a particularly dangerous patrol. He could never forget the worry carved into your face and the tenderness in how you brushed his hair away from his sweat slicked skin. As to your relationship together, he had his internal speculations, but never heard anything official as of yet.

Baizhu nodded. “Qiqi, would you mind closing up the pharmacy early today?”

He looked over at Xiao with a soft smile, “Come with me to the back. We can have a discussion there.”

The room Baizhu led Xiao into was reserved for consultations with patients who had more complicated presentations. The furniture inside were all crafted from the same dark wood with gold embellishments. It contained a bed with white linens, a chest of multiple drawers containing all sorts of herbalist components, a low table for working with accompanying stools and chairs, and a bamboo screen for privacy where a wash bucket and cloth were set up behind.

Rather than sit on the bed or in any available chair, Xiao chose to stand. Baizhu sat in his chair by the table, legs crossed. Qiqi joined them soon after, plopping herself onto a stool.

“What seems to be the problem?” Baizhu asked.

Xiao sighed, brow twisted with concern. It was probably the most emotion he had seen in the yaksha. “Y/N hasn’t been themself lately… I believe they might be ill, but I can’t conclude what the ailment is.”

“And may I ask why you came to me? Wouldn’t it make greater sense to have them see me directly than through a middle man?”

Xiao shook his head. “Each time I’ve asked about the state of their health, they dismiss me.”

“I see…” Baizhu hummed with understanding.

It wasn’t uncommon for people to ask about the condition of their loved ones. But to see the Conqueror of Demons show such care for someone despite his reclusive nature. Curious indeed.

“Well then,” he continued, taking his pen and flicking open a notebook in front of him to a fresh page, “what symptoms have you’ve observed so far?”

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patient has been showing signs of increased clumsiness…

Xiao wasn’t a master at interpreting emotion, but he was adept at observing them. Any flicker of change in someone or something’s manner could be the difference between blocking a strike or being fatally injured. Not that being in mortal danger applied to this situation right now, but the skill was transferrable. Right now, Xiao was observing you from the balcony of his room at Wangshu Inn. You were assiting Verr Goldet with hanging some new decorations far below. The boss, however, had currently been pulled aside to help an elderly couple with directions.

Standing on a step ladder, he watched as you hung up a red colored ornament to one of the lantern poles that lined the deck of the inn. His keen senses spiked. The combination of you on your tippy toes, the unstable structure supporting you, and your focus being entirely on hanging the decoration instead of yourself did not have many positive outcomes. Instantly, Xiao went from being on the topmost floor to behind you. Traces of his teleportation manifesting as green wisps of energy in the air.

You felt the ladder stabilize beneath your. Your heels fell back down as you stood properly.

“Thanks Goldet!” you called over your shoulder before turning around fully to ask, “Tell me, would the flower or butterfly one look better—”

The rest of your question caught in your throat. Verr Goldet was not there behind you. Rather, a certain teal haired protector who you had grown close to.

You were introduced to Xiao by Verr Goldet herself who believed it would be good for you and him to meet. Being apart of the adventurer’s guild meant that you had interacted with many different individuals, and could share your knowledge of the mortal world. As time passed, strangers would turn to acquaintances, then acquaintances would turn into friends. The label of which Xiao himself bestowed upon you on an ordinary afternoon. It made your heart both soar at the heartfelt admission and sink to hear such a definitive term. You always hoped there would be room for something more.

Xiao blinked up at you on the ladder. In a matter of seconds, he saw your eyes go wide with recognition, then your feet slipping against the ladder’s surface. Thankfully, he had reflexes as quick as an electro thunderstorm. You tumbled forward, straight into his arms.

“X-Xiao?!” you squeaked.

He didn’t let you go just yet. Instead, he tightened his hold on you, trying to let the shock of the fall pass over you.

“This ladder is too unbalanced,” he said. “You should be more careful.”

You could only nod. Your brain was more occupied with your proximity to Xiao. How you could see the different shades of amber in the irises of his eyes, and the shape of his lips.

Some part of your consciousness pinched itself, and you whipped your head away.

“I-I didn’t realize. That’s my mistake,” you answered with a sheepish chuckle.

He gave a short sigh before gently letting you stand. The places where his strong grip held you still tingled against your skin.

“Also… the flower one,” Xiao mumbled.

You cocked your head, thinking you had misheard him. “I’m sorry?”

Xiao folded his arms, nodding towards the lantern pole.

“You asked about the decorations. The flower one would… look nice.”

Never had such simple words caused a flutter in your stomach.

If that wasn’t enough, Xiao remained with you, lending a hand where he could. He didn’t want there to be an accident if he had left you alone. What he didn’t expect was that you seemed to be more clumsier as time continued. Unable to step on the ladder without your knees wobbling, tripping over the boxes of decorations, dropping the tools every time you went to hang a decoration up. Considerate as he was, Xiao climbed ladders, moved boxes, and hammered things in place for you without protest. Though, in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but be concerned.

Verr Goldet returned to find the pair hard at work. She observed, amusingly, how obvious you were being about your feelings and how oblivious the other was in seeing them.

Ah, youth, she mused to herself.

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patient has been experiencing raised bodily temperature…

Telling Xiao not to worry was like telling the waters in Chenyu Vale not to flow. It was a simple law of nature; a force unable to be stopped.

“I’m feeling perfectly fine,” you emphasized for a second time.

You were seated on the small sofa in your living room. Beside you, Xiao also sat, straight-backed and gloved hands in his lap.

Xiao had come to your home to visit. Both out of curiosity as to how mortals lived in their own dwellings and curiosity about you. More specifically, why you had been so flushed recently. Whenever he saw you, he noticed the pink that spread from tips of your ears to apples of your cheeks.

“There are signs that show otherwise,” he stated, bluntly.

Ever since that time he helped you decorate the inn, Xiao had been much, much more attentive towards you. Eyes examining you up and down with little subtlety. Under such a gaze, how couldn’t you become hot and bothered?

“I am not familiar with mortal health, but I have noticed you’ve grown more…” Xiao searched for the right descriptor in his head, “…redder, recently.”

Archons, does he know about it?! you thought to yourself with alarm. He turned towards you, and you stifled a yelp. There was no way in Celestia this was how he would find out.

“It may be due to some kind of illness.”

It took a moment for his words to register in your head. An… illness?

Sensing the confusion on your face, Xiao moved nearer until he was right by your side. He lifted a hand up to your forehead, an action he had observed many adults perform on children to assess their temperature. If he was correct in its function, then this should allow him to draw an appropriate conclusion.

Your body locked up.

He was so, so close once again.

“Even now,” the slight gravel of his tone reverberated in your ears, “your face is heating up. It is likely a fever.”

He pulled away. You exhaled a breath that you subconsciously held.

“I can take you to see Baizhu. He will know what to do.”

Xiao stood up, implying that he would take you there right now.

“No, no! There’s absolutely no need!” you protested.

The emphatic rejection made Xiao frown.

“I-it’s nothing that bedrest can’t fix.” you said, attempting to provide a convincing cover. “There’s no need to waste your teleportation powers to transport me.”

“It is no waste if it concerns your health,” he answered.

“You know what,” you shot up from the sofa, “I’ll go to my room right now to get some sleep!”

Xiao opened his mouth, prepared with his own protest. However, you were faster than him in continuing your sentence.

“You should go now, Xiao. I wouldn’t want you to catch whatever sickness I have.”

Though he appreciated your consideration, as an adeptus with a completely different constitution, he was certain mortal ailments would hardly affect him. However, he couldn't explain all that to you with how fast you marched away to your room, leaving him behind.

He saw your head poke out from behind the door of your bedroom.

“Thank you for visiting me!” you called out before shutting the door.

If Xiao knew this word, he would have used it to describe the exact emotion he was feeling at this moment: Flabbergasted.

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patient’s heartrate is frequently elevated…

Even after the fever incident, Xiao, to your relief, still wished to see you. You half expected him to be so bewildered by your actions that he would no longer want to be associated with you. So, you two returned to your ordinary routines of meeting with each other.

Xiao liked having your company in the evenings before he went out on patrol. As you sat on the edge of his bed, you would tell him about your week’s completed commissions. For Xiao, it served many purposes. Tactically, he could get insight any threats to Liyue that he couldn’t detect if you were involved in or overheard any significant commissions. In those first instances of meeting with you, Xiao would have said that that was the only purpose your stories held for him. But, with each passing night, Xiao realized he rather enjoyed hearing your voice. The cadence of your tone soothed him the same way notes played by a skilled musician captured an audience. He then found his lips curving into a hidden smile whenever you described a particularly frustrating encounter. Cheeks puffed in annoyance that drew a word from his vocabulary that he seldom used: cute.

Tonight, however, you appeared to be in no such mood for stories.

You were quiet, slowly flipping through pages of a novel as you read. It wasn’t strange for you to complete your own activity during this time, but Xiao had come to anticipate your conversation. His concerns about your health bubbled to the surface once again.

If he had focused more closely on you, he would have seen that your attention was far from the words on the page. Not looking at Xiao meant your heart could be less out on your sleeve and instead encased within muscle and bone where its supposed to be.

Xiao glanced back at you, eyes glued to the novel. He wouldn’t push it. Maybe this was the rest you were speaking about previously to help you recover.

He grabbed his shoulder armor from the bedside table, preparing to put it on himself using one hand as he had done hundreds of times before.

Two hands grasped the armor, lifting it from his own grasp.

“Let me help you.”

Your voice was delicate, almost hesitant as you reached out.

Xiao wordlessly accepted, sitting down on the bed to grant you easier access. You adjusted the spiked armor piece, making sure it laid flat and the black material beneath was secure around his shoulder.

Whilst you didn’t look up at him, he freely observed you. There was something beneath your avoidant gaze and bitten lower lip he couldn’t quite decipher. At the same time, there was something in his chest that stirred.

So unfamiliar with these new emotions you seemed to bring for him, Xiao could only think in somethings.

“Thank you,” he said. “You are very kind.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “It’s always easier to have someone else helping you out.”

Fitting the amour in place, you went to pull away. Suddenly, Xiao caught your wrist with his hand.

The breath escaped your lungs. You blinked rapidly, wondering if you were imagining all this in your head. Xiao brought two fingers to your wrist, applying light pressure onto your skin.

“Your pulse...” concern laced his voice as he spoke. “It is quite fast.”

How could he even sense such a thing!? You cleared your throat, trying to temper your shock.

“It’s always naturally this high,” you answered as light-hearted as possible.

“Mhm,” Xiao could only hum with mild suspicion.

Willing his jade spear to materialize, Xiao weighed it in his hand, readying for the night’s patrol.

“Look after yourself,” he said gently. “I’ll return tomorrow.”

With a nod and a lilt in your voice you replied, “I know. You always do.”

Xiao headed to the balcony. He did not turn around to face you, and therefore missed your tender gaze and your fingers brushing over your wrist where his gloved touch still lingered on your skin.

Disappearing into the night, Xiao made up his mind. He would go consult Baizhu about your condition and see what the course of action he should take. Surely the well practiced doctor could provide some necessary answers.

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During the first part of Xiao’s recounts, Baizhu had a pretty good guess about what was happening with you. By the halfway point, he wondered if he should even continue feigning writing patient notes.

Xiao finished relaying his information, hands now on his hips—expectantly. “What do you think is happening?”

Baizhu tapped his pen against the page of the notebook. It certainly is a very special type of sickness… he thought to himself. How would Xiao react if he told him he diagnosed you with 'lovesickness'?

“Will Y/N be okay?” Qiqi asked, tugging on Baizhu’s white coat. “I like Y/N. They always give warm hugs.”

The doctor gave a reassuring smile and patted Qiqi’s head. “Yes, they’ll be alright. I’ve made my assessment.”

Xiao prepared himself. If it was serious, he needed to know how to best help you. Comparatively, Baizhu appeared not the least bit troubled. Turning to the adeptus, he drummed his fingers against the table.

“Did you notice a particular trend in the occurrence of these symptoms?”

“A trend?” Xiao repeated, resting his chin on his hand.

Maybe it had to do with the weather? Or something you had eaten on those days?

“Yes, they all seem to happen when you’re there,” Baizhu answered seeing Xiao unable to come to a conclusion. “Being more clumsy, feeling hot, a fast beating heart, but only around a certain someone…”

Xiao’s brows raised. “Am I the cause of Y/N’s illness? Is my karmic debt responsible for this?”

Baizhu shook his head immediately. “No, no, Archons no! I can assure you that these symptoms have nothing to do with your karma.”

He sighed, trying to switch his words. “Rather, it’s more to do with your… character.”

“My character?” Exasperated confusion was permanently affixed to Xiao’s face. “This ambiguity you speak with is unhelpful.”

Baizhu had done some tough things as a doctor. But trying to subtly hint to a somewhat emotionally unaware individual that someone had a crush on him was certainly one of the hardest.

He paused a moment. Was it really his place to reveal this? Wouldn’t it be far better, and more meaningful, for you to tell him on your own?

“Some symptoms that people report are actually very normal parts of everyday living,” he said, adopting his most professional tone. "My recommendation is for you to ask Y/N how they’ve been feeling recently, and to tell them that it’s never healthy to keep things bottled up inside.”

Finally, some advice for Xiao to action.

“You think I should be more direct in my confrontation?” he asked.

“Yes, but not too much to arouse anxiety.”

Xiao nodded thoughtfully. He should have known that it didn’t have to be a physical illness—maybe your symptoms were a manifestation of stress or worry you were experiencing. Talking it out would be a good step. Even if he was not the most skilled at it, he would try anything to help you feel better.

“I will take your advice. Thank you, Baizhu.”

He bowed his head in thanks. Baizhu gave a hum of what sounded like satisfaction.

“Tell me how it all goes, Conqueror of Demons.”

Baizhu’s voice as he spoke was a little too singsong for Xiao’s taste. But, he was one of the best doctors in Liyue, so who was he to second guess his words?

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[original-person]

can I request yan! Xiao fighting his urges to literally *eat* his darling because he loves them so much? Sorry cannibalism is just such a good metaphor for obsession

warnings : yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, implied kidnapping, cannibalism thoughts, xiao's karmic debt, force-feeding, xiao's getting progressively more deranged, long fic sorry (almost 5k words). author's note : ok anon ngl i think you unlocked smth in my brain that instantly made me spend my whole night writing this in one go 💀 but i agree! i think there's so much potential for yan xiao + his karmic debt, paired with his obsession and lack of experience with human relationships, like uuuuuuuugh i don't think i perfectly explained my thoughts here nor did i delve into things i wanted to, even though this one is huge 😭

the pain is getting worse.

it gnaws at the marrow of his bones, threads itself through every breath, coils around his ribs and squeezes. a weight, unbearable and inescapable. he knows this suffering like an old friend, but lately, it has been changing.

there is another hunger buried beneath the agony. one that does not belong to the stains of karmic debt, that cannot be blamed on the sins of his past. it is sharper. more unbearable. and it has a name. you.

he doesn’t know when it began. perhaps it was the first time you spoke his name without fear. or the first time your fingers brushed his wrist in passing, leaving warmth where he has only known cold. perhaps it was always there, waiting, lurking, festering beneath his skin like a sickness that only worsens with time.

he tells himself to stay away. he tells himself that this is dangerous. that you should not be near something like him—something broken, something cursed. but then night falls, and the pain becomes unbearable, and the only thing that soothes the madness clawing at his mind is the thought of you. so he watches.

at first, it was only from a distance. ensuring your safety, eliminating any threats before they could ever reach you. but soon, he found himself lingering, his body rooted in place even after the danger had passed. listening to the soft rhythm of your breath as you slept, tracing the shape of your silhouette through the blankets covering your body.

then came the dreams. the things his mind conjured in the quiet moments when he was weak. your voice, breathless against his ear. the warmth of your body caged beneath his own. the way you would say his name if he let himself have you, if he let himself take—

xiao wakes with his hand wrapped tight around his weapon, panting, aching, trembling with a need that is not his own. the weight of karmic debt should make him sick. should remind him that this is not something he is meant to have, that this is not something he deserves. and yet—he is growing greedy.

each time he sees you, it becomes harder to resist. the space between you is unbearable. he hates the mortals who take your attention, hates the way they steal your laughter, your smiles, your time. he hates that they can be close to you while he must remain in the shadows, watching, waiting, suffering. but he could change that. all he would have to do is take you, in every way possible.

it is an intrusive thought, one that should repulse him, one that should make him recoil in horror. but it doesn’t. it settles in his chest, makes a home in his mind, whispers to him when he watches you from the rooftop of wangshu inn. it is not fear that curls in his gut when he thinks of you in his arms. it is something else. something darker. his hands flex at his sides, aching to touch.

would you scream if he took you? would you hate him? or would you understand that this is the only way? that he has spent too long suffering, too long resisting? that he cannot fight this anymore?

his vision pulses at the thought, and something inside him snaps. the pain of his karmic debt no longer matters. the only thing that matters is you. and xiao is done waiting.

tonight, he is weaker than before. his self-control frays, unraveling thread by thread. the karmic debt surges, blackening his vision, poisoning his thoughts, and suddenly, standing outside is not enough. he needs to be closer. needs to see you, feel you, know that you are real beneath his hands.

he moves before he can stop himself.

the window slides open without a sound. he slips inside, barely more than a shadow in the dark. the room is filled with your scent—warm, comforting, intoxicating. his head spins. he shouldn’t be here. he shouldn’t—his knees press against the edge of your bed.

you shift slightly in your sleep, your face peaceful, oblivious. he clenches his fists. he should leave. he should go before he does something unforgivable.

but then you sigh, so calm, so softly, so clueless of the man so close to you. he cannot take this anymore. his fingers brush against your skin, trembling. you are so warm, so fragile. he could break you so easily. but he won’t. he would never. he only wants to keep you safe. he only wants to keep you his.

when you wake, it is not in your bed. the room is unfamiliar—dimly lit, silent save for the soft rustle of fabric. the air smells of incense, of something old and unchanging. your limbs feel heavy, mind sluggish as reality settles in. you are not alone.

a figure sits in the corner, watching. gold eyes gleam in the low light, unblinking, unreadable. but you know who they belong to. xiao.

your breath catches. your pulse pounds against your ribs, but he does not move. he only watches, his expression unreadable, his gaze heavy with something dark, something you cannot name. “where—” your voice cracks. you swallow hard, trying again. “where am i?”

xiao exhales, slow and measured. “safe.”

you push yourself upright, the sheets slipping from your shoulders, and his gaze flickers—lower, then back to your face. his fingers twitch against his thighs. there is something restrained about him, something barely held back.

“this isn’t—” you shake your head, fear creeping into your voice. “xiao, i need to go home.”

his jaw tightens. the silence stretches, suffocating. then, finally, he speaks. “you are home.”

his words settle over you like a cage. you do not understand the depths of his obsession. not yet. but you will. you have always belonged to him.

the today turned into tomorrow, and tomorrow turned into an endless amount of time. the sky never changes, the silence stretching endlessly. you do not know how long you’ve been trapped in xiao’s adeptal realm—only that the outside world has long since faded into something distant, something unreachable.

although, ever since your first time here, your ‘relationship’ with xiao hasn’t improved that much. if anything, it festers. a good thing for you, a nightmare for xiao. he does not speak much, does not touch you, save the times he made you eat something—you tried one time not to eat for a whole day, but it just ended with him shoving the spoon with food inside your mouth—or when you need to go to the bathroom, these are the only times he allows himself close to you.

lately, something has changed. his restraint is fraying, his control slipping in ways he cannot seem to stop. you first noticed it when he started lingering too long, his eyes darker, the space between you shrinking. and then, the baths began.

he does not look at you when he lowers himself into the water, his movements precise, controlled—painfully so. his skin is flushed, his breath slow and deliberate. his hands remain at his sides, as if holding himself back takes every ounce of his strength. he has not touched you. not yet.

but you can feel it. the way his restraint wavers, the way his hunger coils beneath the surface. it is only a matter of time.

the water ripples around him, faint waves licking against his skin, but his focus is elsewhere.

your bare shoulders glisten under the soft light, droplets tracing slow, winding paths down your skin. he does not look, but he feels it—feels your warmth in the space between you, in the air thick with steam and something unspoken, something dangerous.

this is wrong. and yet, he does not move away.

you shift, stretching out your legs, and the movement sends a ripple through the water, lapping against his arms. xiao inhales sharply, his muscles coiling so tightly it hurts. his nails bite into his palms.

his gaze secretly roamed your form, almost unnoticeable, except that you could feel the weight of his eyes. xiao notices the beauty marks and moles you have splattered on your body, memorizes every curve, and how soft your skin looks.

there is no explanation that does not expose the sickness festering inside him, the unbearable hunger clawing at his control, poisoning his thoughts with something possessive, something selfish.

softly, so softly it nearly drowns beneath the lapping water—you murmur, “are you going to hurt me?”

a sharp exhale. his head snaps up, gold eyes burning into yours, something dark and unreadable churning beneath the surface. his throat tightens. hurt you?

the thought alone is enough to twist his stomach, to make his grip on reality splinter at the edges. he could never. he would sooner rip himself apart than let harm come to you. and yet—his restraint is breaking.

he has been careful, has done everything in his power to keep his distance, to silence the thoughts that make him weak, the desires that make him unbearable. but every day, it gets harder. every second spent in your presence tightens the noose around his throat, suffocating, inescapable.

it should not be like this. you should not be here. but you are. and he is unraveling.

“no.” the word is hoarse, choked, ripped from his throat like it pains him. he swallows hard, shaking his head. “never.”

your gaze lingers on him, cautious, unreadable. he can see it—the war waging in your mind, the uncertainty, the way your body remains tense despite his answer. it wounds him more than it should. but more, because deep down, he knew he would, it was just a matter of time. he does not know how to fix this, how to fix him.

but he knows one thing. he cannot let you go. not when he has already come this far. not when the thought of losing you feels like something far worse than death.

lately, xiao has been feeling strange. his karmic debt has never been this bad, but the way he craves you—physically, carnally—has deeply worst. being close is not enough, touching you is not enough, he needs to crawl under your skin, needs to turn into an amalgamate with you, know how every muscle of your body is, how the pressure of your blood feels, how strong it is, and worst of all—how you taste.

he doesn’t know why, it just feels right. he wants you, of course he wants you, but maybe he’s wanting in ways that are not usual. but he doesn’t want to hurt you, he would never forgive himself, and yet, forgiveness has never been meant for him.

xiao's fingers twitch at his sides, his breath barely steady, shallow, like something inside him is fracturing at the seams. you sit across from him, your back turned, your shoulders drawn in. your perfectly shaped shoulders, the trapezius and deltoid contouring it, with the fat placed just right. 

if he bites you there, would you punch him? how would you scream? how loud would you scream? and if he bites you hard enough to bleed, how much blood would you lose?

of course, a bite wouldn’t kill you from hemorrhage, xiao’s aware of that, but the thought of biting you, and tasting the droplets of blood that eventually would leak off it, the unmistakable metallic taste, how good is it? maybe, just maybe, would it be sweetly metallic? or the usual bitterness? he thinks you’re oh so sweet, even your blood might be sweetened.

he shakes his head, placing a had on it. he should leave. he should force himself to step out, to put space between you before he does something unforgivable.

but he doesn't. he stays, barely breathing, barely thinking cohesive—only feeling. his skin burns, his throat dry, his restraint a fragile, splintering thing that no longer listens to reason. he wants. he wants too much.

his fingers curl against his palms, nails biting into flesh, but the pain does nothing to ground him. not when the scenarios in his head cloud his senses, thick and dizzying, not when his mind is drowning in images of how you would feel, how you would sound, how you would break beneath him—

he exhales, ragged, sharp, almost pained. you stiffen. he sees it, even without looking. you do not turn around, do not speak. but your body betrays you. you know somethings off with him.

xiao has fought monsters for centuries, has slaughtered creatures beyond mortal comprehension, yet nothing—nothing—has ever terrified him as much as this.

this hunger. this sickness. this unbearable, wretched need that festers inside him, rotting him from the inside out. he cannot let it consume him. not when you are here.

not when the line between protection and destruction is already so blurred, so close to breaking.

but you turn to face him, lips parted, eyes wary, trying to scan his true intentions, the rotten portrayals of his sins inside his brain.

“xiao.” your voice is quiet, uncertain. but your gaze does not waver. “what’s wrong with you?”

everything. everything is wrong. and for the first time in his life, he is powerless to stop it. he wants to touch you. he wants to devour you, in every way the word means.

his hand slowly reaches in your direction, but it stops.

suspended. trembling. the space between you is unbearably small, a breath away from something irreversible. his fingers hover near yours, uncertain, unwilling—afraid. you don’t move. you don’t pull back. you don’t flinch, even as something in xiao’s expression twists into something ugly, something not meant for the daylight.

why aren’t you afraid?

his stomach coils at the thought, sick and tight. does he want you to fear him? no. no, he doesn’t. he is meant to protect you, to keep you safe. but then, why does it feel like he’s standing at the edge of a precipice, waiting for you to fall? why does he feel like a predator, waiting—starving—for him to come closer to you? the thought alone should be enough to disgust him, to send him fleeing, but it doesn’t. it only makes his fingers twitch, makes his breathing turn shallow and sharp, makes him crave something deeper, something worse.

his hand moves before he can stop it, the backs of his knuckles grazing against the soft flesh of your skin, the smallest, most insignificant touch—yet it feels like it burns, feels like it will tear him apart. his entire body is wound too tight, his restraint splintering under its own weight. he should pull away. he should force himself to turn, leave, run. but he fails at it, his desires speaking louder than the logic.

his hand wanders a little to the side, his thumb brushing your lips, your perfectly sculptured lips. it’s nothing, just a touch, just the briefest contact, but it is everything to him.

his breath came out in ragged, uneven gasps. his mind is reeling, his thoughts tangled, torn between two opposing forces—stay, leave, take, run, devour, protect. the contradiction rips him apart, and his body screams at him for retreating, for moving away from you when every fiber of his being is telling him to close the space, to pull instead of push, to take instead of deny.

"xiao—"

your voice is soft, uncertain, laced with something that makes his stomach twist tighter. it’s concern. you are concerned for him. you shouldn’t be.

his head jerks up, his breath heaving, his entire frame coiled with tension. he knows what he must look like—wild, frenzied, something barely holding itself together. but still, you do not back away. you do not cower. is it because you’re scared? or you are trying to understand him?

understanding. yes, of course you are trying to understand him. you’ve been together for so long, of course you would be wanting to get to know him someday! the realization makes something in xiao snap.

his entire body is trembling, he can hear his own heartbeat—loud, deafening, hammering against his ribs like it wants to break free. and here you are. close. unmoving. searching his face for answers he doesn’t have the strength to give.

your fingers curl slightly at your sides, your lips part as if to say something, but no words come out. you’re watching him, observing him, waiting for him, and he doesn’t understand why. don’t you see what he is? don’t you understand what he could do to you?

his teeth clench. he can taste copper on his tongue—his own blood, from where he must have bitten too hard. but it isn’t enough. the pain isn’t enough. nothing is enough.

you shift your weight, adjusting your stance ever so slightly, and it takes every ounce of strength in xiao’s body to not react. his entire body is taut, stiff, coiled with a tension that has nowhere to go.

his breathing is erratic, his vision sharp, focused on you—your throat, your wrists, the way the pulse flutters just beneath your skin. his mind is a mess of static, of conflicting impulses, of thoughts he does not want to acknowledge, but cannot suppress.

he needs to leave. he needs to leave.

his body moves before his mind catches up. a blur of motion—sudden, forceful, instinct-driven. he is there in an instant, too fast for you to react, too overwhelming to resist. one hand grips your shoulder, the other pressing against the small of your back, pinning you in place.

a startled gasp escapes you, sharp and quick, but it’s lost beneath the sound of his own breathing, ragged and uneven against your ear. he doesn’t know what he’s doing. he doesn’t care what he’s doing.

you are close. too close. and yet, it isn’t close enough.

his lips ghost over your shoulder, breath searing hot against your skin. he can feel the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way your body tenses under his touch. but you don’t fight him. you don’t struggle, maybe out of fear, but to xiao’s own sake, to him is because you accept him—just like he accepts you. and that is what dooms you both.

his jaw tightens, his grip turning almost bruising, and before he can stop himself—he bites.

his teeth sink into flesh, sharp and unrelenting, breaking through skin with a force that is too much, too deep, too wrong. he tastes it instantly—warm, metallic, unmistakably you. and gods—

his body seizes, a shudder rolling through him so intense it nearly forces him to his knees. his mind is blank, lost in the sensation, drowning in it. the taste of you, the way you scream, the way you tremble against him—it is intoxicating, overwhelming, unbearable.

you jerk in his grasp, a sharp inhale cutting through the air. he should stop. he knows that. but he doesn’t. his grip tightens, holding you firm, and he bites down harder—not enough to maim, but enough to hurt. enough to leave a mark. enough to the blood coming out of it to feed his fantasies.

your name leaves his lips in a breathless, wrecked sound, half a whisper, half a growl. his tongue swipes over the broken skin, over the crimson staining your shoulder, and the taste alone makes his head swim, his senses spiral, his restraint—his fragile, delicate restraint—crumble into dust.

he does not move away. he does not apologize. he cannot. because for the first time in his existence, xiao feels alive.

your shoulders bear the evidence of him now—biting scars, faint but unmistakable, the imprint of desperation and indulgence carved into your skin.

he doesn’t do it often, doesn’t let himself, doesn’t trust himself to have that kind of control. but there are nights when the weight of his karmic debt is suffocating, pressing down on him so violently that even you can feel it, a phantom ache that coils around your chest like chains, constricting, unyielding.

those are the nights when he clings to you, trembling hands gripping your arms, his breathing erratic against the crook of your neck, his body a raw, frenzied thing barely holding itself together. and those are the nights when you already know—when you steel yourself for the inevitable, when you brace for the sting of his teeth sinking into your flesh, a sharp, burning pressure that lingers for days, the kind of pain that dulls into something bittersweet.

you don’t stop him. you never do. because no matter how deep he bites, no matter how his lips tremble against your skin before he pulls away, looking utterly wrecked in the aftermath, you’re still afraid, especially now. he doesn’t look sane enough to even dare try to stop him, scared of how he might react.

he always looks the same when he gazes at you afterward—eyes wide, glassy with guilt, hands hesitant as if he has no right to touch you anymore—when he whispers i’m sorry in a voice so fragile you barely hear it, you realize, not for the first time, that xiao’s pain has never been his alone to bear.

it used to be enough—the fleeting touches, the stolen bites, the taste of your skin lingering on his tongue, copper-tinged and searing. but lately, it is no longer enough. nothing is enough. xiao has always been ruled by hunger, by suffering, by the insurmountable weight of his karmic debt pressing into him like a blade to the throat. he was prepared for a lifetime of torment, for an existence of nothing but pain. but this is something different. this is not suffering. it is yearning. and it is unbearable.

it’s not as simple as ‘go, take a bite, taste the blood, and leave’ anymore, it’s more profound, more fleshlily. the curiosity about what’s inside your body getting worse, just like his obsession with you.

with how perfect you are to him, would your organs hold up to it? or something simpler: how would your skin layers be? he doesn’t question himself these questions because he’s a crazy person, no, he just loves you oh so much that he wants, needs, to know every inch of your body—from the top of your toes to the last hair strand, from the inside to the outside, from the start of his breath to the last of his sigh.

xiao knows this is wrong. he knows the way his thoughts twist and turn, the way his desires coil into something sickly and insatiable, is not normal. not human. but then again, he has never been human, never been meant for something as soft as love, as indulgent as touch. and yet, you have carved a space for yourself inside him, an intrusion so profound that his very being has begun to warp around it, around you.

he watches you when you sleep. he is not proud of it, but shame has long lost its meaning in the face of his obsession. you are so still, so peaceful, oblivious to the way he hovers over you, gaze tracing the slope of your shoulders, the soft rise and fall of your chest. he has memorized you from the outside—every curve, every scar, every place he has touched and marked. but it is not enough. he wants to know more. he needs to. the thought slithers through him like a curse, quiet but insistent, embedding itself in the marrow of his bones.

how deep does your warmth go? how much of your flesh would yield under his hands? would the softness give way to something firmer beneath? muscle? tendon? bone? would the color of your insides be as beautiful as your exterior? would your heart stutter beneath his palm if he pressed down, if he held you too tight, if he—

his fingers twitch at the thought, and he forces himself to take a breath, sharp and uneven. no. he cannot think like this. he cannot. he has spent centuries fighting the urge to destroy, to ravage, to tear things apart before they can be torn from him. you are not his to ruin. and yet, even as he tells himself this, his gaze remains fixed on you.

you shift slightly in your sleep, the movement small, unconscious. your head tilts just enough to expose more of your shoulder, the same shoulder that bears the scars of his previous indulgences, the ghost of his teeth still faintly visible even now. his breath hitches. he shouldn’t. he knows he shouldn’t. but when has he ever been able to resist you?

before he even realizes he’s moving, his lips are against your skin, barely a whisper of contact. he tells himself it is just this—just a touch, just a stolen moment, just something to take the edge off the insatiable hunger gnawing at his insides. but it is never just this. his mouth parts, his breath shaky as he presses a kiss against the mark he left last time, against the proof of his weakness. and then—before reason can stop him, before guilt can drag him away—his teeth sink in.

your body jerks instantly, a sharp inhale escaping you, but his hands are already on you, one curling around your wrist, the other pressing against your waist, keeping you still. the taste of you floods his senses, metallic and searing, the warmth of your blood pooling against his tongue. the sensation is dizzying, heady, makes his fingers tighten against your skin, makes his nails dig in a little too hard, makes his body tremble with something he cannot name.

are there any remains of your skin cells in his teeth now?

you whimper. the sound spears through him like a blade, striking something raw and vulnerable, and he pulls away as if burned. his lips part from your skin, and the sight of it—the fresh imprint of his teeth, the way your blood beads at the edges—destroys him. his chest heaves, his vision blurs, and the moment the realization of what he’s done settles in, he wants to vanish. to disappear into the night, to never face the horror in your eyes when you fully wake and understand.

but he cannot move. his body betrays him, keeps him frozen, his fingers still pressed against you, as if some part of him believes he can mend what he has broken just by holding on. and then—just as he knew it would—you stir, your breath uneven, your voice barely above a whisper.

“xiao…?”

it is his undoing, all of this is his undoing. the strength in his fingers bleeds away, as if drained by the weight of his own guilt, leaving nothing but the fragile tremor in his hands as he pulls back. he cannot bring himself to move any farther. his body feels heavy, leaden, as if bound by invisible chains, and the only thing he can do is lower himself onto the edge of your bed, hands braced against his knees, head bowed, shoulders drawn tight with the unbearable pressure of what he has done.

"leave the bedroom." it comes out hoarse, barely above a whisper. his own body betrays him, his entire form leaning forward despite his own command, as if something deep inside him is begging—please, don’t leave, don’t hate me.

but you must. if you don’t, if you linger even a second longer, if you keep looking at him like that, he will do something unforgivable.

he clenches his fists so tightly his nails bite into his palms, but the pain does nothing to ground him. if he speaks, the words will come out wrong. they will come out hungry. they will come out like the sickness that festers inside him, rotting, spreading, unstoppable.

your brows knit together, lips parting, hesitation evident on your face. but then, you nod. and you step away.

xiao does not move. his body remains frozen in place, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as he watches you turn toward the door. every step you take feels like a hammer to his skull, like a blade to his gut, a part of him screaming at him to stop you, pull you back, keep you here where you belong—

but he cannot. this is what must happen. this is what is truly safe. the moment the door clicks shut behind you, xiao collapses to his knees.

his breath comes out in sharp, ragged gasps, his hands trembling where they dig into the wooden floor, nails cracking the surface. his body is shaking, his thoughts are a frenzy, a whirlwind of too much, too close, too dangerous. his throat is raw, his skin fever-hot, the hunger inside him gnawing at his ribs, carving into his bones. he is not himself. he is something else, something worse.

you are gone. you are safe. and yet—still, he wants to chase you. he wants to indulge in his wishes, but he’s too afraid. too afraid that his worst nightmare would turn into reality—you would be hurt and he would be the reason.

[original-person]

nibbling on you

TW: mentions of light biting/nibbling. mostly fluff. Innocent intentions! He swears!

xiao nibbling on your shoulder whenever he’s stressed/his karmic debt is weighing heavy on him that night. softly taking your wrist between his teeth to soothe himself. at this point you don’t even notice it, it’s just something he does. peculiar? yes. to give him some grace he has like no social skills whatsoever.

although he may just nibble on you out of affection, like cobbing. It’s not meant to hurt, just to show affection with the only relationship skills he has. which are, underdeveloped for lack of a better term.

Mind you this is only after you two have been together for A WHILE. It takes him a long time to even hold your hand without asking permission first so take that how you will. take it easy on him, he’s been a virgin for like a millennia lmao.

[original-person]

Just wondering how would yan xiao react when finding out his darling is immortal? Like they have an ability to hide it but accidentally let it slip and he catches wind(pun not intended lol) of it while stalking them?

warnings : yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, stalking. author's note : it was really fun to think about what would xiao be overthinking of reader! now his enemy isn't humanity, but immortality itself lol

it was a mistake. a single, fleeting moment of carelessness—an offhand remark, a misplaced reaction, a wound that should have festered but barely bled. you should have noticed the way his gaze lingered, sharp and unreadable, how his movements slowed as if processing something wrong, something impossible. but you were too distracted, too caught up in whatever mundane task you had been doing to see the shift in him.

now, in the dead of night, you feel it—the weight of a presence just beyond your reach, pressing against the edges of your awareness like a blade against skin. someone’s watching.

xiao had always watched you, a silent shadow lurking at the periphery of your life, his presence subtle yet inescapable. at first, it had been an act of protection. or at least, that’s what he told himself. you were fragile, human, at the mercy of a world that did not care for your existence. he was simply ensuring your safety, ensuring that no harm would come to you. but over time, that justification had unraveled, thread by thread, until all that remained was a raw, insatiable need—one he could neither name nor deny.

he knew your routines. knew how you hummed under your breath when you thought no one was listening, how you chewed your lip when you were lost in thought, how your fingers curled ever so slightly when you were on the verge of sleep. he knew everything.

or so he thought.

tonight, the revelation sinks into him like a sickness, twisting in his gut, burning behind his ribs. you are not human.

he replays it over and over in his mind, searching for the flaw in his memory, for proof that he had misheard, miscalculated. but no—there is no mistake, no illusion to blame. you had healed too quickly. you had spoken too casually of a time long before you should have been born. you had let the truth slip through the cracks of your carefully crafted facade, never once considering that someone was listening.

and now, xiao cannot stop thinking about it.

how long have you walked this earth? how many lifetimes have you seen? how many people have you let close, only to watch them wither and fade while you remained unchanged?

the thoughts are unbearable, a festering wound in the deepest part of him. xiao had always lived with the certainty that mortality would take you from him one day—that no matter how fiercely he fought against it, time itself would be the enemy he could never defeat. he had resigned himself to the agony of losing you, to the inevitability of your absence, to the knowledge that no matter how tightly he held onto you, you would slip through his fingers in the end.

but this—this is something else entirely.

you will not wither. you will not break. you will not be taken from him by the cruel passage of time. and yet, that does not bring him relief.

because now he wonders—if you have lived for so long, if you have endured ages upon ages without him, then what is he to you? a passing moment? a temporary distraction? a fleeting indulgence before you move on, just as you have moved on from countless others?

the thought sends a violent shudder through him. no. he will not be just another name lost in the eternity of your existence. he will not be reduced to a mere memory, forgotten as easily as a dream upon waking.

you do not know that he is here. you do not know that your secret is no longer yours alone to keep. you do not know how deeply he is unraveling, how close he is to reach out, to wrap himself around you, to ensure that you never leave, never stray, never forget him.

for the first time, xiao is not afraid of losing you to death. now, he fears losing you to eternity. and he will not allow it.

[original-person]

freezing the moment • kinich x gn!reader

“It never snows in Natlan. Does that mean nobody will experience love here?”

It started with a silly sentence you read in a silly book. One’s first love is the person with whom one experiences the year’s first snow, it said.

It was indeed stupid. Your question, and the statement itself.

Yet, when Kinich thought about his mom and dad— he found himself thinking that it might be true after all. 

It was either right or what he longed for wasn’t love. Because the situation at home clearly was not what he desired.

Noticing how the usually quiet boy remained silent, you sighed. Was he bored? Okay, you can try to change the subject a little bit.

“I’ve never heard anyone have a Cryo vision either. Does that mean since we are in the nation of war, there is no place for love…? Ah, Snezhnaya must be a wonderful place. That's probably why it snows a lot there, right, since it's the land of love? I am so jealous.”

That finally made him speak, to your delight. If he hadn't, it might have flustered you— though since it was Kinich, you wouldn't have minded too much.

Or maybe you would have. He was so good in your eyes that you wouldn’t want to be an embarrassment next to him.

“A rumor says that someone named Granny Citlali from Night Wind’s has a Cryo vision.”

Ah, okay! A new topic, one that he chose to talk about too. You can work with that.

“Do you think she would make it snow if we asked? For fun?”

Seeing your excited eyes and hearing the curiosity in your voice, he paused just for a second before shaking his head.

“They say that she is super scary as well.”

Boo! 

“I’ll make her like me then, trust!”

His gaze lingered on you longer than it should. Though you were so busy talking about a character in your book that came off scary, just like the said elderly, but was a huge softie instead— you didn’t notice how his eyes softened.

He trusted you, without any doubts.

Because before you met him, he too had been perceived as intimidating and scary.

So yes, you could definitely make her like you.

Just like you had with him.

As you both grew older, you realized that you had been too carefree back then.

Because now that he was a saurian hunter— no, on top of that; now that he bore the name ‘Malipo’ you didn't see him around much.

Nothing changed between the two of you, of course. But the environment itself changed, unfortunately. And that made a huge difference. Because now your time with him was ten times more precious, maybe a hundred, which means that even every millisecond you spent together should be cherished.

Now, today, it was by pure luck that you guys ran into each other while doing commissions today. It was a rare sight, not that you minded, of course. You truly missed him over the past few days.

Although it was work, you were minding your business, and you knew Kinich was also doing the same. Fitting. The one who wasn’t minding their own business was Ajaw, apparently. Very fitting, indeed.

“Ugh, how long is this going to take? Might I remind you that I have places to be!”

Well, here we go again.

“Oh yeah, what places?”

Kinich's tone made you crack a smile, it was endearing seeing him like this. Since you two never bickered, their odd dynamic always was full of surprises.

While Ajaw was talking about his fans and Kinich reminding him that they are nonexistent, you simply enjoyed the moment.

And it was good while it lasted, you must say— until a hidden domain you stumbled upon ruined the moment.

The wind wasn’t like the warm breeze at the top of the mountains during the sunset; it was cold.

Natlan was never cold. Never.

As soon as Kinich noticed the change of the air, the jacket that had been loosely wrapped around his waist suddenly found its place on your shoulders. His expression was indifferent.

You, on the other hand, were caught off guard. Flinching slightly at the sudden weight, the warmth quickly crept up to your cheeks. To your displeasure, Ajaw noticed this, he mumbled a quiet ‘disgusting’ and vomited some rainbows. (Spoiler: You might want to deal with him once and for all today.)

Kinich wasn’t known for his words; his actions always spoke louder.

It was his silent way of showing he cared, you noted. He really didn’t change, after all. 

While you two walked through the domain, the chilly demeanor of the domain grew even cooler. Well, if you want to look at it from the bright side, the distance between you and the saurian hunter nearly vanished. His arm brushed against yours from time to time. Though both of you were cold, his skin felt warm— weirdly warm.

When you noticed how his nose was a little bit reddish too, you decided to joke about it a bit. He looked cute, you wouldn’t see the famous Malipo like this often. Why waste the chance to play around a little?

Well, the universe had different plans, just as you were going to comment about it; you slipped. Slipped? Yeah, dragging Kinich into the fall too. You were playing around, alright. 

His hand was at the back of your head, protecting it from the harsh impact it could have gotten. And on top of that— no, let’s rephrase this. On top of you, there was Kinich. 

Wow. Way to go.

Embarrassed, you were so ready to apologize but the sudden coldness you felt on your cheek made you stop. 

The saurian hunter’s shoulders stiffened, his hair, one that is highlighted with orange and green, was now painted white. 

It was snowing.

It was snowing, each snowflake delicate and fleeting— just like the moments you two had and still continued to have.

It felt like the time had stopped— in such a way that the snow froze it, just for the two of you. Just as if giving you the chance to treasure it.

His eyes, which looked like the sunrise in the forest, were locked on you. His breath was caught up on his throat, it seemed (since the usual puff of mist didn’t escape from him). And it did make you more nervous.

Your back was getting cold despite his jacket, and also a little bit wet too. Now you realize what you two were walking on was a frozen lake. Can’t blame you for falling, really.

The whole domain was cold as ice, the pounding on your chest made it impossible to feel it. 

It was warm. Being near Kinich was warm. The memories you two shared were warm. His gaze was warm. He was warm, and he was also making you feel warm.

The feelings you harbored for Kinich, were warm. 

It seems like it wasn’t a silly book nor a silly quote after all.

And when his eyes dropped to your lips for a millisecond(one that should be cherished), a sneeze interrupted you two from a distance.

“Achoo.”

Oh, Ajaw. 

𖤐⭒๋࣭ ⭑ notes!

☆ another work that might get rewritten </3 i swear it sounded better in my head JDHJWJEKFFLES anyway ! ( + not proofread, feel free to correct any mistakes if there is any <: )

☆ i started writing this when it started snowing in the city I live in, it's been 3 years since it last snowed here (there was an albedo event back then, too... guys albedo brainrot is so real that i might drop the draft i've been working on for the past week HDFJWHKFWL), and now the snow has melted haha. great timing to finish the work i guess (,:

☆ i also forgot citlali existed at first ): literally wrote 300 words about "the poeple of the nation of war doesn't have a place for love" theory...

☆ nevermind that, hope you enjoyed it !

[original-person]

A Mate’s Special Touch

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Contains/Warnings: tiny bit of angst (his wings being gone, we all know he would’ve had them), clingy Xiao (self indulgent sue me), mentions of bird habits and mating

A/N: Saw a yt short about the difference between petting vs stroking ur birds and the meaning and I was suddenly inspired

Song this is named for: None

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

He didn’t let people get close to him. It was more a fear of contaminating them with his karmic debt then being antisocial, and that was what he told people such as the Traveler. It was the truth mostly, so he didn’t care.

But when you came around and you, like those other rare people, squeezed in through the barriers around his heart, he wouldn’t let anybody but you touch him. In fact, he tried to seek it out and ask for it in his own ways- light brushes of skin on skin, leaning against you, holding you a bit tighter when you wanted a hug. There was something special about your touch and he loved it. Craved it, even, after oh-so long of no touch, hardly any contact.

Anytime anybody- and he meant anybody- but you tried to touch him, even the Traveler, he would puff up like a bird and glare at them. He may not have had wings to puff up for intimidation anymore, but he sure tried. Even the slightest brush made him grumble indignantly and want to scrub his skin, but he wanted you to touch him, to stroke his hair or his back.

You could feel, under his clothes, hidden carefully, the stubs of wings. The broken bone, the still tender skin. He wishes he still has his wings to tuck you into. He knows you would’ve loved them, would’ve helped to preen his feathers into place, would’ve cuddled into them. But they’re gone now, taken from him cruelly.

You still love him despite the scars, the marks, the imperfections. And he adores you for it. He leaves you gifts, anything he thinks you’ll like, on the railing of your room balcony. Sometimes you’ll find him perched there at nighttime. He likes it more than the balcony most people look for him on, because you’ve decorated even the balcony.

When you speak even the first two letters of his name he’s there, already tucked under your arm. Your touch is like a soothing balm on his corrupted soul. Some nights he’s so worried about his karmic debt hurting you, especially with how much skin-on-skin contact you have with him. For hours he’ll struggle to keep himself away from you, from your touch and your cuddles.

But he eventually succumbs to the want to cuddle up and be content like a bird tucked under their mother’s wing. You stroke his hair, he likes that more then when you pet him like an animal- he tends to bare his little fangs at you when you do that, but he learned the hard way not to do that when you giggles about his ‘little teefies’ for several minutes.

And you don’t learn about this until you get a book about birds to learn more about his bird like tendencies, but birds only let their mates stroke them like that. Pets are platonic, but certain birds only let their mate stroke them all over. And then it clicks- the gifts, the baring of fangs when you tried to pat his head once, the happy little cooing noises when you run your hands over his back or sides, the clinginess. And when you take into account whenever even the Traveler or Mr Zhongli tries to touch him he’ll puff up and bare his fangs, but he’s always fine with your touch, it makes sense.

And now that you know what it means it’s utterly adorable. How could you not be charmed by that? That he only wants your touch? You love him even more, doting on him with kisses and more touches and making him almond tofu whenever. It’s never really official when you start dating, but the sudden appearance of lots and lots of bites and nibbles on your neck and the altogether too pleased look on Xiao’s normally emotionless face is enough for most of the people working at the inn to put two and two together.

[original-person]

˚୨୧⋆｡🍓˚ "I have been living for an eternity, yet I only feel alive when I see you."

includes: xiao! x reader. 1.9k wc. becoming xiao's world, one step at a time. twist at the end. [ mentions of death, slight mentions of reader liking skirts/makeup, adoration before devastation lol ]

a/n: started this for lantern rite but didn't finish it on time. been going through a writing slump lately and just needed to indulge in xiao again to find that comfort of familiarity. he is my beloved :) first time writing for genshin here so I don't have any expectations, just need xiao in my blog hehe

for thousands of years, the world had turned beneath xiao, each rotation bringing nothing but devastation and calamity. he had seen empires rise and collapse, the stars shift their positions in the sky, and mountains crumble into dust. for him, the measure of time had far ceased and was merely an additional backdrop to the eternal solitude that defined his life.

until you changed everything.

the first time he saw you; it was in the midst of a brutal downpour of rain. it soaked everything in the path, including you and your frantic search for your beloved cat. you were shaking from the cold and looked helpless. he noticed the little creature with mild difficulty, trembling on a high brittle branch atop a river.

he was clearly injured, with tattered skin on his arms, his breathing manual, and yet—he carried himself over to finish his last duty of the night.

when he had approached you, you looked distraught, your tears blending with the rain. the sight of your cherished companion in his arms brought a sob of relief to your lips.

you tried to thank him, to offer him aid, but he turned to leave, his figure fading into the storm as if he were part of it.

he had just acted on instinct, dashing to grab the feline from the weak branch before it could plummet into the river below. as someone who is always on guard, this was nothing to make a big deal out of. it was a flicker of a moment in his endless existence. his job was done, and he had no requirement to accompany you further. as he disappeared into the rain, a faint sense of reassurance had settled within him—a feeling he couldn’t quite place. he knew the cat would be safe with you, cared for with the same tenderness and devotion that had driven you into the storm to begin with. for reasons he didn’t understand, that thought brought him a quiet sense of peace compared to the guilt that usually consumed him every night. so, when you found him again (after searching for him tremendously, apparently), he couldn’t comprehend why. “you’re xiao, aren’t you?” he nodded reluctantly, unsure what to make of you. your tone was hopeful, almost casual behind all the excitement, as though meeting an adeptus was the most natural thing in the world. “i’ve heard stories about you,” you continued, undeterred by his silence. “thank you for saving my cat—for saving us, really.” xiao remained quiet, unsure how to respond. gratitude was something he neither sought nor knew how to accept. he turned as if to leave, hoping to avoid further conversation. but you weren’t finished. “wait, I forgot to introduce myself!” you called after him, your voice bright and unwavering. he lingered around just enough to catch your name; one he heard for the first time. “i’ll see you around, xiao!” he didn’t expect to see you again. yet, somehow, you found him. time and time again. at first, it was irritating. your presence was a disruption to the walls he carefully built around himself. you were persistent, dragging him into conversations he’d rather not have, asking questions that left him both baffled and amused. “what’s it like to live forever?” you asked one evening, eyeing him with adoration, sitting beside him. he glanced at you, conflicted as to why he was still sitting here. after a long pause, he admitted quietly, “it’s… empty.” you turned to him, your eyes softening as if you understood. “then i’ll fill it,” you said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. it was a promise. in the depths of his heart, he secretly hoped you would keep it.

and terrifyingly, somehow, you did. over the months and years that followed, your laughter became a constant in his life. you never asked for anything in return—only his presence, his company, his happiness.

slowly, almost imperceptibly, he began to let you in. he found himself smiling more often, though he still denied it when you teased him about it. he began to look forward to your visits, to the way your eyes lit up when you were excited, or the way you tilted your head when you were lost in thought. at first, he tried to ignore it but he began to notice the small things you loved—the way you braided flowers into your hair or lingered by shop windows, admiring silk garments and flowy skirts. It made no sense to him why such details would matter. yet, despite his efforts to remain detached, they kept resurfacing. the soft way you spoke to animals, your smile when you found the perfect trinket—he couldn’t shake the thought of how much he enjoyed seeing you this way. it wasn’t long before he found himself paying attention, not out of obligation, but because he wanted to see you smile. he despised it when someone stole your smile. or worse, when someone else other than him was the cause of it. he never understood why that bothered him. he didn’t know how to dote on you in ways you would receive, in ways that were enough for someone like you. but, he tried. he started bringing you little gifts—an intricate anklet that jingled every time you ran to his arms, pigment for when you wanted your cheeks to be rosy, and anything that reminded him of you. the first time he gifted you something, it was a simple jade bracelet that he threaded himself. why? because “you said you liked jade.”

the adoration in your voice and the way your lips met his face in a sweet cheek kiss remained in his mind for days after.

his affection for you became undeniable, even to himself. he started to consider symbols of love, which you introduced to him. although, it wasn’t intentional.

“a wedding ring is like a promise,” you said, holding your hand up and pretending to admire an invisible rock on your finger. “it says, ‘i choose you, forever.’ isn’t that beautiful?”

he didn’t answer, but the words stayed with him. xiao had lived longer than anyone could understand. he thought love was too fragile for someone like him. but when you spoke of promises and choices, something stirred inside him. he didn’t fully understand the idea of forever until he realized he had been living it with you, in every quiet moment shared. love terrified him—it was human, delicate. but with you, for the first time, he wondered if that fragility was exactly what made it worth fighting for. it wasn’t long before xiao found himself standing at zhongli’s residence, the faintest hint of hesitation in his posture. his request was brief, delivered with his usual stoicism, yet it was clear to zhongli that this was no ordinary matter. “you’ve never been one to concern yourself with such worldly traditions,” the elder archon raised an eyebrow, a glimmer of amusement flickering in his amber eyes as he retrieved a collection of ancient rings beaded with adeptal craftsmanship. after a long moment of contemplation, xiao spoke, his voice quiet but firm. "my god, i have served you since i was myself,” he presented the piece of sapphire to him. “in behalf of my devotion, please… lend me this ring.” when xiao tied himself to you, it wasn’t with grand gestures or declarations. it was a simple promise, a shared moment beneath the quiet glow of the moon, where his heart found its place in yours. the sapphire ring, worn by your hand, symbolized everything he never thought he needed—forever intertwined, forever yours. "i love you," he finally whispered, the words rich with the weight of everything he'd ever feared to admit, yet now, that was all he was. for that brief moment, the world held its breath. it was just the two of you, your love sealed in the constellations. but time, as it always does, moved on. and then, as the years passed, the inevitable happened.

you withered away, your light dimming with each passing day. xiao was helpless, watching as time claimed you piece by piece, as though the world had decided it would not allow him such a precious thing as happiness. you spoke then, with a weak hand caressing his face, something he would never forget, no matter how much he tried to push it away. “even if i’m not here, xiao…you’ll remember me. that’s enough.” he had served eternity, his existence defined by duty and distance, yet your love had been the only thing that truly belonged to him. and now, you asked him to let you go, to let you live on only in the fragile frames of his memory. how could you ask that? how could you so unfairly slip away from him, knowing the unbearable weight it would leave behind? the pain of your words settled deeper when your final breath left you, a soft exhale that seemed to take all the warmth with it. xiao’s hand shook as it brushed against your cooling skin, his entire body trembling with grief. he pressed a kiss to your forehead, a vow he made silently, one that would last until his time came. it was a promise of love, that no death could sever. and then, you were gone. — it had been eons since you left, and still, the weight of your absence never truly lifted. centuries passed. the world changed. people were born and died, and xiao remained, alone in a world that felt emptier with each passing year. he wandered through the ages, his soul still bound to the memory of you. and then, this lantern rite, amidst the laughter and the glow of a thousand lanterns, xiao found himself walking through the crowd. the familiar, soothing sounds of the festival filled the air, but he was lost, drifting through memories of you. then, something in the crowd stopped him cold.

he saw you. at first, it was just a flicker, a face in the crowd, but his heart pounded in his chest as he stared, unable to look away. the features mirrored yours—eyes, smile, the way the hair cascaded down in the same soft waves. for a moment, it was as if time had shattered, and all those years of grief and loss came crashing back in a clashing wave.

xiao’s body trembled, his steps unsteady, as the weight of familiarity swallowed him whole. his breath came in ragged gasps, and his vision blurred. the festival, the lanterns, the laughter—everything faded into a distant hum. his heart threatened to shatter once again, and he stumbled, nearly falling, before he crashed into what feels like you.

"are you okay?" a voice both familiar and strange asked, as though the echoes of your warmth had seeped into this being.

xiao’s heart pounded in his ears, his entire world crumbling around him and for a moment, he dared to hope. could it be? was this truly you? his hands shook, and he trembled, barely holding on.

through glassy lenses, he studied the face he knew oh so well, desperate, searching for any trace of the one he loved. his eyes locked onto the sparkling irises that once belonged to you, and for a moment, the world seemed to still.

“do you know me?” he hears your voice say, carrying a nervous uncertainty, unaware of the war he’s fighting within himself.

xiao’s throat tightened. he wants to say yes. wants to remind you of the nights spent beneath the stars, the promises made, the love shared. but he can see it in the eyes—this is not the same soul. this is not your soul. this is not you.

“no,” he forced out, voice low and strained, stepping back. with one last glance, he turned to never return. “we’ve never met.”

[original-person]

Fucking hate cheating fics. Not because it doesn't happen but because it always happens to the most worst characters imaginable. Im sorry if Xiao even held hands with someone besides Reader I think he'd try to kill himself. Deadpool and Vanessa are in an open poly relationship. Mr Puzzles may be a manipulator but do you really think he'd fuck up his only relationship that badly he's seen movies he knows what happens. That guy doesn't even like woman. What kinda crack are you on bud

[original-person]

assassin!xiao au in which he doesn't like you, and you're not quite sure why.

you've only met him once, though you've heard his name millions of times—he's a legend for trainees like you. the last of the yakshas, an elite team that had been wiped out in an unfortunate mission-gone-wrong years ago. he only works alone now, and he doesn't really talk to anyone else except zhongli.

that is, until one night.

as confusing as the headquarters is, you can't be blamed for getting lost once or twice. so you accidentally wander into the wrong barracks, and xiao awakens to find you tiptoeing through the hallway.

"what are you doing here?"

you flinch at the sudden voice, turning slowly to meet sharp, golden eyes. he's blinking sleepily, but all you notice is the split lip, the scratches over his arms, the dried blood over his knuckles.

"you're hurt," you gasp quietly, ignoring his question, stepping toward him on instinct. he moves back, retreating further into the shadows of his room, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and hiding them from your view.

"you're lost. the trainee barracks are on the other side of the building."

and usually, you would take his directions and be on your way, but you find your stare fixed to his wounds. looking closer, you find scar after scar, tracing them over his pale skin.

you've taken enough medical courses to know that he hasn't been caring for his injuries properly. the thought makes you frown.

"you should bandage those."

he leans against the doorframe, a single brow raised.

"no need. just part of the job, no one should be bothered by it."

you scoff internally. how annoying.

sure, there's a certain level of desensitization that's necessary for this line of work, but forgetting about the value of your own life is a mistake—that's how you get yourself killed.

but xiao looks completely unbothered by it all, so maybe he truly doesn't care.

still, he's being short with you, and you know you shouldn't be talking to him so informally like this, but his apathy irritates you for reasons that even you don't know.

you take another step toward him. he doesn't budge, but his shoulders tense—he's awaiting your next move.

"it bothers me when people don't take care of themselves," you huff, matching his tone. "i mean, you're still a person when you're not on the job, aren't you?"

xiao's eyes widen almost imperceptibly, flinching. clearly, no one's ever spoken to him this way. and maybe you shouldn't have been the first, considering your rank compared to his, but you really couldn't help yourself.

he's still staring at you, and you don't look away. instead, you fish in your pocket, pulling out a roll of gauze and shoving it at him. he takes it, still in shock.

he doesn't say anything in reply. you don't expect him to.

"goodnight," you murmur over your shoulder, finally turning to leave. "bandage those before you sleep."

and though it's unlike him, xiao finds himself watching you walk away, all the way until you disappear.

[original-person]

synopsis : xiao forgot how it is to have someone to care for, so he cannot fathom a life without you in it. pairing : yan xiao x reader (no gendered pronouns used for reader) warnings : yandere themes, obsessive thoughts, implied kidnapping.

xiao never asks you to stay.

that would require speaking the words aloud, and if he did, he fears you might give him an answer—one he isn’t prepared to hear. so he doesn’t ask. he doesn’t beg. he simply lingers, as if his presence alone could tether you to this place, to him.

he is careful not to breathe too deeply when you sit beside him, though the urge claws at his ribs. the scent of you—familiar, human, painfully fleeting—digs into his marrow and settles like an ache. his fingers twitch where they rest on his knee, aching to press into your wrist, to confirm the pulse beneath your skin, to count the beats and memorize them like a prayer.

he watches. always watching. a silent guardian draped in shadows, tucked away at the edges of your life where you do not see him. but he sees you. sees the way your head tips back when you laugh, the curve of your throat laid bare, the fragile shift of your breathing when you sleep. he learns you in ways he shouldn’t, in ways you would never think to notice.

you belong here.

the thought is quiet, but it rings louder than any battlefield cry. you belong in this moment, within reach, where he can ensure nothing touches you. he cannot picture a world where you are not here. the mere suggestion twists something deep inside him, sharp and violent. mortals are so fragile, so easily lost. and if he is not here—if you leave—

no. he does not let the thought form. does not let the possibility exist.

so he does not ask you to stay.

but he watches you more closely these days. he ensures there is never a moment where you are left unguarded. he clears the paths you walk before your feet can tread them, cuts down the threats before you even sense them. and when the night stretches long and quiet, he keeps his gaze fixed on your silhouette, committing every shift and sigh to memory.

if he never lets you go, then you cannot leave.

and if you never leave, then he will never have to learn how to survive without you.

[original-person]

Been thinking about how birds have tetrachromacy, and therefore see so many more colours than humans do,,, consider Xiao randomly seeing you while in his bird form, and he finds himself completely captivated because of how colourful and vibrant you look: he swears your smile is so much brighter, and your eyes have hues in them that he regrets never knowing of until now.

He never really liked his beastly form, it reminds him too much of his past, but now he finds himself longing to transform everyday, even for little time, hoping just to catch a glimpse of you.

Xiao would never admit it, but he ends up following you around as you go about your day. Now, whether hiding on the branch of the sandbearer tree behind you is a majestic and graceful Peng, or a cute, fat finch,,, that's up to you Iol.

[original-person]

Hi! Could I request Xiao's reactions to their darling returning their affections for the first time?

warnings : implied yan character, tight hug (??). author's note : didn't know if you wanted smth normal or yan ones, so it's kinda 'normal', but i guess you can imagine it as soft yan ^^.

his body goes rigid. his mind screams at him to move, to escape, to sever whatever fragile thread you’ve just tied between you. but then—your weight against his chest, your warmth seeping into his skin, your breath fanning over his collarbone.

too much. too much. too much.

yet he doesn’t push you away. his hands hover by your sides, trembling—don’t get used to this, don’t ruin this—but when you sigh softly, melting against him like you belong there, something inside him breaks. his arms tighten around you, trapping you against him. he won’t let you go. not yet. maybe not ever.

you shift slightly, trying to pull back just an inch, just enough to look at him—but his grip tightens. his breath comes unsteady, his heart hammering against his ribs. not yet.

he lowers his head, pressing his forehead against your shoulder, inhaling deeply. memorizing the way you feel in his arms, the way you gave this to him of your own will. when you try again to pull back, his fingers dig into your sides—not painful, but firm. unyielding.