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yandere-wishes · 2 months ago

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༻⋆Little Red Riding Hood You Know More Than You Should⋆༺

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Capitano recognizes your ancient name before he recognizes you. Ororon thinks it's about time to confess his feelings to his childhood friend. You just wanted to protect your homeland.

⁀➷ Warnings: Yandere Behavior, Stalking, Possessiveness, Reader has a pyro vision.

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ Tejano Blue By CAS

⋆ ˚｡⋆ Bless your heart, make you part of my life forever ~ CAS

.✦── °❀⋆ .🔥.⋆❀°── .✦

It had started with Ororon.

With the Chrysanthemum he delicately weaved into your hair.

Red red red like the vision that burns at your hip.

Red like the boy-heart you wished to carve out.

It had ended with the Capitano.

With verglas weaving across your arms from his most intimate touch.

Blue, blue, blue like the creature that claimed to know you.

Blue like the veins that harbor such a melancholy legacy.

The chipped wood of the basket pierces your palm, tiny splinters pricking at soft flesh. You don't fully register the twinge; the pain is too silken, too delicate. Instead, you tighten your fist around the wooden handle daring the splinters to puncture, to draw blood. At least then you'd have a reason to visit Ororon, a reason to pry open his door and interrupt his precious isolation.

You'd like to forget about him.

The ignorant boy with the mismatched eyes.

Leave him to rot in his secluded cabin.

But it's all so hard to shake the saccharine memories of the all too lanky boy who used to hold your hand as you played hide and seek with Iktomisaurs in the forest.

Granny Itztli had requested ingredients for a ritual sermon taking place two moons from now. Nightshades and Quenepa Berrys and sand from the cost. "Have you talked to Ororon recently?" Granny asks, her brows furrowed in annoyance or worry or some other emotion too masked to fully read. You shake your head, gingerly plucking the ingredients from your basket and sprawling them across the table. "He hasn't been returning any of my letters, or even answering the tribesman's requests for his vegetables. I swear if that boy-"

You can feel her anger slipping out, the tendrils of her powers lashing at the air, slithering across the walls. You gulp, grasp tightening once more against your basket's handle. The wood scraps at your skin grounding you as you let out a shaky breath. "I'll check on him for you granny," you blurt out trying to plaster a desperate smile across your face. Citlali's eyes soften as she looks at you taking in your taut stance. "I'd always wished for him to pick you as his bride." She mused hand waving the air as if to dispel her anger like smoke. "you'd have been the perfect wife for my foolish grandson, someone to keep an eye on him and his whimsy wills of inanity." She sighs ushering you to the door. "Still I suppose it's not too late."

You turn on your heels defiance ripe on your tongue. Ororon had once been a dear friend, a brother. And while the memories are wrapped in golden velvet and honey. You'd much rather pluck the nails from your fingers than marry that weirdo. But before the protest could be launched the door is solemnly slammed in your face.

You fasten the cloak along your neck, pull the hood over your head

before making your way to the lone cabin in the woods. Skipping along the broken road swinging your empty basket.

The cabin itself is petit and serene, a pretty little heap of wood and spray paint with its renowned vegetable garden stretching the whole diameter. "Ororon," you call out, surprised at how bitter his name tastes. Rotton, almost forgotten. "Ororon," you knock at the door.

Four knocks.

Four pounds.

All accompanied by the bitter name spilling from behind your teeth.

But there is no answer, nothing outside the peaceful lull of the breeze and the distant shrikes of Yumkasaurs.

Nothing.

Well, maybe it's for the best.

You'd have shown him your blistered palm should he have answered. Shown him the blood and silently prayed he'd hold your hand and bandage your wound with all the tenderness of an eight-year-old boy bandaging his best friend's bleeding knee.

It's only when you've started back on the road, heading towards the grand stadium, that you hear something—an icy omen whispering along the horizon. You look around, greeted by nothing but Natlan's nature. Slowly, you start to leave the path, trudging through grass and marching up the little hills, following the distant chill in the air.

What was it Granny always said about straying off the path?

Something about tragedy and trouble waiting beyond the trees.

Only this time, trouble -or rather tragedy- lays behind a set of rocks, half a mile from the cabin. That's when you finally see them. The chill in the air has grown harsher here, biting at your bare arms. You pull your hood further over your head, wrapping the rest of the cape around yourself in a bid for warmth. From the rock you've concealed yourself behind, you can hear two men speak.

Ororon stands before a man, no not a man. Such a human word could not describe the terrifying thing that loomed outside the sun's reach.

Your ears perk at the low timbre of his growl. The monster spews blasphemy, sacrilege, against your dear archon. Calling her a coward for not using the gnosis, calling her inept.

You feel his words cutting through you, lacrations running deep. Your body is on fire your vision boling by your side. What's worst is that Ororon listens, humming along in acknowledgment. You can taste the molten anger stinging the roof of your mouth, feel the embers burning your tongue. Your hand covers your mouth, nails sinking into your cheek to avoid permitting the frustration to break free and blowing your cover.

You turn swiftly, using the cover of rocks and trees to shadow your escape.

Desperately dashing for the path that'll lead you back to your village. Granny Itztli and the tribe leader must hear of this. They must know that Ororon has joined the Fatui and is planning to steal the Archon's gnosis.

The problem, however, may have been the red cape you'd draped yourself in, its bright color catching the wrong sun rays at the wrong time. Luminous enough to catch the captain's attention.

You feel the world slipping, sunlight giving way to a ghoulish purple glow. Your feet hit the battered pavement of the path, right before the world turns to black.

You scream just as something pulls you away...

You've been here before, several times in fact. This is the night kingdom or at least an astral realm within the night kingdom. Your body -your real body- is probably laying limp in the grass being licked by some saurian.

"(y/n), what are you doing here?" Ororon's voice is muffled, distant. A cloud scraping across the rougher edges of the sky. His ghastly apprehension hovers behind you, you can feel his chilled breath on your neck.

You try to speak, to answer. But the words never leave your mouth. You must remember that the shadow world has rules. That you can not move with your legs or speak with your tongue. You form the words like bubbles floating in the air. Waiting for them to pop, to unleash your voice amongst the gloom.

"I was looking for you, granny's worried. Apparently, you've disappeared."

His nails scrape at your neck. Fitting the delicate bones between the cusp of his palm. "But I'm right here" he whispers in your ear, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Sorry, I wasn't there to greet you. I've been...busy".

"Ororon" The voice echoes across the cavern, loud and disturbing. You feel frost leak from every syllable. Your eyes widen as the black-clad monster marches forward body rigid embodying authority and discipline in every move.

Is this how everyone from Snezhnaya looks?

Taut and stiff and malicious?

Draped in furs and armor.

Ominous and cruel.

"This is my friend (y/n) we grew up together. Isn't she cute Capitano?" Ororon ends the statement with a mock peck to your neck. Despite its fleeting nature you still wince at the invasion.

You don't recall Ororon being so bold, so satirizing. Has the folly of the fatui bled into him? Rotted his essence and painted it anew?

"Get rid of her, we haven't the time to waste on such..." The man, no the nightmare. Stops in front of you. His bulky clothes remind you of the Tatankasaurs that roam the sandy southwest.

The captain's mask is sheer black. Murkey candance that hides his mysterious visage. But you notice the jerky way his head tilts down the way you can't escape the strange pierce of his unseable eyes.

"Do I know you" it's phrased as an order, a demnad.

Tell me what you are, what you're supposed to mean to me.

But there is no answer to greet it. Nothing apart from an unsteady silence. You can not know this ice-cold man. From behind you Ororon stiffens, "Do you know the captain." he asks, a silver of betrayal lacing his words. You only shake your head, narrowing your eyes to try and pry beyond the abyss of his mask.

Capitano's hand grips at your fingers pulling them up to his mask. Your heart stops as you see him bow his head, the cold of his helmet biting into your flesh. You hear the kiss like an arrow piercing the ever-looming eeriness of the night kingdom.

Capitano utters your name.

Rolls it around his mouth trying to savor the nostalgia.

Trying to crack open every syllabus and taste its familiarity.

"(y/n)..."

Your body lays limb amongst the grass, from atop the green hill Capitano observes your sleeping form. His eyes trace every curve and crevasse of your body jotting each detail to memory.

You look like so ethereal like this. Blood red amid the green and gold of the prairie. The humor of it all isn't lost on him after all he's partaken in more than his fair share of carnage. And that's exactly what you look like, a beautiful corpse laying in her puddle of blood. A macabre laceration layed upon Natlan's corse.

The sun beats down. Its rays too warm and treasonous.

It's only then that Capitano realizes where he's seen you before.

This exact scene, the blood pooling from beneath, the body lying amidst the grass, the sun blessing the slayed warrior in its light.

He knows you...

You don't remember waking up. Don't recall commanding your stiff muscles to move. Nor do you recall the first sight your wry eyes landed upon.

All you remember is running.

Blurred greens and reds of the scenery rushing by.

Granny must know of this.

The tribe must know of this.

Ororon is a traitor. A conspirator in a plot against Mavurika.

You're not quite sure why your heart stings when you think of this.

Your mouth is dry, ash coating your lips as Citlali glares down at you. Ororon's face flashes behind your eyes. You see him everywhere. Hear his gentle voice shushing you. Your ears are ringing, his voice whispering how much he's missed you, how much he wants you by his side once more.

Citlali says something, you think she's scolding you for traversing the pathway. She's gone in the next blink, essence lingering in a spinning room. Ororon kneels in front of you. No, not Ororon just some spectre wearing his face.

Or maybe it's his astral projection. Maybe he can't let you utter a word of what you saw.

"Just keep quiet darling. I promise this will all make sense soon." His fingers spark when they grace your cheek. Solid and spirit all at once. You try to touch his hand, to sink the sparks inside you, to feel Ororon once more. Instead, your finger collides with your own soft flesh.

The colors are chipping away.

Someone is calling your name.

Ororon or Citlali?

Maybe they've always been the same.

Why is the room spinning?

Why is it so dark...

You shouldn't be out. The sun is too harsh, merciless. You ring your palm across your basket's handle letting the friction rub the flesh raw.

Granny had warned you to stay inside. To avoid Ororon and whatever else you'd seen. But you can't let this go, the words may die upon your tongue but there must be evidence hidden somewhere. Evidence that you can present to the pyro archon, evidence that could save everything.

"Did you really miss me that much?" His voice is sharper than any arrow from his bow. Ororon stands blocking your path the captain hovering beside him.

Weren't you always told the path would be safe?

Capitano reaches out, metal fingers wrapping around your fragile wrist he pulls you to him, dark mask peering beyond you. Trying to piece you together. From behind you feel Ororon's lips sneaking up your neck. You scream, a shriveled sound. "Didn't you come all this way just to see us?" Ororon asks between open-mouthed kisses, you writher between their bodies desperate to escape. Tears flowed from your shiny eyes.

You're so pretty when you cry Ororon feels bad for admitting that. But he can't help but admire how innocent and helpless you look, trapped between two monsters.

It's only now that he notices your red hood is adorned with embroidered Chrysanthemum, for a moment Ororon thinks it has something to do with flowers he used to braid into your hair. Back when he'd been too young to fully understand destiny and you'd been too young to understand legacy.

"I came to find evidence of your betrayal." You spit, free hand reaching into your basket to try to find your ancient name. Tears trickle from your eyes as the captain leans closer. Your fingers finally graze the forged feather and you pry it out, holding it to your chest, feeling its power coursing through you.

Your elbow collides harshly with Ororon's rib, as he tumbles backward you gain enough space to sidekick the captain. Only for it to be blocked by his iron-clad hand. The metal makes your bones ring a sharp pain that leaves your leg numb.

"You bear an ancient name?" Capitano asks, skeptical. You roll your eyes despite your better judgment. Capitano releases your wrist, instead reaching out to try and grab your ancient name. In the millisecond of freedom, you stalk backward before sprinting back to the tribe. Your basket forgotten at the captain's feet.

"she bears the ancient name Ayizu," Ororon says, still clutching his side.

Capitano swallows the information. Letting the sharp edges nick at his throat. He'd had been uncertain before despite all the parallels.

But now the shock was rolling through him like lightning bolts. That's why you looked so familiar. Not only did you bare Ayizu's name but there was no doubt in Capitano's mind that you were one of his descendants.

The captain chuckles a mirthless noise. The irony feels like a blistering burn blooming upon his rotting flesh. "She's quite loyal." he begins, blacked gaze traveling to Ororon. "She'd make a valuable asset in our quest to save Natlan. Fetch her for me will you Ororon?" It's nothing less than an order one that Ororon may be a bit too keen on fulfilling.

"Oh and Ororon, we need to start you on a training agenda. I fear you are the most pathetic warrior Natlan has ever seen."

Ororon's eyes sunken before traversing up the captain's imposing form.

"Yes sir" he mumbles, biting his lips to avoid moaning at the deliciously sharp pain you've gifted him.

It's dark again,

You let the sharp wood of your basket cut into your palm. Relishing in the familiar feeling as blood mars the wooden handle. When did your basket return? You could have sworn you'd abandoned it with your attackers,

The path beneath your feet is cracked and broken. Smeared in ice and ectoplasm. Still, you walk forward into the abyss. There's nowhere else to go.

You expected them to be there. To see their towering forms amidst the darkness. Instead, you see them lounging between the blacked boulders.

Soldiers fresh from the fight. You don't enquire about their endeavors about the horrors you're sure they've inflected upon your land. But before you can fully walk past Capitano grabs your wrist and pulls you into his lap. "Stop" You struggle to break free, only for him to grab your chin and force your eyes onto his faceless visage. "So you're the descendent of my old friend? The inheritor of his noble name." You feel bile creeping up your throat. "Don't insult my ancestor, he'd never associate with the likes of you." you spite.

Capitano chuckles and signs, pulling his mask up a smidge to reveal decayed flesh. You gasp, an opportunity he ceases to pull you into a deep kiss, teeth biting and tearing at your soft lips, his holed tongue running over your teeth. You try to scream to cry, suffocating from the floral-scented rot. When the captain finally pulls back you run your fingers over pained lips smearing the blood across your cheek and chin.

"You should smile more" Ororon teases nipping at your ear until you wince, his hands move up and down your hips squeezing every so often. He's never been this bold before. You blame the Fatuis staring down at you. Blame the Outlander and his weird ways, somehow the irony is utterly lost on you.

"Please just let me go" you beg, your body is on fire your vision pulsing once more. "You're a captain surely you must understand why I'm so eager to protect my people from you?" Ororon laughs, littering your cheek with tiny kisses. "I understand," Capitano responds, his fingers dabbing your blood-covered lips. "I'm desperate to save Natlan too." He brings the red-coated digit to his mouth, sucking softly.

"We all want to protect Natlan" Ororon chips in. "That's why you should join us, honor your ancient name." You shake your head, almost as if you're shaking the nightmare away. "There is no honor in what you're doing."

You feel something around your neck. Metalic fingers wrapping tightly around your throat. Clutching tighter and tighter. With his other hand, the Captain removes his mask.

You scream...

The room is cold, freezing.

Your calloused palm squeezes trying to feel the handle of your wooden basket. When your nails only dig into your own skin, you awaken, head darting trying to find your precious basket.

It's on the table...

You don't have a table by your bed.

Beside you, someone tightens their hold on your waist pulling you into an icy stiff chest. Captiano's breath is cold, his voice gruff with sleep as he whispers little adorations into your ear. You're only now realizing Ororon lying in front of you, his lithe fingers playing with your neck.

No not your neck. There's something wrapped around your throat, no one the cold was unbearable, this "necklace" must be made of pure cyro. "You look so pretty like this." Ororon mumbles, daring to connect his lips to yours in a sheepish, sloppy attempt at a kiss. You wrangle your head to the side breaking the pathetic kiss. Behind you, you feel Capitano's chest rumble in laughter.

"Really Ororon must I teach you everything?" Capitano pushes Ororon's head roughly until his lips are on yours, "Open your mouth" he commands. To which both of you obey not knowing who he's referring to. Slowly Ororon permits his tongue to wander past your lips and into your mouth. Satisfied Capitano begins to suckle and kiss your neck, his sharp teeth effortlessly breaching skin.

"I know you don't believe me when I say, I'm here to save Natlan." Capitano whispers. "But I helped your Ancestor defend this land once, and I shall do it again." Capitano sits up stiffly, his hand on your shoulder using ice to keep you in place. "The war with the Abyss is starting soon. You'll be safe here while Ororon and I make the final preparations." He sighs fully turning to you.

For the first time, you see the rot and decay that has marred his once gorgeous face. You gulp, swallowing your screams, letting his words sink in like the ice chaining you. Capitano pulls himself from the bed, making his way to the door. Ororon gives you a final kiss before also retreating from the bed and going to stand by the captain.

"If we survive this, I don't intend to take you to Snezhnaya. Frankly, I don't think either of you could survive the cold." He jokes, and you notice it's the first time his serious icy facade has cracked. "You will be safe here with Ororon and I'll visit you as much as my duties permit." strange how his words almost, almost sounded like 'I love you' muttered in a foreign tongue enclosed in ice. Something impossible to thaw out.

"I'm sorry about this darling," Ororon mutters as he follows the captain out. "But we'll be back soon." He offers you a soft smile before closing the door. One that makes your heart melt. Instead of a kidnapper, you see the little boy who used to own your heart.

The door closes leaving you to bask in all the glory of your doom.

.✦── °❀⋆ .🔥.⋆❀°── .✦

Apologies this is definitely not my best work but I just wanted to get something out for these two. May end up writing something better later on.

💜Tags: @definitely-asexual-volcano @fujisworld @kudoaii @savsxz @fantasyhopperhea @misscoolisback123 @army-of-inspirited-onces @lorkai @lavandulawrites @kazudare @s1mppp @onceapirateprincess @lovelive-animequeen1029 @trashpandaperson @rhain-things @milktea-coffeelady

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swivi · 2 months ago

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Adopting a baby saurian

It wasn't anything out of the norm for a baby saurians to be seen alone in the wild. Yes, it was sad but what could anyone do? The mother of the saurians were either killed or had abondoned the poor thing because it was too weak.

So it wasn't a surprise when you and kinich stumbled on a baby Iktomisaur in the wild while exploring. The poor thing looked confused and slightly scared as it looked around for it's mother. It's ears dropping everytime it turned and she wasn't there. It broke your heart while kinich couldn't help but sigh..for some reason he understood how it felt.

Before he could act tho, you were already off to where the baby Iktomisaur sat. As you reached over, it looked up at you in slight fear, letting out a small hiss to try and sound intimidating but it only broke your heart even more. You moved down onto your leg, making sure to keep a certain distance as you held out a small apple you had in your hand. The poor thing couldn't help but perk up staring at the apple in slight hunger. Seeing that it mom wasn't there to guide and feed it, it was no surprise it was probably starving. After a few minutes, it finally walked over to you in hesitant steps. It's ears twitching in high alert in case it needs to run.

After stopping infront of your hand that held the apple, seeing you didn't try anything. It took a small hesitant bite out of the apple, before quickly eating more. Your hand held the apple out more as it ate quickly. Kinich couldn't help but watch the interaction, his heart breaking yet feeling slightly warm that you had help it. Ajaw tho, he looked blankly before sighing. "Are we really gonna stand here feeding some stray thing? The almighty-" kinch wasn't having any of it, putting Ajaw in time out before he could scare the baby saurian with his loud voice.

After some time, the baby saurian seemed to finally warm up to you. Cuddling up into to your arms almost as if seeking warmth. Seems like the baby saurian was now seeing you as it's parent. Kinich sighed and before you could even turn to ask he replied quickly, which was quite unusual of him. "The saurian seems to have take a liking to you..maybe we should bring it home? It would probably die in the wild without it's mother." It wasn't unusual for people to take in saurians, it was natlan after all.

So after some talking, you had lifted the baby Iktomisaur in your arms walking home with it. Kinich had proposed saying that it may had been too heavy for you to carry, but seeing how the poor thing didn't want to let go off your shirt. He let it be as you both headed back home.

It had been two weeks since you had taken in the baby Iktomisaur and it had now warmed up to you both. It was still quite wary of Ajaw tho, but who could blame her. Yes, you both had found out from a saurian trainer in the Scions of the Canopy, that the baby saurian you both had decided to adopt was a female. You had decided to name her Bubbles and the baby saurian had seemed to be quite happy with it. Her ears flickering excitedly as her small tail wagged. Kinich found it cute how you had started taking care of the baby saurian like it was your own already and he couldn't help but think of what the future held for both of you..maybe one day, you two could start a family together. When all the troubles in Natlan had settled down.

Side note~

Ajaw couldn't help but scoff at the name that you had given to the baby Iktomisaur. "Are you serious right now? What a childish name...something like the Almighty Ajaws servant or Ajaws loyal servant would have-" Kinich couldn't help but scoff putting Ajaw in time out with a small huff of annoyance. The baby Saurian was sitting beside him on the couch as the two were now waiting for you both to return home from a commission. Ajaw had commented on how there was not now one needy person to take care of but now a baby saurian that didn't hesitate to wait near the door for your arrival.

As the front door open signaling you had arrived. The baby saurian bubbles practically jumped off the couch. Flying towards the front door as you soon entered. Carring a small basket of fruit. You quickly placed it down just in time to catch Bubbles that seemed to let out happy chirps and Purs at your arrival. Kinich had a unusual smile on his face as he walked over his words being. "Welcome back home..How was your day?"

#kinich x reader #genshin impact #genshin #kinich and ajaw #kinich imagines #kinich #genshin impact imagines #genshin x reader #k'uhul ajaw #genshin ajaw #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines #kinich x you #kinich x y/n #natlan #saurians #genshin fluff #fluff

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 29 days ago

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of the stars, of the stars

cw. f!reader, pre-canon, pre-5.3, elder!reader, masters of the night-wind!reader, hurt and comfort, established relationship

pairing. citlali x reader

synopsis. you've known citlali for many moons and many stars. in over 200 years of knowing each other, this is probably the angriest you've been at her. (or, you and your dear friend become grandparents.)

notes. you can roll your neck and stomp your feet but this black girl last wrote a genshin fic in april. but this has been in my thoughts since playing the the 5.1 archon quest. yes, op fans, that was a heart of gold reference. yes, fmab fans, that was a bradley reference. divider by @/cafekitsune

"A gentle smile, a dignified smile, your adorable smile," you rasp, on the nth loop of your pacing in your front yard. How many times have you sung this song in the past 20 minutes? You stopped counting after 5 but still you had continued singing the only song that was able to stall the boy's tears. "Silver hearts and gold hearts, I'll give them all to you. Alchemy, Alchema. Hold the gold star-"

"That's not a song from the Masters."

With your song halted, you quickly adjust to bouncing the child in your arms. Yet your efforts were all for not and as the eruption of tears started once again, you can't stop yourself from groaning in frustration.

Recently fed, unsoiled diaper, no immediate signs for why he was unable to settle to settle down.

"Baby," you beg the boy with every fiber of your being to settle down for his nap. "We've been through this for the past hour! I can't keep singing, I have work to do!"

Balking at your sharp look, Citlali looks at you apologetically. "Sorry," she murmurs. In your chest, a flicker of upset stirs but it is not directed as the child in your arms. In Citlali's hands there is a basket filled to the brim with various goods ー loose cloth, seasonings, and what seems to be some sort of milk source among other things.

The goods do little to sway your mood.

You hold each other's gaze for one, two, three seconds before you shake your head with a huff, turning your gaze back on the brown-skinned boy in your arms. There's a pause, a shuffle before a pair of thin arms come into your line of sight. "Let me," it's practically a plea. "You look like you need a break."

A baby wailing in your ears, your eyes burning every time you blink. It's with your uncountable sigh of the afternoon that you relent. "Do what you will," you wave a hand uncaringly in the direction of your door steps. "Lord of the Night knows I'm exhausting my options."

Tenderly, the wolf-eared child is passed from your arms to Citlali's and she lowers herself even more cautiously as she sits where you've indicated.

A few whimpers, a hiccup and a tentative press into her chest and the child settles. Color you surprised, you silently release a breath and slide a hand across your face, fingers settling against your chin. Citlali looks more surprised than you, with her raised eyebrows and wide pupils. It's almost instinctive how the purple-haired woman looks up at you with a smile, it falters less than a second later.

Suddenly it's Citlali's gaze turning onto the baby boy who is finding the realm of dreams more interesting.

"Some of us have the gift," you grumble, turning to prod at what your oldest companion delivered. "Apparently I'm not one of them."

There's another pause. Only the occasional call of nearby iktomisaurs offer that much assistance.

You tilt and turn a jar of what you presume to be a jar of spices from Sumeru. You've enjoyed adding them to your cooking since you were 51 after meeting a traveling scholar from Sumeru studying Natlan's Ley Lines, or lack thereof. Nasrin, she was called. You met by coincidence at the Chuwen Fair and a friendship had been sparked.

How long it's been since then?

Citlali had been subjected to your experiments at making Sumeran cuisine once you'd returned home.

You set down the spice jar in exchange for a sachet that smells distinctively of dried windwheel asters and embercore flowers. An interesting combination but one you've been fond of the past few years after encountering an interesting character from Mondstadt, a hardy man named Varka. Your appreciation of Mondstadt's flora had been planted by him. You wonder how he's doing now.

Not everything in here is for the baby, you want to say. You brush your thumb against the purple-black of the fabric. "It's from the Children," you mutter instead and there's a sound of surprise. "The song," you clarify, returning the sachet from where you found it and you turn back around with your arms crossed. "My mother from the Children of Echoes used to sing it to me when I was a little girl. You're lucky, boy," you tell the sleeping child. "Growing up across two tribes, I've got plenty of stories for you and a variety of tunes."

Citlali's own smile returns albeit hesitantly, "I see." She hums a brief tune you're unable to discern. "I remember her visits. She came with your grandfather once, he scared me."

You can't help a chuckle, "everyone was scared of him until they talked to him." Even your mother from the Night-Winds long, long ago. You remember how you and Citlali had laughed at her recollection of meeting him the first time. How she apparently insisted he didn't like her while Mom insisted in return that it was just his face.

Mom's argument won.

It was just his face.

"I never thought he had a scary face until I got older," you admit, shaking your head in amusement. "Then I looked back on it and thought, 'maybe I can see what my friends were talking about'."

You share a laugh once again for a short moment before silence falls between you both once again. Smiles fade and it feels as cool as the Cryo Vision on Citlali's hip.

This is good, you want to think.

Everything worked out, you want to think.

Move past this.

Your fingers pinch your forehead. You've never been good at keeping your mouth shut, however. This is true even now as you finally, finally ask, "what on Teyvat were you thinking?"

You've known Citlali for many moons and many stars. She had been your first friend when you moved from your childhood home after it had been discovered you had natural talents as Spiritspeaker.

Was the one you endured years of rigorous training with.

Many of your friends and family are dead and gone. You've seen all of Natlan change in the years you've lived. Citlali has been one of the few things in your life that is as constant as the long-lived traditions of your tribe. Something that won't change for who knows how many centuries you may continue living.

She's your partner.

Wife.

The one you always return to.

("How can a hag whose barely home give me love advice?"

"Citlali is the woman I chose; there's nothing more that needs to be said between us. That's why we're the longest-lived couple in Natlan, brat.")

In over 200 years of knowing each other, this is probably the angriest you've been at her.

"You weren't here," she says softly, shrinking into herself.

"Did I have to be," you shoot back, just short of yelling. When the child stirs, your mouth clamps shut and you inhale deeply trying to calm yourself.

There are no lies in her words; you hadn't been there when this child with a fragmented soul had been discovered. Nor had you been there when Chief Masoro concocted their plan to sacrifice said child and decided to ask the opinions of the eldest members of the tribe.

You'd been off visiting the Children, visiting descendants of family long since past. You'd been off gallivanting with the Scions, exchanging cups with newly minted companions. You'd been off viewing the changes grand and miniscule that had accumulated over the decades in this country in which you were born. You'd been everywhere but home.

Sure as the leaves weave in whichever direction the wind blows, you go back and forth between holing up in your abode and traveling the land.

Uhuru.

Freedom.

As sure as the moon will rise you have oft lived up to your Ancient Name. You are no stranger to the unexpected, going with the flow much like a wayfinder navigates the tides. Perhaps that why you were gifted a Hydro Vision than what you expected would be Anemo.

Yet never in your wildest dreams did you imagine coming home to a failed ritual to make an infant a vessel for lost souls to return to the Night Kingdom. What's worse is that Citlali had done nothing to stop it in your absence. "I didn't need to be here to tell you that was a terrible, horrific idea."

"I never said 'yes'," you know that tone. The one where she falters, unable to say what comes next and in spite of your fury, you are able to wait for what she says next. "But I never said 'no' either. I am… ashamed. And relieved. When it failed, I was so relieved," her shoulders shake and you don't need to see Citlali's face to know she is crying. "There's nothing I can do to take it back, but I'm still so relieved."

She's always been easy to cry whether angry or stressed. Crybaby Citlali, you'd occasionally tease her. That would get a minor hex tossed your way every time.

Even when you're upset with her, you can't stop yourself from lowering yourself to sit beside her. As if punishing herself, she doesn't move so you make the movement for her ー wrapping your arm around pale shoulders gingerly to tuck her into yourself. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she sniffs and you rest your head against pastel purple hair.

She weeps and weeps until the afternoon azure sky starts turning carmine and vermillion. Until there's nothing left for her to cry you sit with Citlali through it all.

"Sorry for not coming home sooner," you give her a gentle squeeze, not wanting to disturb the infant in her arms.

"I'm sorry for not telling Mosoro to wait until you were here to consult the both of us."

"I'm sorry for traveling so much."

"I'm sorry for-"

You stop the apology fest before Citlali can say anything else, "alright, I think we've apologized enough."

The laughter between you both is quiet but light, so is the tension that has heavily looming over you for the past week. "Fine," Citlali cedes. "You win. This time."

You snort wordlessly.

"And for Archon's sake," it's your wife's turn to huff, looking much more like her usual self. Blue eyes glare at you in amusement. "We need to name him already. You can't keep calling him 'Baby', what if he starts reacting to it?"

"Well why don't you come up with his name, O Wise One?"

Citlali is quick to snip that she will be naming the boy in your care. "Ororon," she says after a good five minutes have past. "Ororon is a powerful name. And he likes it, don't you, Ororon?"

He isn't even awake to hear it. "Yeah," you agree regardless. "He likes it. Granny Itztli picked out a good one for you." It's a big name for one so small, but you have no doubts the boy will one day grow into it. "We've really skipped some steps," the air is warm, unsurprising for the land of Pyro. But it's touch more hopeful than usual, like the atmosphere of the nation after another battle with the Abyss. Just as your people rebuild after every attack, the two of you can rebuild from this. "Normally people have kids before they start having grandchildren. The arcane arts never prepared us for this."

Citlali stifles a yawn, "no, no it hasn't."

#look she's writing #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #citlali x reader #citlali #ororon #very self indulgent; i clearly had a lot of thoughts

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