any spare thoughts abt yan kaeya 👀👀👀
yan kaeya....yan kaeya is sooooo....
cw: reader is drunk/helpless, obsession, mention of stalking, mention of harm to others, mention of masturbation, a sudden pov switch lol
***
the wine is tart and heady, crushed berries, plush in your mouth. makes your head spin. makes warmth blossom swift inside you, up against your cheeks, in your chest, pooling in the core of you.
the moon hangs heavy and round, sweetened gold, in the sky above your heads. the fire snaps and bursts into the night, people singing and dancing and drinking around it, just outside the city walls. the forest sings sweetly, a balmy, autumn night, the faint taste of late summer just on the back of your tongue.
you've traded your usual attire for a looser dress, rosy, just shy of a chemise. shawls and silks adorn your hips, drape around your shoulders. a bodice of white and gold and berry red hugs your waist and in the fire, flashes like the pretty fins of a fish, a little jewel in the night. you've lost your shoes long ago, dancing freely in the brush with friend and stranger and potential lover.
the night feels young and sweet. you laugh as you're spun around and around and around. the world blends and bleeds in night-color, deep tones, flashes of flame, and icy jewels.
kaeya watches coolly as you dazzle.
he's watched the whole night, unknown to you while you dance and drink and sing out into the sky.
(watched for longer than tonight, kept close eyes on you for some time now–couldn't help it, can't stand it, sick with it–)
and his patience wanes as he watches another man grab for your waist, twirl you into another dance. he commits the face to memory. if the man disappears tomorrow, whose to say? who would know?
(if you disappeared tomorrow, whose to say? who would know? he'd take care of you, he swears.)
you don't know it, but he's growing restless, watching, unable to look away. and he's a moment away from doing something he shouldn't when you all but twirl your way into his trap.
you stumble a little, head swimming with wine, gasping as he steadies you.
"well, look what we have here..." he croons.
"captain!" you squeak, righting yourself and oh, that embarrassed, surprised look on your face makes him grin. canines flash.
"you seem to be having a good time." he comments and when you try to step away, he doesn't quite let you. won't let you go now, not that he finally has you.
but you're so malleable like this, you melt easy into where he wants you. something tremendous and horrible flashes inside kaeya, runs it's teeth along the tender parts of him, as if the beast of his desire is asking to be let out, out, out–
"i am," you say earnestly, and then, sweet as you are, you ask, "are you?"
"yes, even more so now," he hums, twirling a strand of hair around his gloved finger.
"kaeya," you admonish and the way you say his name has that beast inside him purring, growling in satisfaction, "'lways the sweettalker–"
you slur the words together, gazing up at him with wide, beautiful eyes that catch the light of flame. you flutter your lashes like ashes upon your cheeks.
he thinks about taking your jaw in his hand. he thinks about taking you away from everyone here, everyone too interested in you for your own good. burning it all down simply because they looked at you, touched you, tried to have you the way he should have you. he thinks about how you'd melt caged beneath his arms. how your throat would look with something pretty to decorate it or his hand around it.
"dance with me," he says, taking your hands, guiding you back towards the fire.
"'m not sure if i–" you shake your head a little, trying to keep up with him, "kaeya, i'm feeling dizzy."
"one dance." he says, getting his hand around the curve of your waist to pull you right up against him, "and then i'll escort you home, like the chivalrous knight i am."
he smiles when he says it, sharp, like a fox.
you go easy enough, sweet rabbit you are, into his arms, let him guide you into a sultry dance to the strings and drums playing. hands all over your waist, your sides, skimming fingers along the underside of your arm to get back to your hands.
you shy away at first and he can't help it, can't help but dig into you a little;
"aw, have i made you nervous?" he asks when he's got his hips flush up against yours. and perhaps you can feel him, perhaps–
"you're so–" you gasp, "you're not as chival-chivalrous as you claim."
he laughs, low and hot in you ear.
but you warm to him and maybe it's the wine, maybe it's just because this is where you belong; in his arms, with him.
your torso turns like waves beneath his hands, up against his own body, and he can feel you move and twist in his arms. he turns you, lets you spin, lets you nimbly dance away, only for him to chase after you. you loosen up, listen to his commands;
"wrap your arms around me."
"that's it, sweet thing."
"now turn for me."
hands on your thighs, he lifts you, spins as the people around you cheer. as you toss your head back and giggle brightly, as a laugh of his own spills out.
and he has everyone fooled, he thinks, that he just wants to dance with you. that he is their good captain, just here for a night of revelry and not for you, you, you–
one dance turns into two, turns into his hands all over you, mouth hovering over yours. turns into kaeya pouring wine into your parted lips, letting it run rivulets down your gasping throat, your heaving chest, into your bodice.
he thinks of licking it clean, following the trail down, down, down–
one dance turns into him coveting you.
it turns into him guiding you away from the revelry finally, hand at the small of your back.
"you'll take me 'ome, kaeya?" you slur, clinging desperately, stumbling enough that he finally decides to lift you clear off the ground. you yelp in surprise, but your arms come around his neck and you tuck your face into his chest.
"of course," he purrs, even as he walks, you cradled in his arms, towards his own home, and not your own. helpless thing you are, even when you fuss a little, when you realize, dazedly, that this isn't your home, but his.
and if you wake up in his bed, covered in fur blankets, perhaps in his clothes, don't think too hard about it–kaeya's a knight, right? too good? he only took care of you. you're unharmed, clean, and warm beneath his covers, so he must've only helped you to bed.
(he was good, he vows to himself; he didn't touch you, just himself, to the sight of you beneath fur and his clothes, sleeping soundly.)
if a man from the night before has gone missing, you shouldn't think all that hard about him, either. can hardly remember, anyways, can you?
all you can remember is kaeya, is that it? and the water he coaxes into your lips the following morning? how fun he was to dance with the night before?
and the look in his eyes, maybe, when he finally caught hold of you and simply wouldn't let go.
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