aqricus - Tumblr blog

aqricus · 11 months

Text

SAY MY NAME ! feat. xiao

V SAYS . . . “who knew that giving you one little gift would open xiao’s eyes to how he feels about you? but, is it enough to convince him to act on it?”

+ WC . . . 3.6k

+ sfw material. female reader. angst. fluff.

!! this was supposed to be nsfw, but i made it into two parts for the sake of making the plot fit in a way that feels comfortable and fluid to me. the NEXT part will contain nsfw material !!

“if you ever find yourself in danger, or if you cannot bring yourself to do what is necessary, speak my name, and i will appear to you.”

in xiao’s mind, it was but a trivial blessing, a privilege well within his sphere of work and achieved without significant effort. but, as appealing as it may seem to be deemed worthy of wielding his name like a baleful curse, he believes that it is all he can give you. he is clumsy and unversed in matters of human relationships, and he does not serve much benefit in the way of offering applicable advice or the types of elegant, lyrical compliments he occasionally hears pour from the lips of poets and performers entertaining audiences near the boundaries of the city.

it doesn’t help that you hardly ever find yourself in sticky situations or toeing the line between safety and peril; because, although he is grateful for your security and the lack of harm you face, he simply wishes that he could offer you more. when he first relinquished such a power to you, it was nothing more than a precaution. you’ve never been one to gamble with your life or plunge headlong into potential danger on a whim, instead avoiding trouble within the walls of your picturesque cottage.

in fact, the only reason you even encountered him at all was due to the fact that a band of lawlichurls abandoned their usual routine and began chipping away at the outskirts of the city. you merely happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

he could tell you weren’t an adventurer with a single glance as you thanked him profusely for his intervention. you were frazzled and in clear disarray as you fluttered anxiously around him, hands gripped with a noticeable tremor as you awkwardly attempted to gather the collection of wildflowers and meticulously snipped mint plants that had been stripped from your grasp and scattered about the area during the mayhem. your explanation of the purpose of your whereabouts was linked together into one unbroken, jumbled stream of vowels and consonant. you were tense, movements rigid and tight like the string on a bow drawn taut.

however, it wasn’t until you finally began to mellow out and he dared to step closer, fist stuffed full of stems he managed to snag before the wind could whisk them away, that he noticed how captivating you appeared that night. despite your dress being rumpled and creased beyond simple adjustment, there was no mistaking the charming cascade of the violet fabric around your figure, loose enough for the hem to swirl around your ankles with each gust of wind yet tailored to inconspicuously highlight even the slightest curves embellishing your physique, right down to the gentle bend of your knee as you shifted your weight.

it reminded him of a sculpture he’d once stumbled upon among the ruins of a forgotten town sunken into the earth—a woman seated upon a pedestal with her head lifted toward the cracked ceiling, draped in overgrown vines and stained with moss yet carved with such care that every smooth edge and shape appeared soft to the touch.

you stood tall, even as the material draped over your body rippled beneath the force of the breeze. you radiated goodwill—your profuse expressions of gratitude, the benevolence that twinkled in eyes far more unguarded than any he’s had the pleasure of meeting in a long time, and especially the kind voice that fussed over blood that didn’t even belong to him until the words of rejection brewing on his tongue withered.

there he was, soaked in cerise and sharp gaze piercing you to your core as if your flesh were as delicate as gossamer, yet not once did the warmth in your gaze waver. you were afraid, of course you were, he could see it in your eyes, plain as day. but you approached him, regardless.

still to this day, he wonders why.

at the time, when you insisted that he allow you to repay him in some way, he became painstakingly aware of how rough—how calloused and hardened—his hands were compared to yours, which he was positive had never clutched anything sharper than a kitchen knife. he had half a mind to withdraw from your touch; but beneath the silver wash of moonlight, you appeared so serene that he wondered if such an action would be enough to upset you, so he stilled instead. he paid no heed to the figure veiled by your attire or really anything regarding your features. all he could focus on was the manner in which you gazed upon him without judgment, as if he hadn’t just effortlessly terminated an entire band of monsters within seconds, as if his awkward silence and uncertainty when speaking to you didn’t exist, as if his conspicuous appearance didn't deviate from the city's normalcy . . .

as if he was just like you.

you weren’t keen on allowing him to slip away so easily, either—at least, not without learning his name, which evolved into his favorite treat, which then developed into an invitation to meet the following day so that you could give him said favorite treat as a proper show of your gratitude. he didn’t quite understand what prompted him to take you up on your offer. perhaps it was because of how swiftly the chill of loneliness sank back in as soon as you vanished down the hillside with a secretive grin. maybe it had something to do with how the prospect of being able to ascertain whether or not the uncritical sincerity he’d seen from you the day prior was actually real made the corners of his lips quirk upward.

he may not have accepted an outright wish to meet you, but you piqued his interest. and, if nothing else, he knew that he wouldn’t be entirely adverse to seeing you just one more time before your paths would diverge once more.

but, you clearly had no intention of allowing it to be just “one more time.” time and time again, you would either stumble across him in a stroke of fortune or scrape together a reason to cross paths with him. he could not understand why you were so adamant about being in his presence if not for the need for protection or guidance pertaining to the land. even for the most mundane activities, like filling wooden basins with water near the edge of the river or assisting you with carrying something you clearly could manage on your own, you found pleasure in simply having him by your side, undaunted by and comfortable in even the longest stretches of silence that would settle between you.

he didn’t find it troublesome by any means. rather, he quite enjoyed being in your company, even if his attempts at reciprocating were poor at best. there is no history between you—no bloodstained, fractured past where you’ve witnessed his behavior at his worst or the horrific extent of his capabilities as a warrior. he was simply xiao, an enchanting individual who’s never had the pleasure of tasting a strawberry tart or experiencing lantern decorating but also happens to be your knight in shining armor.

you made him feel welcome, valued beyond his physical prowess, yearned for in his entirety. and in return, he’d grown to care for you deeply, craving a level of intimacy he’s had yet to explore.

even now, you don’t shy away from him, eyes wide and glimmering with excitement as the weight of his gift to you settles in. “really?” xiao remains rooted to his spot in the grass even as you step closer, close enough for him to count the individual fragments of rose quartz adorning the gold chain hooked around your throat—close enough to touch him, if you so pleased. “so, that means i’ll be able to call you whenever i want?”

he should have anticipated that you would completely bypass the fine details, your brain’s processing capacity reduced to nearly tunnel vision as you zero in on the overarching meaning instead: no more having to hope that you both are in the right place at the right time, no more wondering whether or not he’ll make the first move, and no more having to trek through the wilderness alone.

he nods and loosely folds his arms over his chest. “correct, but—”

before he can finish speaking, a dazzling smile blooms on your features, and your hand darts toward him without warning. he falls silent at the sensation of your fingers clasping his, drawing his hand into the space between you and cradling it within your own. he can detect a floral fragrance wafting from your skin . . . wisteria. it envelops his senses, intertwining with the comforting presence of your touch to send a ticklish, tingling sensation dispersing through his stomach. he swallows.

“this is so cool!” you squeeze his hand. “thank you, xiao.” the corners of his lips tilt upward into a small smile, and his muscles relax.

but, just as quickly as your grin appeared, it vanishes, along with your touch as you release him without warning. wait. his widen a fraction as he witnesses the warm gleam in your eyes dim into a muted reluctance. you withdraw from him, and in one fell swoop, the candlelight flickering in his chest is extinguished, reduced to nothing more than a cold whisper of smoke. wait. he’s never witnessed this behavior—this uncertainty—from you before. did he accidentally squeeze your hand? did you see something?

“wait, so . . .” you begin hesitantly, and xiao’s hand sinks back down to his side. he feels . . . he doesn’t know. he can’t quite place it, but it leaves his stomach roiling with malaise all the same. “all i have to say is your name, right? just ‘xiao’ and that’s it?”

“uh . . . yeah.”

rejection. he recalls the sting of it in the pit of his stomach, not quite foreign and not quite familiar, but never rendering him as defenseless as he is now. he’s become used to the solitude, accustomed to most regarding him with suspicion or fear. but to be subjected to such kindness from the first encounter, only to then have such a luxury slip from his fingertips without as much as a hint—this is new.

the swelling of your chest beneath your blouse as you inhale is barely noticeable. “have you always been able to hear when i say your name?” you question.

that’s probably the issue, his shoulders square. from what he’s learned from observing humanity, disregard for an individual’s privacy has never been taken kindly. “no, no,” he rushes to placate you. “i can only hear it if i establish a link between our consciences, which would allow for minimal communication.”

“oh . . .” your eyebrows furrow as you mull over his explanation, only for your easy smile to return a moment later. “oh!” the sight alleviates the coil of tension constricting around his chest, and he exhales slowly, with it expelling the besetting pessimism clouding his psyche. you laugh, and xiao relaxes. “sorry, that got a bit tense.” you dismiss with a breezy wave of your hand. “so, what about in conversation? can you hear that? like if i just mention your name.”

he shakes his head once more. “not quite. it’s more complicated than that. so far, i’ve only been able to hear it in times of desperation or fear . . . or, really just when you need me.” he explains. “let’s say you get attacked or get lost in the woods. you call me, and i’ll hear you. but, if you mention my name in conversation, i won’t.”

“oh, that’s a relief,” you shift your weight onto your right leg. a relief? does that mean she talks about me? xiao can’t help but search your eyes in question, seeking any kind of emotion to hint at the circumstances you may have mentioned his name in. why would you? do you speak highly of him? who do you speak about him to? how do you really feel about him?

almost as if his inquiries were spoken aloud, you shake your head. “i’ve mentioned you to ying’er in the past, but it’s only her, so you don’t have to worry—that is, if you don’t want people finding out about how much time we spend together. i told her all about how you saved me that one day, and ever since then, she’d ask about you whenever i came back late.” still not convinced by the hesitation shadowing his expression, you continue with a quiet chuckle. “it’s nothing bad, i promise. all good things.”

xiao’s chest warms at the confirmation. “oh . . . i see.” a tacit question lingers between the two of you; it rests on his tongue, cumbersome and thick, and manifests in your gaze as buoyant twinkles of anticipation as you await his next words. what do you tell her? it sears the tip of his tongue, dances behind twin rows of teeth welded together. you both feel it, he can tell. but, even as your gaze yields nothing but an earnest clarity, he pensively tucks his forefinger beneath his thumb and presses down, popping his knuckle. he never truly realized how easy it was to be deprived of the comfort of having you by his side. it could happen at any moment; one wrong word, one wrong move, and he could chase you off for good. he’s only just begun to find his place among the outskirts of society—to find his place with someone. perhaps at the moment, it’s better to play it safe and admire from a distance, he reasons, just as he has been up until this point.

“that’s . . . nice. i’m glad.” the delivery is awkward, as well as his words, but he figures it’s better than unnerving you.

wrong choice. his lips part when you wilt subtly at his lackluster response, shoulders deflating the tiniest bit and smile now tinged with a twist of dry amusement. you don’t seem shocked by his decision to avoid the question, but your disappointment is palpable regardless. “oh, uh . . .”

but, before he can scrape together something else to say, you silence him with a gentle shake of your head. “you know, xiao,” despite your despondency, he can still sense the same warmth in your voice. “i like hearing your thoughts, even if they aren’t anything profound. i just like talking to you.” your eyes meet his. “i ask you questions all the time—far too many, probably,” you huff a small laugh, “and you answer them all. it’s not weird to have questions for me, too.”

but when will i know when i am toeing the line between acceptable and unacceptable? once again, his thoughts remain unspoken. “. . . you would be correct.”

“if you want something, xiao,” you finish, “then pursue it.”

“if you want something, then pursue it.”

at the time, xiao had received your words in stride; but at this moment, as he sits alone, perched upon a low-hanging branch with his back braced against the trunk and one knee drawn up against his chest, he can’t help but consider how ludicrous of a statement it really is. a short sigh is huffed from his lips as he absently twirls the stem of an apple blossom between the pads of his thumb and index finger. the ivory petals stained with blush-pink glow beneath the gentle caress of the moonlight, protruding from the shadowy, muted backdrop of the surrounding vegetation like a sore thumb. he ghosts the tip of his middle finger over the velvety canvas of the petals.

“hey, check it out,” xiao’s eyes bounced from your face to the freshly plucked flower cradled in your palms. “the apple blossoms are blooming early this year! they smell lovely, don’t they?”

you were right. they do.

“pursuing something simply because you desire it . . . what a foolish way to live.” xiao reflects with a wry smile. no one can have everything they wish for; to believe otherwise is not only idiotic, but it also promotes greed. during his lifetime, he’s witnessed his fair share of avarice and power grabs, all spawned from people’s ideas that they were capable of achieving it all; and, just like clockwork, it would bait them into a downward spiral that would result in their own destruction. everyone is dealt their own hand of cards and is born to fulfill a certain purpose, himself serving as a prime example. to crave or demand something other than that would be . . .

but, then again, isn’t that exactly what he’s doing now? what he’s been doing?

his encounter with you that day was only supposed to be a one-time occurrence. neither of you had any business being involved in each other’s lives; he was slated to remain a finely honed weapon of mass obliteration, and you were to maintain a peaceful life separated from combat. your kind nature was in danger of being tainted by and desensitized to his misdeeds, just as your compassion threatened to dismantle his brutal, black-and-white mentality surrounding the protection of liyue that had been established within his mind longer than you have been alive.

even so, you became a staple in his life in an effort that was not one-sided. you dared to pursue him, and he returned the favor.

his forehead creases thoughtfully. pursue what you want.

what exactly do i want?

your face flickers through his mind, and his brows twitch. he wants you, he’s come to terms with that. but, what does that mean? what does he want from you? what does he want with you?

if it were as simple as he wished it was, he would find a way to keep you closer, find a way to have access to your voice first thing in the morning and last thing at night. he wants the freedom to dispose of the hesitance that restrains his fingers from brushing leaves from your clothes or from snaking around your waist to steady you whenever you trip. he wants to be able to comfortably ask you for more of that almond tofu you made him two weeks ago. he wants you to call him to accompany you whenever the sun begins to set.

he just wants . . . you. he wants more of you—all of you in your entirety.

however. . . the apple blossom slips from his fingertips, drifting to rest among the grass below. what i want does not matter. to dare to hope for a companion . . . such a desire is far too audacious for someone whose pedestal is composed of severed limbs and lifeless bodies--for a being whose soul is bound to solitude and tongue bound to silence by his karmic debt. perhaps he deserves it, perhaps he doesn’t. he doesn’t really think about it anymore.

but you certainly do not. it would only make way for misery and discontent to bleed into your soul, and he would shoulder the guilt for the remainder of his life.

he swings his legs over the side of the branch and allows himself to plummet through the air before landing nimbly upon the earth below. but none of that matters, anyway, if you do not reciprocate his feelings. without your tolerance of him being further interwoven in your life, he would never be able to completely fulfill his goal of being embraced with wholehearted acceptance. his hands seek anchorage in the fabric of his pants, porcelain fingers twisted into royal purple as he tethers himself back to reality. there are one hundred reasons for you to reject him and one hundred more that prove you deserve someone else, more familiar with affection and expressiveness, someone who isn’t only confident and willing to take charge of the situation when ensuring your safety.

the apple blossom catches his eye from its place nestled among the grass, and he picks it back up. it’s undamaged, still radiant and pure despite the thin, sanguine crescents lodged beneath his fingernails and the papery film of dirt layering his fingertips.

i’ll leave it here. he twirls the stem between his fingers. there is no reason to risk soiling it.

your smile appears in the back of his mind, nothing more than a brief flicker of a memory.

he stills, and after a moment of silence, he tucks the flower into his pocket.

#genshin #genshin headcanons #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #xiao x y/n #xiao x you #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #xiao

217 notes · View notes