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milksnake-tea · 9 months

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hello!! 💕💕 first of all, I'd like to say CONGRATS ON THE 1K FOLLOWERS!! honestly your work is so amazing you totally deserve it - reading your work is such a pleasure and such an inspiration, keep up the amazing work, Lui!! 💕💕

okok so now for my request:

may I humbly ask for the love of my life Blade with angst dialogue 10... (please be easy on my heart 💔)

anyways, have a lovely day!! I can't wait to see what you write for this event!! :)

❀ ˎˊ- prompt: "I didn't know where else to go." ❀ ˎˊ- 1k followers event ❀ ˎˊ- character: blade ❀ ˎˊ- warnings: angst ofc !! but not too heavy lmao, mentions of blood and injuries, brief mentions of blade's real name ❀ ˎˊ- a/n: AHHHH TY EL !!! UR SO SWEET I KEEP SAYING THIS BUT GRIPS U

Blade muttered a silent curse to himself, clutching at his bleeding arm as he hauled himself through the Xianzhou. Normally, he would've welcomed the injury, but this one didn't seem to be healing anytime soon.

The streets were uncharacteristically silent - something Blade found himself thankful for. It wouldn't do him any good if a civilian, or worse, a Cloud Knight, had found an injured Stellaron Hunter out in the streets.

He hardly paid attention to where his feet were taking him; he didn't care. Anywhere was fine, as long as it was away from the enemy.

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of a familiar doorstep. Blade blinked, before cursing himself for his carelessness. He needed to get out of here, quick, before you figured out he was here.

He attempted to walk away, but instantly, his arm flared with pain. Blade hissed, glaring at his arm as if it had done something wrong. His arm did not reply.

He heaved a sigh. He'd love to just leave and treat his wound himself. But where to would he leave? Here, he was on enemy territory. No one would welcome him.

Lost in his turmoil, Blade failed to register the sound of your approaching footsteps. It was when you finally opened the door, and the light of your home cascaded onto him that he stiffened like a deer in headlights.

You looked as young as he remembered you - or rather, as much as he could remember you. Such was the fate of a long-lived species, he mused. Your eyes were wide with surprise, shock, and even fear.

"Yingxing?" you managed out in disbelief.

You took a step back, taking a defensive position. Somewhere, in the depths of Blade's guarded heart, something tightened painfully.

"What are you doing here?"

You tried to sound assertive, but the tremble in your voice gave you away. You were scared, and Blade knew it. He didn't blame you. He was a Stellaron Hunter, after all. Creating fear was part of his job - Kafka was particularly good at it.

Usually, he liked fear. He loved seeing it in the eyes of his enemies, their ego dropping to absolute terror when faced with an opponent far beyond their league.

But with you, something about it made his gut twist, as though something was wrong.

As Blade merely stared at you, conflicting emotions swirling in his eyes, you noticed his arm. His black coat was ripped, revealing the gaping slash wound.

"You're hurt," you stated the obvious. Blade cringed, but nodded.

"I..." he took a deep breath. For a moment, the criminal wanted by the IPC looked nervous, vulnerable. "I didn't know where else to go."

Your gaze dropped. It'd been centuries since you'd last seen Yingxing, or Blade. When you last saw him, he was the blacksmith of the High Cloud Quintet, a hero to the Xianzhou. Now, he was one of its most hated criminals.

If you let him into your home and were caught, you'd surely be arrested for treason.

Blade noticed your conflicted gaze. Despite expecting this result, he couldn't help a pit of disappointment from forming in his stomach. He straightened, hardening his gaze.

"Never mind," he said quietly, turning his back. "I apologize for bothering you."

"Wait."

Your voice stopped him in his tracks. You crossed your arms, wondering to yourself if you were insane, delusional, or perhaps just plain stupid.

"Come in," you sighed, quite honestly disappointed in yourself. "You'll get it infected at this rate."

Very reluctantly and confusedly, Blade followed you into your home. You pointed him to the couch, which he wordlessly sat himself on while you disappeared into another room, presumably to retrieve medical supplies.

His memory is foggy, but there's a sense of familiarity here. He briefly remembered the paintings that are hung up, the ones that you won in a bidding. He recognized the table at which you'd drink tea and discuss your day with him.

Flashes of memory flicker in his mind, but Blade immediately squashed them. He knew that delving into the past would only serve to irritate the mara lying dormant within him.

It wasn't long before you returned, holding a first aid kit and sitting down next to him.

"Can you take off your coat?" you asked. "It'll make things easier."

Blade followed suit, slowly unbuttoning his coat and letting it fall to the couch around him. Bandages were wrapped around his entire torso, while scars of many lives littered his skin like burned reminders.

You reached out a hand - but what for, you didn't know. To console him? To touch his scars, to give him even the slightest of comfort?

But you didn't. No, the relationship you two once had was no more. You no longer had the right to do so.

And so, you opted for bandaging him, cleansing the wound, applying ointment, and wrapping it. You stubbornly kept your eyes on the gash, no matter how much you hated the sight of blood, refusing to look up and meet Blade's burning gaze.

"You can stay the night."

Your mouth moved before your brain did. You almost didn't believe your own words, and immediately you wanted to take them back. Even Blade was shocked by your offer, staring at you as though you've grown a second head.

"But," you quickly added, "you need to be gone by tomorrow morning. I refuse to be arrested because you're found in my home."

Your words stung, but were understandable. Blade closed his eyes, and nodded. You stood up.

"There's an extra blanket and pillows in the closet," you said, packing up the first aid kit. "Goodnight, Yingxing."

"Blade," he corrected quietly. "I lost my right to that name a long time ago."

You were silent for a moment.

"Very well," you finally said. "Goodnight, Blade."

And as you left for your bedroom, leaving the criminal in your living room, you could barely hear the faintest of whispers from your old friend.

"Goodnight, [Name]."

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

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