Fatui harbingers x male reader
Teyvat is like a Tree. As rooted to earth as a tree.
Y/n is like water. Water can push it's way even through walls, and when trapped, water makes a new path.
Credit to the person who has created the artwork in the co...
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Y/N lay curled in his bed, the soft blankets pulled tight around him like a protective cocoon. The room was dark, the curtains drawn shut, but no amount of darkness could shield him from the thoughts racing through his mind. His heart still pounded in his chest, the lingering echo of fear from earlier filling the silence.
He didn’t know how long it had been since he ran. Since the moment he fled the hallway, everything felt like a blur. Time seemed to stretch on endlessly, as though each minute was an hour. How long had he been here? Had the meeting already started? Had it ended? There was no way to tell, no concept of the world outside his room.
Y/N squeezed his eyes shut, willing his mind to slow down, to stop the frantic swirl of thoughts that wouldn’t let him rest. He was afraid to leave the room, afraid of what he might see, or worse—who he might run into.
His husband. That man, the one he thought he had escaped from.
The fear of encountering him again was paralyzing. Y/N wanted the meeting to end, so the man would leave the palace and return to whatever far corner of the world he had come from. But at the same time, the thought of the meeting ending filled him with dread. He knew that as soon as it was over, the Harbingers would come looking for him, asking what had happened, why he had run.
What would he say? How could he even begin to explain it?
Y/N’s breathing grew shallow, the thoughts pressing down on him like a heavy weight. He didn’t want to answer their questions. He didn’t want to relive the moment. The fear and the shame—it all twisted inside him like a storm he couldn’t control.
The bed felt like the only safe place in the world, but even within its warmth, he couldn’t escape the reality of what had happened. His thoughts were a whirlpool, pulling him down deeper into the exhaustion that had settled over him.
As his mind raced, Y/N could feel his body slowly surrendering to the fatigue. His eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment, the energy it took to stay awake slipping away. His limbs felt numb, weighed down by the blanket and the emotional toll of the day.
He didn’t want to sleep. He didn’t want to let go of the control he had over himself, however fragile it was. But the exhaustion was too much. His mind, restless as it was, couldn’t keep him awake any longer.
The last thing Y/N felt before slipping into the depths of sleep was a sense of uncertainty, a vague hope that when he woke up, it would all be over. That the meeting would be finished, that his husband would be gone, and that no one would ask questions he didn’t want to answer.
