Work Text:
The fight was hard-won, a fact that put an ecstatic grin on the eleventh harbinger’s face though a grimace lied almost unnoticeable underneath it. Though the battle had ended moments ago, he still stood in a fighting stance, but his shoulders rose and fell with his labored breathing which he tried to mask with a small chuckle. The action only made his breathing worse. The hydro swords grasped in his hands fell away like an invisible power relinquishing the element to the force of gravity. Tartaglia’s fingers relaxed from their curled positions, and he stumbled just a step though he hadn’t meant to take one. He hoped Y/n hadn’t seen it.
Y/n who stood just a few feet at the man’s back breathed as heavily as he did, and after a moment of catching her breath, she roughly threw her weapon to the ground where it silently disintegrated into nonexistence. Her dirty hair fell around her face as she lowered her head and knelt on the debris-ridden ground. A chipped chaos circuit dug into her scraped knee, and she hissed at the sting caused by the grains of dirt pressing into the cut before quickly moving off the sharp object. A moment later she rocked backward onto the gray bricks and sat with her back to the wall and her knees up with her arms resting atop them. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as a cool breeze flowed through the ruins on the outskirts of Stormterror’s Lair. Her moment of relaxation was short lived as she heard the slight crunching footsteps of the harbinger approaching her.
When the footsteps stopped in front of her, she opened her eyes and looked up to see a smiling Tartaglia with one hand on his knee and one stretched out to her. A thick smear of dark blood streaked down the side of his face and followed the contour of his jaw. Y/n couldn’t tell if it was his blood or one of the unfortunate mage’s whose existence had been wiped from Teyvat moments ago. His hair was only slightly messed up, but his cowlick stuck up proudly against the odds.
Y/n breathed and reached a hand up to take hold of the offer extended. With more effort than was usually needed, the two stood to their full heights. With slower movements the woman dusted off her clothing that had become more scratched and tattered and assessed the minor injuries sustained on her arms and body. Tartaglia watched her for a second before placing his hands on his sides and looking around at the traces of carnage left by the fight.
Giant craters left in the cobblestones by plunging ruin guards and innumerous scorch marks across the ground caused by pyro abyss mages adorned the battlefield like decorations. Smoking patches of grass littered across the field marked the harbinger’s contribution to the mess. A smile that some might classify as sick adorned Tartaglia’s filthy face as his bright eyes continued to scan the remnants of chaos.
After he had reflected on the precious fight, he turned to the woman and spoke cheerily, “Thanks, comrade! Though I would’ve liked to finish them myself, fighting by your side is always a pleasure. Though I have to ask, what are you doing here?”
Y/n had joined the battle only partway through and looking back now she approved her decision to get involved. More than a few minutes ago she overheard two adventurers on the road conversing about a man with a hydro Snezhnayan vision who had stopped to ask about Stormterror’s Lair. Of course, there weren’t too many Snezhnayans around much less with visions, so Y/n quickly put two and two together. She stopped to question the adventurers to confirm her suspicions and soon after teleported to the nearest waypoint in the Lair. When she arrived, the sounds of activated ruin guards in the distance made it easy to pinpoint the location of the harbinger and she ran to it without even thinking to teleport closer.
By the time she arrived at the field, scattered bodies of hilichurl shooters, ruin guards, and slime condensates littered the space. After an assessment of the fray, she determined that she didn’t need to join. Tartaglia was more than proficient in battle, even if he did have a reckless streak. Y/n kept watching as he fired arrow after arrow at his opponents. He seemed slower than usual – not by much but still. The woman began to overthink, “what if he used Foul Legacy?” She didn’t think he could take that again so soon. Each passing second the fight carried on, her thoughts only became more troubled and finally she entered the conflict.
She finished dusting herself off and put a hand on her hip. She thrusted a hand toward the man’s middle and gestured. “Looking for you. What are you even doing in Stormterror’s Lair?”
He laughed joyously, “Fighting, of course! I’ve never been here so I figured my lack of knowledge of this territory might give my enemies an edge. Turns out I was right! Ah, I love it when I have to work for it.” He sighed like he’d just taken a bath after a long day, but then backtracked. “Wait. You were looking for me? How come?”
The woman scoffed though the traces of an amused smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. She gestured to the area around them, “I came to make sure you were alright. Who knows what kind of awful situations you’ll rush into or what lengths you’ll go to.” She stared wide eyed into the man’s blue eyes, but she couldn’t quite tell what he was thinking.
After a breath a smirk formed on Tartaglia’s lips, and he crossed his arms over his chest. He winced a little at the action. “Think I can’t handle a few monsters myself, hm? I’m saddened by your exceptionally low opinion of my combat skills,” he feigned a pout. Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that fought its way past her glower. The harbinger chuckled but didn’t make any comment on the fact.
The woman continued with a mild smirk of her own as a cloud passed overhead blocking the moonlight. “Anyway, its not like you haven’t lost before or not been injured. I figured I’d come check on you, but since you’re clearly still as belligerent as ever I’ll be...” Her sentence slowly trailed off as her eyes fell on the blood smeared down the side of his face. Her brows furrowed and she took a step closer. Now she really wasn’t sure if it was his or not because the coagulated substance looked like it extended into his hairline.
“Is this your blood?” she asked a touch softer than previously. She reached a gentle hand up to his cheek but refrained from touching his face. With searching eyes, she inspected the surface to see if she could ascertain its severity. She didn’t see the way the man’s dull eyes focused as they studied her cheeks and her lips and her lashes.
After a moment it occurred to the man that he should respond to her question. He glanced sidelong to where her hand had lifted and raised his hand to his head. “What is it?” He moved his gloved hand closer to the area before Y/n quickly caught it in hers and reprimanded him.
“Don’t touch it. What if you reopen it?” she questioned with an incredulous look and still holding his hand in an awkward position. Tartaglia scoffed as Y/n let go of him, “Heh, well I doubt its mine. My head feels fine.” The woman pursed her lips before rebutting, “Yes, because I trust your judgment. For all I know you can’t feel your head at all.” She gestured with her hand, “Come on. Bend down so I can see better.” The eleventh half-rolled his eyes but obliged.
When he had done so, Y/n once again lifted her hand to his head, but this time lightly ran her fingertips along his hairline. Upon a closer look, she saw that he did not have a head wound and that the dark blood did not belong to the man. Overhead, the clouds passed on and the moonlight returned to illuminate the scene.
A barely noticeable glow at the corner of Y/n’s eyes caused her to cease her inspection for a moment. Her gaze slid to the distraction where baby blue eyes met hers. Though her expression remained still she was sure her pulse quickened. She’d never seen his eyes in the moonlight and the color was staggering. Her eyes flit to the blood and then back to him before she removed her hand. Before she could inquire about his staring, Tartaglia asked, “So is it mine?”
Another light breeze blew through the collapsed ruins ruffling his rust-colored hair. He remained with his gaze trained on Y/n and when her hand lifted once more to his head, he let her fingers brush the locks from his eyes and bloodied face.
Y/n’s eyes glanced away from his stare, and she replied in a quiet tone, “No, thankfully not yours.” When the man didn’t move to stand and continued to look at her, she asked, “Is there something on my face?” It was quite possible that she had gotten bloodied herself.
Tartaglia then stood and grinned, “Nothing at all.” He paused and tilted his head, “Would you like there to be?”
Y/n couldn’t hold back the snort his question elicited. She looked skyward to the ever-full moon and back to the taller individual before taking a step forward. Now chest to chest with him, she watched as she brought her pointer finger right beneath the notch of his neck and slipped it down between the lapels of his jacket. She pulled and her delighted expression did not go unnoticed when he lowered at her urging. Now at eye level, she stared intently into his gleaming eyes. He stared back into her e/c ones as a light leer grew on his visage.
The woman made a small noise and parried, “It sounds like you want there to be something on my face.” When he didn’t answer her teasing, her eyes fell to his lips and a breath passed between them.
“Go on then, harbinger,” she taunted as her face grew serious.
Hesitation absent from his mind and body, Tartaglia leaned in and pressed a heavy kiss to her lips. One hand wrapped around her wrist under his throat. The other intertwined their fingers one by one into a tight hold. He felt the tug of Y/n’s lifted hand pull back and he drew closer.
Too eager and still recovering, he took a stumbling step forward at her pull and slipped a fast and attentive hand to the back of her head before he pushed her into the ruin wall. A short moan rolled from her mouth. Tartaglia’s grip tightened in her messy hair.
Unsatisfied, Y/n shook his grasp from her wrist and wrapped her arm tightly around his neck while the other wrestled from his fingers and dug into his dull sunset hair. An unnaturally soft noise sounded from him as his hands moved and slid down her sides to rest on her waist. His fingertips pressed into her sides causing a strange tingle to shoot up Y/n’s spine. She detested her quiet whine that answered his touch.
Tartaglia relished the noise and tilted his head as he moved his lips against hers with equal fervor. His restless hands glided up the sides of her ribs and he felt her body tense slightly at this. With fluid motion, he slipped one hand to the small of her back and forced her closer while the other combed into her hairline.
Y/n sighed through her nose at the exhilarating feeling of his fingers dragging through her hair. Her body sagged against the stones and instinctively Tartaglia followed keeping strong hands on her at all times and his lips firmly pressed against hers. Too caught up in the moment, he hardly noticed when his knees hit the grass on either side of Y/n’s legs.
A soft wind blew across the area causing strands of the man’s bangs to tickle Y/n’s face. The woman couldn’t help the smile that pulled the corners of her mouth taut. Her hand slipped down to the side of his neck, and she kissed his bottom lip with unsolicited tenderness.
Tartaglia let out a quiet breath as her warm lips left his. He forced his heavy eyelids to open and only glanced at her still face for a second before slowly leaning forward.
The air around Y/n moved and shifted as the man leaned closer. The sensitive hairs on her neck stood on end almost reaching out as Tartaglia breathed against her skin. “What are you smiling for?” he whispered and then placed an unbearably soft kiss between her earlobe and jaw.
Y/n inhaled sharply, and her fingers clenched at the sensation of his mouth and the tips of his hair brushing her cheek. She pulled away from his lips which left an unwelcome damp spot beneath her ear, and she turned her head. Her glazed eyes met his and she answered, “Your hair tickled me, idiot.” She huffed at Tartaglia’s wolfish grin in response and pushed her lips into his just to get him to stop smiling.
Y/n pushed herself onto her knees and the harbinger against the wall. She heard his chuckle though she brushed it off in favor of snaking her hand over his shoulder with frightening slowness. With her other hand she gripped the tufts of the man’s hair, tangling her fingers in the soft strands before pulling hard.
A sharp and delicious groan tumbled from the man and a smile filled with ecstasy appeared on his face. His blue eyes cut to the side, and he met e/c eyes that looked down on him. A sadistic grin pulled at the corner of the woman’s mouth at the pretty face.
Tartaglia chuckled darkly and removed a hand from her back. He placed his hand on the back of Y/n’s neck and with a rough hand pulled her closer. He held her just a hair’s distance from his face and grinned at her stunned expression.
Y/n recovered though a blush painted her cheeks. “Play nice, Ajax,” the woman whispered.
The harbinger snorted at her faux request and tilted his head a little. “Don’t you know? Fighting’s all I’m good at,” he replied. After a pause he added, “And weren’t you the one who started it?”
The woman rolled her eyes. “Let’s not get caught up on the details,” she said and closed the gap between them. Tartaglia pulled her onto his lap and inhaled deeply as he drank her in. He couldn’t describe the euphoric feeling of her hands cupping his face as she took his lip gently between her teeth. The gentle and foreign feeling of Y/n’s mouth on his planted him to the spot and pleaded for him to stay.
Y/n pulled away abruptly just seconds after Tartaglia heard the trademark trills of abyss mages and hilichurls. His cloudy eyes looked to Y/n whose gaze now turned steadfastly in the direction of the enemy. There lay a beat of silence between them before the man briefly leaned his head against the stones and sighed under his breath even as a light smile lay on his lips, “I suppose there’s only one thing we can do about that.” He watched as Y/n turned her eyes to him and eased off his lap as the incoherent speaking grew closer.
“What do you mean by that?” Y/n asked even as she feared his answer. “You’re going to fight them?” she clarified.
Tartaglia pushed himself onto a knee as he readied himself for his ambush and replied, “What other option is there?” he asked as if no other course of action existed. He added as he deftly drew his bow, “Even the smaller battles count for something. You didn’t think I was going to run away, did you? Haha! Who do you take me for?” The insane smile he donned in the previous fight returned.
Y/n had hoped he wouldn’t try to fight them, but she realized that was foolish. She reluctantly drew her own weapon and assumed a defensive stance near the ground. “After you,” she sighed and met his eyes. An unsettling and familiar glimmer shone in those eyes, but she had become acquainted with it and it somewhat comforted her to know that somethings never change.
Tartaglia stood and when he sprinted straight into harm’s way, Y/n followed close on his heels only slightly regretting her decision to come check on him.