Reader X Tighnari - Blog Posts

girlie you have no idea how much effort I had to physically restrain myself from squealing at 10am

Now Kiss (Part 2/Final) - F!Reader x Tighnari

Request Column - Genshin Impact

Cyno and Collei may be 'masters' of observation, but Tighnari’s hearing is sharper. Too bad Reader's still two kisses behind on the memo.

[Part 1] ✒️ Word Count: 2546 🏷️ Relevant Tags: Soft Fluff/Affection | Cyno Humor | "Secret" Relationship

The early morning mist was still present when [Name] reached the garden.

Tighnari hadn’t noticed her yet, focused as he always was when he thought no one was looking. His ears were forward, alert but calm, the same way they’d been ever since that night. The same way they were when he pressed his forehead to hers after the kiss and said, We stop pretending it didn’t mean something.

And they hadn’t. Pretended, that is. Not anymore. But they hadn’t exactly… announced anything either.

Which was fine. [Name] liked the quiet parts, the wordless agreements, the warm tea passed into her hands without asking, the way his fingers lingered against hers when no one else was around.

She was fine with soft smiles across a crowded greenhouse and the quiet way he waited for her after patrol. She didn’t need grand gestures or labels. This was theirs.

“Good morning,” she called out.

Tighnari looked over his shoulder, a smile already tugging at his lips. “You’re late.”

[Name] grinned, walking over. “You say that like I’m ever on time.”

He handed her a small bundle of foraged herbs. “Then why do I keep assigning you morning shifts?”

“Secret optimism,” she said, brushing his fingers as she took the bundle. “Or because you like me.”

He didn’t answer, just blinked slowly as his ears tilted in a way that gave him away far too easily for someone who claimed to be composed. [Name] didn’t press, only offered him a half-smile as she turned toward the sorting table.

She laid out the herbs with deliberate care, arranging by preparation method, then by potency, then by whether or not they would need drying before storage. It wasn’t how he sorted—Tighnari favored categorization by plant family, sometimes even regional subtypes if he was feeling particularly detailed.

But [Name]'s system had just as much structure, just as much thought. She arranged with workflow in mind—what needed to be prepped first, what reacted poorly to proximity with others, what they’d use by midday.

Tighnari stood beside her, arms crossed loosely as he watched in silence.

“You’re resisting the urge to comment,” she said lightly, not looking up.

“I’m considering the merits of your system.”

She allowed herself the smallest grin. “So I'm finally starting to convince you my ways better?”

“It’s pragmatic,” he admitted after a moment. “Not standardized, but efficient.”

[Name] raised a brow. “Standardized doesn’t always mean superior. This gets us through the workload with fewer redundancies.”

He hummed, nudging a stalk of sumeru rose half a degree clockwise. “Still would be difficult to replicate without you.”

“Good,” she said simply. “I like having job security.”

Before he could respond, the door creaked open behind them.

“Morning!” Collei called out cheerfully as she entered, her satchel sliding off her shoulder with a soft thud. “You two are already halfway through the sorting?”

“Just finished prepping the drying bundles,” [Name] replied, brushing her hands off on a cloth. “If you want to start weighing the mid-strength roots, they’re in the basket on the left.”

Collei blinked. “You reorganized again?”

“I updated the workflow paths. Less overlap. Tighnari keeps bruising the rukkhashava mushrooms reaching past the drying rack.”

“I do not—” he started, but Collei was already laughing.

[Name] turned, hands on her hips, looking entirely unbothered. “I tracked it. I left markers. You brushed it three times yesterday.”

Collei stifled another laugh behind her hand as Tighnari stared at [Name] in silence.

“I've created a monster,” he murmured.

“A well-organized monster,” [Name] corrected, tapping his arm gently with the back of her hand.

Their eyes met for just a second longer than they needed to. A breath too long. But when Collei looked up from the basket, they had already shifted back into routine—[Name] folding cloth around a set of stems, Tighnari reviewing her notes with his usual focus.

Nothing overt. Nothing stated.

But Collei knew.

She hummed to herself, smiling as she took out the scale, and said nothing.

Because some things didn’t need to be announced to be obvious.

The late morning passed in a quiet, efficient rhythm.

[Name] and Collei worked through the herbs in companionable silence, measuring, binding, storing. Occasionally, Collei would ask a question—clarification about a new plant arrangement, a confirmation about dosage strength—and [Name] answered easily, no second-guessing, no need to defer. Tighnari only interjected when it was absolutely necessary, content to observe the new system in action.

And for the most part, it worked.

No bruised mushrooms. No spills. Fewer crossed paths.

Tighnari, of course, still paced as he read—still hovered by the drying rack with that pinched look he got when mentally rewriting his entire classification system—but he didn’t say a word about changing it back.

[Name] noticed, but said nothing.

By midday, they were breaking for lunch. The usual courtyard table beneath the woven canopy had already been set up by someone else—Cyno, likely. Tighnari never asked him to, but somehow the table was always set when they got there, and the tea was always steeped just the way Tighnari liked it.

When they arrived, Cyno was already seated, sipping quietly and pretending not to see them.

[Name] sat across from him, biting into her rice cake. “How long were you watching us this morning?”

Cyno blinked. “You assume I was watching.”

Tighnari answered without missing a beat. “You always are. No one can escape your sight.”

Cyno sipped. “Fair.”

Collei slid into the seat next to [Name] with a grin, plucking a few berries from the shared bowl. “Your new layout cut prep time by almost half. We finished ahead for once.”

Tighnari glanced toward [Name]. “See? You might convince me.”

[Name] tilted her head, mock thoughtful. “I should start charging you a consultation fee.”

“You’re already paid. I—...make you tea.”

“Hmm. I’d like to renegotiate my contract.”

Across the table, Collei hid a smile behind her cup, and Cyno gave Tighnari a long look. One of those looks. Quiet, plainspoken, dry as the desert.

Tighnari didn’t meet it.

Instead, he said, “We’ll resume with seed inventory after lunch. [Name], can you take the southern storeroom?”

She nodded. “Already cleared shelf three yesterday. Just need to sort the spring sprout capsules.”

Cyno raised a brow. “You know his systems better than he does.”

[Name] shrugged, mouth full of rice. “That’s why he keeps me around.”

This time, Tighnari did glance her way—but quickly. Quiet.

Collei nudged Cyno’s arm under the table. He said nothing, but the faint curve at the corner of his mouth said everything.

Later that afternoon, the sun dipped just far enough for the light to soften through the canopy. [Name] stood alone in the southern storeroom, bent over a wooden crate of seed capsules, carefully labeling by germination date and rarity. Her sleeves were rolled to her elbows, fingertips dusted with dried root powder, and she was humming just under her breath.

Tighnari entered the room without announcing himself. She heard the creak of the door behind her and glanced up over her shoulder.

“Looking for something?” she asked.

“No.” He walked toward her with easy steps, clasping his hands behind his back. “Just checking on your progress.”

“I’m a third through.” She tapped a neat column in her notes. “I’ve rerouted the spring sprouts to the upper shelf. They’re more fragile than the label suggested.”

He scanned the page, then nodded once. “That’s a good call.”

[Name] turned to him fully, brushing a lock of hair from her cheek. “You could just say thank you.”

“I was getting there.”

“Mmhm.”

For a moment, they stood in silence—close, but not quite touching. Tighnari looked at her, and she looked back, the quiet between them warm and known.

Finally, he said softly, “You really don't mind that we haven’t told them?”

[Name] blinked. “Told who?”

“Cyno. Collei. About us.”

She tilted her head. “No. Do you?”

“No.”

And it was true. He didn’t. He didn’t need to. Cyno and Collei knew, had known for weeks now, and had never once pushed. Maybe that was why it felt easier to let it unfold like this, with no announcement, no dramatic reveal.

Just shared glances and easy silence. Just belonging.

He watched her go back to labeling, the lines of concentration softening her expression. The sun caught in the edge of her face as she worked, and something in his chest shifted.

“You missed one,” he said quietly.

[Name] didn’t look up. “No, I didn’t. It’s in the next stack.”

Tighnari smiled.

He leaned in a little—enough for his shadow to fall beside hers on the crate lid, enough for her to feel the warmth of him even through the gap between them. She finally looked up, brow arched like she already knew he wasn’t actually checking her work anymore.

“You’re hovering,” she said.

“Monitoring.”

“For what, exactly?”

“Quality control. Emotional wellbeing. Your general presence.”

[Name] bit back a laugh, even as her cheeks pinked. “You’re very thorough.”

“I try.”

The crate of sprout capsules was mostly forgotten now. [Name] turned toward him fully, brushing her hands on her apron. Her eyes flicked down, briefly, to his lips. Just once.

The silence stretched, not tense, just… still.

Tighnari tilted his head, slowly leaning forward, his voice barely above a whisper. “Do I have clearance for a quick kis—”

The storeroom door creaked loudly.

Both of them flinched apart like students caught cheating during an exam.

Cyno stood in the doorway, holding a small tin of salve in one hand and a basket of dry bark in the other. His expression was unreadable.

Tighnari straightened with expert calm. “Did you need something?”

“Yes,” Cyno said. “I came to offer assistance.”

[Name] cleared her throat. “In here?”

“You’re doing seed inventory. I thought I’d drop a few hints.”

She frowned, confused. “Hints?”

Cyno held up the tin of salve. “These are spring bloom rubs. Known for encouraging… sprouting relationships.”

Tighnari blinked. “Is that supposed to be—”

“Metaphorical,” Cyno said flatly. “And literal. In case you both want to stop ‘planting doubt’ and start ‘growing publicly.’”

[Name] stared. “What?”

Tighnari sighed into his hand. “He’s making jokes again.”

“I got that part,” [Name] muttered. “Sort of.”

Cyno stepped further in, setting the basket down by the shelf. “You both move through the village like two trees growing from the same root but pretending you’re different plants.”

There was a long pause.

“…Was that a joke?” [Name] asked.

“I don’t know anymore,” Cyno replied frankly.

Tighnari pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’re not hiding anything.”

“You’re also not saying anything,” Cyno replied.

[Name] opened her mouth, then closed it.

Because technically, he wasn’t wrong.

They hadn’t told anyone. They hadn’t lied—but they hadn’t shared, either. And while [Name] hadn’t thought much of it before, Cyno’s blunt delivery left her strangely… aware.

She glanced at Tighnari, who looked remarkably calm, if slightly resigned. His ears twitched faintly.

“We were going to tell you,” Tighnari said finally, “when we were ready.”

Cyno gave a slow nod. “I’m not rushing you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” [Name] muttered, but the corners of her mouth twitched.

“I just like efficient communication,” Cyno added. “And plant metaphors.”

[Name] crossed her arms, laughing softly. “You’re so weird.”

Cyno gave her a blank look. “I’ve been consistent.”

Tighnari exhaled. “You can go now.”

“Message delivered,” Cyno said, and walked out with the kind of slow, purposeful turn reserved for dramatic exits.

The door clicked closed.

[Name] stared after him for a moment. “…You think Collei put him up to that?”

“No,” Tighnari said. “Cyno's meddling is entirely self-directed.”

She turned to him again, softer now, her fingers brushing his wrist. “So. Where were we?”

Tighnari didn’t need to say anything. He stepped back into her space—closer this time, his head dipping, ears flicking once more as his hand slid gently along her waist.

The kiss was light, careful, given the interruption. But then her hand rose to the back of his neck, and his other found the small of her back, and the quiet of the storeroom turned into something shared.

No announcements.

No metaphors.

Just a kiss—theirs.

And for the first time, [Name] wondered if maybe sharing it with others wouldn’t be so bad.

The next morning, the sun had barely cleared the treetops when [Name] walked into the main prep room, satchel slung over one shoulder, and Tighnari’s gloves adorning her hands.

They were more protective after all, though the sight of this caused Collei to pause before she could even greet her.

“Good morning,” [Name] said, entirely unbothered, setting her satchel down and adjusting the gloves to be more snug. “Sorry I’m late. Tighnari wouldn’t let me leave without breakfast.”

Tighnari walked in two steps behind her, holding two mugs of tea—one of which he handed off to her with easy familiarity.

“Next time, eat slower,” he said. “You inhale bread like it wronged you.”

[Name] took the tea without looking up. “Says the man who lectures mid-chew.”

Collei blinked between them. “…Wait.”

[Name] looked up. “Yes?”

“Are you two—?”

“Together?” Tighnari supplied helpfully. “Yes.”

[Name] took a sip of her tea. “We were going to announce it formally with a bulletin board posting and parade, but then someone eavesdropped.”

Tighnari’s ears twitched pointedly as he turned toward Cyno, who was seated cross-legged in the corner, sipping his own tea with uncharacteristic innocence.

“I said nothing,” Cyno offered quickly.

“Which is almost impressive,” Tighnari replied, “considering you whispered your entire reaction that night from behind a poorly concealed shrub.”

Cyno blinked. “...You heard that?”

“I have excellent hearing,” Tighnari said evenly. “I heard everything. Including Collei gasping and nearly knocking over the watering can.”

Collei made a squeaking noise. “I did not.”

“You did.” He took a slow sip of tea. “I simply chose the path of least resistance.”

[Name] raised a brow. “You knew they knew and still let me go on not knowing they knew?”

Tighnari didn’t blink. “Yes.”

Collei let out a strangled little laugh. “You’re worse than Cyno.”

Tighnari tilted his head. “That feels unnecessarily cruel.”

“I think it’s fair,” [Name] said lightly. “You’re both bad at being normal.”

“Good,” Tighnari replied, slipping his hand around her waist with zero hesitation. “We’ve just made it easier to stop pretending.”

Cyno set his tea down calmly. “Thank you for removing ambiguity. It was becoming distracting.”

[Name] snorted. “Was it really that bad?”

Cyno nodded. “I’m used to silent tension. Yours was twitchy.”

Collei was beaming now, bouncing slightly on her heels. “So this is official now? Like, you’re together together?”

Tighnari gave a slight nod. “Yes. Publicly. Casually. Permanently.”

“That’s a lot of adverbs,” [Name] murmured.

“I had time to rehearse.”

[Name] laughed, leaning against him with ease now. “Well then.” She turned to their friends with a grin. “Satisfied?”

Cyno raised his teacup. “Very.”

Collei gave a little cheer under her breath, then quickly tried to hide it with a cough.

Tighnari’s tail flicked once, slow and content, and he murmured just loud enough for the two of them to hear, “You may stop planning your interventions now.”

Cyno didn’t answer—but he did smile.

And Collei? She just whispered to herself, “Finally,” before returning to her notes, eyes bright and cheeks flushed.

'Now Kiss' was initially only a lil self-indulgent story for fun, but seeing that there was interest, I wanted to add more to this little plot to conclude everything nicely. Hope you all enjoyed!