AnaxaIsMyBae

The shoreline of Astropolis shimmered beneath the fading light of evening, the horizon painted in strokes of gold and amber as the sun slowly dipped into the sea. The gentle hush of waves rolling onto the sand felt worlds away from the artificial brightness of studio lights and the relentless rhythm of cameras. For hours, Aventurine had been performing—smiling, posing, playing the part the IPC demanded of him with effortless precision. Every movement calculated, every glance curated.

But the moment the shoot wrapped, that carefully crafted persona began to slip.

He exhaled, shoulders loosening as he stepped away from the set, the noise fading behind him. His thoughts, almost instinctively, drifted toward you—whether you had been resting, whether you’d eaten, whether you were waiting somewhere nearby like you often did.

And then he saw you standing at the edge of the tide. For a moment, he didn’t move, neither did his heart and he was sure you had casted a spell upon it.

The world seemed to still around him, the distant chatter dissolving into nothing as his attention locked entirely onto your figure. The soft glow of sunset wrapped around you, the waves brushing against your ankles as you stood there—hesitant, uncertain, yet unmistakably present. You were dressed in something he had never seen you wear before. Light and open. A quiet departure from the modesty you usually clung to, covers you chose out of your own insecurities. Your arms hovered awkwardly at your sides, your gaze flickering away as if you were afraid to meet his eyes for too long.

And in that moment, Aventurine—who could talk his way through anything, who could charm, deceive, and command with a single smile—found himself utterly, completely speechless. Not because of what you wore but because it was you.

You, who had stepped out of your comfort zone. You, who had come all this way just to see him. You, who stood there now, nervous and vulnerable, waiting for his reaction.

“…You came.” His voice was softer than he intended, almost lost beneath the sound of the waves.

You glanced up immediately, flustered, your fingers curling together as if seeking something to hold onto. “I—I thought you might be free after today,” you began, your words tumbling over themselves. “And it’s… nice here, so I figured maybe we could—” You faltered, your gaze dropping before quickly adding, “But I can change if it’s weird! I just—I wanted to try something different and—”

“You’re not weird.” The words left him instantly, too quick, too firm—cutting cleanly through your spiraling thoughts.

You blinked, startled by the sudden intensity, and only then did Aventurine realize how long he had been staring. A flicker of embarrassment crossed his face as he dragged a hand down it, as though trying to collect himself, but it did little to ground him.

“…You’re—” he started, only to stop short. He tried again, quieter this time. “You look…” Nothing came out, he was rendered beyond speechless with his mind and heart racing miles per second.

It was absurd. He could negotiate contracts worth entire planets, dismantle arguments with ease, and weave words into whatever shape he needed them to take. Yet here he was, standing in front of you, completely at a loss.

“Do I look bad?” you asked softly, your shoulders drawing inward as doubt crept into your voice. “It’s a bit too much, isn’t it? I knew I shouldn’t have—I can just go change—”

“No.” Aventurine shut down the thought as quickly as one could, as though the very thought was forbidden in the book love.

Tentatively, he decided to inch closer to you. Each step toward you was slow, deliberate, as though you were something fragile he didn’t want to startle. The distance between you closed until he stood just a breath away, the warmth of you grounding him far more effectively than any practiced composure ever could.

“Don’t,” he added, his tone gentler now. Unbeknownst to you, the Golden Touch was holding back the stutters that threatened to overcome his thoughts.

You stilled, caught between hesitation and hope. Insecurities had always enveloped you in their cruel arms. You could hardly imagine yourself with so little clothes— not because it was revealing but because you never thought your body was worth being bare to the eyes of others. And now, the man before you— your beloved— was rendered speechless by your radiance.

Aventurine exhaled quietly before reaching out, his hand finding yours with a careful sort of certainty. His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles, a small, grounding motion—one that steadied both of you.

“…You’re beautiful,” he muttered out at last. There was no teasing lilt to his voice this time, no playful charm or calculated allure, he could only afford the truth this time.

“I just…” He let out a soft, self-conscious laugh, glancing away for a brief moment before meeting your eyes again. “I wasn’t expecting to lose my composure this badly.”

A faint smile tugged at your lips, shy but real. “You did?” The mere thought was laughable to you— Aventurine, who had faced cruelty with lies stitched to his tongue now couldn't mutter anything but truths. Perhaps this was only a portion of what you could do to him.

“Completely,” he admitted, his grip on your hand tightening ever so slightly, as if reluctant to let go now that he had it. “It’s a bit humiliating, honestly. The great Golden Touch, reduced to silence by another's radiance.”

A quiet laugh escaped you, the tension in your shoulders easing at last. Still, you hesitated. “…You really don’t think I should change?”

He stepped closer again, closing what little space remained between you. His free hand lifted—pausing for the briefest moment as if asking for permission—before settling lightly at your waist. The touch was gentle, careful, but undeniably grounding.

“No,” he murmured, allowing his admiring eyes to travel up and down. “I think… you should let me look a little longer.”

Heat rushed to your face at his words, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into him ever so slightly, the last of your uncertainty softening under his gaze.

Aventurine smiled then—something quieter, softer than any expression he had ever worn under the scrutiny of a camera. His thumb brushed over your hand again, absentminded, affectionate.

“…You came all this way for me,” he said, his voice low, just for you to hear. “The least I can do is make the rest of the evening yours.” There was a brief pause to catch his own breath before he added, almost under his breath; “Though I should warn you.”

You tilted your head curiously. “About what?”

His gaze lingered on you again, warm and unguarded, the faintest hint of awe still present in his expression. “I may not be very useful,” he admitted. “If this is what I’ll be distracted by.”

Your laughter came easier this time, brighter, and something in his chest settled at the sound. Yes… schedules, obligations, the ever-watchful eye of the IPC—none of it mattered right now.

Because everytime you were near, Aventurine was not performing. And he had no intention of letting you out of his sight for the rest of the evening. If you thought your body was worth being bare for once, he'd remind it to you for the rest of your life with endless love and devotion.

behind the back of their stoic professor, his students began making quiet bets on who his wife was. someone from the university also? likely. professor aglaea? most likely option, they were the perfect enemies in public, lovers in private trope.

on the other hand, you were the professor of literature. though you often shared moments of your life, you weren’t an oversharing professor.

sometimes, you brought cookies to class, not only as an incentive for students to come to the lectures, but also because you ‘made too many’. other times, you would slip pictures of your pets into the slides for your powerpoints, knowing how dry learning content could be for students.

on the first day of university, your introduction had been much more different to professor anaxagoras’: “my name is [name], i have a few pets and i do have a husband. any questions?”

the mention of such a young looking teacher being married had sent the class into a frenzy. your students shouted to have their voices heard, throwing question after question at you, until all you could do was laugh and sigh exasperatedly.

maybe this wasn’t the best thing to expose on the first day of the school year…

as soon as your students exit the lecture hall, they huddle in groups, whispering amongst each other, trying to decipher who your mystery husband is.

mydei? too fiery. after much debate, phainon is the fan favourite out of all of the possible options. he’s sweet, bubbly and overall the perfect match for you. on the other hand, ‘prof nax’ is dead last.

it began with the small, off hand comments. students who took both professor anaxagoras’ class and your class began to notice small similarities.

the same day you mentioned adopting a small orange kitten over the weekend, professor anaxagoras muttered under his breath how ‘his wife’s new kitten was shedding its ghastly orange fur absolutely everywhere.’ However, from the small smile that involuntarily ghosted across his face, the students knew he was already attached to the small gremlin.

on your birthday, you baked cookies for your class and anaxa’s to bring to the lecture. as the students watched professor anaxagoras fish around in a comically large shopping bag, they were stunned into silence, watching him reveal a box of cookies in a familiar tupperware container, the same choc chip cookies their beloved teacher brought her class.

when students skeptically asked their alchemy professor what the occasion was, he only shrugged, pretending to sigh about how his wife ‘insisted he treat his class to her amazing cookies’.

“be glad she knows her puppy eyes are too effective on me,” their professor grumbled, passing around the box.

the next incident happened on an unassuming tuesday afternoon. after their latest alchemy exam, some students had gathered outside the hall, swapping answers and complaining about the difficulty set by their ‘wonderful’ prof nax.

one student in particular had gotten very wound up, his distaste for the exam, fuelled by his frustration and (slight) guilt in not studying very well, boiled into spiteful words, until he was left red-faced and waving his hands about like a mad-man.

“can you believe that the stupid professor set us such an impossibly difficult question?” he snapped, arms crossed and foot tapping. his rambling kept going, until his friends felt like they were watching an unstoppable snowball of complaints rolling down the hill.

click.

click.

click.

the student’s friends heard the tell-tale sign of professor anaxagoras’ shoes echoing down the hallway, accompanied by a cheery voice chatting to him. anaxagoras’ voice was a quiet murmur as he replied.

rounding the corner with you, anaxa’s sharp ears caught the tail of the unfortunate student’s rants.

“and it’s ridiculous he insists we call him professor anaxagoras. i personally would call him nax.” the student’s brazen rants are brought to a halt when he feels a murderous aura boring into the back of his head, a heavy hand squeezing down on his shoulder.

“would. you. like. to. repeat. that?” anaxagoras challenged, face ashen. beside him, you had stopped your small conversation about some trip that the two of you took a few years back. familiar with the intensity of anaxa’s pet peeve about nicknames, you laughed awkwardly, patting at his shoulder.

“it’s fine,” you tried to intervene, turning to the offending student, “he didn’t mean it, did he?” the student, sweating and still as a deer in headlights, furiously nodded his head. his friends, faces a similar shade of pasty white, nodded in agreement, mumbling how ‘that’s how he usually is’ and internally thanking and praising you for saving their butts.

anaxa shot you a glare, though there was barely any malicious intent, just some leftover annoyance. you beamed innocently back at him, metaphorical sunbeams glowing from your face. finally, anaxa turned away, exhaling loudly – not satisfied than pissed, just that cold, anaxagoras-styled sigh that told you ‘you’re getting off easy here, buddy.’

before he could reconsider berating the student and threatening to take away marks on his exam, you grabbed anaxa by the hand, forcefully dragging him away with you, unaware of the chaos you’d leave in your wake.

as soon as the student’s legs stopped shaking from fear and he didn’t feel the need to piss his pants, his friends’ brains finally caught up to what they just witnessed as their professors departed.

“holy shit. professor [name] just grabbed professor anaxagoras by the hand and walked away.”

other students who had peeked their heads out of their own classrooms to observe the commotion began to yell over each other.

“no way!”

“we were seeing things right?!”

“i must’ve been so scared i hallucinated that.”

“WHAT.”

“did you hear their conversation before? they went on some trip together.”

whispers filled the corridor as students milled around to share their theories. some even chose to update their bets, choosing to wager their allowance on the less likely couple ships of their professors.

during one weekend online lesson, you’re in the midst of explaining literature concepts when your pesky orange kitten decides to jump onto your desk.

without breaking a sweat, you lift the little fuzzball into your arms.

“and here, is our little miso!” you introduced, waving miso’s paws in the air, as though in greeting. “she’s caused absolute mayhem for my husband due to her shedding, but it’s ok, he secretly loves her.”

the students immediately hop onto their group chat, sans professor.

‘didn’t someone in prof nax’s class say he was complaining about cat fur?’

‘surely that’s just a coincidence, right…?’

‘praying prof phainon has also mentioned having a ginger cat or else that’s my lunch money gone ㅠㅠ’

‘agreed.’

the theories and screenshots of your cat continue to flood into the group chat, even after you’ve let your cat scramble away to ‘go cause trouble for your husband’. in fact, they reach even further, flooding other group chats, some with students of professor anaxagoras’ alchemy students.

anaxa was really regretting leaving his door ajar. well, to be fair, how was he to know that his wife’s new kitten was so enamoured with him that she would squeeze through the door and jump onto his shoulder, tiny claws digging into his sweater.

the same time her furry ginger head through his hair, jaws fell and hit the desk.

students blew up the alchemy group chat and updated the literature kids who were generous enough to give a heads up.

‘holy fkn airball.’

‘i thought prof nax and prof [name] just went on occassional trips together…’

‘????’

‘THEY LIVE TOGETHER?!’

‘thats miso isnt it?’

‘[sent a picture]’

‘NO WAY PROF [NAME] IS MARRIED TO PROF NAX ㅠㅠ’

barely an hour after your cat causes mayhem amongst the students, the news that you and professor anaxagoras were married had spread like wildfire.

when you next see your students at the university lecture hall, the room is abuzz with curiosity. students steal glances at each other, whispering and nudging their friends, daring them to make the first move.

a singular hand shoots up into the air, asking the crucial question.

“prof, is it true that you’re married to professor anaxagoras?”

your signular nod of affirmation sends the class into frenzied chaos, until they’re all yelling to be heard.

“when did you get married?”

“why didn’t you tell us it was him?”

you sighed, “i knew this would happen, so we usually keep it more toned down and plus, naxie hates when his students bombard him with questions about his personal life…”

that night, when anaxagoras returns home, he immediately flops onto the couch, hand laying over his eyes in defeat.

“that stupid cat,” he begins sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, “shall not be allowed in my office during lectures. she’s caused enough trouble as is.”

you only chuckle at his statement, knowing he’d definitely give into the kitten’s big eyes.

“at least now you can drop by whenever at the university.” you suggest, sitting on the floor beside the couch and peering up at him, the offending cat padding up to curl in your lap.

“that’s true,” he affirms, grabbing your hand and lacing your fingers together, “i’ll be able to bring you your daily coffee at the uni.”

anaxa admires the wedding ring on your finger that glints delightfully in the light, glad to be shown off. he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss right over your wedding band, while fireworks exploded in your stomach and across your face.

taglist (open): @leehanscorydora, @pastelmitzuki, @nfekwefdskldm

"I wanna hunt you."

"...What?"

You and Lohen had been laying in bed, cuddling and grooming eachother. And all of a sudden, he just, drops this bomb on you!? Seriously, what is his issue!?

"You heard me. I wanna hunt you. You run, I chase!"

That cheeky grin on his face made you wanna slap him... It was a shame you loved him to much to do so though.

You sighed,

"Fine."

~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

You ran as fast as you could. Your heart pounded from adrenaline, and your legs burned. How long had it been since you started running? You couldn't remember. But it was certainly beginning to catch up with you.

But while you were growing exhausted, Lohen seemed to be getting faster and faster! He had this manic grin on his face, as if he enjoyed seeing you running for your life. He knew you couldn't run forever, though. As a bunny, you were so much slower than him! Your poor body wasn't built to run as fast as his.

So, it wasn't much suprise when your legs finally gave out on you. Your body collapsing to the ground while you heaved and tried your hardest to breath. Small tears gathering in your eyes from over doing it.

Your now glossy eyes looked up at Lohen. That fucking jerk was still grinning at you, slowly approaching your limp body with this crazed look in his eyes. For a moment, you felt fear. Your ears began to tremble, your bottom lip began to quiver.

But then, he was falling on top of you. His body pinning yours to the grass.

"Gotch'ya"

He leaned down to bury his face in your neck, inhaling deeply. God, he loved your scent. He couldn't help but stick his tounge out, licking a long stripe up your neck to collect your sweat.

"Lohen! Ew!" You whined, trying to push his off. It was no use.

He continued lapping at your neck, his hands coming up to fondle your breasts through your shirt. His fingers pinched and twisted you nipples, making you yelp in pain. The sound made him groan. His hard, aching cock now pressed against your crotch.You could feel him humping you. And despite your exhaustion from running, you felt yourself growing wet. Small, timid moans began to slip from you as his humping got more aggresive. Before he was full on dry humping you into the dirt.

"Cant... wait... need to breed you now," he was panting, tounge hanging out of his mouth as he humped you faster, harder. Then, his hands were tearing your clothes off. Uncaring of the fact you wouldn't be able to wear them again.

His hands moved to your hips, roughly manhandling you onto all fours before mounting you. His hands then moved to your head, roughly grabbing at your twitching bunny ears and using them to pull your head back.

"Brace yourself, little bunny," He bit your earlobe, "I'm not stopping until your alllll pregnant."

With a harsh thrust, he pushed himself as far as he could go into your dripping cunt. He groaned. The pulsing heat of you felt delicious around his aching cock. He couldn't help but begin thrusting, despite your complaints about it being "to much."

He didn't give you mercy. He didn't let you adjust. He went hard, and he went fast. His cock knocking into your cervix with every bruising thrust.The sound of your fucking was nasty. Skin slapping over and over, your pussy squelching with every thrust, your moans echoing. A loud 'plap' came from every twitch of his hips, almost certainley loud enough for some poor passerby to hear.

"Lo..hen..." you moaned, " 'S to much... Can't- Mm! Take it..."

Your hands reached back to try and push him away. Your pussy ached, and your back couldnt handle the arch he had you in. But instead of letting you rest, he only began to go harder! Shoving your face into the dirt with a growl.

"Shut up and take it. I know you can." He snarled into your ear, before biting down on your shoulder. Letting the crimson liquid flood into his mouth with a moan.

He could feel you tightening around him, could hear your moans growing louder. And he knew what it meant. You were close. And so was he.

With a final thrust, he pushed himself as deep as he could into you. You squealed, pussy squirting all over him as he stuffed you to the brim with cum. One of his hands traveled to your tummy, feeling the weight of it as it filled up with his litter.

"Gonna look so cute all pregnant..." He was babbling now, hips mindlessly rutting into you. Wait... Was he still hard!?

After a day of locking himself in his house, he had come up with his very own poison. Made from the remains of a dendro slime, mixed with a few crushed petals of Dendrobium, and a generous splash of expired alcohol stolen from the Cat’s Tail.

He didn't know if it was truly toxic. In fact, he just mixed random ingredients he found revolting.

He wasn't planning on truly poisoning you after all. In its current concentration, it would merely cause temporary numbness (maybe).

And so he placed a cute little package in front of your house (he stole the documents that held information of those working under the Grand Master to find your address). Inside the package was a plate of Hash Brown he had cooked himself.

Of course, the poison was sprinkled on top as well.

He knocked on the door to your house and hid in a bush nearby.

He watched the door open, a shiver of excitement going down his spine.

But when you stepped out, his eyes widened. You weren’t what he had imagined. Not old, not bitter, not hunched over with tired eyes and stained robes.

You looked... young and composed. Normal in fact.

You glanced at the package, shrugged, and brought it inside.

The next day, he had half hoped there would be some commotion. Instead, nothing happened.

Lohen found that significantly more unsettling than if you had screamed.

Did you not open it?

Did you die?

Worse, did you throw it away?

By the second day, irritation curdled into curiosity again, and curiosity dragged him back to your house.

He hadn’t even reached the door when something stopped him.

A box.

His box.

He stared at it, then at the note pinned neatly on top.

It read-

---

Observation Log

Possible dendro slime derivative.

Taste profile:

Slight bitterness.

Floral aftertaste.

Perhaps traces of alcohol.

Symptoms:

Tingling lips.

Mild numbness in fingers.

Onset approximately twenty-five seconds.

Conclusion:

Sloppily made poison.

---

He stared at the handwriting. The faint smell of alcohol lingering on the hastily ripped paper.

'..... Sloppy?' he scoffed, annoyance creeping up into his face. He crumbled the paper, staring at the door with a sadistic smile.

"Fine then. I'll show you real poison."

The next morning, another box appeared at your doorstep.

Like last time, you took it into your home. You had no idea who was delivering these, but the last package being drenched in a mild toxin made it interesting enough for you to open.

You tore open the box.

This time, it was a plate of mushroom pizza.

"Oh, that looks delicious." you muttered to yourself, noticing the unusual purple coloring on the crust.

You reached and held a piece of the pizza near your mouth. And without a care, you took a huge bite from the area where the coloring was the brightest.

The following day, Lohen returned to find another note on your doorstep. This time it was more detailed than the last.

---

Observation Log

Low concentration of Aconitum.

Taste profile:

Initial sweet-bitter note.

Followed by burning sensation.

Symptoms:

Numbness.

Dizziness.

Loss of strength.

Conclusion:

Good posion. Easily countered.

Although, I liked the taste of the pizza.

(attached are my other observations)

---

There were six pages attached.

Six.

Lohen stared, flipping through the pages with a smile. "God. She's insane."

This started the exchange of poisons and paper notes.

The next package that Lohen put on your doorstep had a small note of his own.

---

To the Medic

Firstly, fuck you.

Secondly, you missed a secondary ingredient. (Hint : It was Naku weed)

Thirdly, thank you for complimenting the pizza.

I made it myself.

---

Your response appeared the next morning.

---

To the Poisoner

1. Rude.

2. I did not miss the ingredient. Naku weed has no toxic properties. Just color.

3. The posion on the crust was obvious. Are you perhaps new to this poisoning thing?

---

Your responses pissed the Vice captain even more. Because how dare a lowly medic like you have the audacity to critic his cooking?!

He tried even harder after that.

More precise blends. Better masking. Controlled dosages. Carefully calibrated ingredients. Tried perfecting the recipe so you couldn't find any faults.

Everything.

After making sure everything was perfect, he delivered the next package. A plate of Northern Apple Stew.

The reply next day was written in a crumbled paper with messy handwriting.

---

Rules for Future Poisoning

1. No explosive diarrhea.

2. No permanent injury.

3. No organ damage.

4. No blindness.

5. No poisoning children.

6. Food should remain edible

---

Lohen rolled his eyes at the rules. "Killjoy." To him these rules just were unnecessary boundaries that ruined his fun.

But he never wanted to stop this exchange between the two of you. It was much too entertaining for him.

Unknown to him, that night ended with you locking yourself in your room. Having non stop diarrhea for hours.

Soon the notes became longer than the poisons themselves.

One morning, the package you opened had a plate of Cream Stew.

And this time the note attached had a list of ingredients used.

---

Current Theory

The toxin should produce localized muscle weakness.

Estimated duration:

Two hours.

Possible side effects:

Dizziness.

Drowsiness.

Complaining.

Will you be able to guess what I used (Y/N)? °^°?

---

Three days later Lohen received something he could only call a report.

A dossier.

Twenty-two pages which included diagrams, charts, annotated symptom timelines.

And corrections.

So many corrections.

---

Page 14: dosage error.

Page 17: please stop using kitchen spoons as lab tools.

Page 19: “Did you eyeball the concentration?”

---

Unfortunately Lohen had. And he hated that you noticed.

Months passed and somehow it became a routine.

Your medic colleagues grew increasingly worried seeing you drowsy every other day.

"Do you know who keeps sending you poison?" one asked.

You shook your head. "No, not really."

"Shouldn't that concern you?"

You looked confused. "Why?"

"Because they're poisoning you...?"

You blinked. Honestly, if the person wanted to kill you, they could have used other deadly toxins. Yet, they always made sure to use small doses and non lethal ingredients.

You smiled to yourself. "They are very considerate actually."

"... Oh." the medic froze.

You tapped a finger on your cheek. "They also have lovely handwriting."

"..."

The medic walked away. Unable to continue the conversation.

Lohen, meanwhile, was also not doing well.

Varka had his suspicions when he first saw the crazed man laughing while tasting the exotic plants he had ordered.

One day, while Lohen was away on a mission, he broke the lock of his drawer and read through all the papers in there.

Papers about toxic plants. Possible ingredients. And of course, all the notes you had written to him.

He ran a hand through his hair. "What the hell is happening in Mondstadt?"

Varka immediately dragged Lohen by the collar and pushed him into the store you worked in to apologize.

You looked up from your desk and instantly recognized him as your mysterious poisoner.

Not by his face. But by his hands.

The stained fingertips. The chemical burns. The ink marks. The quiet proof of obsession.

"Oh," you smiled softly. "It's you."

Lohen blinked.

Varka shoved him forward. "Apologise to the lady Lohen."

Oh. So his name was Lohen.

The boy looked deeply offended. "I don't want to."

"Apologize." The Grand Master repeated, his gaze cold.

Lohen sighed dramatically. Then glanced toward you. "...Sorry for poisoning you."

You immediately shook your head, a small laugh escaping your lips. "There is so need for apologies. I should be thanking you actually."

Silence.

Even Varka froze.

You continued, brighter now. "The poisons were genuinely fascinating."

Varka looked horrified.

"I learned to make dozens of new antidote!"

Lohen stared. Mesmerized.

"Also the toxins were quite creative! Honestly, every morning became something to look forward to."

Varka took a breath, and turned his gaze to the ceiling, perhaps praying to Barbatos why they allowed these two people to exist.

"Also the notes were fun!" you added, opening your drawer and placing a the stack of notes you had carefully stapled.

Lohen wasn't even listening anymore.

Because you were smiling.

At him.

Because of him.

Because he had poisoned you.

It was a stupid conversation. The girl in front of him was grateful for poisoning her. It was reckless, idiotic and yet...

At that moment his heart made some several terrible decisions.

He realised.

With a lot of hesitation...

That-

'Oh.'

'Oh no.'

'You were kinda cute.'

He had known your name for months. Known where you worked. Known your habits. Your favorite medicinal herbs. The way your handwriting became messier when excited.

But seeing you in person? Actually talking to you?

He was finished.

Absolutely in love.

That night he didn't sleep. Instead he sat at his desk surrounded by herbs, powders, vials, and failed formulas, staring at his next experiment like it might hold divine answers.

Most men wrote poetry.

Most men gifted flowers.

Most men confessed.

But Lohen was not most men.

He lifted a vial of deep red liquid, watching it swirl under lamplight with a manic smile. "If she barely liked the last one... I'll just make one that is even better."

And thus began the greatest romantic pursuit in history.

Not through gifts or heartfelt letters.

But through an escalating series of increasingly sophisticated poisons.

Lohen's new life goal was simple.

Create a poison so fascinating, so beautiful so perfect....

That when you tasted it—

You'd fall hopelessly in love with its creator.

Unfortunately for him, the only thing you fell in love with was the chemical composition.

Fin

😭 😭 😭 I CANT WITH THIS GUY. I FEEL LIKE HE'S SOMEONE WHO'D GIFT YOU A BOMB CUZ HE LOVES YOU.

Some of the ingredients used r actually toxic while others r just bs. I tried making it as Canon as possible but I'm sure there r some mistakes. Sorry abt tht.

"Okay, okay, now...try not to freak out, they can smell fear~" lohen chuckled lowly as he led you through his darkened office, feeling helplessly for the long forgotten lightswitch.

"Alright, just let me turn on the light- ack!" You stumble as a table oh so rudly struck you for existing within the shared space.

"Whoops! Sorry, my love!" Lohen finally released his grip on your hand to switch on the lights, at last illuminating the room, "over here, they're waiting for us!"

You rub the back of your leg, shooting a spiteful glance at that infernal table. Thank goodness lohen kept his weapons in storage instead of carelessly laying about, or this trip would've ended in a hospital visit.

Then again, it still might.

Lohen had not been very...descriptive when it came to these 'mysterious allies' of his. The excitable man simply said they were his 'greatest and fluffiest soldiers under his command,' as if that was enough to explain why he stole you away from an important meeting with the other captains.

To say you were curious was understandable. To say you were afraid was an understatement.

Lohen ran to the small cage on his desk, which was occasionally thumping about as whatever was inside jostle the crate with its rapid movements.

"And now, I present to you the most fearsome of beasts in Mondstadt...VIOLA!"

Lohen yanked the cloth off the cage with a flourish, revealing much to your excitement- and ease- two big, fluffy rabbits. One with black spots and another covered in thick, ebony fluff.

"Meet Doomfanger and Soul Stealer!" Lohen grinned as he let the two fluff balls out of their cage. Doomfanger scratched at his spots, while Soul Stealer cautiously hopped closer toward you.

You couldnt stop yourself once brought face to face with the 'fluffy menaces' especially as Doomfanger ran up along lohens arms. "Oh my archons, they're so cute!"

Soul Snatcher rested his head in your palm as you scratched behind his ears, it seemed he was more sociable than his brother.

"I know, can you believe I found them in the cellars. Destroyed our cabbages, but I didn't like those anyways." Lohen let Doomfanger climb up on his head, allowing the gentle beast to rest on his perch.

"You are the cutest fluff ball I've ever seen, how are you real!?" The cuteness aggression was overtaking your senses, though, it seemed Soul Snatcher was already used to this treatment.

He was lohens pet after all.

You followed the bunnies to the floor, watching Doomfanger overtake Soul Snatcher in combat, while one was far fluffier, one was far stronger than the other.

Lohen picked up Doomfanger and set the bunny on the floor, Soul Snatcher quickly joined as the two began to wrestle. " trained them with some of the gaurd dogs, now they're the perfect gaurds! As long as they get their treats!"

"Why do you have to keep them locked in here? I've literally never seen these two before. They're so precious!"

"Well, I didn't think you'd like them. So I didn't wanna show them to you until I knew you could handle them, And they wouldn't bite you. So, i put one of your sweaters into their crate so theyd get used to your smell. Soul Snatcher took to you quickest! And as for the cage...."

Heavy footsteps rang through the long halls as a familiar, exhausted, voice echoed after the clanking of metal. Unconsciously, you stood at attention for the Grandmaster.

"Lohen for the last time you can't keep running out of meetings just for 'a quick missi-'

Varka stood frozen in the doorway, as he watched Doomfanger sniff the air, as if checking for nearby prey. Soul Snatcher began to thump his legs against the floor aggressively, they Had indeed found something interesting.

Lohen snickered as the bunnies prepared to pounce on their prey, snickered as Varka let the papers he was holding fall onto the ground.

"Last time I let them wander, they turned Varka into a chew toy~"

Lohen pointed a finger towards the Grandmaster, finally granting a command to his menacing soldiers. "Go my children, KILL!"

Varka took a step back from the door, never letting his gaze escape the rabbits. With each step he took back, the rabbits took one forward. While Doomfanger had sharper teeth, Soul Snatcher was the quicker runner.

"Nice B-bunnies, good bunnies...lohen call them off or I'm docking your pay."

The rabbits lunged forward, chasing after the frightened Grandmaster down the hall. The sounds of their little footsteps drowned out by the rapid clanking of metal.

"No, NOT AGAIN! NEVER AGAIN!"

Lohen ran after the two bunnies, laughing joyfully while leaving you the choice to follow or to find him during his future punishment in Solitary once the Grandmaster remembered he was far larger and stronger than those 'killer bunnies.'

"i see."

two short, dismissive words. not a smile, not a frown —just two clipped words. you tilt your head, expecting some form of elaboration, but instead he just turns on his heel, his coat swishing behind him as he starts to walk away.

(what you don’t see is the way his hands curl into fists as he walks off, how his steps falter just around the corner, or the way he presses a hand against his chest to steady the sudden, overwhelming ache blooming there.)

…must this guy really be so blunt?!?!!

you sigh, a little laugh escaping despite your current situation. of all the possible responses you could’ve imagined, ‘i see’ definitely wasn’t one of them. you shake your head, a part of you wonders if elio is watching, silently laughing at your predicament right now.

it’s fine. really. you should’ve known better than to think he’d say anything different.

though the big problem now is, blade knows about your silly crush on him, so facing him in the future is going to be a total nightmare that you’re not ready to accept. you can already feel the embarrassment creeping up like it’s going to suffocate you.

“where's [name]?” 

blade steps into the base. silver wolf, tucked in the corner, engrossed in her console, raises a hand in greeting without looking up. blade nods in acknowledgment, before replying to kafka, "i went ahead of them," his voice sounds a little more strained than usual, before quickly turning to make a beeline for his room.

but kafka, ever perceptive, senses something’s off. she tilts her head with a smirk, "bladie, did something happen?"

he denies it with a quick shake of his head before slipping past her. having no other option, she resorts to… unconventional methods. 

with a flick of her wrist and a soft, almost melodic whisper, she purrs, "listen to me.”

the moment those familiar words hit his ears, a wave of calm washes over him, and against his will, he halts mid-step. "now tell me what happened, will you?"

he sighs and he rubs the back of his neck. “take your time, bladie.” after a long pause he speaks again, "[name] said they... they liked me."

kafka watches him closely, a grin slowly spreading across her face. "and then what happened, hmm?" she teases.

out of the corner of his eyes, he sees silver wolf perk up at his words, but he pays her no mind as his thoughts are too tangled in what he’s about to say next, the words barely scraping past his throat.

...

the next hour consists of him being ‘lectured’ by his fellow coworkers.

he tries to tune out the barrage of teasing, but something about  “bladie, that's not how you reciprocate,” to “ain’t no way bro fumbled that badly,” managed to stick with him, unfortunately. (he looks over to firefly standing to the side, but she only giggles and shakes her head at him.)

but really, how was he supposed to tell them that he panicked? that he was so stunned by your confession, so overwhelmed, that he could barely form a coherent sentence? that his awkward, dismissive reply wasn’t rejection, but a pathetic attempt to mask his own vulnerability?

the thought of you avoiding him, of thinking he doesn’t care, makes his chest ache with a pain he hadn't experienced for the past few centuries. 

blade makes a mental note to find you as soon as possible. he doesn’t know how to explain himself, not entirely; words have never been his strong suit, but somehow, some way, he’ll make it up to you.

later, you return to the base, your steps hesitant as you walk in. the moment you enter, the group falls silent, all eyes snapping to you. there’s an awkward stillness in the air, like they were caught in the middle of something. your gaze sweeps over the room, and it lands on blade. when you lock eyes with him, a flush creeps up your neck, and you quickly avert your gaze.

"excuse me!" you blurt out and almost sprint to your room.

...do they all know?! this has to be the most embarrassing day of your life.

you agreed to meet kafka at a bar near your current mission to discuss your next task. the magenta haired woman had mentioned it casually when you’d asked, cryptic as usual, only revealing that the task was important but leaving out certain key details —such as conveniently leaving out the part about blade being there too, of course.

(“bladie,” kafka’s voice took on a singsong lilt, her playful smile unmistakable as she glanced at him. “you’re going to use this chance to make it up to them, ‘kay?” 

blade only kept his eyes trained on the entrance, silently waiting for you to arrive.)

running late, your prior mission having dragged on longer than expected, you found yourself hurrying to the bar, weaving through the sparse but lingering foot traffic of the evening.

after what feels like hours, you finally make it to the bar. stepping in, your eyes scan the room for kafka, when suddenly, a man steps right into your path.

the man smiles warmly, though you could tell he’s had a few to drink tonight. his tone is friendly, with just a hint of flirtation as he strikes up a conversation, casually asking if you’d be interested in grabbing a drink sometime.

he’s polite, respectful even, and there’s nothing about him that feels overly forward or aggressive —just a man who’s trying his luck, that’s all. still, you can't help but feel a slight annoyance at the timing.

as you try to figure out a way to decline his invitation, you remain oblivious to blade’s gaze —specifically, how it's fixed on you, or rather, more pointedly on the back of the man’s neck.

“you’re going to snap his neck if you keep looking at him like that.” kafka’s voice cuts through the tension, her tone teasing as she watches the exchange from the side.

“i don’t like what he’s doing,” blade mutters, his voice low and filled with an edge that suggests far more than just mild annoyance.

kafka chuckles softly to herself, already knowing where this is headed. it’s not an outright confession of jealousy, of course —he would never admit to something as petty as that, and she knows better than to push him on this one. 

nevertheless, she still catches it, her lips curling into a knowing smile. even if blade would never call it jealousy, it’s enough to push him into doing something completely out of character —something he’ll never, ever do (until now).

kafka notices immediately. her eyes widen just a fraction before she sets down her wine glass with a graceful motion, amusement dancing in her eyes. and perhaps to make sure he doesn’t look too foolish, she decides to play along and help him act the part.

a sharp clang of glass hitting the table catches your attention. your brows knit in confusion; you glance over instinctively, your eyes meeting kafka's for a brief moment. her expression is unreadable, but the faint curve of her lips makes you wonder what’s really going on.

curiosity pulls your gaze lower, to the drunk figure slumped over at her table, seemingly drunk, his head resting heavily on his arm. the spilled drink pools on the floor beside him, glinting under the dim light. 

at first, you only catch a glimpse of dark, tousled hair, streaked faintly with deep crimson at the ends —so strikingly familiar it makes you pause. then, as your eyes trace over the sharp line of his jaw and the stiff set of his shoulders, realisation dawns on you. 

wait a second.

your jaw nearly drops as you piece it together. the man lying there, seemingly drunk out of his mind, is none other than the last person you would want to see right now.

blade.

your gaze darts between him and the polite man still standing awkwardly in front of you. blade, on the other hand, never lets his guard down, so this... state of his? unprecedented. 

apologetically, you offer a small smile to the man before rushing to blade’s side, urgency in every step as you push past the tables, heart hammering in your chest.

blade’s eyes subtly flicker over to you as you approach, and you can almost sense the slightest shift in his demeanor, the thought of you giving your time to someone else, especially someone so... ineffectual —grates at him.

he swallows the ugly feeling down his throat. perhaps he’s let this irked him more than it should. but it’s too late to back out now that you’re standing right beside him, the weight of your presence making the tension in his chest only more pronounced.

as if on cue, kafka’s voice breaks the silence, “as you can see, [name], our dear bladie here has gotten himself a bit... roughed up,” she says, casually catching the wine glass that had been teetering on the edge of the table.

her lips curl into a playful smile as she glances at blade, whose jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. “drinking doesn’t seem to suit him, wouldn’t you agree?” kafka continues, her tone light but unmistakably amused. her eyes flicker between the two of you, as if she’s thoroughly enjoying the situation unraveling before her far more than she should.

you blink, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected scene. your worry only deepens as you shift your attention back to blade, who remains uncharacteristically silent, his head now resting on his arm as though he really had overindulged. 

“blade,” you say softly, your voice carrying just the slightest edge of concern. “what happened?” 

before he can answer —or before he’s forced to lie —kafka chuckles, waving a hand as if to dismiss your worry. 

“oh, nothing serious. he just got a little too carried away with his drink.” she leans back in her chair, a sly glint in her eye that you’re too preoccupied to notice. your gaze falls back to blade, his hair slightly tousled.

without thinking, you reach out, gently brushing a strand strand from his forehead. his eyes flutter open at the contact —those striking, sharp eyes you’ve always found yourself drawn to, dark yet you can’t bring yourself to look away from. 

you notice the faint redness creeping across his cheeks and the line of his jaw, down to his neck. his skin hot to the touch under your fingers. “you’re warm,” you murmur softly, assuming the alcohol is to blame.

if only you knew the warmth searing through him has nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with you. 

“ah,” kafka hums, pulling you out of your thoughts. “it seems something urgent has come up that needs my attention.” there’s an unmistakable glint of mischief in her eyes. “i’ll leave you two to it.”

you glance at her, startled. “wait, what about—?”

“don’t worry about it,” she interjects, already getting up from her seat. “the bill is already on my tab.” 

well, that wasn’t what you were about to ask anyway! 

a sly smile curls her lips, and she tilts her head ever so slightly. “hmm, it’s rare to see him like this. [name], you’ll take good care of him, won’t you?” her tone is light, but the underlying implication is clear, leaving you flustered as she turns on her heel, striding off, leaving the two of you alone.

blade leans heavily against you, his tall frame making it an awkward challenge to keep him upright as you guide him out of the bar. one arm is slung over your shoulder, while his other hangs haphazardly against his side.

his head is tilted forward, strands of his dark, crimson-tipped hair brushing against your cheek, and you can feel the warmth radiating from him —whether from his predicament or his proximity, you’re not sure.

you shift your grip, looping an arm around his waist for better support, and his body tenses slightly under your touch. for someone playing the part of drunk so convincingly, he’s strangely aware of your every movement, his hand tightening just faintly on your shoulder when you stumble over a crack in the pavement.

“blade,” you murmur under your breath, trying to shift his weight more evenly as you inch forward. “you’re not making this very easy, you know.”

casting a glance his way, you’re met with a low, almost lazy hum in response. his expression is nothing short of a hazy indifference, though you swear you catch a flicker of clarity in his eyes —a brief, focused intensity that seems out of place, before he looks away.

you can feel the heat of his breath against your temple as he wavers with every step. the night air is cool, but the warmth radiating from his body is undeniable, pressing against your side in a way that sends an unexpected shiver down your spine. the closeness between you feels almost intimate in a way that will surely have you screaming into your pillow later that night. 

as you continue down the empty street, blade’s mind races; this is his chance. he knows it. he should say something now, anything, to make it clear —to tell you how he feels. (and how it’s been eating at him for longer than he cares to admit.)

this is it, the moment he’s been waiting for, but all he can do is breathe in the scent of your skin and the warmth of your touch. the sensation is all too familiar, like the pounding in his chest —but this time, it’s not from the heat of battle.

just how much longer he has to deal with this utterly insufferable feeling?

it’s worse now, because as you navigate through the halls of the base, he’s beginning to wonder if this is what it means to care for someone —to be vulnerable. 

“here,” you say softly as you stop in front of the door to his room.

he doesn’t want this moment to end. 

you glance at him then, finally meeting his eyes, and the look in them knocks the breath from your lungs. they’re hazy, yes, but there's a sharpness beneath the mask of drunkenness, a quiet intensity that makes your heart beat a little faster.

you clear your throat, breaking the silence. "do you need anything else?"

"no," he answers, almost reluctantly. "i’ll be alright."

a twinge of disappointment surges through you. right… it was foolish to expect anything different. he’s already rejected you, and you can’t help but feel a bit ridiculous for thinking it would be any other way.

you stand there for a moment, the silence between you growing thicker with each passing second, before you force yourself to nod, your voice soft as you try to mask the heaviness in your chest.

“goodnight then."

just as you turn to leave, you feel a sudden pull on your hand, your wrist tugged back with surprising gentleness.

"wait," blade suddenly says, and this time, there's no mistaking the sincerity in it. "thank you.”

his bandaged hand rests over yours, and a soft breath escapes you; flustered, you open your mouth to respond, ready to brush it off.

"oh! It's no pro—"

but you’re cut off before you can finish. he raises your hand, pressing his lips to the back of your palm in a soft, lingering kiss.

"—blem..."

your voice falters slightly as a rush of warmth spreads through you. every nerve in your body seems to spark awake all at once, making you hyper-aware of the spot from where his lips brushed against your skin. you freeze, your breath caught in your throat, unable to do anything but stand there, your hand still resting in his.

then, as if nothing happened, he steps back into his room and shuts the door behind him, leaving you standing there, still processing the unexpected moment.

safe to say you got little to no sleep that night. you roll over, staring at the ceiling, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips. it feels ridiculous, embarrassing even, how many times you've replayed that scene in your head every time you close your eyes.

you couldn’t help but smile to yourself like a fool. 

(“so bladie, how’d it go?” / “...”) 

you hadn’t even planned on leaving the base today, let alone stepping foot into the brightly lit chaos of an arcade, but silver wolf had insisted —no, nagged, until you caved. and somehow she’d managed to drag blade (of all people) along, her smug grin all too telling as she pushed the two of you together and skipped off to “go play some gachas”

now, you stand awkwardly by blade’s side, the flashing lights casting a colorful glow over his impassive face. it’s hard to ignore how out of place he looks, his dark coat, sunglasses, and the mask covering his lower face a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere. 

yet, somehow, he doesn’t seem to mind the sharp sounds of arcade machines beeping nor the kids screaming in excitement. he just stands there, hands in his pockets, watching you fumble with a stack of game tokens.

“you look thrilled,” you mutter, a sarcastic tone in your voice as you glance at him.  it’s strange, though —there’s something oddly endearing about the way he’s standing there, the dark lenses of his sunglasses reflecting a faint outline of your own face. you catch yourself staring for just a moment too long, wishing you could see beyond the lens, wishing you could read his eyes—

you shake the thought off, it’s all just wishful thinking.

behind the shield of his sunglasses, blade’s eyes tracked your every subtle movement, almost unconsciously. he caught the way your expression softened as you turned toward the claw machine, how your lips curved ever so slightly when your gaze settled on that… thing.

it was maddening, how effortlessly you held his focus, how even a trivial moment like this could stir something deep in him. he told himself it was nothing, but the tightening in his chest said otherwise. 

he wasn’t one to indulge in sentiment, yet something about the way you stared at that silly plush made him restless, made him want to do something about it, if only to keep that smile on your face a little longer.

would your smile grow brighter if that plush were in your hands? 

“let’s go.”

“to where…?” you asked, glancing back at him, the curiosity evident in your voice.

he didn’t answer immediately, but you felt the familiar tug at your hand once again, gentle and insistent, as his gaze slips toward the claw machine where you had been staring earlier.

it’s not hard to imagine the scene as a sweet little moment, with him focused on the claw machine, trying to win you a plush like a doting partner would. 

with a soft click, the claw tightens around the plush, and before you can react, it’s being lifted out of the pile, swinging toward the prize chute. you can't help but stare as he pulls the soft toy from the machine with a sense of quiet satisfaction.

(you pocket the rest of the tokens. guess he won’t be needing those…  for a first-timer, he sure got lucky —must be beginners' luck, huh?)

you blink, slightly impressed. “wow, you’re good at this,” you remark, unable to hide the surprise in your voice. 

without a word, he hands the plushie to you. 

you tilt your head slightly, a bit unsure. “for me...?”

“it's yours. take it." he looks to the side; suddenly thankful for the mask —if it weren't for that, you'd surely see the crimson tint creeping up his cheeks right now.

you hesitate for a second longer before reaching out to take it, your fingers brushing against his, a tingle of heat pulses through you, leaving your hand feeling strangely warm.

“th-thank you," you manage to spit out, and your eyes dart away, suddenly very aware of how close he is. surely, this isn’t good for your heart!

the twilight sky stretches wide, the clouds are heavy, and you’re looking oh so earnestly at him. his heart beats a little faster, louder now, as if his body knows exactly what he wants but refuses to let him act on it.

but then, he blinks —once, twice; snapping himself back to reality. he can feel the space between you growing smaller, your presence growing closer.

his eyelids flutter shut instinctively.

and then, the soft press of your lips against his cheek.

a soft sigh escapes him, and his eyes crack open. if you could see his expression right now, you'd catch the vulnerability that flashes in his gaze. he swears he can feel the warmth of your kiss in his very bones.

though not quite the kiss he imagined… it was something. (re: you got his hopes up)

the shock of your own actions hits you like a wave. you swallow thickly, “sorry —i'll go find silver wolf.” avoiding his gaze as you fumble with the tokens in your hand. "i… i’ll pass the extra tokens to her."

without waiting for a response, you turn and hurry off, your pulse pounding in your ears, praying that the ground would swallow you whole.

that night, you lay in bed, the plushie clutched tightly in your arms. the softness of it contrasts sharply with the rush of confusion filling your chest. 

why was he being so kind to you? after everything, after the way he rejected you just a few days ago, it made no sense. his actions felt contradictory.

you try to push the memory of the kiss out of your mind; impulsive decisions… often lead to mortifying outcomes. though when you glanced at him afterward, you could’ve sworn his ears were tinged with red, just peeking out from beneath his hair. nevermind, it’s probably your mind playing tricks on you.

blade, who’s as cold as the frost-kissed dusk, walks beside you through the lively festival, his dark coat a striking contrast to the vibrant reds and greens around you.

the faint scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider fills the air, mingling with the sound of distant carolers. he doesn’t say much, but there’s something about the way his gloved hand brushes yours, intentionally or not —that makes the chill in the air feel less biting.

you swallow, focusing on the festive stalls ahead, the decorations glittering in the night. “you don't have to stick around, you know. i can manage by myself.”

his steps slow just slightly, and he turns his head toward you, finally speaking. “you think i’d just leave you here?”

the words catch you off guard, and you fumble for a response. “i-i just meant—”

“relax.” he interrupts, a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips; his hand grazing yours again. this time, his fingers linger for a moment longer, almost as if testing the waters, before retreating back into the safety of his pocket.

your cheeks flush, and you pretend to be deeply interested in a nearby stall selling hand-knit scarves. just then, his voice cuts through the festive hum. “last week… when you said you liked me,” he starts, and your breath catches.

you whirl back to face him, your heart pounding. “don’t worry about it! really, i—”

“i wasn’t rejecting you,” he says, with an unexpected gentleness in his gaze. “i like you too, [name].”

blade removes his coat, the fabric warm against the cold air as he drapes it around your shoulders, pulling you closer. you stumble, your hand instinctively pressing against his chest to catch your balance.

you look up at him, your breath quickening, as his face draws closer, his eyes locked on yours with that familiar intensity. you let your eyelids flutter shut, lips trembling, heart pounding in your chest as the space between you narrows.

but instead of the kiss you were anticipating, you feel the gentle warmth of his lips brush against your forehead.

your eyes snap open in confusion, only to meet his smirking face. oh... this asshole!

“what?" he teases, his tone deceptively casual. “you seem pretty eager,” his voice drops an octave, hand gently tilting your chin as he leans in just close enough for you to feel his breath against your skin.

you glare up at him, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. the way your lips quiver, unable to hold his gaze for long; the fact that he actually adores that flustered expression on your face... well, that’s when he realises. he’s too far gone.

what a dumbass lmfaoo