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.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You have been running around so much lately. Tying up the loose end of every task possible. It is so much, that now, when everything is finally done, you don't feel like yourself. Is there truly nothing to do? Frustrated with seemingly nothing, you ruffle aggressively through your hair as you are just laying down. Everything and anything seems to stab another needle somewhere into your body, the time goes by so painfully slow. Every day, every hour, every minute. You can't seem to come to peace, now that you can't escape from the time that you have to spend alone with yourself, with you.

This wouldn't be really anguish, but you feel like suffocating.

"The lands of Liyue always have captivating sights. It wouldn't hurt to explore once in a while, if you find yourself infirm of the constant clatter in the Harbor."

These words ring through your ears. Who said them again? Ah, the consultant of Wangsheng funeral parlor! You did have tea with him at some point.

Nonetheless, a fresh breeze of air probably would do you good. Better than idling in your own room for days on end without a feeling of intention. Actually, for how long you have been racing your own dead lines in this state? Gosh, it would make you no better than the Yaksha with the disregard for your own health.

Hm, you should better go and visit him. Thinking about it, you find yourself smiling, as the thought of just talking to him on the balcony in the evening crosses your mind. Ah, yes. You will make the Inn your first stop. Maybe, you won't even need to go further. The majestic form, firm yet somewhat gentle still, and those piercing amber eyes. Along with the fresh gush of air, they take your breathe away no matter when or where you are. But even so, no matter how ironic it sounds, the few times you do get to breathe, in the constant commotion of life, is when the owner of those amber eyes is beside you.

Your smile turns into a grin as you go to get the travelling bag. The busy season is over, so surely Mrs.Goldet will have a spare room for you to stay at? Just the thought of getting to spend more than just few days there, makes you feel giddy and most certainly better than you were feeling moments ago.

Maybe it wasn't that you felt like you didn't have a purpose. While these ruminations do pass through your mind every once in a while, maybe you were sick from not seeing him for so long. (lovesick, without even realizing it...) You sigh, knowing that you will get a scolding from him for visibly neglecting yourself. That is quite absurd to a degree. You both remind and scold each other to treat one self better. But you are looking forward to all of it no matter what is to come. Because it is him.

Both of you are afraid. but you care. Both of you fear different things, but as long as the care is in the conclusion, as long as it keeps running like a river into a big pool of both of your hearts, you will figure it out. Slowly, travelling through mountains and fields, having shallow and deep shakes, those rivers of care and concern end up in the heart, because it was coming from a place that is alike to it's destination.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

Those golden feathers clutter around, as he hides his wings. They are not useful in battle, they trouble him more than anything. He has grown used to such episodes in spring, as they are difficult to ignore and it is his nature as an adeptus. Usually, his claws make themselves known and he might actually require a bit more of rest, which he finds all more time consuming. He will never understand the need for mortals to rest every night. This year however, even his wings made themselves apparent, which is rare to say the least. Wings are sensitive and such as the reason he prefers to keep them hidden from others and himself. He doesn't like to be reminded of his weak spots.

You are one of them.

He told himself to pull away, yet his gaze selfishly goes back to you. He reminds himself, that even if you wield a vision that he still can bring harm to you. He will never forgive himself if he does.

So he stands in the fields, wings folded behind, spear in hand, feathers twitching. They aren't fragile, but it does feel like they are. Quite a ridiculous thought however. He hasn't been fragile for a long time now.

His thoughts drift back to you. You haven't visited him in a while. Maybe you finally understood that he only would bring harm to you. Even as he tells himself in his own thoughts that "everything is fine, it would've happened sooner or later" his wings tremble even more at thoughts of you smiling.

He has gold eyes and wings, but without the light that is you, the shine of the gold will never be seen. Meaning, he doesn't feel complete, he doesn't know it though. The confusion of what is tearing him apart is making it worse.

What is this strange feeling in his stomach? Why the temperature of his face suddenly becomes increasingly warmer than his body's when you say that you think he is handsome? Why it seems to be rather difficult to get his words out of his mouth when you are around?

His wings flare as a response to his own thoughts.

He returns to the roof. The same roof that he awaits you on, so often. He is lingering, no matter how much he is denying that fact to himself. Despite how foolish it might sound, he feels something akin to yearning. But it is not exactly that. This, whatever it is, feels all consuming. Sure he does his duty without a second thought, but in between, his thoughts are jumbled up, they are all in a big knot of different strings that he can't see the colors of. He needs the light. - ... room! Hopefully you rest properly! I am sure that a certain someone has missed you! He sighs. Another noisy couple will be staying here. Xiao doesn't understand this... love

No, General Alatus doesn't, General Alatus doesn't see the wings as something he can fly with either, since the association with wings is built around vulnerability. Xiao does.

He doesn't completely catch or follow on why, but there is something that yearns to apprehend, because there is want, little of it, since it was suppressed, but it is still within him. Want for love. Sadly, he doesn't want to acknowledge it, deems it too selfish still.

Xiao was pulled out of his thoughts by the voice of the person that Mrs.Goldet was talking to.

-If even you notice, I can only imagine what I will be put through. - you chuckled - Hopefully 2 weeks and a half are enough to make up for it. I think I can extent my stay even more if needed later on! But alright! Have a good evening Verr!

His eyes widened. You came back? But he was certain that you...it- it has been so lon- wait, no, compared to his life span it was a single droplet of water into the sea of time.

But, oh Morax, your sweet voice. It has been way too long since the last time he heard it.

He is so selfish, so egoistic for wanting to hear it all the time.

Wait, two or more weeks? At first thought it sounds quite intriguing, but on the other hand... he can't look at himself properly when his wings are having a mind of their own, let alone let you see it all of that. How he can keep hiding all of this away for two or more weeks?

In any case, if you want to see him, if you are willing to visit, he will try his best to be here for you.

. ₊ ⊹ . ₊˖ . ₊. ₊ ⊹ . ₊˖ . ₊. ₊ ⊹ . ₊˖ . ₊. ₊ ⊹ . ₊˖ . ₊˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧

Ah, Verr, Verr, giving you a room on the higher levels. Mischievous boss lady. You were sure that these were reserved for special guests, but it seems that you were wrong. But she surely knows what she is doing.

Anyway, you settle down your bag. The whole trip turned out pretty spontaneous, but at last, you are here. You crash down onto your bed, tired. You were planning to meet Xiao, but you think of getting your energy back a little beforehand. You are sure, you won't be able to sleep with all the thoughts anyway.

You really hope that the change of environment will pull your mind out of the gutter, you understand that if you do continue on like this, your body will at some point just shut down. Sometimes you really wonder how it would be if your physical body didn't need so much catering to it.

Diverting you stare from the ceiling to the desk that was on the opposite side of the room to the bed, you recall bringing a journal to write in, as another token of hope to untangle yourself. You groan.

No, not right now.

Right now you will just lay in place for a while.

Maybe your exhaustion is finally catching up with you. You try your best to fight it, but you have some kind of comforting feeling at the moment. As if someone is lulling you to sleep, making sure you are alright.

Before you finally get under the covers and shut your eyes against your will, you catch a glimpse of a...

golden feather?

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

It is dark and deeply late into the night, yet your eyes open once again. You feel like your head is a mush. No, it has been a mush, you just haven't noticed it before. The fog of thoughts is a bit clearer now.

You are unused to sleeping for prolonged periods of time. Working well until 2 am just to be waken up by the alarm at early dawn. Yeah, you need to work on that for sure.

You sit up and stretch a bit. Knowing yourself and your mind, you decide to take a stroll before your brain has caught up to the fact that you are awake. You look around, remembering that you indeed came to Whangshu and didn't just dream of it. But, oh wait. Instead of a completely blank desk that was there before you fell into the world of dreams, there was now a singular flower.

A Qixing

Gosh, he is so sweet. Yeah, now you are definitely going to the balcony. Standing up, gently picking up the flower and putting it behind your ear you grab the keys to your room and try quietly go to the balcony, as it is still late.

When you arrive, the balcony is empty.

Oh, right.

You sometimes forget that he is an adeptus on duty. It is futile to get your hopes up, as he is most definitely on the late night patrol at the momen-

"...Did my presence awoken you?"

You jump slightly as you turn to the voice that came from behind. Archons, you never gotten used to how he appears out of thin air so quietly.

"..I apologize, I did not mean to frighten you."

He says quietly, guilt evident in his voice, but only for you. Not many people can distinguish how different his tone sounds. After you come back from the small shock, you shake your head.

"Don't worry about it. I just can never get adjust to the element of surprise"

You offered a gentle smile, yet the tiredness in it was apparent. Your voice was also a bit more raspy than usual. He stood still.

"And you didn't wake me up either, just a habit of mine at the moment"

It must mean that he had left your room recently, if he is worried about that. You reassured him, yet he didn't seem to budge from his place. You tilted your head slightly to the side, not quite understanding what his seemingly tense gaze intents.

"You require rest, please go back to your room"

He says bluntly and you roll your eyes. You knew he was gonna notice, but in literal seconds? Just how bad do you look?

"It is fine, I came here for fresh air anyway"

You state, now stepping a few steps closer to him. Yet he takes a few steps back, which makes you stop in your tracks. Did something happen..?

"You have windows in your room for fresh air, please return to it immediately."

His voice cracking the tinniest bit at the "please". You now are full on concerned. You can't figure out what emotion is carried within his expression combined with his voice.

"...Xiao? Are you alright? Is something wrong?"

You ask hesitantly. You notice that his eyes widen for a bit and he clutches his hand into a fist.

"Foolish mortal. Your eyes are begging for you to close them, your body is moving so slow as it will fall right at this moment. Go and rest"

He says as he shifts his gaze away from you.

"... but I missed you, Xiao"

You whisper, fully knowing that no matter how quiet you could've said it, he would still hear it.

That sentence combined with his name broke him, as he couldn't do anything else than look at you wide eyed, as his wings spread high and wide.

That obviously gave you a fright, but just because it was an another surprise. However it looks like Xiao mistook it for the latter, as you saw him put his mask on.

Before he disappeared, you knocked the element of surprise out of yourself and rushed to him

"Xiao, don't go"

You pled, your voice rough, weak and cracking. The gentility of the tone and how your fingers managed to brush over him as they barely reached his shoulder made him freeze completely in one place.

You were astonished that your attempt at stopping him actually worked, but you were glad nonetheless.

"Please, Xiao, don't go."

You repeated yourself, more confidently this time. You stood up properly and hugged him, tightly.

Now that it seems that he is standing still, you can actually take what is before you. Golden wings with hints of red here and there. You had suspected that Xiao would have a beast form. Tales and legends of adepti depict them as such, they couldn't be entirely made up. You wanted to touch those delicate feathers, but you knew better than that, so your hands just stayed on his back. Holding him like he is something precious.

In the end he couldn't hide it from you even for one day.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ✦

Author notes

Hello! My first work in a very long while, but hopefully you enjoyed it!

I be writing this cuz am love sick myself. So mostly coping.

I actually wanted to write just fluff, but I can't seem to do it without at least some build up before hand. Who doesn't like to eat glass from time to time anyway XD

I hope you have a good time

Childe

This man does NOT care in the slightest. If anything, he’s excited by it.

Childe finds the whole situation entertaining in a way that's almost endearing if it weren't so utterly disrespectful. He doesn't see your wedding ring as a stop sign. For him, it makes things more interesting because now there's an added layer of complexity, an actual obstacle. And Childe has never backed down from a challenge in his life.

He’ll send you lots and lots and lots of gifts. Intricate bouquets of flowers, expensive jewellery, and little notes with cheeky messages that make your face burn. It's infuriating because he's not even subtle about it. He knows you know. You know he knows. And somehow that makes it worse, or better, depending on how you look at it. Childe is utterly shameless, so good luck reeling him back. 

When your spouse is around, Childe shifts into a different gear entirely. He becomes aggressively polite in a way that's more insulting than rudeness. He'll compliment your spouse's choice in you with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. And Childe is petty, so he’ll be extra condescending to your partner: “Wow, they must have been feeling pretty generous when they chose you, huh?” Your spouse is sitting there fuming, but what are they gonna do? Challenge a Fatui Harbinger? Lol, good luck.

Childe will touch your shoulder when passing by. He'll remember small details about you that your spouse has forgotten. He'll show up at your favorite places and act surprised to see you, like the universe just keeps throwing you together. And through it all, that infuriating smile never wavers, because Childe knows exactly what he's doing and he's having far too much fun to care about the consequences.

"Hey gorgeous, married life treating you right? Because I could do better."

Lohen

Married? That's hilarious. Lohen finds out you're married and his first reaction is genuine, unrestrained laughter. Like you've just told him the best joke he's heard in weeks. A challenge. An actual obstacle. This is the most fun he's had in ages. He doesn't see your wedding ring as a boundary; he sees it as the opening move in a game he's about to play.

He shows up everywhere after that. And there is absolutely no subtlety in it. He does not even pretend to try that he is not courting you. He'll find you during your day with that sharp grin, pull you into dangerous situations for the sheer thrill of it, and act genuinely hurt when you try to push him away. "Come on, where's your sense of adventure?" He reads people too easily to miss how conflicted you are, and that just makes it more entertaining to him. Aw, did you just blush when he pulled you close? That’s just more ammunition for him to continue.

When your spouse is around, Lohen doesn't bother with politeness. He's openly dismissive in that sharp way of his, looking at them like they're a minor obstacle. He'll call out the weaknesses in their stance, mock their choices, make it abundantly clear he thinks they're beneath him. "You picked them?" he'll say to you, gesturing at your spouse with barely concealed disdain. "That's disappointing."

He challenges your spouse to duels constantly, Actual calls to prove themselves. "Come on, show me what you've got. Or are you too scared?" There's no pretense of friendliness, just that chaotic grin and the very real threat underneath it. He wants to test them, wants to prove he's stronger, faster, better in every way. And when your spouse declines or hesitates, Lohen laughs like they've just confirmed what he already knew. That they're not worthy of you.

And if they accept? Yeah, that fight is anything but clean. Surely, you don’t mind if he hurts them only a little bit, right? They’ll recover… in a couple weeks. You can spend that time with him!

"Married to someone that dull? Lucky for you I'm around to make things interesting."

Pantalone

Your marriage is a curiosity to him, nothing more. 

Pantalone hears you're married and it barely registers as information worth filing away. He's made it abundantly clear through his entire existence that social conventions are for people who can't afford to ignore them. He has money, taste, and a level of charm that makes your marital status seem almost quaint by comparison. Why would he care about a contract that costs nothing and binds you to someone ordinary when he can offer you everything?

He pursues you methodically, the way he pursues everything worth having. Invitations arrive on expensive paper—to galas, private auctions, exclusive dinners at restaurants. He sends you jewelry that's clearly meant to be worn, flowers that bloom in impossible colors, bottles of wine older than most towns. Each gift is calculated to make you feel like you belong in his world, because in Pantalone's mind, you already do.

When you decline his invitations, he smiles like you've said something amusing. "Oh, a pity. I was so looking forward to it." He pauses, studying you with that sharp gaze. "Though I suspect you'll change your mind eventually. People usually do when they realize what they're missing."

When he meets your spouse, there's no acknowledgment of the relationship at all. He treats them like furniture. Polite enough, but utterly unremarkable. He'll talk past them, direct his attention entirely to you, and make it abundantly clear through sheer indifference that your spouse's existence is beneath consideration. He isn’t cruel, per se, but the stone cold apathy is shocking. But I mean, what else did you expect from the Regrator?

He'll invite you to exclusive events, knowing full well you're married. He'll compliment you in ways that are technically innocent but absolutely not. He'll make you feel like the most interesting person in every room while your spouse fades into background noise. And he does it all with such practiced elegance that it's hard to even be angry about it. And Pantalone doesn't acknowledge obstacles he doesn't consider obstacles.

"Darling, there's an exhibition opening tomorrow. Quite exclusive. Pity you felt obligated to refuse."

Varka

The moment he finds out you're married, Varka accepts it with genuine respect that comes from someone with actual principles. It’s to be expected of course, from the Grandmaster of the Knights. He backs off immediately—no flirting, no lingering touches, nothing that crosses a line. He means it too. His sense of responsibility is too strong to entertain anything else. You're off-limits. He respects that.

Except he's absolutely terrible at actually following through on it.

He'll catch himself mid-conversation laughing at something you said, and the laugh is too warm, too genuine, like you've just said the funniest thing he's heard in weeks. He volunteers for patrols he doesn't need to go on if he knows you'll be there. He flexes his muscles without thinking about it—lifting heavy things with one hand, rolling up his sleeves when you walk by, that casual display of strength that he tells himself has nothing to do with you being present. He's just proud of his physique. It has nothing to do with wanting you to notice. Definitely not. And yeah, so what if Varka tries to be the funniest person in the room whenever you walk in? He’s just naturally charming, that’s all.

When your spouse is around, Varka shifts into his easygoing charm. He's genuinely friendly, treats them like any other person he gets along with, makes jokes and offers drinks like there's no tension at all. But then you'll say something, and for just a moment his eyes linger on you a little too long. He'll compliment you in a way that sounds casual but carries weight underneath it. He catches himself doing it and looks away quickly, uncomfortable with his own slip-up.

You notice it every time. The way his shoulders straighten when you walk into a room. How he unconsciously positions himself so he can see you better. The split second where his mask drops and you catch something genuine underneath before he remembers himself and shifts back into friendly, easygoing Varka. He's trying so hard to be respectful, and that effort itself is what makes it obvious that he's fighting something. You see the conflict, the way he's wrestling with his own nature, and somehow that makes it worse.

It's not intentional. That's the thing about Varka—his pride in himself, his easy confidence, his strength—it all comes out around you whether he wants it to or not. He's trying to be respectful. He really is. But his nature keeps betraying him in small, unguarded moments.

"That's great, really. You picked someone solid. Still, if you ever need anything, I'm around."

Zhongli

Being the God of contracts, he accepts your marriage to be a fact set in stone. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that stone can’t be moved, is it?

Zhongli will curb his overt courting rituals, like asking you out to dinner or kissing your hand upon greeting. But his more gentleman-ly side is always evident when it comes to you. He walks you home in the evenings. And sure, he’ll keep a respectful distance but all it takes is one particularly strong gust of wind or a merchant’s cart veering too close to you for his hand to come up to your side and pull you near him. He’s so kind about it too that you aren’t sure if this is meant to be anything at all.

He invites you over for tea (alone, just with him). Zhongli knows exactly how you make your tea, the amount of sugar you like, and the type of brew he should prepare. And so what if the tea takes four hours to make? You and him are just having polite conversation. It’s not as though your spouse knows the way you take your tea either, so this is really just a way for you to relax!!

When your partner is around, Zhongli simply smiles. He’s seen many relationships in his time, and to be frank with you, he does not exactly see what is so special about your partner lol. Nevertheless, he would not cross any lines, but he is just an extra bit nicer, a tad bit more courteous, his words just a little sweeter with you when they are around. He really wants to show your partner what true devotion looks like. 

“Married? I see. Well, contracts can be renegotiated, given the right circumstances. Until then, consider me a reminder of what else might have been possible.”

𐔌 . . . 𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌꒱

One second he’s reading under a tree, the next, the sky explodes and something winged crashes straight into his lap.

You, wide-eyed and covered in feathers, “Mortal! Thou shalt not gaze upon my—oh hey, you’re cute.”

Instantly, you switch moods. “Oh, thank the Creator, you broke my fall!” you chirp, wings flapping erratically and causing an Eye of the Storm to fall off a cliff. “...Oops..”

He stares at you for a long, silent second, “You’re thanking me for your lack of flight control?”

“You caught me,” you argue, proudly, “that’s destiny.”

“That is gravity,” he corrects.

Somehow, within the next hour, you’ve installed yourself in his study, sitting cross-legged on his table, sipping his tea, asking questions about “mortal philosophy” while petting his hair and getting your feathers everywhere. 

He insists you’re a “cosmic disturbance.” Yet, when you fall asleep against his shoulder mid-sentence, he quietly turns a page without moving you.

You call him “wise mortal.” He calls you “airborne liability.” It’s… a start.

𐔌 . . . 𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐎꒱

The heavens open above the Kamisato Estate during a perfectly normal tea break. He barely lifts an eyebrow when you descend, glowing and terrifyingly serene.

Guards panic, servants kneel, and Thoma drops a tray. Ayato, on the other hand, just sips his boba tea. “Well. That’s new. It seems we’ve received… heavenly company.”

You step forward, eyes like judgment itself, voice like thunder, “I come seeking the one called Ayato.”

He smiles politely, “Ah, my reputation precedes me. Shall we discuss this matter over tea?”

You end up lecturing him about cosmic law while he tests if angels blush when complimented (Yes, and then his teacup explodes).

For someone supposedly divine, you blush very easily when he bows to kiss your hand.

Later, when you scold him for manipulating nobles, he says, “If Heaven dislikes cunning, perhaps it shouldn’t make mortals so imperfectly interesting.”

You have no rebuttal.

𐔌 . . . 𝐃𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄꒱

He found you when you suddenly appeared in his laboratory, mixing around random chemicals. The first thing you do when you see him is sneeze, and three of his clones combust because of your germs mingling with the unfortunate chemical solution. 

He’s delighted. Not concerned, not shocked—delighted.

“An angel, you say? Fascinating. Tell me, are your wings detachable?”

You tilt your head, halo wobbling, giggling like a wind chime, “Detachable? No, dummy! They tickle if you touch them!”

He short-circuits for half a second. Then grabs a clipboard, “For science, of course.”

You hum happily while accidentally melting one of his lab tables with divine light. You’re the perfect specimen. (He might also be a little fond. Oops.)

He stares, fascinated as you nearly blow up his lab again, “Interesting. Divine sneeze reflex causes spontaneous combustion…can you do it again?”

“Maybe if you tickle me!”

That’s how the Eleventh Segment ends up half-immolated while the Third Segment is taking frantic notes.

You float lazily above his desk, babbling about celestial nonsense and calling him “Doctor Funny Mask.”

He swears you’re the greatest discovery of his career. 

Unfortunately for you, this seemingly sweet doctor (to you, no one else thinks that) is never going to let you go. So, when you tell him your signals to Heaven are working again, he destroys your little messaging device and keeps you locked up in his lab. With love, of course. 

𐔌 . . . 𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂꒱

You fall straight through the Dawn Winery roof right as he’s cleaning up Kaeya’s latest prank. Adelinde almost faints.

Diluc catches you midair, with the reflexes of someone who’s done this way too often with wine crates. He sighs. 

You blink up at him, dazed, “...Are you the keeper of this realm, or are you my destined savior?”

“I’m your unfortunate landing pad.”

“Ah.. so you’re the love of my life.” 

“Absolutely not. I have enough fangirls.” 

You cling to him like he’s a life raft, “You smell like grapes.”

“That would be the wine cellar you nearly destroyed.”

You call him “Sir Flamin’ Hot Sexy,” and he blushes for the first time since 1623.

Later, as you sit wrapped in his coat, wings drooping, you whisper, “You look sad, for someone who saved me.”

He hesitates long enough for you to reach up and brush his cheek. He catches your hand, softly, “Rest. The rest of your questions can wait until I patch the ceiling.”

When you try to thank him with “holy light,” you nearly set the vineyard on fire. He hasn’t decided whether to kick you out or hide you so you never meet Kaeya… or worse, Klee. 

𐔌 . . . 𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀꒱

He feels the presence of something before you fall.

But when the “something” turns out to be you, glowing and weightless, he can’t help but smile.

“You’re not frightened?” you ask, hovering inches above the ground.

“Should I be? You seem gentle enough.”

You look at the leaves swirling around his blade, fascinated, “The wind… listens to you.”

“Sometimes it listens better than people do.”

You talk all night about freedom, about stars, about how heaven feels colder than the breeze on his ship’s deck. When dawn breaks, you gift him a feather, “A reminder that even the sky envies the wind.”

He keeps it tucked in his haori always, though he won’t ever say why. After all, you’ve become his little angel muse. 

𐔌 . . . 𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐄𝐘꒱

It’s mid-performance when the ceiling explodes into a bright light. The audience gasps. Lyney, to his credit, takes a bow.

“And now, for my greatest trick—oh. You’re not supposed to be here.”

You blink from the ceiling wreckage, “…Where am I?”

He grins, “In my spotlight, apparently.”

You’re trembling, wings drooping, voice soft, “I didn’t mean to interrupt your… um, mortal entertainment...I think I took a wrong turn at the Pearly Gates…”

He offers a gloved hand, “Then let’s make this crash landing our special act.”

You spend the evening helping him “vanish” doves…only for the doves to follow you instead.

Backstage, he gives you his hat to hide your halo. You smile, “You’re kind for a trickster.”

“You’re too trusting for a deity,” he replies, but his tone is warm.

Lynette sighs, “You’re flirting with a celestial being…again.”

𐔌 . . . 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄꒱

The courthouse erupts in light. Melusines scatter. He’s halfway through a sentence when you shatter the glass and faceplant in front of the bench like a sanctified meteor.

“Oops,” you mumble, “do I have to pay for that?”

He stares, speechless, “This is… the Palais Mermonia.”

“Oh! A palace. Fancy.”

“No, a court of law.”

“So you’re sort of, like, Heaven’s HR department?”

The courtroom goes dead silent. What the hell is an HR department?

You laugh, “Oops, wrong universe!”

When he finds out your communication is broken, so you’ll be staying here a while, he ends up giving you a “court tour,” partly to keep you from flying into the ceiling lamps again.

When you apologize for “breaking the sky window,” he sighs, just once, “Perhaps… we can find you lodging. Somewhere without glass.”

𐔌 . . . 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄꒱

You literally drop into his personal bubble of solitude. Bad move.

“What in the Archons’ name are you?”

You, dazed, “A… creature of heaven?”

He glares, “Then go back.”

But your wings are all messed up, so he (very reluctantly) takes you back home.

He absolutely does not help you fix your wings, but he also doesn’t leave you alone. He reminds you of a cat you once became friends with.

You become a part of his daily routine and can’t help yourself from saying, “You don’t do anything fun, do you?”

“Fun is a waste of time.”

“Then you’re doing life wrong!!”

He glares at you. You sleep on the couch that night. But the next morning, when he finds you crying because your wing’s condition worsened overnight, he freezes. 

“Don’t—stop crying. That’s annoying.”

He ends up awkwardly bandaging your wing in silence. You smile through tears, “You’re not mean, you just talk like... thunder. Scary, but not harmful. It's comforting when you get used to it.”

He rolls his eyes, muttering, “Then maybe you should go back to Heaven where it’s quiet.”

He doesn’t mean it. Not at all.

𐔌 . . . 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐀꒱

You land mid-fight, radiant and confused, feathers flying everywhere. He nearly trips on a halo.

“Finally! A challenge that fell from the sky itself!”

You’re dazed, “I— wait, are you fighting for sport?”

“Of course. Wanna join?”

You heal him instantly, wings fluttering. “You mortals are insane.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He challenges you to a spar. You refuse. He grins wider.

“C’mon, angel, show me what Heaven’s got.”

By the end of the day, he’s covered in soot, you’ve broken half a cliff, and both of you are laughing like maniacs under a star-filled canopy.

Later, he tells everyone he “fought Heaven and won.” You’re still trying to explain that you were trying to apologize.

𐔌 . . . 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈꒱

You land on him mid-song. He doesn’t even flinch, just keeps playing.

“Ah, another fallen star~ Are you here to steal my thunder, or just my spotlight?”

You start humming harmony with him. The crowd thinks it’s divine intervention.

3 hours later: “You’re drunk.” “I’m holy, actually.”

He tells everyone you’re his muse. You’re pretty sure he just wants free drinks.

Still, when you tell him Heaven doesn’t allow music like his, he looks genuinely sad.

“Then maybe,” he says softly, stroking your wings, “that’s why you fell, to learn what joy sounds like.”

You forget to correct him.

He calls you “little dove” and teaches you drinking songs. Mondstadt gains a new legend: “The Bard and His Angel.”

𐔌 . . . 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘꒱

You crash into his office like divine retribution. He looks up from his paperwork, sighs, and stands.

He catches you effortlessly, wings first, “You’re not an inmate.”

“Am I under arrest?” you ask hopefully. (Look, this man is hot.)

“Not unless falling from heaven is a crime.” He instantly regrets saying that, because you smile too brightly, like trouble.

He ends up escorting you around like a lost tourist. The entire prison now thinks their Duke has a celestial partner. He does not correct them.

He chuckles when you blink in confusion, “You’re free to stay until we figure this out.”

You try to “help” with fortress duties only to end up blessing the coffee machines and confusing every inmate into repentance.

He finds you asleep on his couch later, halo dim, wings tucked under his coat.

“You really don’t belong here,” he murmurs, but he makes no move to wake you.

𐔌 . . . 𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎꒱

You appear in a burst of light during his night watch, collapsing midair.

He catches you before you hit the ground, heart pounding, “What… are you?”

“Lost,” you whisper, “and tired.”

He hesitates before wrapping his arms around you, “Then rest. I’ll stand guard.”

When you wake, you offer to purify his karmic burden. He recoils, then softens when you only press a gentle hand to his shoulder.

“You carry pain,” you murmur.

“It’s mine to bear.”

“Then let me bear it with you, just for a moment.”

For the first time in centuries, he lets someone touch him without fear.

𐔌 . . . 𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈꒱

He’s drinking Osmanthus Wine when you crash in front of him like a divine comet.

He sighs, “Ah. It’s been a while since Celestia threw one down.”

You pop out of the water, grinning, “You talk like you’ve met angels before.”

“I’ve buried a few.”

You laugh, delighted, “Oh, you’re fun!”

He ends up buying you tea, halfway between amused and nostalgic. When you ask what “money” is, he feels a migraine coming on.

You sit beside him as he tells you tales about the other angels he’s met.

You lean towards, eyes gleaming, eyebrows wiggling, “You sound like you miss them.”

“Perhaps I do.”

You grin, “Then I’ll keep you company until I figure out how to fly back.”

“I suspect,” he murmurs with a knowing smile, “you won’t be in any rush.”

Al-Haitham

You'd been coming to Al-Haitham's place for research so often that it had stopped feeling like you were imposing. He'd never made you feel like you were, which was the thing about him—he didn't do false hospitality. If he didn't want you there, he'd say so. The fact that he kept making tea and setting out space for your notes suggested he actually didn't mind.

Today you weren't even pretending the visit was strictly academic. You'd finished what you needed to do an hour ago, but you'd both just... stayed. You were sitting at the table while Al-Haitham read something, occasionally looking up to comment on whatever you were saying. It was easy. Comfortable in a way that surprised you, given how sharp he could be.

"That scholar from the other day," you said, thinking out loud. "The one who argued that Dendro propagation follows a seasonal pattern regardless of region?"

"The one who contradicted himself twice?" Al-Haitham asked, not looking up from his page.

"Exactly. He came up to me in the hallway today and doubled down on it. Like he genuinely believed repeating himself would make it more true."

Al-Haitham turned a page. "Some people mistake conviction for evidence."

"Is that what you do when you're wrong?" you asked. "Just state it more firmly?"

He glanced at you then, and the corner of his mouth twitched slightly. Not quite a smile, but close. "I'm rarely wrong."

"That's the conviction talking, not evidence."

"Actually, the evidence is extensive," he said, returning to his reading. "But I appreciate your effort to provoke me."

You'd thrown a pen at him for that, and he'd caught it without looking, set it down beside him, and continued reading like interruptions were just part of his normal day. Which, around you, they apparently were.

That was the thing about Al-Haitham. He didn't waste energy on pretense. He said what he thought, you either agreed or you didn't, and the conversation moved on without any of the exhausting social dance that made time with other people feel like work. Somewhere along the way, you'd stopped making excuses for why you were at his place so often. He'd stopped asking you to justify it. You just showed up, he made tea, and hours would pass without either of you particularly noticing.

You were halfway through explaining why you thought that scholar's methodology was flawed when Kaveh emerged from his room, looking distinctly disheveled and irritated. His eyes immediately landed on the sink full of dishes, and you watched his entire face sour.

"Are you serious right now?" he said, staring at them like they'd personally offended him. "I cleaned this yesterday."

"You did," Al-Haitham said, not looking up from his reading. "That doesn't mean it stays clean indefinitely."

"It's been one day!" Kaveh gestured wildly at the sink. "One day and you've already—you know what, I'm not doing this. I'm not your maid."

"No one asked you to be," Al-Haitham replied, his tone completely level. "I was going to wash them."

"When?" Kaveh demanded. "When you finally take a break from whatever you're doing? I don't understand how anyone tolerates this. How do you even manage spending this much time with him?" He looked directly at you, and his expression softened slightly, almost sympathetic.

You felt Al-Haitham's attention shift slightly, but he didn't look up from his book. "Well," you said, laughing, "he makes good tea. And he's usually right about things, which is annoying but useful for my research."

Kaveh laughed, shaking his head like you'd just confirmed something he'd suspected. "That's fair, I guess. But I really don't know how you managed to get a girlfriend who's smart, funny, and actually willing to put up with him. The last part is honestly the most shocking."

The words landed, and for a moment you couldn't quite process them. A girlfriend. He'd just assumed, in the most casual way, that you were Al-Haitham's girlfriend. Your face went hot immediately. You opened your mouth to correct him, to clarify, to explain that you and Al-Haitham were just—

"Your method is inefficient," Al-Haitham said to Kaveh, turning a page in his book like the comment had never happened. "You rewashed items last week that didn't need rewashing. That's wasteful."

Kaveh's head snapped toward him. "You're seriously lecturing me about dish-washing right now?"

"Someone should," Al-Haitham said. "Your approach suggests you're cleaning reactively rather than systematically. You should establish a schedule."

Kaveh's voice went up. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. This is why I don't understand how anyone—"

"If you'd just listen instead of assuming," Al-Haitham continued, still not looking up, "you'd realize systematic cleaning takes less time overall. Your current method is objectively less efficient."

Kaveh opened his mouth, closed it, then threw his hands up and disappeared back into his room. You heard his door slam, and then there was just silence.

You sat there, staring at your notes without actually seeing them. Al-Haitham had completely ignored what Kaveh had said. He hadn't corrected the assumption about you being his girlfriend. He'd just... moved past it. Addressed something else entirely like the comment was irrelevant.

But it wasn't irrelevant. You could feel it sitting there between the two of you, unacknowledged but present. The fact that he hadn't corrected it meant something. You weren't sure what, but it meant something.

Al-Haitham turned another page. You watched him do it, waiting to see if he'd acknowledge what had just happened. He didn't. He just kept reading like this was a normal afternoon, like your heart wasn't doing something strange in your chest.

An hour later, you said you should probably head back to your dormitory. Al-Haitham stood when you did, and as you were gathering your things, he said, "I'm going that way. I'll walk with you."

It wasn't a question. You grabbed your bag, and the two of you stepped out into the night. The temperature had dropped significantly since you'd arrived at his place. The air was sharp and cold, and you found yourself wrapping your arms around yourself without really thinking about it.

You felt Al-Haitham notice. He didn't say anything for a moment, just kept walking beside you. Then, without any fanfare, he was shrugging off his jacket and draping it around your shoulders.

"Al-Haitham—"

"You're cold," he said simply. Then he was pulling you closer by the sleeve, drawing you against his side. His warmth was immediate, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his breathing.

You walked in silence for a moment, unable to focus on anything except the fact that he hadn't corrected Kaveh. That he was walking like this with you now, your arm linked with his, his jacket around you.

"Kaveh thought we were together," you said finally. Some part of you did that to spark conversation, an interesting little tit-bit to talk about. The other, more genuine part brought it up because it had been killing you for hours. It felt like a little animal inside your rib cage that was constantly being killed and brought back to life, a little flicker of hope, a mix of dread. You wanted an answer. 

Al-Haitham hummed non-commitally. You could feel the weight of his arm around you, steady and deliberate.

"Did it bother you?" he asked, raising a brow.

The question caught you off guard. You'd expected him to explain himself, to rationalize why he hadn't corrected Kaveh. Instead, he'd flipped it back on you.

"That's not—I was asking why you didn't—"

"I know what you were asking," he said. His tone matter-of-fact. "I'm asking what matters more. Whether I corrected him, or whether the assumption bothered you."

You opened your mouth and closed it. You weren't sure how to answer that honestly.

"It didn't bother me," you said finally, and it was true. It hadn't bothered you. It had confused you, unsettled you, made your pulse race for reasons you didn't want to examine too closely. But bothered wasn't the right word.

"Then we're fine," he said.

"Al-Haitham—"

"Besides," he said, and there was the faintest hint of something that might have been amusement in his voice, "I didn't say he was wrong about the general principle."

Wanderer

You were three pages into your research on Dendro propagation when Wanderer arrived at your study table without asking if he could sit. He didn't ask permission for things like that. He just pulled up a chair and settled in like he'd always been meant to be there.

"That's going to be wrong," he said, not bothering with a greeting.

You didn't look up from your notes. "You haven't even seen what I'm arguing."

"Doesn't matter. Whatever thesis you're building on that foundation is going to collapse." He leaned back in his chair. "The propagation rates in the northern regions don't follow the same pattern as the southern ones."

You did look up then, specifically to narrow your eyes at him. "That's because I'm specifically studying the southern regions. The northern data is irrelevant to my argument."

"It's always relevant," he said. "Ignoring contradictory data doesn't make your conclusion stronger. It makes you look like you didn't do the work."

The comment landed like a jab. You wanted to argue, but he wasn't entirely wrong. You made a note to revisit the northern data, grudgingly accepting that he'd identified a gap in your research. There was something about the way he sat across from you—completely at ease in his certainty—that made you want to prove him wrong just to see if he'd admit it when you did.

"Anything else, or are you done?" you asked, turning back to your work.

"For now," he said. "I need to find that text on Dendro cultivation. Should be in the older section."

He stood and disappeared into the depths of the Archives, and you returned to your notes. You'd lost track of time when you noticed someone settling into the chair he'd vacated. One of the other scholars—someone whose name you could probably remember if you tried, but hadn't bothered to. He was the type who was always hovering around, always trying to insert himself into conversations in ways that made your skin crawl slightly. There was an entitlement to him, the kind of confidence that came from never being told no and deciding that meant he didn't have to listen when someone eventually did.

"So," he said, leaning back in the chair like he owned it, "you're always studying. You should take a break sometime. Come get dinner with me."

It wasn't a question. It was stated like a foregone conclusion, like your agreement was merely a formality. You didn't look up from your work. "I'm pretty busy right now."

"Come on," he said, and there was an edge to his voice that suggested he didn't appreciate being declined so casually. "You can't study all the time. I know this place outside the city. We could go tonight."

"I really can't," you said, keeping your tone polite but firm. You turned a page, hoping the gesture would make it clear you wanted to return to your work.

He was quiet for a moment, and you thought maybe he'd gotten the message. But then he leaned forward, and his tone shifted into something sharper, more frustrated.

"What does he have that I don't?" he asked, and there was real irritation underneath the words now.

You looked up, confused. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Wanderer," he said, his jaw tightening. "You're always with him. Every time I see you, he's here. You two are constantly together, and I don't understand what he has that makes you so willing to waste your time with him but not willing to give me five minutes. So what does he have that I don't?"

Before you could respond, before you could even figure out what you wanted to say, Wanderer appeared. He was just suddenly there, that book in hand, and his expression was the kind of blank that suggested he'd caught enough of the conversation to understand exactly what was happening.

"A brain," he said flatly, and his voice had that particular edge that made people take him seriously. "How about you go and pester someone else?"

The scholar's face flushed immediately. He tried to salvage the situation with some blustering comment about respect, but Wanderer had already turned away with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Humans," he said, more to himself than to anyone in particular. "Can you believe them? Making assumptions about things they don't understand. It's exhausting." 

He settled back into his chair like nothing had happened, opening his book with the kind of finality that suggested the conversation was over. He didn't look at you. Didn't acknowledge the scholar's eventual departure. Just sat in silence, reading or pretending to read, and left you sitting there with the weight of what had just happened pressing down on you.

The scholar eventually gathered his things and left, embarrassed and defeated.

You should have left it at that. Should have just gone back to your research and forgotten the whole interaction. It was the kind of thing that happened sometimes—someone misread a situation, made an assumption, got shut down. But as you watched Wanderer settle back into his chair, something stuck with you.

He hadn't corrected the scholar. He'd had the perfect opportunity to clarify—to say "we're not together" or "she's free to see whoever she wants." Instead, he'd simply shut it down with a cutting remark and moved on like the misunderstanding wasn't even worth acknowledging. The fact that he'd called out the assumption about humans making assumptions felt deliberate somehow, like he was pointing out something specific about what had just happened without actually saying it outright.

Hours passed. You continued your research, but your mind kept drifting back to that moment. To the way Wanderer had stepped in without hesitation. 

You found yourself noticing things you probably should have paid attention to earlier. The way Wanderer always positioned himself where he could see you in the Archives. How he'd appear exactly when you needed him, like he had some sixth sense for when you were about to run into trouble. The small gestures that suddenly seemed like they might mean something more than friendly concern. How he leaned closer when you were talking, like he didn't want to miss anything you said. The way his attention was always on you, even when he was pretending to focus on something else.

By the time evening rolled around and you were both packing up your things to leave, you were thoroughly unsettled. You couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't make sense of why he'd let the assumption stand. Why he hadn't corrected it.

Wanderer noticed. You could tell by the way he glanced at you, by the particular expression on his face that suggested he'd been watching you think all afternoon.

"You've been quiet," he observed. "Usually you're insufferable by this point in the day."

You didn't bother denying it. "Are you thinking about what happened in the Archives?" he asked, and there was something almost knowing in his tone, like he'd been waiting for you to bring it up.

You hesitated, then decided there was no point in pretending. "Yes. When that scholar made his assumption, you didn't deny it. You just let him think what he wanted."

He was already walking toward the exit, assuming you'd follow. You did follow, because of course you did. You always did.

"Why does it matter?" he asked as you walked through the hallways. "Why do titles matter anyway?  People are obsessed with naming things, categorizing them, putting them into boxes so they can feel like they understand something. It's exhausting."

"That's not an answer," you said, frustration creeping into your voice. "You could have just told him the truth."

"I've had too many names and identities to care about what we're called," he said, adjusting his hat to block the evening sun. "But I know what you mean to me."

The admission hung between you, heavy with implication. You felt your pulse pick up, felt something shift fundamentally in the way you were looking at him.

"And what do I mean to you?" you asked, your voice quieter now.

He smirked, and that familiar arrogance slipped back into place. But there was warmth underneath it, something that looked suspiciously like fondness.

"How about you figure it out?" he said, tilting his head slightly. "You know, for someone so intelligent, you're remarkably oblivious."

You stood there for a moment, completely still, watching him disappear around the corner without a backward glance. Your pulse was racing, your chest felt tight with something unfamiliar and terrifying, and you were left standing there in the empty street realizing that you'd completely miscalculated everything about him, about this, about whatever was happening between you. The worst part was that he knew it too.

Wriothesley

The Duke of the Fortress of Meropide had a habit of making you wait. Every time you had an excuse to visit his office, he'd somehow find a way to extend your stay. A question about the documents you'd brought. A piece of tea he wanted your opinion on. A conversation that started about work and drifted into something that had nothing to do with the Fortress at all. Every time, the line between professional and personal blurred when you were with him. And if you were being honest, you didn’t mind that at all. 

Today you'd come to deliver some documents. You'd done it a dozen times. But as you walked through the corridors, you found yourself hoping he'd be free. Hoping he'd ask you to stay for a few minutes. Hoping for that particular smile he got when he saw you—the one that suggested you were the most interesting thing that had happened to his day. Which was ridiculous. He was the Duke of the Fortress. He had actual responsibilities. The fact that you'd somehow become part of his routine was probably just coincidence. Or convenience. Certainly not because he enjoyed your company the way you'd started to enjoy his.

His office door was open when you arrived. He was reviewing paperwork, but he looked up the moment you knocked.

"Documents?" he asked, already setting down his pen.

"From the west wing," you confirmed, crossing the room to set them on his desk. "The quarterly inventory."

He gestured to the chair across from him. "Stay. I want to ask you about the discrepancies in the last count."

It was a convenient excuse. You both knew there were no significant discrepancies. All the paperwork you did was perfect, and Wriothesely knew that. But you sat anyway, because you were, apparently, incapable of saying no to him.

The next hour passed in a blur of conversation that had nothing to do with inventory. He asked about your week, mentioned something he'd read that reminded him of you, made you laugh at some observation about one of the other guards. His attention was focused entirely on you, and it was intoxicating in a way you weren't prepared to examine too closely.

At one point, he stood to get something from his filing cabinet, and when he passed your chair, his hand brushed your shoulder. It was such a small gesture, probably meaningless. Except you'd noticed he did it every time he walked past you. A small touch. Like he needed to reassure himself you were still there.

Or maybe you were reading too much into it, and he did that with everyone.

"You're distracted," he observed, settling back into his chair. "Something on your mind?"

"No, I'm fine," you said quickly. "Just thinking about work."

"I have a meeting with the senior guards in a few minutes," he said, glancing at his pocket watch. "Bureaucratic tedium. You're welcome to wait here if you'd like. Shouldn't take more than an hour."

Your pulse did something stupid at the casual offer. Stay in his office. Alone. Surrounded by his things. "Sure," you said, trying to sound unbothered. "I have time."

He stood, straightening his jacket. "There's tea on the side table. Help yourself to anything you need." After he left, you told yourself you'd spend the time reading one of the books on his shelf. Instead, you found yourself noticing small things. The way his desk was organized but not obsessively so. The way he'd left his chair still warm. The faint scent of something cool and expensive that you'd come to associate with him. This was getting out of hand. 

You needed to be more careful about how much time you spent in his company, how much you looked forward to it. The Fortress wasn't a place where relationships happened casually. People noticed things. People talked. The city as a whole was a place rife with gossip, and you weren’t exactly sure if this was the kind of gossip that needed to be spread. 

You stood and walked to the window, staring out at the courtyard below. The guards were doing their rounds. You weren't paying attention to your surroundings the way you should have been when you decided to stretch your legs in the corridor.

The hand on your arm came from nowhere. You were spun around, slammed against the cold stone wall before you could process what was happening. The air left your lungs in a sharp gasp.

An inmate. One you didn't recognize, eyes wild and desperate.

"You're with him, aren't you?" he hissed, his grip on your arm painfully tight. "The Duke. His partner. You'd know things."

Your heart was pounding so hard you thought it might burst. Fear flooded through you, crystalline and sharp. This was real. This was actually happening.

"I don't—" you started, but his grip tightened.

"Don't lie to me," he spat. "Where's the emergency exit? Where does he keep the keys?"

You tried to pull away, tried to think of something to say that might defuse this, but panic was making your thoughts scatter.

His other hand came up.

Then he was gone.

Wriothesley stood between you and him, and you'd never seen him look like this. All the charm, all the politeness stripped away. What remained was something colder. He looked every bit likt eh terrifying, infamous warden of Meropide. The kind of man you heard rumors about from people all around Fontaine but were hard pressed to believe them because he was never like that with you. Until now.

"Touch her again," Wriothesley said, his voice dropping, "and you'll find out exactly why I run this place." He didn't raise his voice. The threat was implicit in everything about him. The way he stood, the way his eyes had gone cold, the certainty that he could make good on whatever he was implying.

The inmate scrambled backward, apologizing frantically, and Wriothesley didn't even watch him go. He turned to you immediately.

"Are you hurt?" His voice shifted back to something more familiar, but there was still an edge to it. His hands came up like he wanted to touch you but was restraining himself.

You shook your head, still trembling. Your arm ached where the inmate had grabbed you. "I'm okay. I'm fine."

Wriothesley guided you back to his office without a word, one hand on the small of your back. Steady. Grounding. Once inside, he had you sit while he examined your arm, his touch gentle now, checking for damage.

"He didn't break the skin," he said. "But you'll have bruises."

You nodded, still trying to process what had just happened.

After several minutes of silence, when your heart had stopped racing quite so violently, the other part of what had happened filtered through.

You let out a shaky laugh—the kind that comes from adrenaline finally releasing. "Well. That was terrifying."

Wriothesley watched you, his expression softening slightly now that the immediate danger had passed.

"Maybe I should stop spending so much time with you," you said, trying to inject some levity into your voice. "He thought we were together. If I'm going to get cornered by inmates, at least let it be for something I'm actually guilty of."

He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Is that what you're concerned about? Your reputation?"

"Among other things," you said, managing a small smile. "Mostly just the part where I nearly got my arm broken because someone thought I had access to your secrets."

"Fair point," he said, and there was genuine warmth in his expression now. He stood and moved to lean against his desk, close enough that you could see the amusement lingering in his eyes. "Though for what it's worth, that inmate did you a favor. Gave you a decent excuse to stay in my office longer than usual without anyone questioning it."

You stared at him. "That's your takeaway from nearly being cornered?"

"One of several," he said, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Though I admit the timing was inconvenient. I was just starting to enjoy our conversation."

"You're impossible," you said, but there was no real heat in it.

He tilted his head slightly, considering you. "You could always use it as an excuse to come back more often. For your safety, naturally. Can't have you getting cornered again." His tone was light. "The offer stands. Anytime you need it."

The way he said it made clear he wasn't really talking about the physical space anymore.

Xiao

You'd learned to recognize the patterns of Xiao's presence. The way he appeared on your commissions before you'd even finished the previous one, materializing from nowhere with that particular blend of concern and restraint that he tried so hard to hide. How he'd always position himself where he could see you, even when he pretended he wasn't watching, his attention a constant weight you'd grown accustomed to. The small, almost imperceptible softening in his expression when you looked his way—a shift so brief you'd miss it if you weren't paying attention. But you were always paying attention.

Today's commission had been brutal. Your muscles ached with the kind of deep weariness that came from hours of constant movement, and your clothes were torn in at least two places. You were fairly certain you had a bruise forming on your ribs, tender to the touch. By the time you'd finished and made your way back to the inn, all you could think about was a hot bath and sleep, in that order. You climbed the stairs toward your room, already mentally preparing yourself for the solitude of it, when you remembered you hadn't eaten yet.

You made your way to the balcony overlooking the courtyard instead, needing air before food. And Xiao was there, exactly where he always was, leaning against the railing like he'd been waiting. You'd stopped trying to figure out how he got there before you did—he was an adeptus, after all, and teleportation was hardly the strangest thing about him. One moment the balcony was empty, the next he was there, solid and present, his gaze already on you.

"You're hurt," he said, his eyes sweeping over you with that clinical precision he had, taking in every torn seam and scraped knuckle.

"Just sore," you replied, settling onto the railing a few feet away from him. The evening air was cool against your skin. "Nothing serious."

"You should have called my name," he said, and there was something almost accusatory in his tone. "I would have protected you."

You couldn't resist. "Aw, were you worried?" you asked, tilting your head with a small smile.

He looked away, toward the valley. "I'm always worried about you," he said, his voice quieter than before but no less earnest. There was no deflection in it, no attempt to soften the statement with humor or distance. Just the plain truth, delivered with the kind of sincerity that made your chest tighten.

You didn't tease him further. Just sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the sunset paint the sky in shades of orange and pink. The wind moved through the courtyard below, carrying the scent of evening flowers and distant rain.

The innkeeper appeared on the balcony carrying a tray with soup, bread, and fresh water—the way they always did when you returned from your commissions. They were smiling warmly, clearly pleased with themselves for the thoughtfulness.

"Your partner must be hungry as well after watching you out there all day," they said kindly, setting the tray down on the small table beside you. Partner, you registered with faint amusement.

Their gaze flickered to Xiao, who was standing at the railing, and you could see them putting the pieces together in their mind. The protective stance. The way his attention never wavered from you. The obvious care. "Should I bring something for them as well?"

The words landed, and you felt Xiao go rigid beside you. You had to suppress a smile at the sheer absurdity of it. Partner. Xiao. The adeptus who spent half his time trying to convince you he didn't care about much else besides his ‘karmic duty’, who was allergic to admitting feelings, who acted like wanting someone was the most burdensome thing in the world.

"We're not—" Xiao said curtly, his voice sharp with irritation. He didn't even look at the innkeeper, just stared straight ahead. "I'm not her partner."

The innkeeper flinched slightly at his tone and quickly retreated with an apologetic bow, clearly having misjudged the situation.

And that's when you lost it.

"Oh my god," you said, not even trying to hide your grin as Xiao stood there, clearly agitated, his entire body practically vibrating with embarrassment. "Did you just—did you actually just deny that in front of everyone?"

"Don't," he said flatly, but you could already see the flush creeping up his neck. His ears were turning pink.

"Your ears are completely red right now," you continued, absolutely delighted at this rare display of genuine flustering. "I didn't know you could blush like that. It's actually kind of adorable."

"I wasn't blushing," he said, but his ears somehow got even redder at the mention of it, which rather defeated the entire purpose of his denial and made the situation even funnier.

"You denied it so fast," you said, leaning back in your chair with the kind of satisfaction that comes from genuinely embarrassing an immortal being. "I've never seen you move that quickly. Usually you're all stoic and composed, and then someone says 'partner' and suddenly you're rushing across a room like—"

"That did not occur," he muttered, and you could practically feel the irritation radiating off him in waves. “...no respect for the Adepti,” he mumbled under his breath.

"You were embarrassed," you pressed, enjoying this far too much. "Genuinely flustered. Xiao, what would be so bad about people thinking we were—"

"It's not that," he cut you off, his voice sharp with frustration. He finally looked directly at you, and there was real emotion in his expression—the kind of frustration that comes from not being able to articulate something you're desperately feeling, something that's been building up inside you. "It's just... people don't understand what I am. What being associated with me means. It's—" He stopped himself, jaw clenching hard enough that you could see the muscle work beneath his skin.

You tilted your head, your smile softening slightly as you realized this wasn't just about embarrassment anymore. "What? Being associated with you is what?"

He was quiet for a long moment. The sounds of the inn filled the space between you—the gentle murmur of other diners, the clink of dishes in the kitchen, the wind moving through the open windows. You could see the internal struggle playing out across his face, the way he was fighting to find words for something that clearly didn't have any.

When he finally spoke, his voice was lower. Quieter. Like he was admitting something he'd been trying desperately not to say, something that had been eating at him for longer than either of you probably wanted to acknowledge.

"You're the only thing I've ever wanted to keep. And that scares me more than anything."

Your breath caught. The teasing dropped from your expression entirely. Your pulse picked up in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with exhaustion or adrenaline. It was just him. Just those words, delivered with such raw honesty that you felt them like a physical thing, like they'd reached inside your chest and squeezed.

"Xiao, I—" you started, but the words wouldn't come.

He stood abruptly, like staying still was suddenly unbearable. He simply disappeared—one moment solid and present, the next gone entirely, like he'd never been there at all. You sat alone on the balcony with the untouched tray of food, heat flooding your cheeks, your heart racing so hard you were certain the entire inn could hear it.

You had absolutely no idea how to respond to that.

...i should really stop getting out of control with the word count >:(( but i get too excited writing about them 😭

Everyone tried their best to ignore him, but sitting at the back of the classroom by the window was a dark-greened haired boy. His face was down, folded arms acting as a cushion. Xiao was a classmate of yours whose reputation followed him like stagnant air. He was known to have a violent streak, getting caught up in fights more times than attending school. People began to say that he was a part of an underground ring where people fought to the death. Though that was a while ago, and there was nothing now that would help change people’s opinions. The unusually coloured hair, pierced ears, scarred hands. It was hard for everyone to forget who he once was. Everyone talked about him like he was a ruthless delinquent, but all you had ever seen of him was that he was quiet and did whatever teachers asked of him.

“Can’t believe he was allowed to move up a grade,” the other replied, giving Xiao a side eye.

“Yeah, now that I think about it, I never saw him at school all of last year,” the first girl added. “I heard he threatened Mr Zhongli to let him move up. Pulled a knife on him and everything!”

You glanced at Xiao. They probably assumed he was sleeping and didn’t bother keeping their voices down. Still, it didn’t curb your alarm. Whether he could hear or not didn’t matter. Talking about him like this just felt wrong.

“What? To the principal? He’s crazy!”

She nodded solemnly. That seems a bit outrageous, you only thought. Was anything your classmates were saying even true?

“He should have never bothered coming back here,” the first girl sneered, “everyone’s on edge now. Isn’t our last year of school meant to be fun? Now it’s all ruined because of him! I don’t care, they should expel him before someone ends up–”

“Hey! Could you stop?”

You loomed over them. Both girls looked at you like you had just flipped the table. They slowly closed their hanging jaws.

“Excuse me?” one of them said, clearly offended. She stood up to meet your gaze.  

You didn’t back off. “It’s not right to talk about someone like that behind their back. Especially when we don’t know the full story.”

It looked like she was prepared to give you an earful, but she suddenly stopped. The same shocked expression from moments before was painted on her face again. Had your reprimanding really worked on her? You thought it was only this easy in movies and shows. Perhaps it was too effective as she remained utterly stunned.

You blinked and frowned. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

You felt someone place their hand around yours. Scars marked the skin of their knuckles. Their touch was delicate, as if they thought you would shatter with any force. You titled your head. Xiao was standing there, staring down at you. He didn’t spare any attention to your classmates, who were still dumbfounded at what was unfolding before them.

“Let’s go.”

You heard Xiao speak before, but you didn’t realise how gentle his tone could be. His expression was unchanging. It was the same frosty look he had on everywhere he went, causing everyone to shrink away. Though, you didn’t feel that fear at all. Instead, heat rose to your cheeks.

“What? Where?” you spluttered.

“Outside. Let’s eat together.”

He was now tugging on your hand. Did you really want to stay in this classroom? Gossiping and bad-mouthing someone right in front of them? You were planning on eating outside anyway. You let him guide you to the class door. He let go of your hand as you exited to the hallways, the warmth that had enveloped your fingers dissipating. He stuffed both his hands in his pockets, moving quickly in the crowd of students. Trailing behind, you watched everyone’s gaze follow the green-haired boy with a less-than-stellar reputation and his slightly bewildered classmate.

⟡

The school’s field was alive with activity. Students looking to get in extra practice running laps on the track or expending their restless energy playing soccer. Near the quieter edge of the field, beneath a tree just beginning to sprout white blossoms, you and Xiao sat down on a small bench.

“You said you wanted to eat together, but do you have any food?” you asked, tentatively.

Xiao rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting away from your gaze. “I didn’t really think about that…”

As hard as you tried, you couldn’t stop a chuckle from escaping your lips. At your reaction, Xiao folded his arms. The move would have seemed tougher if he wasn’t pouting at the same time. Was this really the Xiao everyone feared? Now that you were closer to him, you could see how boyish he was. Nothing like the big and scary figure everyone whispered about. His usual stony eyes were brightened in the sunlight, and his unreadable face now was blushed pink, clear with embarrassment.

“Here,” you pulled out a small cup of almond pudding. “You can have it. I already ate one.”

He took it from your hand, muttering a thanks as he tore open the lid and began to eat it. You took a bite of your own rice.

“I’m sorry about before with what they were talking about.”

“You shouldn’t apologise for them,” Xiao responded without missing a beat. “You were the one who tried to stop it.”

You looked down at your lap. Even though you had told them to stop, you still felt guilty. This was probably the first time any of his classmates had had a proper conversation with him. Had no one really tried to get to know him? Sure, he may have been caught up with the wrong sorts of people in the past, but in the last few months he had done nothing but kept to himself.

Xiao saw your downcast eyes. There was a cold edge to his voice as he added, “There’s no need to feel sad for me, I’m used to it.”

That made you feel even sadder. You stuffed your mouth with more rice.

“It still doesn’t make it right,” your voice was muffled by food before you swallowed, “no matter how used to it you get.”

Remembering the words your classmates had said got you riled up again. You huffed, “I wouldn’t want anybody talking like that without me knowing, let alone when you’re only a few meters away! Like, saying you’re ruining this whole year just by being here? How rude can you get– Are you laughing at me?”

Sure enough, Xiao was bent over hand covering his mouth as he tried to hide his amusement. “I’ve just never seen someone get so angry on someone else’s behalf before.”

“Don’t go thinking you’re special or anything now!” you joked. “I’ll stand up for anyone.”

Xiao nodded. “I know. It seems like the type of person you are.”

The soft assurance he gave made your chest tighten. Xiao subtly examined your face. Your small smile creating dimpled cheeks, the flutter of your lashes, your hair tousling in the light breeze. This was the first time anyone had bothered to give him a chance. If this conversation, and you, have shown him anything, perhaps it would be alright to open up a little.

“I took remedial classes,” Xiao mumbled.

“Hm? What did you say?” you shuffled closer to hear him better.

“Why they let me move up a grade,” he said louder. The words fell out of him, as if saying them quicker would make him less humiliated at himself. “I took a lot of remedial classes during school breaks to catch up. The principal gave me a second chance, and I managed to pass to continue.”

To his surprise, your eyes lit up. “Really? That’s great!”

“I just passed, that’s all.” Xiao ran a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing special...”

“Still! It’s a great achievement. Trust me, a lot of our classmates wouldn’t be as studious as you.”

 “Y-yeah,” was all Xiao could manage to reply when seeing your beaming face. He needed to change the subject immediately.

“Where is that girl you’re always with?”

You blinked at him. “Oh, you mean Jahoda? She’s actually in the city today. She wanted to get those new figurines for this animated series we watch.”

Xiao cocked his head in recognition. “Rex Incognito you mean?”

You gaped. “You watch Rex Incognito? I didn’t think you were the type to be into it!”

Xiao cleared his throat. This was also the first time anyone had given him such sustained attention and interest. He began to talk about where he was up to in the show, which was quite behind your progress. You offered to give the figurine Jahoda would buy, and he shyly accepted, promising to pay both you and Jahoda back somehow. The wind carried white petals down from the tree, decorating the area around you and Xiao. Marking a blossoming of two sorts for the school year.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

⟡ 𝑾𝑨𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑹

Gossip from Classroom 2-1: Did you know, Wanderer was apparently suspended from school for a week once because he sprayed graffiti all over a teacher’s desk in the staffroom? All because the teacher gave him a bad test score!

“I’m begging you! I’ll owe you a favour, just please help me out.”

Your class president was pleading with you. He was about to go on his knees, and you had to drag him up by the arm to stop his dramatics.

“Come on,” you whined. “Why me? It’s meant to be your responsibility!”

“Have you even heard who we’re talking about here? It’s Wanderer, there’s no way I want to see him!”

You gave a long sigh. Wanderer was a classmate of yours who was not very liked by, well, anyone at your school. He had a short temper and a blunt attitude, prone to finding elaborate ways to curse someone out. From students to teachers. You just had to be fortunate that he woke up on the right side of bed that day. His violet eyes were always bored or filled with contempt, and no matter the season he always wore a black turtleneck to school. No one had ever seen his arms or neck bare. Rumours had gone around that he was affiliated with some gang, and the turtleneck was there to cover up all the upper body tattoos he had. They said he dealt in extortion, threatening innocent people to give their money away. That’s why he had such a foul mouth. Today, he had skipped school entirely, claiming he was sick. Which was why your class president was moments from kneeling before you to take today’s notes to him.

“And you’re close to him, right? It’s better you than me to give these to him.”

Your class president was shoving the folder into your arms, but you raised them up.

“Hah! Close is a stretch! I only knew him for a bit when I was what, eight years old?”

“Longer than me!”

You rolled your eyes, turning around and walking down the hallway. There were still a few students mingling, either preparing to go home or staying for extracurricular activities. Thankfully, no one paid attention to the scene your class president was causing. He scurried around you, stopping you in your tracks.

“Please, just this once.”

His eyes were so wide and desperate. It was honestly a sad sight to see how frightened he was. You snatched the folder from him.

“Fine,” you seethed. “You owe me big time.”

Your class president broke down in tears, repeating ‘thank you’ over and over. If you hadn’t stormed out of there quickly, he would have latched onto your leg, still giving his gratitude to you.

How the hell is he the class president again!? You thought to yourself as you put the address of Wanderer’s home in your phone, as the teacher instructed on the note they left. Should’ve made me a class president…

⟡

You reached a small home not too far from your own house. There was nothing alarming about it. No ‘KEEP OUT’ or ‘DANGER’ signs, or any yellow and black crime scene tape. Everyone is being so dramatic. When you were younger, you and Wanderer did hang out together, and he was never cruel to you. Then again, you were only children. A lot can change after you stop talking with someone as you get older.

You approached the front door and rung the doorbell.

One…two…three seconds passed. There was no noise inside. No indication there was someone at home.

This is a bit anti-climatic. You rung the doorbell again.

“Hello?” you called out. “Sorry to disturb. I’m from Class 2-1, I have notes from today’s classes.”

You then heard footsteps. Fast. Heading right towards you. There was a voice too.

“Aunt Nahida, I thought you brought the house keys with–”

The door suddenly swung open.

“–you.”

Standing at the door was Wanderer. The same purple hair and violet eyes as you saw almost every day for the past year. Yet, there was something different about him now. His eyes were softer, and his hair was strangely damp. H-hang on! You almost dropped the folder. Wanderer was half naked. He wore a pair of lounge pants; a towel wrapped around his neck doing nothing to hide in bare chest and toned arms right in front of you. What was most surprising though was that he also had tattoos. Not full body ones as the rumours have said, but around his collarbone and down his bicep. They were simple patterns, swirls resembling the wind. Nothing at all affiliated with any violent crime.  

“W-what!?” he stuttered out.

Wanderer immediately grew red in the face, which was incredibly obvious when he had no clothing on.

The door slammed shut. You froze in place. Your brain tried to process those last few seconds, yet it seemed to buffer. The door opened again, and you closed your eyes tight, bracing yourself.

“Idiot, open your eyes.”

You heard Wanderer’s deadpan voice. You warily opened one first and saw that he had thankfully put on a shirt. With his reputation, you thought he’d be a lot angrier. Instead, he had his arms calmly folded, leaning against the door frame.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not going around opening doors with my upper body uncovered,” you remarked.

He scoffed. “Look, I thought you were someone else, okay? Just what are you doing here?”

“Here,” you held out the folder. “The notes for your classes from today.”

“Isn’t Mr President meant to do?”

You got irritated at the mere mention of that boy and gave a weary sigh. “He decided to outsource this time.”

Wandered smirked, taking the folder from you. You realised you needed to make a hasty escape. You had just seen the tattoos Wanderer had on his body which was strictly prohibited by your school. He would likely want to keep you here to make sure you didn’t do any talking.

“That’s it then!” you said, backing away. “See you! Bye!”

“Stop,” Wanderer lazily called out.

You could have just booked it, but some cowardly part of you still obeyed. You silently cursed at yourself and turned back around, a friendly smiled plastered onto your face. He walked over and grabbed you by your bag strap, dragging you back to the door.

“Hey! We’re not eight years old anymore, you can’t just do that!” you complained, trying to tug his hand away but the grip was too tight.

“Is it wrong of a me to want to invite a fellow classmate and old acquaintance into my house?” he answered, innocently.

“This isn’t an invitation, it’s a kidnapping!”

“Please, I’m barely using any force. Shoes off.”

You kicked off your shoes. Even in these circumstances, you still had to have etiquette. You clumsily entered, and Wanderer closed the door. The interior was homely. A living room and kitchen in the same open space, and stairs that went to a second floor. He sat down on the sofa, leaning comfortably back. He gestured to the space next to him. You groaned, feeling like a baby about to be scolded by a parent. Slipping your bag off your shoulders, you dropped onto the cushion.

“I know what this is about, I’m not going to tell anyone!”

Wanderer was unsurprised that you had figured out why he needed to talk to you. Other people would have been trembling in fear, probably thinking about which finger they liked the least to repay non-existent loans. You were always able to match his tempo, that’s why he liked hanging around you when he was younger. Out of everyone he knew, you could be the most trusted with knowing he had tattoos (which was honestly such a mundane thing that he didn’t believe needed to be kept so secret). So, was he just using this whole exchange as an excuse to have a proper conversation with you again? Maybe, but Wanderer would never admit to that.

“How do I know that? As far as I know, you could use it for fuel to start another ridiculous rumour about me.”

There was a bitterness to his voice. You did feel bad for him. Everyday people would spout the same wild stories about him, not even knowing if they were true or not. Hearing it so often could really wear someone down. He had been rather blunt as a kid, but never to the extreme. You always wondered if his attitude that fanned those flames was developed because of all the rumours.

“Come on, didn’t you say I was an old acquaintance?” you said. “What happened to trust and loyalty?”

“When faced against a collective, people can easily switch sides,” he shrugged, matter-of-factly. He had personally witnessed it plenty of times before.

“So, you want me to rebuild trust?” you offered.

Wanderer hummed in thought. He was wondering what plan he should devise, when someone entered the room. You hadn't heard the door open, too occupied with the discussion you were having. Someone you assumed was Nahida walked in carrying two bags. She also almost dropped them when she saw Wanderer with another person in his school’s uniform.

“Hi Auntie,” he waved. You detected a hint of smugness in his tone that you didn’t like.

“Wanderer!” Nahida said, placing the bags on the kitchen table, “Who is this? It’s nice to meet you.”

She walked towards you and you instinctively bowed in greeting. It was hard to believe Wanderer was close to any classmate to invite them over. Nahida assumed this was maybe a group project partner.

“Hello, I’m in the same class as Wanderer’s. I was just dropping by the class materials for today.”

“Ah! That’s nice, you must be the class president then?”

You shook you head politely, “Oh no, I was just helping. I’ll be heading off now. Thank you for letting me come in.”

Wanderer followed you as well. You kept your exasperation smothered, not wanting to make a bad impression on this much kinder relative of his. Wanderer played the role of a good host and opening the door for you once you wore your shoes.  

“Meet me at the corner of the street tomorrow morning at seven,” he suddenly said.

“Oddly specific,” you narrowed your eyes at him.

“It's at the end of both of our streets, so it’ll be easy us meet there,” he replied, looking down at his feet. You didn’t know if usual expressions of emotions could be transferrable to Wanderer, but if they were, you could tell he was being somewhat bashful.  

You relaxed a bit. “Why do you want to meet me?”

He looked up at you, eyes gleaming with amusement. This was the same playfulness you remembered from when you were both kids.

“It’ll be the start of our trust building.”

This was definitely going to be an interesting school year.

"hah..." straightening for a moment of respite, xiao wiped the blood of his face briefly, brushing the back of his hand against his cheek. while his limbs had yet to feel the twinge of weariness, he pinched his brows together all the same. it had been far too long since he had last saw you, thanks to his constant monster-slaying duties.

in the distance, a stonehide lawachurl roared, charging at him with geo-infused fists. flanked by mitachurls and a small army of other, lesser creatures, xiao could only form one thought as he readied his spear: oh, what i'd give to just hear their voice.

as if it had been waiting, the small, rectangular mechanism in his pocket buzzed.

"oh, that..." as xiao cut the arrows directed towards him in half, he recalled what the strange object's purpose was.

..

"a-xiao, over here~" waving him over, you beamed, like the sight of him was something to smile over. "i made some... wise financial decisions and got you the newest model of the 'fone' from fontaine!"

xiao had eyed the thing you had handed him with utmost skepticism, flinching when you pressed the button on its side, lighting the "screen" up. "w-w...what sorcery..." xiao's face paled. even guizhong and cloud retainer had never conjured up something as... well, whatever this was.

"okay, now watch closely..." xiao watched you fiddle with the device, narrowing his eyes with slight hatred at the mechanism that was stealing your attention away from him. "wait here. and press the green button." staring after you like a lost puppy, xiao could only stand in confusion as you sprinted some 100 meters away. all of a sudden, the device in his hands shook, and xiao looked down to see text and a green button. hesitantly pressing it, he was shocked to hear your voice, through the device.

"?? a-are you stuck in there? hold on, i'll free you-" xiao raised his polearm, ready to smash the screen to bits.

"hey- hold on!! this thing cost a lot!! i'm not stuck in here, xiao.. its a device that'll let you talk to me, even if you're away! i thought you would've liked it, but if not, there's always that 30 day return guarantee..."

your mopey voice immediately struck a chord within him. "no, i like it. i do."

"...you do?"

"yes."

"...yay!"

..

"oh, so, then..." remembering what you had told him before, xiao pressed the accept call button without a second thought, holding it to his ear with one hand and wielding his spear in the other.

"xiao?"

there it was, your voice — clear as day, like the early sun dispersing the fog. "yes. it's me." he spun to the side to avoid an attack, before striking down the foolish hilichurl who'd dared to fight against him.

hearing muffled sounds in the background, you questioned, "are you busy? is everything okay? i can always call you ba-"

"no. i'm not busy. and everything is fine." he wasn't lying at all, really. just the sound of your voice had swept a cool breeze through him; rejuvenated, he felt like he could fight better than he had in centuries.

"talk to me. about anything. i'll listen."

the day, as per usual, started with a certain pixelated dragon in need of bloodshed.

"oh yes mrs. katheryne!! the most dangerous tasks you have- ol kinichie over here can handle it nooooo problem!! mhm! yepyep!!" ajaw was the most happy he had been in days, bobbing up and down in the air excitedly as he yapped away. the two stood in front of the adventurer's guild, and katheryne eyed them awkwardly.

"...mr. kinich, is that all right with you?"

"...do whatever."

"HIS OPINION DOESN'T MATTER!! mine!! mine does!! AND MY OPINON IS YES, WOMAN, so f*ck him up!!"

"ah.. alright. here you are, mr. kinich. the commission details."

"thank you."

"YES!! YAHAHA!!!"

more often than not, kinich began his days like this — a manically laughing pixel dragon and a hell of a headache. of course, today was a little different; typically, he'd go through his usual saurian hunting jobs, but as per your request to "add a little variation to his routine," he'd gone out of his way earlier to accept that strange communication contraption you'd gifted him earlier, and now he was taking a commission from the adventurer's guild. ajaw had made sure to find the most dangerous one possible: clearing abyss-corrupted grounds of monsters.

entering the marked area, kinich scanned his surroundings. with experience, he'd become adept at tuning out ajaw's constant chatter, and could remain focused on the task at hand. axe-wielding mitachurls at the forefront, archers in the back... it would require pre-planning, yes, but did ajaw underestimate his abilities to such an extent?

deciding his course of action, kinich launched himself into the back ranks with his skill, sweeping his blade and clearing out the hilichurls in the back, who fell before they even had the chance to load their crossbows. as for the larger monsters in front, kinich called on the aid of ajaw, who let out the cringey response of, "measly insects, now you must pay!" as dendro attacks rained down from above and more purplish, abyss-tainted creatures appeared in the distance, kinich's trained ears heard the cheerful, elevator-music like ringtone of his... what was it called? oh, right. the "fone."

asali... sweet honey. seeing the contact name, kinich paused for a brief moment, as if starstruck. swiftly getting over his stupor, he received clearing his throat before unmuting to speak. "asali? is everything alright where you are?"

"mhm, just checkin' in~! you forgot to take the snack i packed for you this morning so- you aren't hungry, are you?"

"don't worry about me." a mitachurl, dropping its axe and collapsing onto its knees before finally dissipating into the air, let out a crude groan as the last remains of its being was swept away by the wind. kinich scuffed the ground with his boot, tilting his head to hold the device between his ear and shoulder so he could still wield his claymore double-handed. "i'll have them when i get back."

"just make sure ajaw doesn't eat them all-" jumping upwards to avoid the downward cleave of a large axe, kinich carved into the body of another monster. "what's going on over there, 'ichi'? i'm not bothering you in the middle of something, am i?"

"not at all." before ajaw could speak a word, kinich clapped a hand over his mouth, glaring at him. get the hint. "stay on call. i don't mind the company."

"bfug- HEY!" ajaw somehow managed to wriggle his way out of kinich's grasp, yelling fervently. "you have my company, blockhead- is that not enjoyable enough for you?!"

"ajaw, you are anything but enjoyable."

"'ichi'... let's be nice now."

well, of course you would say that, but the male knew you silently agreed on the fact. "so? tell me about your day."

"it won't bore you?"

kinich slung himself into the air, garments flapping in the downward drop as he plummeted his weapon into the ground. his claymore sent out waves of shock in the area of impact, and slaughtered anything kinich deemed to be in his path.

"how could you even think that, asali? no, never."

come on now, his jokes weren't that unfunny now, were they?

having seen the entire sumeru cast walk out on him at lambard's tavern, the man resigned himself quietly, a single, satirical tear escaping his stone-statue-like expression. "haha... seems like my humor is just more advanced..."

cyno said it just to cope, and to console himself further he decided to enact some justice. nothing beat the misery of friends not understanding your hilariously good jokes like destroying evil-doers. he'd been tailing a wayward group of treasure hoarders for several days now, and what better time would there be to eradicate them?

stepping out of the tavern, the night air was cool. subconsciously glancing down at the device he now had on his person at all times — the "fone," as you called it, he quietly frowned to see no activity.

well, no matter. cyno thought to himself, quickly dispatching the blemishes of society. he knew your day-to-day schedule by heart, and it was around this time you would head to bed. expecting a "nighty night, cyno <3" anytime now, the former general mahamatra cracked a small smile while bloodying his spear.

contrary to his expectations, however...

over the past few days, cyno had grown accustomed to that buzzing feeling in his pocket, indicating that you were, figuratively, glancing his way. since he had obtained the device, he now anticipated that buzz at any given moment — except this time, the sound was a prolonged... indicating, what was it- "an audio form of chat?"

swiftly tapping on the green button on the bottom of the screen, cyno spoke. "azizam?" his voice felt raw, unnatural, even, as he continued his onslaught. "what's up?"

before you could even answer or greet him, the man responded to himself. "the sky. haha. hahahaha. do you get it? so-"

"cyno..." the moment he heard that exasperated voice with a cheery undertone, emitting from his fone speaker, cyno broke into a small smile, shutting himself up.

(it was a terrifying sight, really, to the treasure hoarders who were getting obliterated by said mahamatra, smiling oh so sweetly.)

"your joke isn't even relevant right now! i'm at home! it's the ceiling that's above me, that's what... ah, nevermind- it's nothing, i just wanted to call you and bid you goodnight..." there was a pause on the other end of the phone, and cyno waited attentively for you to speak, whirling his polearm before slamming it into the desert sands. "am i tweaking out right now or am i hearing the sounds of something-, no someone? dying... cyno..."

that chastising tone was what he found more endearing than anything else. "hmm, sounds of people dying? i don't know what you're talking about... i'm by myself, at home. you could even say i'm by cy-self, no?"

silence.

"...not funny, azizam?"

"2 stars."

"out of five? y'know, that's quite generous-"

"a hundred. out of a hundred."

"....it's a start."

your laughter starts out quietly, like a bubbling stream- his oasis in the desert. it's a melodic, joyful sound that he breathes in, giddy like a little kid as he finally executes the final blow to the last fleeing treasure hoarder. the man crumples to the ground like paper mache, lying still.

"so, mr. 'i'm at home,' mind lending me an ear?" you're the first one to speak after recovering yourself from your laughter, the traces of a chuckle still in your voice. "you wouldn't believe the new drama at the academia, i swear.."

"talk away. a man by his lonesome has nothing better to do than to listen."

the red on the snow was blooming — strawberries in the summertime.

like an artist expertly wielding a paintbrush, the blank, white canvas was filled with splotches and splatters of a brilliant crimson color. the man himself, tartaglia, was no artist, however. if he had to describe himself, it would be along the lines of the eleventh of the eleven fatui harbingers, childe, and, by his humble opinion, the most charming of the bunch. 

in the early shneznayan morning, drifts of ice fell quickly from the clouds above. after his little excursion in liyue, he had been suddenly sent back to shneznaya for a brief recon mission, the reason provided being “everyone else was busy.” and while childe wouldn’t normally ever turn down a chance to see his family and tuecer again… this time, there was something keeping him tethered to the land of geo.

yes, it was you. you, who had won his heart over (though it had been an inadvertent action on your part) and made him chase after you like a lapdog day and night — of his own volition, of course.

childe picked up the call with a smile, holding the “fone” in the crook of his neck. in the distance, more enemies emerged — treasure hoarders daring to sully the nation of cryo — childe spun his bow, hydro vision flashing as it transformed into his signature double blades. “kotik? what’s going on, you miss me?”

“as if. don’t delude yourself, ginger.”

there it was, that delightful little note of annoyance in your tone. “soo? speak away~” as he laughed, his hydro weapon slashed through his opponents, leaving them to fall in pieces in the snow. white was slowly colored red and a dried muddy-brown, seeping through the ice to reach the budding sprouts below. though shneznaya was never all that warm…

“i was just- zhongli was wondering if you’d be back by next week?”

soon, it would be spring.

“hmm? its zhongli who wants to know? i could’ve sworn i heard-”

“zhongli! it’s zhongli who wants to know! ugh, seriously, you… it’s not like i’m worried about you, but it’s been a while since we ate together… the three of us, i mean.”

“mhm~” childe basked in the sound of your voice, eyes fluttering close as he drunk its melody in. “well, i suppose if i put some effort into it, i could be back before next thursday..”

“effort? hey, you told me you were visiting family… you aren’t on a mission, are you??”

“huh? no, no.” childe chuckled sheepishly as he swept his blade against the new oncomers — one slash, two, three, seventeen, fourty nine — they collapsed to the ground just as fast as they had come. flicking his weapon to clean off the blood on its blade, the man let out a little laugh. “effort in playing hide-and-seek with tuecer. he keeps telling me to play with him, and certaintly won’t let me leave until we’ve played at least a hundred rounds.”

“tuecer…” there was a hint of suspicion remaining in your voice. oops, had you heard the screams and startled shouts of the treasure hoarders as they were cut clean in two? “right, your little brother. you said you’d introduce me to your family soon, so i should’ve just come along with you this time…”

“i guess i’m just a big dummy, kotik. next time, okay?”

there was something fishy about this whole setup, but you relented nontheless. “honestly, you’re such ..”

"... the perfect one for you? hehe, i know~ fallen for me yet?”

(a/n) hi guys. i looked at my old drafts after coming back to tumblr and found this gem sitting in there. genuinely complete and idk why i never posted this. THIS SHIT WAS CREATED SEP 2024. ITS JUNE 2026. holy shit. do we still fw these characters even. happy late birthday cyno LMAO

taglist: (daddys home!!!!)

@manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu-archive, @falors, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife, @lupicalbestwolf, @justyoureader, @fiannee, @aether-darling, @aioniela, @avensuersa, @dainsleif-when-playable, @umiloa, @intpessimistic, @keiiqq, @intpessimistic, @keiiqq, @eutopiastar, @matcha-mintea, @makuzume, @self-awared, @sunyandmony

translations!! (all of these except for mandarin are languages i don't know, so if there are any corrections to be made feel free to tell me ^^)

亲爱的 (qīn ài de): mandarin chinese, honey / beloved

asali: swahili, sweet like honey / honey

azizam: persian, my dear

kotik: russian, little cat/kitty

Kaeya doesn't seem to be the type to get jealous, but he is: don't let that cocky smirk of his deceive you

As you sat next to Kaeya in Angel's Share, talking about how his day went, telling a funny story from your own day, something unexpected happened

A drunkard sat on the opposite side of you from Kaeya, striking up a conversation, fully interrupting the Captain's time with his lover

Seeing you chat with someone who was barely holding their liquor, their arm dangling over your shoulder, and face way too close to yours for Kaeya's liking... made him less than pleased

The guy kept blabbering and blabbering on, so long that you had stopped listening some time through

It was one particular comment that caught your attention again

A pickup line, so gross and objectifying that it stunned you into silence

But Kaeya was a yapper, and he had something to say

A few choice remarks, sly belittlement, and a line that would send even the most resilient of knights into a pit of self-loathing

The guy went scampering off, the drunkard's arm around your shoulder being replaced with Kaeya's

His expression seemed to be the same as always to the untrained eye, but after knowing him for so long, you could tell he was furious

He paid for both of your drinks, smoothly taking your hand in his, then guiding you out of Angel's Share

When you arrived at your shared home, Kaeya wasted no time doting and kissing every part of you, from your cheeks, lips, nose, shoulders, hands, and any other part of you within his reach

He'd be damned if he let a guy like that get you down, so he wanted to shower you in affection

Both to make you feel better, and also to get rid of that man's stench off of you, replacing it with his own

"You don't mind, do you, my dear? I'm just giving you your proper amount of love for the night."

Flins was always a gentleman, especially to you

He was eloquent, sweet, sometimes a little mischievous (not that you minded), but an overall reliable boyfriend

And he loved you, loved to the point where he felt his heart ache every time you were apart

Which seemed to be too often for him, since you didn't live together

But today, you were visiting him at the lighthouse, which had him in a flurry of excitement

But for whatever reason, you were late

Whether this was typical for you or not, Flins was worried

He went out to search for you in the cemetery, hoping that you were somewhere nearby, when he spotted you by one of the gravestones

Even from a distance, he could see you were talking to someone, and as he got closer, he saw the familiar face of the Traveler

You were having a pleasant conversation with Aether, smiling and laughing at his jokes

The sight alone made Flins' mood dampen a bit; he'd much rather it be him making you smile that way

The Lightkeeper made it to your side quicker than expected, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close

Flins introduced you to Aether as his girlfriend, with a glare pointed in the Traveler's direction

Aether, now confused by the Lightkeeper's sudden hostility, decided to carry on with his travels, waving goodbye to you and Flins rather quickly

Your boyfriend then guided you back to the lighthouse, insistent that you tell him about your journey and anything interesting that happened while you two were apart

"Do tell me of your adventures on your way here, do not spare a single detail, my dear. And... don't hesitate to tell me about your conversation with the Traveler."

Zhongli was rarely jealous, if ever

But there was something about the way Childe stood so close to you that made his chest feel tight

Or how Childe wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you against him just for the sake of being near you, that made Zhongli notice his own fist clenching

And when Zhongli saw how Childe looked at you, it only made that feeling of jealousy grow stronger

Zhongli rarely told you about these feelings, not wanting to bother you with such an ugly emotion

But you could tell when Zhongli was upset

From the tightening of his jaw, the narrowing of his eyes, and the specific way he'd cross his arms and tap his fingers on his sleeve

And when those feelings flared up, you'd rush to his side, doting on him and showering him in affection

Though that only made Childe upset, egging him on to flirt and try to win your heart with double the effort

And as such, a game of cat and mouse flourished between the two men, even though you had already sworn your heart to Zhongli

It only ever ended when you clearly stated to Childe that there would never be anything between him and you

Then, once the dust settled and you and Zhongli were alone, the mood turned sweet, with your man being his gentle and thoughtful self, treating you to a date at his favorite restaurant

And as that jealous feeling subsides for Zhongli, he can't help but want to take you somewhere more private, perhaps to cuddle or simply be in each other's presence for a short while

"Thank you for staying by my side, dear, my heart will forever belong to you..."

the (soft) supporter

when the child shyly approaches you, clutching a flower with trembling hands and nervously stammering out a confession, his reaction is immediate but far from possessive. instead of jealousy or annoyance, he watches with a warm smile, his eyes softening as he takes in the innocence of the moment.

his first thought isn’t to interrupt or overshadow but to appreciate the sincerity of the child’s feelings and your gentle response to it.

he watches the scene unfold with quiet amusement, his heart swelling as he takes in the sweetness of the moment. he doesn’t see the child as a rival or a nuisance—far from it. instead, he’s struck by how earnest and brave the little boy is for approaching you with such sincerity.

he knows how kind and patient you are, and seeing you respond with such gentle affection only reminds him of why he adores you.

as you crouch down to accept the flower, thanking the child with a kind smile, he can’t help but admire you even more. there’s a tenderness in the way you interact with the child that makes his heart ache in the best way possible.

he doesn’t feel threatened by the situation—in fact, he finds it endearing. if anything, it reminds him of how natural it is for people to be drawn to you, no matter their age.

standing just a step behind you, he chuckles softly to himself, murmuring under his breath, “well, that’s brave of him.” his voice carries a note of amused admiration, but he doesn’t feel the need to insert himself into the moment.

instead, he stands by as a quiet presence, ready to step in if the child needs a little encouragement but content to let you handle it.

if the child looks nervous or unsure, he might step closer and kneel down to meet the boy’s eye level, his tone kind and reassuring. “that’s a beautiful flower you’ve got there,” he’d say with a small smile. “you chose well.” he has no intention of stealing the spotlight or intimidating the child; he just wants to make the situation feel a little easier for everyone.

his gentle demeanor leaves no room for misunderstanding—he’s here to support you, not compete for attention.

after the child scampers off, cheeks flushed with pride and excitement, he turns to you with a soft laugh. “you’ve got quite the admirer,” he says, his tone light and teasing but laced with genuine affection. there’s no jealousy in his voice, just quiet amusement and warmth.

he even suggests preserving the flower as a keepsake, offering to press it in a book or find a small vase for it later. to him, it’s a sweet moment worth cherishing.

you thank him for being so calm about the situation, he simply shrugs, his smile soft and unassuming. “he’s just a kid,” he says, his voice full of understanding. “and honestly, it’s sweet. how could anyone not fall for you?” the sincerity in his words is undeniable, and the way his gaze lingers on you for just a second too long tells you everything you need to know about how he feels.

later, he might bring it up again in passing, unable to resist a little playful teasing. “so, should i be worried?” he asks with a grin, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. “seems like you’ve got admirers lining up these days.”

despite the joke, his actions remain steady and reassuring—he never leaves your side for long and finds subtle ways to remind you of how much you mean to him. whether it’s brushing his hand against yours, standing a little closer than usual, or simply looking at you with that soft, adoring expression, his quiet support is unwavering.

for him, the moment wasn’t about competition or insecurity. it was just another reminder of how incredible you are, and how lucky he feels to be the one by your side.

— KAZUHA, ZHONGLI, WELT, GEPARD, ARGENTI, LUKA, SUNDAY, LUOCHA, JING YUAN, tighnari, THOMA, DILUC, BAIZHU

the dramatic ones

when the child approaches you, holding out a flower with all the sincerity in the world, the dramatic one immediately acts as if the universe itself has betrayed him. his eyes widen in exaggerated shock, a hand flying to his chest as if struck by an invisible arrow.

“oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” he exclaims, his voice dripping with mock offense. he takes a step back, looking between you and the child with theatrical disbelief, as though he’s stumbled into the climax of some tragic love story.

as the child nervously stammers out his confession, the dramatic one groans, running a hand through his hair as if trying to collect himself. “really? really? even kids now?” he mutters under his breath, though loud enough for you to hear. his tone is less genuine frustration and more exaggerated exasperation, the kind that begs for your attention.

when you smile at the child and crouch down to accept the flower, his reaction shifts into full-blown melodrama. “a flower? oh no, not a flower!” he gasps, pretending to stagger backward as if this tiny gesture has dealt him a mortal wound.

“this is how it starts! next thing i know, he’ll be writing you love letters and stealing your heart!” he places a hand on his forehead, tilting his head back with a long-suffering sigh, as though the betrayal is simply too much to bear.

if the child dares to glance his way, he leans in slightly, crossing his arms with a mock-serious expression. “you’re bold, kid. i’ll give you that,” he says, narrowing his eyes playfully. “but do you have what it takes to keep them happy? hmm? flowers are just the beginning, you know.” despite his words, there’s no real malice—he’s just playing up the moment, reveling in the absurdity of the situation.

when the child finally scampers off, proud of his bravery, the dramatic one steps closer to you, shaking his head with a heavy sigh. “unbelievable. i leave you alone for one second, and this is what happens?” he grumbles, though the grin tugging at his lips betrays his amusement. “what’s next? a line of admirers waiting around the corner?”

if you laugh at his antics, it only fuels his performance. “don’t laugh! this is serious!” he says, though his voice is far from convincing. he leans in closer, his tone dropping to a mock whisper. “tell me the truth—did he win you over? do i have competition now? should i be worried?” his eyes glimmer with playful mischief, his entire demeanor practically begging you to reassure him.

later, he won’t let you forget it. “do you remember earlier? that kid? yeah, i’m still recovering,” he teases, his voice full of faux indignation. “i mean, who does that? confessing right in front of me? bold move, i’ll give him that.” he’ll recount the story to anyone willing to listen, embellishing every detail to make it sound even more dramatic.

“i had to stand there and watch my partner get swept off their feet by a four-foot-tall rival. you have no idea the pain i endured.”

despite all the dramatics, his actions make it clear that it’s all in good fun. he doesn’t actually feel threatened—in fact, he enjoys watching you smile and laugh at his antics. the entire situation only gives him another excuse to shower you with playful affection and remind you in his own ridiculous way just how much you mean to him.

— KAVEH, SAMPO, venti, luka, BOOTHILL, JING YUAN, ITTO, CYNO, kaeya, lyney, BAIZHU, MR. RECA, wriothesley

the quiet ones

when the child approaches you, holding out a flower with trembling hands and a nervous confession, he is instantly at a loss. his breath catches, and he freezes in place, wide-eyed as he tries to process what’s happening. for a moment, he just stands there, completely still, as though moving might draw attention to himself. his hands awkwardly hover near his sides, unsure whether to intervene or stay back.

his gaze darts between you and the child, his face rapidly turning pink as he realizes how sweetly you’re smiling at the little boy. the warmth and gentleness in your voice as you thank the child make his heart ache in the best way possible. he swallows hard, suddenly hyperaware of how soft and kind you are, and it only makes his cheeks burn hotter.

as you crouch down to accept the flower, he glances away, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve or brushing through his hair in a nervous attempt to compose himself. it’s not that he’s jealous—no, he wouldn’t even know how to be jealous in this situation—it’s just that seeing someone else, even a child, shower you with admiration leaves him tongue-tied and painfully aware of his own feelings.

he mumbles something under his breath, barely audible, like, “that’s… bold of him.” but the moment the words leave his mouth, he cringes internally, wondering why he couldn’t come up with something better. instead of saying more, he stays rooted in place, trying to appear calm even as the tips of his ears betray him with their deep blush.

when the child looks at him, perhaps seeking approval, he manages a small, awkward smile and a quiet, “good choice.” his voice is soft, almost shy, and there’s a hesitant nod to go along with it. he wants to be encouraging after all, this is a child.

still, he’s not upset—he’s impressed by the child’s courage and, more than anything, endeared by how naturally you handle the situation.

after the child runs off, proud of his brave confession, the flustered quiet one exhales a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging slightly as he finally allows himself to relax. he hesitates before speaking, his voice low and slightly uneven. “that was… something,” he murmurs, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he dares to meet your eyes.

if you tease him, his blush deepens, and he looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. “i’m not flustered,” he insists, though his tone is far from convincing. he might even add, “it’s just… surprising, that’s all.” his attempt to downplay his reaction only makes him seem more endearing, his bashful demeanor a clear giveaway of how much the moment affected him.

for the rest of the day, he’s quieter than usual, replaying the scene in his mind and feeling his heart skip all over again. when he finally gathers the courage to bring it up, it’s in the form of a shy, almost hesitant comment.

“he was pretty brave, you know,” he says softly, his gaze flickering to you before quickly looking away. “but, uh… i hope you know that… well, i admire you too. a lot.”

his words are sincere, even if his voice is barely above a whisper. while he may not be as bold as the child who approached you, his quiet admiration and the way he lingers close to you for the rest of the day speak volumes.

— CAELUS, IMBIBITOR LUNAE/DAN HENG, gallagher, GEPARD, XIAO, DILUC, DAINSLEIF, ALBEDO, ALHAITHAM, NEUVILLETTE

note: got hit w baby fever sadly

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

a part of him was perfectly content with watching from the distance like a tourist feeling out of place in a museum but another sought you two out like a man in desperate need of relief. most of the time, it was the latter that won and he found that the power those amber eyes had over him was almost unfair.

"ah! hurry up! your little princess is getting impatient!" 

the small quirk of his lips was almost unnoticeable but it was there as he watched the little girl in your lap thrash around as she held her outstretched hands to him. with a faux sigh, he picked her up eliciting a delighted giggle from her and an amused huff from you.

"are we going to pretend that you hate having her in your arms as if you don't 'secretly' swoon every time she wants you to carry her?"

"shut up." 

raising your hands in defense, you met his half-hearted glare with an innocent smile, falling back into a fit of laughter when he muttered something about 'the adepti being incapable of swooning.'

"sure... whatever helps you sleep at night."

xiao clicked his tongue before turning his back on you, the tips of his ears flushed with a rosette hue that marked his embarrassment. swooning was definitely not the word he'd use to describe the intense tug at his heart every time she peeked at him through her lashes, lips stretched so wide that it almost hurt to look at. he was merely being... reasonable. yes, reasonable was a good word. not a single sane man would be able to resist the alluring charm of this unknowing girl.

"gah!"

he heard your amused snort from behind as he turned to look at the direction a short, stubby finger was pointing at. "that's a seashell."

"tea..."

"sea-shell," he repeated but slower, eyebrows raising as he watched the little girl slowly attempt to copy him and fail. "try it again?"

"i'd be more surprised if she actually managed to say it properly." as if on cue, your daughter erupted in a fit of giddy chuckles as she kept mumbling about 'tea tells.'

"at what age do babies start pronouncing things correctly?"

"oh my," you hid your mischievous smile behind your hand. "is the great adeptus xiao's weakness a mere pronunciation mistake?"

xiao gave you an unimpressed stare, "i couldn't care less about that—"

"tea tells!" 

"it's seashell."

rolling his eyes at the obnoxious grin you had on your face, he walked back to the shore with you in tow, "you were saying?"

"whatever."

"you know, you kind of remind me of those grandmothers in qingce village. always nagging about etiquette and wording conventions."

"you—" a gasp escaped your lips as your head hit his back from the sudden pause in his steps, "you are insufferable."

"now, don't be like that! you love me!"

your cheeky grin widened when xiao didn't make any move to deny it, choosing to begin his walk once again. with a jog, you fell into his steps, hand tangling with his free one and giggling when you felt him squeeze it tighter.

"should we go shell-picking, little dove?" the child in question squealed though you were sure she didn't even understand half of the words you said. with a shake of your head, you tugged the two forwards, unaware of the fond gaze xiao had for you.

"careful," you hummed at xiao's warning. "the waves are pushing in."

"what's a little water going to do— ack!" 

xiao felt the trembles first before he heard the booming laughter that came from his daughter who flailed her arms as she watched you tumble down from the force of the waves.

"you were saying?" he repeated your words from earlier with just the subtlest hint of smugness to which you rolled your eyes as you accepted the hand he offered to help you up.

"very funny. who knew you'd be so well versed in the art of comedy?"

he clicked his tongue, lips twitching as he flicked your forehead away from his face much to the further entertainment of the child who has yet to calm. "she did."

"oh really now?" with an almost sinister grin, you stole your daughter from him just to tickle her into oblivion, "don't go thinking you can side with your father without due punishment!"

xiao only shook his head as you two tumbled back down, incoherent noises coming from your daughter as she tried to stop you in her blissful daze. it was strange how your rumpled clothes and sand-prickled skins still looked beautiful in his eyes and it was stranger that he didn't feel as irate as he should've been when you flicked the seawater to his form.

"oops," you picked your daughter up, rolling on your heels as you prepared to run, "our hands slipped."

"such disrespect would never have gone unpunished in the past."

"it's a good thing that the times have changed then. wait... xiao!" the shrill squeal was almost immediate as you felt a sudden splash of chill soaking your clothes and the perpetrator? none other than xiao who took your daughter back to wipe her cheeks.

"did you just—"

"i prefer tradition."

before you could bark back another hefty remark, your daughter excitedly screamed causing both of you to jump in surprise. "tea tells!"

"right... the seashells... almost forgot about that..." you muttered under your breath as you crouched down to pick up the coral-colored seashell by your feet, "here you go, darling."

the child immediately began fiddling with it, tracing over the patterns and knocking on it, humming in delight when the tune lingered in the air for a little longer than most of the things she played with. unable to stop yourself, you reached up to tenderly brush some of her hair away, eyes catching xiao who was watching the small interaction with softened features.

"don't. it's dirty." he suddenly whispered as he gently held her hand in his, stopping the young child from attempting to put the shell in her mouth.

"do you mind if you take her for a while? i should start making breakfast."

"go ahead."

"i'll be back soon. behave for papa, alright? don't make him even more grumpy!" you giggled when that infamous frown of his made a reappearance. leaving them both with a final kiss on their cheeks, you set off to the kitchen and xiao felt immediate regret over his decision.

"what am i supposed to do now?"

clearing his throat, he reluctantly poked the child's cheeks much to her youthful amusement. it felt wrong to hold such... pristine being in his hands when he barely has any idea on how to nurture such souls. it wasn't as if he had a bright childhood in the first place. if anything, all he knew was that he couldn't let his little girl experience what he did, not even over his corpse.

"pa!" the sharp whine snapped him out of his dreary thoughts and he's once again reminded of his duties; duties that he's more inclined to fulfill without a grunt of resignation.

"i suppose... we could take a walk." 

xiao shifted the baby's weight awkwardly and at one point in time, he found himself holding the baby by their foot until he realized that maybe it wasn't right to do so. deciding that letting them walk was better than accidentally dropping them, xiao tried to untangle the tight grip on his clothes only to sigh in exasperation when his daughter stubbornly shook her head.

"i'm not going anywhere. i just need you to stand on your own."

she only huffed, turning her face away with a pout to show that she was not losing this battle and who was he to deny her that? such a spoiled, needy child but then again, it might've been his fault. with one last sigh, xiao picked the girl up once more, a stern warning leaving his lips, "don't let go."

the walk was mostly undisturbed save for the few times he stopped to pick up the vibrant seashells washed to the shore. somewhere along the lines, the overpowering scent of salt was covered by the sizzle and aroma from the grill and he had to wipe the drool that dripped from the child's mouth.

"are you hungry?"

she replied with a soft 'humph' and xiao had half the mind to walk back and attempt to find some fruit to nibble at. still — his eyes moved to where you were busying yourself in the portable stove you had him set up — he supposed that it would be quite rude to be impatient.

"food would be ready soon." he settled on replying as he handed yet another shellfish, this time, in the striking tone of red. "what are you even going to do with this?"

xiao wasn't expecting a reply but he more or less received one when the child began lining the shells on her wrist only for them to tumble down back to the sand much to her frustration.

"let me do it," setting her on his lap as he sat on a rock, xiao picked up a cord that was conveniently also washed to the beach. with a quick knot and another, he began stringing the shells together, placing them alternately in an attempt to make it more appealing than it actually was.

"this is not something i would usually concern myself with. unlike the other adepti who guided the mortals to continue to flourish, i dealt with death; massacring souls, and grievances as a weapon of war." twisting the string, xiao scoffed. "it's absurd to think that i'd be anywhere else."

but as he tied the bracelet on her wrist, his face held an unmistakable fondness, "but... of all the burdens i had to carry in my lifetime, you are not one of them. if i were to dare say it myself, i... would say that you are my salvation. my fight against the darkness would never cease even if the time comes that i will be darkness himself but whenever i'm with you, i tend to forget about their voices even if it is but for a fleeting moment."

moving his gaze back to the sea, his smile — a gesture he found to come far more often nowadays — made a reappearance. it was hard to deny the peace that washed over him like sea foam and it was even harder to admit that if the world were to burn all around him, he wouldn't dare to move in fear of ruining this moment. just him and his daughter who was busying herself with her new bracelet. was it selfish of him to seek a moment's respite?

"perhaps it would be better for everyone if it wasn't me who's here... those who have come to be my acquaintance have only known trouble ever since. for regret to come eventually, that much is understandable. however... is it too greedy of me to hope that it would never come? hmph. forget it."

shaking his head, amber met amber; his daughter's attention long focused solely on her father whose eyes flickered back and forth between gold to lonely twilights. hesitantly, she lifted her hand — the same one that was wrapped with a string of colored shells — to cup his cheek. how empathetic for such a young age... xiao allowed himself a small chuckle as he reached up to hold her hand in place.

"live a happy life free from the worries of the world. i will be watching over you from the shadows," he whispered, lips momentarily brushing over her hand as he turned his face, "and when trouble comes after you, speak my name and i'll be there to protect you."

━━ ☆ NOTES: i have no idea why this was so hard to write lmao. in any case, thanks for requesting i hope you liked it!

⚘ For example when Lumine and Aether want to play the console and fight over who will play first or which game to choose. They will come to you like helpless puppies for your verdict, and what you say is what they do. (Reluctantly from time to time.)

⚘ They like to accompany you every time you leave the house. Whether it's shopping, the doctor, or anywhere, you'll have the twins right behind you. Since you are responsible, you also usually take short trips to any place and you enjoy the getaways, taking many photos and visiting many places.