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For reasons you cannot fathom, the head of the Kamisato household harbors a strong attachment to you.

In normal circumstances, this fact would be taken as great news; presently, you are little more than puzzled and unfeeling. Rather than delight, dread stirs in your stomach whenever he calls your name in a volume louder than necessary—a conscious decision, you presume, since he seems to interact with other servants just fine. Curt and polite, keeping his words concise, preventing further delay from addressing his responsibilities.

Had you not known better, you wouldn't be able to identify him as the same man who indulges in trivialities when he invites you to share snacks, engaging in frivolous chatter over tea and pastries. With increasing frequency nonetheless, and with varying refreshments each time to boot, ranging from an assortment of wagashi. Strawberry daifuku on one tea break, mizu-yokan on the next, sakura mochi on the day after that... You've been serving him for a considerable amount of time, but he's never been much of a sweet tooth until as of late.

Ayato hums thoughtfully, savoring the sweet taste on his tongue. “The mild flavor is pleasant. I believe it might be to your liking.”

He offers you a cup, steam curling above the warm brew. The pink beverage glistens beneath the sunlight, rippling with movement when you take it into your hands. It doesn't require much thinking to conclude the tea leaves must've cost a fortune, but it leaves you plenty of questions just as well. Why would a benefactor give you a taste of luxury?

But you would be a fool not to appreciate it while it lasts, so you lift the cup for a sip.

The flavor of spring bursts in your mouth, fragrant and tasting of sweet nectar. Your frosty guise wavers under the bribery, bliss crossing your face before your lips quirk up to a small, almost imperceptible smile.

Deeming your elated reaction satisfactory, Ayato nudges the plate of confections towards your side of the table. “Eat. They pair well with the tea.”

Who are you to say no to your lord? Therefore, the correct choice must be to gratefully accept his gifts!

(Distracted by desserts, you fail to see his amusement in the way you stuff your cheeks full adorably like a chipmunk.

But he's aware it's not the right time yet, so he suppresses the urge to pinch your face.)

Kamisato Ayato is often praised for his intellect and cunning mind, but sometimes you wonder if he'd finally gone stupid after all that overthinking.

“My hand feels cold,” he laments, as if he hadn't chucked away his gloves ten seconds prior. “Can I hold yours for a moment?”

Ayaka, for her part, looks ashamed on her brother's behalf. With a graceful flick of her wrist, her fan snaps open and obscures the mortified expression on her face. Thoma's bottom lip quivers, valiantly repressing his bubbling laughter though he turns quite ugly in the process.

Sending a prayer to the heavens, you hope your face looks as unreadable as you think it to be. “...I'll fetch you a pair of gloves,” you say, side-stepping the pair he just abandoned on the floor.

“Mhm. That won't be necessary,” he counters, tugging on the edge of your sleeve. “You see, I heard those granted Pyro Visions have warmer body temperature...”

That is undoubtedly a lie he conjures up on the spot.

“...So I was hoping to sate my curiosity today,” he finishes, looking far too pleased with himself. Ayaka avoids your gaze when your eyes sweep past her (she absolutely knows it's an idiotic idea because going by that logic, she should have a colder temperature... but that is obviously not the case), and Thoma is blatantly ignoring your requests for assistance, whistling an awkward tune.

You have half a mind to shift the duty to another retainer similarly bearing a Pyro Vision, who is currently trying his hardest to stifle his pained grunts when you pinch his forearm admonishingly, but there's really no way out of this. Ayato would undoubtedly craft another bullshit reason to coax you anyway. (A part of you thinks it might be fun to keep up the charade just to hear what he'd say next.)

“Right.” You hold up your hand, and Ayato's eyes flicker with mischief. His slender fingers wrap around your wrist, brushing over the jut of your bone. He marvels at the size of it, dwarfed by his large hands, and he curls his fingers tighter.

...He doesn't seem to be assessing your temperature.

But you are mindful of his, a searing heat devouring your senses. His light touches settle heavily on your skin, a prominent warmth amidst the cold gale. Where his fingers rest leave imprints of fire, trails of scorched ash in his wake.

Experimentally, his thumb rubs circles on your palm, tracing over the lines. He rolls the soft flesh, staring at the small cuts and calluses with an attentive eye. Burning the image into his mind. Fiddling with the shape of your fingers. Then, following a brief hitch of his breath, he fits his own in the spaces between yours.

His hand is soft, you think to yourself. Without the presence of leather, it is fully bare, pale and dusted with pink. His knuckles are pronounced, palm surprisingly unscarred in spite of vigorous sword practice, but a writer's callus lay on his ring finger. It is easy to imagine his frame hunched over his desk, pen between his fingers, ink running dry from writing back to missives and signing endless contracts.

(And responding to engagement offers. You would know. They clutter his workspace, scented letters branded by wax seals of a distinguished family's emblem.

He barely throws a cursory glance at them before giving his never changing answer.)

When he gives your hand a squeeze, you finally ask, “Is it warm?”

“Yes.” He sounds somewhat strangled, there, less confident than he was before he took your hand. “Very warm.”

He reluctantly parts with it, stepping back to reduce your close proximity. Ayaka fans herself as she scrutinizes his reddening complexion, and Thoma—partial to the lord, you see, even though he wasn't very eager to lend you a hand before—makes some excuse about a meeting he has to attend to (some beetle fight with Itto, most likely) and if you'd kindly excuse their presence.

“...Please pardon my brother's strange behavior,” Ayaka murmurs when only the both of you remain in the room. “He could be quite straightforward when his curiosity is piqued. He doesn't have weird intentions, really.”

She doesn't appear to believe it herself, but you appreciate her attempts to clean up Ayato's mess.

“It's no trouble, milady.” You flash a placating smile for good measure, reaching down to collect the discarded gloves Thoma nearly tripped on in his way out. “But I'm afraid I'll have to take my leave now as well...”

“Yes, of course! You may go.”

Following her affirmation, you scramble to take a duster and retreat to clean the library.

Mercifully, she doesn't comment on your flushed cheeks and colored ears. (There's only so much composure you can exhaust within one day.)

For all that you (privately) complain about the extensive list of chores to tackle in the Kamisato Estate, you find tending to the garden fairly enjoyable. Alas, you can't exactly spend the whole day pruning the shrubbery; the smile on your face drops immediately when you're sent to go on a shopping trip. Worse still, with no one to assist you in carrying the groceries. Thoma had already promised to accompany Ayaka for a mission, and everyone else is busy preparing for the Kamisato head's upcoming business trip.

Said Kamisato head is apparently “free” and “has the spare time to help” despite being the one who should be busy holing himself up in his office.

Regardless of your protests, Ayato insisted on tagging along to the market. Which brings you to your current situation, your employer dutifully carrying bundles of cloth and a basket of radishes and carrots with an easygoing smile, while your hands remain empty. He is... considerate, if you were to speak in flowery words. He is stubborn, if you were to be blunt.

However, he is relatively obedient, save for the handful of times he rushes off to chase something that caught his eye. As a result, he keeps purchasing cheap trinkets he'll probably have no use for and his pocket is brimming of candy he sometimes stuffs your mouth with when you have something to scold him for. (To be fair, it's very effective for shutting you up.)

“Please don't interrupt me from speaking,” your words are partly muffled, mouth still chewing on the confection. Ayato smiles innocently, pressing another piece of sugar to your lips.

“Where are we headed next?” He questions, looking around the bustling streets as he tucks the jar of konpeito in his sleeve. “Do you still have vegetables you need to buy?”

You shake your head. “No, the cook said he's only missing radishes and carrots in particular. I've also gotten the materials needed to mend clothes Thoma asked for.”

He deflates at that, disappointment painting his expression. “I suppose we're returning, then?”

You purse your lips, considering your options. It wasn't like you were told to come back an appointed time, and you could always blame Ayato for your tardiness... “Does my lord wish to visit anywhere specifically?”

The river of stars in his eyes twinkle ever so slightly, flashing a thinly-veiled childish gleam. “Not anything I could think of at the top of my head. Do you have any recommendations in mind?”

“Recommendations?”

“Places you like to visit.”

During your free time, you usually look around to shop for clothing or accessories... but they're nowhere near the quality befitting of nobles. The yukata isn't tailored to your size, made from cheaper cloth of cotton, and aren't as decorative to what your lord is used to; it's what makes it affordable. Whereas Ayato is often dressed in luxurious silks, embellished with golden thread and customized to his liking.

“It's no harm to bring you there... I guess.” you scratch your cheek. “Though I can't guarantee you'll like it.”

“Nonsense.” He smiles amicably. He reaches for the basket before you can grab it, gesturing for you to start walking. “I'm sure I'll have a good time regardless where it is.”

And... he does. He marvels at the extravagant brocades displayed at boutiques, wondering how one could possibly wear so many heavy layers. Though he doesn't buy clothes for himself, he decides to buy a cute purse he thinks his sister would appreciate.

Ayato expresses interest in ornaments and cosmetics as well, to which the shop owner proceeds to happily introduce her entire catalogue for a man she knows has deep pockets. He doesn't disappoint.

“You don't want anything?” He asks when you only answer his questions pertaining to Ayaka's preferences, two steps behind, never taking the opportunity to roam and search for potential additions in your wardrobe.

It's not that you haven't seen anything you'd like to take home, per se. More like everything is too expensive for your pocket money in this high-end portion of town. “No,” you say instead, because it's easier to explain that way.

He tilts his head inquisitively, but doesn't push the topic. “Help me choose a hair pin then. You know what fits Ayaka best.”

He leads you to the display case housing rows of hair ornaments, each one more remarkable than the next. The last one, undoubtedly the most costly whose price would make you weep, teeters on the edge of gaudy. Adorned with silver butterflies, tear drop sapphires, gems delicately shaped like dewy petals and white pearls sitting atop carved gold, they almost blind your eyes.

“...She'd look beautiful in everything,” is the conclusion you come to, because you speak nothing but the truth. “But please don't buy everything. She will get mad at you.”

“I know,” he sighs. “That's why I needed your help picking one.”

You almost drill holes to the items with how hard you're staring at them, but you eventually point at the pin with pink blossoms. “This would contrast nicely with her hair.”

“Mhm. If you say so,” he hums approvingly, tracing the sculpted leaves.

“Then if that's all, I'll go pay...”

“Ah, which reminds me.” He spins on his heel to face you, lips shaped into an apologetic smile. “I'm nearly running out of parchment paper. Could you stop by the stationery store up front? I'll handle things from here and meet you by the entrance.”

“Of course, my lord.”

On your way outside, you resolutely do not allow your curious gaze to steer towards the tables of sparkling jewelry.

--

The trip back to the estate is uneventful, and the rest of the afternoon passes like any other.

Perhaps the only inconsistency in your repetitive days is the accidental nap you fall into, blanketed in warm rays of sunshine and caressed by the refreshing breeze slipping past ajar doors, your cheek resting on the surface of the table you were supposed to be cleaning. How uncouth of me, you think as you wipe your mouth to check for signs of drool. Your only respite is not having anyone witness you in such a state, otherwise you would've long been rudely awakened and received an earful of chastising.

...Is what you think, until you spot a foreign ring you definitely do not recall putting on.

It curls around your finger, dotted with crystals in a hue of blue you're all too familiar with. You see it everyday, gleaming in mischief, darkening with intrigue. Framed by long, long lashes, crinkling at the corners when filled with mirth. Crashing waves turned to frost at the slighest hint of displeasure, yet inexplicably gentle the moment it meets your eyes.

(You wonder if this is why he insisted on touching your hands so much, just to roughly measure your ring size.)

“I hope you fare well during my absence. Fear not, I will do my best not to prolong my leave.”

The way his words sound so self-assured and full of conviction doesn't sit well with you, and the genuine pity reflected in his irises almost makes your eyebrow twitch. You hadn't even spoken a word before he began his theatrics.

“Take as long as you need,” you reassure him. “My lord mustn't rush his work.”

He wilts, but he perks right back up, “No need to put up a front. I'll come back for you.”

Incorrigible.

“Then I await your safe return.” You bow deeply as you swallow back a sigh of defeat, the other servants lined up on either side of the street moving accordingly.

“Please be careful,” Ayaka bids when she walks in front of him. “I've heard of bandits intercepting carriages to steal... I don't mean to undermine your abilities, but you should still be vigilant of trouble.”

Ayato laughs at that. “You don't have to worry, Ayaka. They'll sooner surrender before they lay a single scratch on me.” Glancing at the luggage being loaded on his carriage, he grimaces. “I better get going. I'll see you all in three weeks.”

He climbs to the interior, giving you a final smile before closing the door. You stare at the carriage until it fully disappears, the trotting of horses out of earshot. When Thoma begins to walk back to the estate, you fall into step with him, matching his strides.

“The lord hasn't left for this long in a while,” he comments, to which you hum in agreement. “Think you'll miss him?”

“Three weeks is hardly a long time,” you retort back, complacent for the rare period of peace to follow the next month. “He'll return in no time, as if he'd never been gone in the first place.”

Thoma eyes you strangely at that, but says no more. “If you say so.”

--

The first day is bliss. No disruptions in your work, no unwanted conversation partner as a distraction, no midnight snacks needed to be prepared for the clan head a weird mix between workaholic and slacker.

The second day proves to be the same. No incessant chatter in your ear as you sweep the floor, no complaints for a stack of paperwork to be done within the day, no sudden requests of a shoulder massage for a job well done deserving of a reward.

The third day, you feel like your schedule is lacking, blank spots of free time sprinkled in between.

Ah, right. The tea breaks.

You tell yourself you only miss the fragrant tea, the selection of treats given to you by the young master's generosity. Not his thoughtful commentary for the taste, the chuckles spilling from his lips when you respond to his quips, the brief moments of eye contact before you resume your respective duties.

The fourth day, you're sent to hang the laundry. You tell yourself you don't miss a certain someone's abrupt appearance, poking a head through the sheets to startle you, huffing bright peals of laughter when he attains his desired reaction.

The fifth day, the cook requests your help to prep dinner. My lord doesn't like this dish, the sentence almost leaves your tongue as your eyes track down the recipe when you remember right, he's not here, and milady likes this dish, so it's one of the few chances she gets to eat it.

The sixth day, you clean his office. You organize the account books, restock his collection of pens and paper, and shuffle through his mail to sort them by category (definitely not noting down the number of letters asking for his hand in marriage). Your face flushes slightly when an unassuming bookmark falls out of a book you pick up from the floor, familiar flowers pressed thinly to fit between the pages. (You had only given those flowers on a whim, plucking fresh blossoms from plants you grew outside the Kamisato's garden. You didn't think he'd keep it around; they're not nearly as fancy as what his family owns.)

By the seventh day, you check the calendar and determine time is a social construct. There is no way it's only been seven days.

--

“How do I look?”

“Positively charming,” you say dryly.

“You're not looking.”

Your eyes flit to Thoma's attire. “I am.”

He shakes his head, taking off the robes he'd been trying on. “You're always daydreaming nowadays. What are you thinking about?”

Reminiscing the last time you visited this clothing store, which is when you brought the young master in your shopping trip. But he doesn't need to know that. “It's nothing. Are you buying it?”

“Since you kindly gave an approving opinion, sure.” His tone drips with sarcasm as he takes out his money pouch, paying for the clothes. “I think I don't need the answer from you, actually. I'm confident I have an accurate guess.”

Your eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean by that?”

“Who else would linger in your mind?” Thoma sighs in dramatic fashion, stepping out of the premises with you not far behind. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder, after all.”

Bristling, you vehemently refute, “I'm not thinking inappropriately of the lord, if that's what you're implying.”

“I didn't mention any names.”

“But you clearly meant him.”

He holds up his hands. “If that's what you want to believe, suit yourself.”

His gaze drops to the ring wrapped around your finger. The ring had been a topic of interest for the gossip mongers within the estate, wondering who you could've received it from; what other implications can wearing a ring have? Your cold exterior is no secret, your heart guarded with thorns, so who was able to sweep you off your feet in the end?

Thoma only needed one look at the shade of blue to make a correct guess.

“...I'm sure at this point, you know of his intentions,” Thoma says slowly. “And I have plenty of reasons to believe his affections aren't entirely unrequited.”

If they were, you would have brushed off Ayato already, just like you always do with the others. He may be persistent, but he knows how to back off. Yet the most you do is sigh and spoil him, albeit in (fond) exasperation.

“Even if they aren't...” you fidget with the hem of your shirt, averting your gaze from his blazing eyes, “...it doesn't mean we'll work. I'm certain he has better prospects for a spouse, anyway.”

“You mean those daughters from noble families?” He snorts. “He'd barely give them the time of day before running back to you. You should know that by now. Don't you remember when he faked being sick in that lunch meeting so you could take care of him?”

Of course you do. He had pretended to be in a dizzy spell, collapsing on your shoulder and making furtive hand signals asking for your help to get the lovesick maiden off his back. There really is no way to reject people like her without offending his business associate, so he tended to evade confrontations in roundabout ways.

You could excuse his clingy behavior out of necessity; it would be disgraceful to collapse on the floor, after all. The problem lies with the aftermath where you had already steered clear of the trouble but he insists on requiring treatment, body calculatively feeble as he gives you woeful pleas.

In another world, perhaps this would've been a heart-rending experience: a cold man who didn't share his burdens with others asking help from you specifically, because you were special and he trusted you the most.

In this world though, the act is only deserving of a derisive snort. He'd pulled off this plot for who knows how many times. How would holding your hand help with his throbbing headache anyway?

(You ignore the fact you indulge him each time regardless.)

“In any case, the lord is returning in a week. Not much time left for you to mope,” he laughs, even as you elbow his side.

A week.

(That is one week too long.)

--

When Ayato returns five days short of three weeks, you aren't there to greet him.

Instead, you are sick in bed, bundled in a pile of blankets, and suffering from a stuffy nose.

Ah, and delirious from fever. Very much so.

So when Ayato miraculously appears in your bedroom earlier than scheduled, you only sniffed in response and brushed him off as a hallucination.

But of course, your dismissive attitude isn't enough to discourage him from pestering you and running his mouth. He hovers by your bedside, noting with glee that you keep his ring on a nightstand closeby. “This is rare. I don't think I've ever seen you ill.”

But you've seen him plenty, frail and weak after days straight of sleepless nights. He doesn't look too pretty in such a mood, quick-tempered and sharp-tongued at the slightest annoyance. He only ever softens when your expression flits to dismay for a fraction of a second before offering him prescribed medicine from the family's physician.

“How are you this annoying even in my dreams...”

As it turns out, you're even more of a worse case than he is.

“Mhm. Your filter is completely shut down when you're sick, huh.” Ayato laughs, amused at the surprising revelation. He doesn't get to be the receiving end of your blunt words very often. “Alright. How bad do you feel right now?”

“Terrible, since it's the ass crack of dawn.”

It is not the ass crack of dawn, but you wouldn't know any better with the curtains drawn. “Do you have an appetite? I'll have a servant bring a meal.” Then, he slyly adds, “I can feed you, if you want me to.”

He doesn't know which part of that statement appeals to you the most but you sit up straight, attentive.

Interesting.

Though Ayato had meant it in jest, he has no complaints scooping spoonfuls of porridge to bring to your lips. He patiently coaxes you into drinking the bitter medicine after, quickly soothing you with bite-sized cut fruit to wash away the acrid taste.

“Good job,” he compliments, chuckling when you glow at the praise. Your lips are shiny with juice, trickling from the corner of your mouth.

Absent-mindedly, his hand lifts to caress your cheek, the pad of his thumb wiping it away. You jolt, a startled sound escaping you, and you hasten to clamp a hand over his mouth.

He blinks at you owlishly, dumbfounded.

“Don't,” you speak, your face decorated with a lovely pink. “You'll... you'll get sick.”

Ayato takes an embarrassing amount of time to process what that means. However, when he does, you can feel him grin beneath your fingers. He takes your hand, his huff of laughter tickling your palm.

“I thought we were in a dream? You don't get sick from kisses in dreams,” he teases, pressing a light kiss to your wrist. Your heart stutters in bewilderment but you make no move to pull away, only twitching when he kisses your fingertips.

“It's better to be careful...” your brows knit together, and he kisses the crease away too.

“Okay. Let's do it next time then, when you're truly awake.” He gently pushes you to your back, fluffing up the pillows for your comfort and tucking you in the blankets. Then, indulgently, he presses a final kiss to the crown of your head. “Rest well so I can get that kiss sooner, hm?”

“That's a stupid reason to recover...” you murmur defiantly, stubbornly blinking your drooping eyes open.

In the end, you fall asleep to the sound of his laughter, the fingers combing through your hair, and the rhythmic beat in his chest.

--

When you wake up, you admonish yourself for having such a shameless subconscious, but you acknowledge that you had a good dream.

Then your eyes land on a pair of discarded gloves on your nightstand, one that you remember Ayato putting away before he began to spoonfeed you your meal.

...Fuck.

“With all due respect, I don't believe being your headrest is part of my duty, my lord.”

A thoughtful hum answers you, preceded by a curious glance at your expression. Your legs are folded underneath you, back straight and eyes overlooking the garden instead of the weight resting on your lap. You can feel him shift, turning over where he faces against the porch, his robes wrinkling where it lay below.

“Are you suddenly becoming shy because a maidservant passed by?” He places down the novel in his hands on the wooden floorboards, watching your face burn in embarrassment. “I doubt this is the first time she's seen us, though.”

“My apologies. I'm not as thick-skinned as you are.”

“I'd prefer the term 'proud,'” he pokes the sash around your waist, smiling cheekily. “Who wouldn't want to show off their lover?”

He feels you stiffen, sees the flush of pink crawling outwards to the tips of your ears. “It's inappropriate. We're in a public setting.”

“That's only because you refuse to enter my chambers,” Ayato sighs and you look positively mortified. “I wouldn't ravage you, if that's what you're worried about?”

“My lord, please be reasonable. Whether you do or not, I will still be seen as your bed warmer. Did milady not advise us to be discreet? Inazuma would be in an uproar if they learned you were... you were...” you purse your lips, unable to spit the last word.

“Wedded.”

“I'm afraid we haven't gone that far, my lord,” you deadpan.

“So will you consider it?”

“My lord.”

“What?”

You give him a look, and he sighs in acquiescence. But he turns to face the opposite direction, expression hidden fron view. You can practically hear the pout in his voice, “I see. [Name] only sees me as a fling. My heart breaks to know this bliss is short-lived, but I will cherish our remaining time together.”

He's begun his theatrics again, you think tiredly, accustomed to his stunts. “In any case, we must be careful. We never know who has loose lips around here...”

He's still not facing you, resolutely looking away.

...Is he sulking for real? Was that a genuine marriage proposal?

“My lord?” You call out softly, in a lover's tender voice. He doesn't respond. Quieter, you whisper to his ear, “Ayato?” yet that doesn't earn a reaction either.

You start to panic, wondering if you were acting too indifferently. The change in your relationship had been a recent one, and you're still settling in a period of adjustment; even if you wanted to properly flirt with him like normal lovers do, bickering came more naturally to you.

You reach for his shoulder, hoping to turn him over and see his face. But then he catches your wrist, and you only have a second to catch a glimpse of his triumphant smirk before he captures your lips in a chaste kiss.

“Mhm, I see. So you're more considerate towards me when we're dating,” he cheerfully notes, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear as if he can't see the way your shocked gaze morphs into a cold glare. “I truly am privileged.”

“Incorrigible.” The word drips with poison, but he laughs and kisses you again, thumbing at the ring around your finger.

For reasons you cannot fathom, the head of the Kamisato household harbors a strong attachment to you.

In normal circumstances, this fact would be taken as great news; presently, you are little more than puzzled and unfeeling. Rather than delight, dread stirs in your stomach whenever he calls your name in a volume louder than necessary—a conscious decision, you presume, since he seems to interact with other servants just fine. Curt and polite, keeping his words concise, preventing further delay from addressing his responsibilities.

Had you not known better, you wouldn't be able to identify him as the same man who indulges in trivialities when he invites you to share snacks, engaging in frivolous chatter over tea and pastries. With increasing frequency nonetheless, and with varying refreshments each time to boot, ranging from an assortment of wagashi. Strawberry daifuku on one tea break, mizu-yokan on the next, sakura mochi on the day after that... You've been serving him for a considerable amount of time, but he's never been much of a sweet tooth until as of late.

Ayato hums thoughtfully, savoring the sweet taste on his tongue. “The mild flavor is pleasant. I believe it might be to your liking.”

He offers you a cup, steam curling above the warm brew. The pink beverage glistens beneath the sunlight, rippling with movement when you take it into your hands. It doesn't require much thinking to conclude the tea leaves must've cost a fortune, but it leaves you plenty of questions just as well. Why would a benefactor give you a taste of luxury?

But you would be a fool not to appreciate it while it lasts, so you lift the cup for a sip.

The flavor of spring bursts in your mouth, fragrant and tasting of sweet nectar. Your frosty guise wavers under the bribery, bliss crossing your face before your lips quirk up to a small, almost imperceptible smile.

Deeming your elated reaction satisfactory, Ayato nudges the plate of confections towards your side of the table. “Eat. They pair well with the tea.”

Who are you to say no to your lord? Therefore, the correct choice must be to gratefully accept his gifts!

(Distracted by desserts, you fail to see his amusement in the way you stuff your cheeks full adorably like a chipmunk.

But he's aware it's not the right time yet, so he suppresses the urge to pinch your face.)

Kamisato Ayato is often praised for his intellect and cunning mind, but sometimes you wonder if he'd finally gone stupid after all that overthinking.

“My hand feels cold,” he laments, as if he hadn't chucked away his gloves ten seconds prior. “Can I hold yours for a moment?”

Ayaka, for her part, looks ashamed on her brother's behalf. With a graceful flick of her wrist, her fan snaps open and obscures the mortified expression on her face. Thoma's bottom lip quivers, valiantly repressing his bubbling laughter though he turns quite ugly in the process.

Sending a prayer to the heavens, you hope your face looks as unreadable as you think it to be. “...I'll fetch you a pair of gloves,” you say, side-stepping the pair he just abandoned on the floor.

“Mhm. That won't be necessary,” he counters, tugging on the edge of your sleeve. “You see, I heard those granted Pyro Visions have warmer body temperature...”

That is undoubtedly a lie he conjures up on the spot.

“...So I was hoping to sate my curiosity today,” he finishes, looking far too pleased with himself. Ayaka avoids your gaze when your eyes sweep past her (she absolutely knows it's an idiotic idea because going by that logic, she should have a colder temperature... but that is obviously not the case), and Thoma is blatantly ignoring your requests for assistance, whistling an awkward tune.

You have half a mind to shift the duty to another retainer similarly bearing a Pyro Vision, who is currently trying his hardest to stifle his pained grunts when you pinch his forearm admonishingly, but there's really no way out of this. Ayato would undoubtedly craft another bullshit reason to coax you anyway. (A part of you thinks it might be fun to keep up the charade just to hear what he'd say next.)

“Right.” You hold up your hand, and Ayato's eyes flicker with mischief. His slender fingers wrap around your wrist, brushing over the jut of your bone. He marvels at the size of it, dwarfed by his large hands, and he curls his fingers tighter.

...He doesn't seem to be assessing your temperature.

But you are mindful of his, a searing heat devouring your senses. His light touches settle heavily on your skin, a prominent warmth amidst the cold gale. Where his fingers rest leave imprints of fire, trails of scorched ash in his wake.

Experimentally, his thumb rubs circles on your palm, tracing over the lines. He rolls the soft flesh, staring at the small cuts and calluses with an attentive eye. Burning the image into his mind. Fiddling with the shape of your fingers. Then, following a brief hitch of his breath, he fits his own in the spaces between yours.

His hand is soft, you think to yourself. Without the presence of leather, it is fully bare, pale and dusted with pink. His knuckles are pronounced, palm surprisingly unscarred in spite of vigorous sword practice, but a writer's callus lay on his ring finger. It is easy to imagine his frame hunched over his desk, pen between his fingers, ink running dry from writing back to missives and signing endless contracts.

(And responding to engagement offers. You would know. They clutter his workspace, scented letters branded by wax seals of a distinguished family's emblem.

He barely throws a cursory glance at them before giving his never changing answer.)

When he gives your hand a squeeze, you finally ask, “Is it warm?”

“Yes.” He sounds somewhat strangled, there, less confident than he was before he took your hand. “Very warm.”

He reluctantly parts with it, stepping back to reduce your close proximity. Ayaka fans herself as she scrutinizes his reddening complexion, and Thoma—partial to the lord, you see, even though he wasn't very eager to lend you a hand before—makes some excuse about a meeting he has to attend to (some beetle fight with Itto, most likely) and if you'd kindly excuse their presence.

“...Please pardon my brother's strange behavior,” Ayaka murmurs when only the both of you remain in the room. “He could be quite straightforward when his curiosity is piqued. He doesn't have weird intentions, really.”

She doesn't appear to believe it herself, but you appreciate her attempts to clean up Ayato's mess.

“It's no trouble, milady.” You flash a placating smile for good measure, reaching down to collect the discarded gloves Thoma nearly tripped on in his way out. “But I'm afraid I'll have to take my leave now as well...”

“Yes, of course! You may go.”

Following her affirmation, you scramble to take a duster and retreat to clean the library.

Mercifully, she doesn't comment on your flushed cheeks and colored ears. (There's only so much composure you can exhaust within one day.)

For all that you (privately) complain about the extensive list of chores to tackle in the Kamisato Estate, you find tending to the garden fairly enjoyable. Alas, you can't exactly spend the whole day pruning the shrubbery; the smile on your face drops immediately when you're sent to go on a shopping trip. Worse still, with no one to assist you in carrying the groceries. Thoma had already promised to accompany Ayaka for a mission, and everyone else is busy preparing for the Kamisato head's upcoming business trip.

Said Kamisato head is apparently “free” and “has the spare time to help” despite being the one who should be busy holing himself up in his office.

Regardless of your protests, Ayato insisted on tagging along to the market. Which brings you to your current situation, your employer dutifully carrying bundles of cloth and a basket of radishes and carrots with an easygoing smile, while your hands remain empty. He is... considerate, if you were to speak in flowery words. He is stubborn, if you were to be blunt.

However, he is relatively obedient, save for the handful of times he rushes off to chase something that caught his eye. As a result, he keeps purchasing cheap trinkets he'll probably have no use for and his pocket is brimming of candy he sometimes stuffs your mouth with when you have something to scold him for. (To be fair, it's very effective for shutting you up.)

“Please don't interrupt me from speaking,” your words are partly muffled, mouth still chewing on the confection. Ayato smiles innocently, pressing another piece of sugar to your lips.

“Where are we headed next?” He questions, looking around the bustling streets as he tucks the jar of konpeito in his sleeve. “Do you still have vegetables you need to buy?”

You shake your head. “No, the cook said he's only missing radishes and carrots in particular. I've also gotten the materials needed to mend clothes Thoma asked for.”

He deflates at that, disappointment painting his expression. “I suppose we're returning, then?”

You purse your lips, considering your options. It wasn't like you were told to come back an appointed time, and you could always blame Ayato for your tardiness... “Does my lord wish to visit anywhere specifically?”

The river of stars in his eyes twinkle ever so slightly, flashing a thinly-veiled childish gleam. “Not anything I could think of at the top of my head. Do you have any recommendations in mind?”

“Recommendations?”

“Places you like to visit.”

During your free time, you usually look around to shop for clothing or accessories... but they're nowhere near the quality befitting of nobles. The yukata isn't tailored to your size, made from cheaper cloth of cotton, and aren't as decorative to what your lord is used to; it's what makes it affordable. Whereas Ayato is often dressed in luxurious silks, embellished with golden thread and customized to his liking.

“It's no harm to bring you there... I guess.” you scratch your cheek. “Though I can't guarantee you'll like it.”

“Nonsense.” He smiles amicably. He reaches for the basket before you can grab it, gesturing for you to start walking. “I'm sure I'll have a good time regardless where it is.”

And... he does. He marvels at the extravagant brocades displayed at boutiques, wondering how one could possibly wear so many heavy layers. Though he doesn't buy clothes for himself, he decides to buy a cute purse he thinks his sister would appreciate.

Ayato expresses interest in ornaments and cosmetics as well, to which the shop owner proceeds to happily introduce her entire catalogue for a man she knows has deep pockets. He doesn't disappoint.

“You don't want anything?” He asks when you only answer his questions pertaining to Ayaka's preferences, two steps behind, never taking the opportunity to roam and search for potential additions in your wardrobe.

It's not that you haven't seen anything you'd like to take home, per se. More like everything is too expensive for your pocket money in this high-end portion of town. “No,” you say instead, because it's easier to explain that way.

He tilts his head inquisitively, but doesn't push the topic. “Help me choose a hair pin then. You know what fits Ayaka best.”

He leads you to the display case housing rows of hair ornaments, each one more remarkable than the next. The last one, undoubtedly the most costly whose price would make you weep, teeters on the edge of gaudy. Adorned with silver butterflies, tear drop sapphires, gems delicately shaped like dewy petals and white pearls sitting atop carved gold, they almost blind your eyes.

“...She'd look beautiful in everything,” is the conclusion you come to, because you speak nothing but the truth. “But please don't buy everything. She will get mad at you.”

“I know,” he sighs. “That's why I needed your help picking one.”

You almost drill holes to the items with how hard you're staring at them, but you eventually point at the pin with pink blossoms. “This would contrast nicely with her hair.”

“Mhm. If you say so,” he hums approvingly, tracing the sculpted leaves.

“Then if that's all, I'll go pay...”

“Ah, which reminds me.” He spins on his heel to face you, lips shaped into an apologetic smile. “I'm nearly running out of parchment paper. Could you stop by the stationery store up front? I'll handle things from here and meet you by the entrance.”

“Of course, my lord.”

On your way outside, you resolutely do not allow your curious gaze to steer towards the tables of sparkling jewelry.

--

The trip back to the estate is uneventful, and the rest of the afternoon passes like any other.

Perhaps the only inconsistency in your repetitive days is the accidental nap you fall into, blanketed in warm rays of sunshine and caressed by the refreshing breeze slipping past ajar doors, your cheek resting on the surface of the table you were supposed to be cleaning. How uncouth of me, you think as you wipe your mouth to check for signs of drool. Your only respite is not having anyone witness you in such a state, otherwise you would've long been rudely awakened and received an earful of chastising.

...Is what you think, until you spot a foreign ring you definitely do not recall putting on.

It curls around your finger, dotted with crystals in a hue of blue you're all too familiar with. You see it everyday, gleaming in mischief, darkening with intrigue. Framed by long, long lashes, crinkling at the corners when filled with mirth. Crashing waves turned to frost at the slighest hint of displeasure, yet inexplicably gentle the moment it meets your eyes.

(You wonder if this is why he insisted on touching your hands so much, just to roughly measure your ring size.)

“I hope you fare well during my absence. Fear not, I will do my best not to prolong my leave.”

The way his words sound so self-assured and full of conviction doesn't sit well with you, and the genuine pity reflected in his irises almost makes your eyebrow twitch. You hadn't even spoken a word before he began his theatrics.

“Take as long as you need,” you reassure him. “My lord mustn't rush his work.”

He wilts, but he perks right back up, “No need to put up a front. I'll come back for you.”

Incorrigible.

“Then I await your safe return.” You bow deeply as you swallow back a sigh of defeat, the other servants lined up on either side of the street moving accordingly.

“Please be careful,” Ayaka bids when she walks in front of him. “I've heard of bandits intercepting carriages to steal... I don't mean to undermine your abilities, but you should still be vigilant of trouble.”

Ayato laughs at that. “You don't have to worry, Ayaka. They'll sooner surrender before they lay a single scratch on me.” Glancing at the luggage being loaded on his carriage, he grimaces. “I better get going. I'll see you all in three weeks.”

He climbs to the interior, giving you a final smile before closing the door. You stare at the carriage until it fully disappears, the trotting of horses out of earshot. When Thoma begins to walk back to the estate, you fall into step with him, matching his strides.

“The lord hasn't left for this long in a while,” he comments, to which you hum in agreement. “Think you'll miss him?”

“Three weeks is hardly a long time,” you retort back, complacent for the rare period of peace to follow the next month. “He'll return in no time, as if he'd never been gone in the first place.”

Thoma eyes you strangely at that, but says no more. “If you say so.”

--

The first day is bliss. No disruptions in your work, no unwanted conversation partner as a distraction, no midnight snacks needed to be prepared for the clan head a weird mix between workaholic and slacker.

The second day proves to be the same. No incessant chatter in your ear as you sweep the floor, no complaints for a stack of paperwork to be done within the day, no sudden requests of a shoulder massage for a job well done deserving of a reward.

The third day, you feel like your schedule is lacking, blank spots of free time sprinkled in between.

Ah, right. The tea breaks.

You tell yourself you only miss the fragrant tea, the selection of treats given to you by the young master's generosity. Not his thoughtful commentary for the taste, the chuckles spilling from his lips when you respond to his quips, the brief moments of eye contact before you resume your respective duties.

The fourth day, you're sent to hang the laundry. You tell yourself you don't miss a certain someone's abrupt appearance, poking a head through the sheets to startle you, huffing bright peals of laughter when he attains his desired reaction.

The fifth day, the cook requests your help to prep dinner. My lord doesn't like this dish, the sentence almost leaves your tongue as your eyes track down the recipe when you remember right, he's not here, and milady likes this dish, so it's one of the few chances she gets to eat it.

The sixth day, you clean his office. You organize the account books, restock his collection of pens and paper, and shuffle through his mail to sort them by category (definitely not noting down the number of letters asking for his hand in marriage). Your face flushes slightly when an unassuming bookmark falls out of a book you pick up from the floor, familiar flowers pressed thinly to fit between the pages. (You had only given those flowers on a whim, plucking fresh blossoms from plants you grew outside the Kamisato's garden. You didn't think he'd keep it around; they're not nearly as fancy as what his family owns.)

By the seventh day, you check the calendar and determine time is a social construct. There is no way it's only been seven days.

--

“How do I look?”

“Positively charming,” you say dryly.

“You're not looking.”

Your eyes flit to Thoma's attire. “I am.”

He shakes his head, taking off the robes he'd been trying on. “You're always daydreaming nowadays. What are you thinking about?”

Reminiscing the last time you visited this clothing store, which is when you brought the young master in your shopping trip. But he doesn't need to know that. “It's nothing. Are you buying it?”

“Since you kindly gave an approving opinion, sure.” His tone drips with sarcasm as he takes out his money pouch, paying for the clothes. “I think I don't need the answer from you, actually. I'm confident I have an accurate guess.”

Your eyebrows knit together. “What do you mean by that?”

“Who else would linger in your mind?” Thoma sighs in dramatic fashion, stepping out of the premises with you not far behind. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder, after all.”

Bristling, you vehemently refute, “I'm not thinking inappropriately of the lord, if that's what you're implying.”

“I didn't mention any names.”

“But you clearly meant him.”

He holds up his hands. “If that's what you want to believe, suit yourself.”

His gaze drops to the ring wrapped around your finger. The ring had been a topic of interest for the gossip mongers within the estate, wondering who you could've received it from; what other implications can wearing a ring have? Your cold exterior is no secret, your heart guarded with thorns, so who was able to sweep you off your feet in the end?

Thoma only needed one look at the shade of blue to make a correct guess.

“...I'm sure at this point, you know of his intentions,” Thoma says slowly. “And I have plenty of reasons to believe his affections aren't entirely unrequited.”

If they were, you would have brushed off Ayato already, just like you always do with the others. He may be persistent, but he knows how to back off. Yet the most you do is sigh and spoil him, albeit in (fond) exasperation.

“Even if they aren't...” you fidget with the hem of your shirt, averting your gaze from his blazing eyes, “...it doesn't mean we'll work. I'm certain he has better prospects for a spouse, anyway.”

“You mean those daughters from noble families?” He snorts. “He'd barely give them the time of day before running back to you. You should know that by now. Don't you remember when he faked being sick in that lunch meeting so you could take care of him?”

Of course you do. He had pretended to be in a dizzy spell, collapsing on your shoulder and making furtive hand signals asking for your help to get the lovesick maiden off his back. There really is no way to reject people like her without offending his business associate, so he tended to evade confrontations in roundabout ways.

You could excuse his clingy behavior out of necessity; it would be disgraceful to collapse on the floor, after all. The problem lies with the aftermath where you had already steered clear of the trouble but he insists on requiring treatment, body calculatively feeble as he gives you woeful pleas.

In another world, perhaps this would've been a heart-rending experience: a cold man who didn't share his burdens with others asking help from you specifically, because you were special and he trusted you the most.

In this world though, the act is only deserving of a derisive snort. He'd pulled off this plot for who knows how many times. How would holding your hand help with his throbbing headache anyway?

(You ignore the fact you indulge him each time regardless.)

“In any case, the lord is returning in a week. Not much time left for you to mope,” he laughs, even as you elbow his side.

A week.

(That is one week too long.)

--

When Ayato returns five days short of three weeks, you aren't there to greet him.

Instead, you are sick in bed, bundled in a pile of blankets, and suffering from a stuffy nose.

Ah, and delirious from fever. Very much so.

So when Ayato miraculously appears in your bedroom earlier than scheduled, you only sniffed in response and brushed him off as a hallucination.

But of course, your dismissive attitude isn't enough to discourage him from pestering you and running his mouth. He hovers by your bedside, noting with glee that you keep his ring on a nightstand closeby. “This is rare. I don't think I've ever seen you ill.”

But you've seen him plenty, frail and weak after days straight of sleepless nights. He doesn't look too pretty in such a mood, quick-tempered and sharp-tongued at the slightest annoyance. He only ever softens when your expression flits to dismay for a fraction of a second before offering him prescribed medicine from the family's physician.

“How are you this annoying even in my dreams...”

As it turns out, you're even more of a worse case than he is.

“Mhm. Your filter is completely shut down when you're sick, huh.” Ayato laughs, amused at the surprising revelation. He doesn't get to be the receiving end of your blunt words very often. “Alright. How bad do you feel right now?”

“Terrible, since it's the ass crack of dawn.”

It is not the ass crack of dawn, but you wouldn't know any better with the curtains drawn. “Do you have an appetite? I'll have a servant bring a meal.” Then, he slyly adds, “I can feed you, if you want me to.”

He doesn't know which part of that statement appeals to you the most but you sit up straight, attentive.

Interesting.

Though Ayato had meant it in jest, he has no complaints scooping spoonfuls of porridge to bring to your lips. He patiently coaxes you into drinking the bitter medicine after, quickly soothing you with bite-sized cut fruit to wash away the acrid taste.

“Good job,” he compliments, chuckling when you glow at the praise. Your lips are shiny with juice, trickling from the corner of your mouth.

Absent-mindedly, his hand lifts to caress your cheek, the pad of his thumb wiping it away. You jolt, a startled sound escaping you, and you hasten to clamp a hand over his mouth.

He blinks at you owlishly, dumbfounded.

“Don't,” you speak, your face decorated with a lovely pink. “You'll... you'll get sick.”

Ayato takes an embarrassing amount of time to process what that means. However, when he does, you can feel him grin beneath your fingers. He takes your hand, his huff of laughter tickling your palm.

“I thought we were in a dream? You don't get sick from kisses in dreams,” he teases, pressing a light kiss to your wrist. Your heart stutters in bewilderment but you make no move to pull away, only twitching when he kisses your fingertips.

“It's better to be careful...” your brows knit together, and he kisses the crease away too.

“Okay. Let's do it next time then, when you're truly awake.” He gently pushes you to your back, fluffing up the pillows for your comfort and tucking you in the blankets. Then, indulgently, he presses a final kiss to the crown of your head. “Rest well so I can get that kiss sooner, hm?”

“That's a stupid reason to recover...” you murmur defiantly, stubbornly blinking your drooping eyes open.

In the end, you fall asleep to the sound of his laughter, the fingers combing through your hair, and the rhythmic beat in his chest.

--

When you wake up, you admonish yourself for having such a shameless subconscious, but you acknowledge that you had a good dream.

Then your eyes land on a pair of discarded gloves on your nightstand, one that you remember Ayato putting away before he began to spoonfeed you your meal.

...Fuck.

“With all due respect, I don't believe being your headrest is part of my duty, my lord.”

A thoughtful hum answers you, preceded by a curious glance at your expression. Your legs are folded underneath you, back straight and eyes overlooking the garden instead of the weight resting on your lap. You can feel him shift, turning over where he faces against the porch, his robes wrinkling where it lay below.

“Are you suddenly becoming shy because a maidservant passed by?” He places down the novel in his hands on the wooden floorboards, watching your face burn in embarrassment. “I doubt this is the first time she's seen us, though.”

“My apologies. I'm not as thick-skinned as you are.”

“I'd prefer the term 'proud,'” he pokes the sash around your waist, smiling cheekily. “Who wouldn't want to show off their lover?”

He feels you stiffen, sees the flush of pink crawling outwards to the tips of your ears. “It's inappropriate. We're in a public setting.”

“That's only because you refuse to enter my chambers,” Ayato sighs and you look positively mortified. “I wouldn't ravage you, if that's what you're worried about?”

“My lord, please be reasonable. Whether you do or not, I will still be seen as your bed warmer. Did milady not advise us to be discreet? Inazuma would be in an uproar if they learned you were... you were...” you purse your lips, unable to spit the last word.

“Wedded.”

“I'm afraid we haven't gone that far, my lord,” you deadpan.

“So will you consider it?”

“My lord.”

“What?”

You give him a look, and he sighs in acquiescence. But he turns to face the opposite direction, expression hidden fron view. You can practically hear the pout in his voice, “I see. [Name] only sees me as a fling. My heart breaks to know this bliss is short-lived, but I will cherish our remaining time together.”

He's begun his theatrics again, you think tiredly, accustomed to his stunts. “In any case, we must be careful. We never know who has loose lips around here...”

He's still not facing you, resolutely looking away.

...Is he sulking for real? Was that a genuine marriage proposal?

“My lord?” You call out softly, in a lover's tender voice. He doesn't respond. Quieter, you whisper to his ear, “Ayato?” yet that doesn't earn a reaction either.

You start to panic, wondering if you were acting too indifferently. The change in your relationship had been a recent one, and you're still settling in a period of adjustment; even if you wanted to properly flirt with him like normal lovers do, bickering came more naturally to you.

You reach for his shoulder, hoping to turn him over and see his face. But then he catches your wrist, and you only have a second to catch a glimpse of his triumphant smirk before he captures your lips in a chaste kiss.

“Mhm, I see. So you're more considerate towards me when we're dating,” he cheerfully notes, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear as if he can't see the way your shocked gaze morphs into a cold glare. “I truly am privileged.”

“Incorrigible.” The word drips with poison, but he laughs and kisses you again, thumbing at the ring around your finger.

GOROU ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

he should've expected this.

of course he should've! how could he not?! you disappeared without a word from camp, and now, now that your name has finally been spoken by someone other than him...

... it's because of your capture. you, the love of his life, are now going to be the 100th vision given to the vision hunt decree.

he immediately goes to the only person he can trust during these times, kokomi. if it weren't for her brains, he would've charged in with his bow and own vision, regardless of the cost.

thanks to kokomi's genius, there is a plan devised for the traveler. being the only one who won't be collateral damage, the traveler will rush in and swoop away with you! it sucks, gorou thinks, because he wants to be the one who saves you.

but beggars can't be choosers, and as long as you're safe, the general is content.

It took everything in Gorou not to start firing his arrows like there was no tomorrow.

The sight of you on the floor, kneeling before the Raiden Shogun, was one to make his blood boil. Your cryo vision glinted dangerously under the light, yet it was not enough.

The deity's hand raised up, an invisible force unshackling your brilliant crystal amulet before stealing it from your torso. It's gone, Gorou thinks. Will your ambitions and aspirations disappear with your vision?

His grip tightens around his bow, it's there to comfort him, not to slay.

Hurry, hurry! He wants to shake the traveler around and force them to save you! What's taking them so long?!

As if his prayers were answered (by which archon?), the Traveler appears. Racing in to save you just before the cryo vision lands in the Shogun's hands, the blonde intercepts the capture and takes your vision in time.

And then, they disappeared. In a puff of purple smoke, Gorou could only watch with a fervor grit as you began to fight against the samurai that was holding you. Scraping your ropes on one of the spears of a fallen guard, the lack of vision did not slow your movements in any way.

Gorou wonders if this is love. Watching you fight while he can only watch in awe, he wonders if you are his soulmate. Maybe one day, when Inazuma is opened to the world once more, maybe the two of you could travel along Liyue. Along Mondstadt, or Sumeru, or Fontaine.

The moment the purple mist disappears, and the traveler is revealed on the ground, Gorou's ears twitch. He draws his bow, against his mind and his instincts. Watching the arrow glow with geo, he's ready to strike.

And as if you could read his mind, which he knows you can't, you stood up. With your vision retrieved, you made quick work of the samurai, rushing off with the Traveler in hand as you did not bother to look back at the arrows being shot.

Fortunately, Gorou and you had planned a meeting spot in case one of you disappeared. However, it was unfortunate how such a thing should be created.

No matter. Gorou draws his bow and shoots one last arrow before disappearing into the shrubbery.

Just for today, Kangol Island would be your safe haven.

you were not worried, waiting at an unfamiliar island with an unconscious traveler.

gorou would find you, he would be there for you and he'd bring you back to safety... just as he's always done.

so for now, you'll bear the rain and thunder. the race of your heart and the chills that you've begun to get thanks to the cold air.

just hang in there, okay?

KAZUHA ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

the samurai finds out about your situation once the ceremony has already commenced.

it took beidou and the crew everything to keep the fugitive still. if they hadn't been there, kazuha would probably already be running to inazuma city.

he's desperate, his calm and cool aura that he's been honing in on since he... became a samurai, getting thrown out of the window as soon as your name leaves a bystander's lips.

he warned you, he warned you. he told you, time and time again, that the raiden shogun was a merciless deity that seeks eternity... even at the inconsequential cost of a mortal's life.

so why? why was it you who was getting your vision taken away? why couldn't it be him?

the minute the ceremony is over, kazuha rushes into the crowds. he's a local, so he knows what to say and what to do. but here, in this sea, he feels like an outlander.

Pearl white hair can be seen disappearing into the crowds. Kaedehara Kazuha, a wandering samurai and escapee from Inazuma, somehow finds himself back... at Inazuma.

'Please be okay, please be okay.' He prays to... nobody. What archon can he pray to, if his archon is the cause of this mess in the first place? There is nobody, no deity that can save him.

Kazuha continues to run feverishly. Where are you? Does your waistband still have that same benevolent hydro vision that he last saw you with?

His eyes widen when he sees you escaping with an unconscious traveler. If he didn't know any better, he'd rush in to carry the blonde for you.

But Kazuha is cautious, even in a time like this. Appearing now would only cause trouble for both you and him, and that was not a wanted scenario.

He follows you, blocking you from the gazes of others with his anemo powers before rushing off to finally see your face.

He's relieved when your clothes glint with blue. Gripping the hem of your shirt, the samurai pulls you back to him, his head hanging low as you are both hidden in the plains of nature.

"I found you," he speaks quietly. Vermilion eyes crinkling with a bittersweet emotion, he whispers like the last wind of a hurricane.

He examines you with those same melancholic eyes. Checking for wounds or sprains, he sets the traveler down for you before hugging you tightly.

Kazuha trusts the wind and fate to guide you back to him. After all, the strings of your lives are not so easily cut... and therefore, he will find you again. He will find you again like how he found you here, he will find you and you will be safe, no matter what.

Because one day, you will be too far for him to reach. But for now, he'll hold you tightly, like a tsunami's last tide.

THOMA ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

thoma is terrified.

why would you risk your dreams for him? he knows he's the original 100th vision-wielder, but now, it was you in his place.

he told you no. he told you not to go out there and sacrifice your beloved dendro vision, but as always, you shrugged him off and went and did your own thing.

that was what he loved about you, but right now, he hated it.

it should be him kneeling in front of the raiden shogun. it should be him, who was about to be stripped of their memories. it should not be you... no, it should never be you.

ayaka pulls the blonde back before he can do anything brash. take me! he wants to yell, not them, never them! he cries.

he can only watch helplessly as you bow your head in surrender. this is not happening, no way, please don't let this happen—

the traveler rushes in before he can say anything, and immediately, thoma gets the message.

he rushes in, hauling you up as he unties your ropes. it's going to be okay, it's going to be okay.

it will always be okay, just as long as he has you.

"Stay with me," Thoma whispers, hauling your arms over his shoulders as he stumbles up. The traveler is currently battling the Raiden Shogun, giving both him and you some time to escape.

'Just a bit farther until we reach the Komore Teahouse.' Thoma spares you glances every few seconds, partially relieved that you did not lack warmth.

He just wonders whether your vision will return to you on its own, or if the Traveler would have to retrieve it.

"it's going to be okay, my love," he says to your unconscious self. he has prepared tea by himself, a cup already warmed up for you as he waits for you to wake up.

he can't tell if he's reassuring himself, or reassuring you. regardless, he thanks whatever kind spirit that heard his prayer.

you're here, you're okay, you're fine. from now on, thoma will never let you do something like this again.

✧ — 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐮 — ✧

the esteemed general gorou of the sangonomiya army is sometimes reduced to a grinning mess whenever you're around

the resistance soldiers will often chatter around a campfire about how endearing gorou is whenever you walk into a room

he could be giving a briefing on some serious military tactics, right

and you, as a fighter, would enter and pay close attention

the soldiers find it admirable that you don't notice the way gorou's tail will wag whenever he sees you or hears your voice

(you do notice.)

but remember -- he's a still a general. he's a busy man, so unfortunately, there are bound to be rifts between you two due to his job, tail wagging be damned.

even though the vision hunt decree was over and madam sara and her excellency kokomi had completed their peace talks, the watatsumi army was still at war with the tenryou commission. against the will of kujou sara and the raiden shogun, a band of samurai recruited some nobushi and kairagi to help them wipe out any lingering watatsumi army stations, killing the soldiers that resided there.

kokomi was furious when she heard the news. she's too level-headed to fly into a rage, but when you returned after discovering one of the ruined stations to report your findings, you could see her entire demeanor change.

"go and alert general gorou." she ordered after a long silence. her voice no longer sounded like it belonged to her. her face was shrouded in a darkness you'd never seen on... anyone before. "tell him to quickly prepare for a counterstrike."

"have you already decided what to do, your excellency?" you asked, trying to keep your voice even. you knew it was a stupid question as soon as the words left your mouth; kokomi wasn't in charge of the army for nothing. "and... is there anything i can do to help as well?"

kokomi didn't smile at you, but you saw her eyes soften for a second. "for now, there is nothing i can think of. but, if gorou needs you, please assist him."

you couldn't help but fluster slightly. kokomi was aware of your... relationship with the general. she must be have told you that because of it. she could have also said it due to your rank since you were the highest in command right after gorou, but you couldn't shake the feeling that she'd said that for some other reason.

you gave kokomi a short nod. "as you wish, my lady."

you turned on your heel to leave when kokomi stopped you by calling your name. "also... take care of yourself." she said. "i can't imagine that you'd be okay after seeing all of that."

"...yes, my lady."

the walk to gorou's office seemed to take forever. you stop walking midway in order to make sense of what you're going to tell him.

up until just now, you were confused as to why kokomi would tell you to take care of yourself. you were feeling fine when you told her the news the first time, but now, you aren't so sure you'll be able to tell gorou with a straight face. you know that he'd probably comfort you if he sees you so distressed, but that wouldn't do much to help you after seeing what you saw.

the nobushi and kairagi were not, after all, known for their mercy. there was so much blood -- so much carnage. the watatsumi soldiers didn't stand a chance.

you mostly stagger the rest of the way to gorou's office, desperate for his presence. you knock twice on his door and wait for the signal to enter, gorou opens the door instead. there's so much worry written all over his face, you feel like crying with relief at the sight of him.

"i could hear your footsteps through the door," he says, taking your hand and leading you into the room. "they were too uneven, so i figured something was wrong. is everything okay? are you hurt?"

of course he'd hear something like that. if you were anybody else, he'd probably escort you to the healing stations right away. instead, he eases you into a chair and kneels in front of you, his brows drawn with concern. you reach forward and brush your fingers through his hair, sighing when you feel how soft it is. it grounds you in the moment and gives you a sense of security.

"talk to me," gorou says, squeezing your knee. "you don't look so good."

"it's... it's about the army." you finally manage to sigh. the last thing you want to do is relive that moment -- to have blood coat your memories again -- but you have to do your job right. you watch as gorou's ears droop slightly at the knowledge that you're not injured.

"of course. what is it?"

you tell him what happened. you try not to go into detail, but the longer you talk, the more unhinged you start to feel. the words tumble out of their own accord as you spill more and more information about the bodies, the clues the kairagi left, and the way you tried to bury the remains you could find. gorou's grip on your knee tightens by the second until he finally moves to sit beside you, resting his hand on your shoulder to stop you from talking.

"i'm sorry," you stammer, "i should be more professional than this, i just-- i know we've seen worse, but--"

gorou interrupts you with a sharp shake of his head. "don't you dare apologize for any of this. you did so, so well. i'm proud of you." you watch as a dutiful expression climbs over his face; he must be trying to think of a way to approach the situation. he stands abruptly. "i'm going to see her excellency, okay?"

your breath hitches as you mourn the loss of his warmth beside you. this is normal -- gorou will often just up and run to kokomi whenever something urgent crosses his mind. but right now... can't it wait?

it feels like the air is being punched out of you. why would you think that at a time like this?

"yeah, go on." you give him a weak smile, hoping that he will at least kiss your forehead, but he doesn't. he doesn't even bid you goodbye. gorou all but sprints out of his office to where kokomi is, leaving you alone to sweep up the remains of your thoughts. you sink into the chair when you can't hear his footsteps anymore and bury your face in your hands.

you try to convince yourself that this is normal. this is what you signed up for -- what you trained for. you didn't rise to this rank by being emotional; you got here because you were a cut above the rest. you were third in command in the entire watatsumi army, and you were a force to be reckoned with. your lover running off to do his job shouldn't be what does you in -- not after all the shit you've seen.

"then why..?" you mutter to yourself. why does it hurt this bad?

gorou becomes nearly impossible to see in the weeks that follow. he and kokomi devised a strategy for counterattack and deployed the soldiers a while ago, with you leading the front lines to victory each time. you were flawless in your execution and praised highly by everyone who knew of your deeds -- even kokomi gave you recognition.

but gorou... didn't. he just stayed by her side wordlessly as she praised you. he didn't even look you in the eye. there was nothing from him when he saw you that day -- no ear twitch, no flick of the tail. nothing. instead, as soon as kokomi turned to walk back to her office, gorou followed close behind, not even sparing you so much as a glance.

you've let the emotions fester and rot for weeks. for weeks, you've watched gorou trail being kokomi like her loyal lap dog (almost literally) while you were left to fend for yourself. the pain morphed into agony, and the denial bloomed into full-blown jealousy.

then, you tell yourself, if that's the game he wants to play, so be it.

you fully immerse yourself in your work in the following days, almost to the point where you're barely standing on your feet while issuing commands. over and over, your soldiers beg you to rest, but you don't; the more you rest, the more you think about the jealousy that's latched onto you like a stubborn leech. day in and day out, you work and you fight, until one night, gorou finally approaches you.

you've passed out doing some paperwork. you sit up from the desk slowly, your head spinning as you try to remember where you are and what you were doing. "shit, i fell asleep." you grumble.

"you didn't just fall asleep," gorou's voice comes from the door. you jump and drop the pen in your hand. why was he here? "you completely passed out. why are you still working?" he walks up to your desk and reaches across it to touch your face, but you inch away and he recoils, confused. "are you okay?"

are you okay, he asks. you laugh bitterly. "it's been a month and a half, and now he wants to know if i'm okay." you say under your breath. you swear when you remember that gorou's hearing is very keen -- he definitely heard that.

gorou frowns at you, his ears starting to lay flat on his head. he looks wounded by what you said, and you have to fight off another laugh. "i know... it's been a month," he says. "i came to apologize. i know i haven't made time for you lately."

that wasn't the problem. that's never been the problem. you could handle him being absent for his duties. the problem was--

"you think that's why i'm upset with you?" you wince at your tone. you can hear how hurt you sound; you were hoping to sound stronger, but now that the wound you've poorly patched up has opened again, you find that you're back where you started. you've never been good with strong emotions like this, so the words tumble out faster than you can stop them.

"gorou, the day i returned from the massacre, i just wanted you to hold me. even if it was for a passing second, i just... i needed comfort and you... you left." you hiss the last word and frown when he flinches. "you've been avoiding me, haven't you? you've been so close with kokomi that you haven't so much as looked at me in almost two months."

to be fair, you were doing the same, but only because he started it.

gorou looks floored and honestly, you feel the same. you've never blown up at him like this before, and when it dawns on you that you mentioned kokomi's name, you feel heat creep up your neck. "f-forget it." you grumble. "go be a general. i'll be here."

gorou doesn't budge. he circles the desk and stands in front of you with an earnest expression. "i had no idea." he says. you can feel the sincerity behind it. gorou admitted to you when you first started dating that he'd never done this before. something like this was to be expected, but neither of you could have known it would get this bad. "believe me when i say that i was so caught up in work that i-- archons, you had to sit with that image by yourself for so long. i'm so sorry."

if gorou was known for one thing, it was his sincerity. you're embarrassed by how easily he can soothe you, but his honesty was exactly what you needed. it wasn't going to make everything better right away, but you'd be lying if you said this didn't make it easier to deal with.

"i heard from some of your soldiers that you were overworking yourself and i rushed here as soon as i could... you were doing this because of me, weren't you?" gorou puts the pieces together faster than you expected. he takes one of your hands and toys with your fingers, his ears drooping. your fingers twitch with the urge to touch them. "i should have noticed sooner. i'm... i don't know what i can do to make it up to you."

honestly, you don't know either. gorou folded so quickly that you were caught off guard. you kind of expecting him to fight you on this, but he didn't. he... apologized, and you're stuck. "it's..." you catch yourself. it's not okay. it won't be for a while.

but it will be. eventually.

you rise out of your chair and open your arms. if there was one thing you missed, it was his hugs. "can you just hold me for a little while? please?" you ask, your voice small.

gorou complies immediately, surging forward and burying his face in your shoulder. he murmurs apology after apology and you run your fingers through his hair. "you should never have to feel that way," he says, his voice muffled. you glance down and notice that his tail isn't as upright as it usually is. one thing about gorou: if his words and facial expression won't give away how he feels, then his ears and tail definitely will. "i'm sorry. i'm so sorry."

you sigh and reach a little further up, gently scratching behind his ear. you suppress a giggle when gorou makes a soft, content noise. you forgive him, you do, but because you let the horror of that day sit for too long, it would be some time before you approach gorou the way you used to. your relationship has taken a few steps backwards, but there's nowhere to go but forward from here.

"it still hurts," you say honestly. "it hurts a lot, but... i still love you, gorou. i do. but we're gonna have to start slow again."

gorou pulls away and you actually giggle this time at how eager he looks. you're not sure he knows, but his tail is wagging. he's so, so cute. "that's fine by me!" he says, his eyes sparkling. gorou catches himself suddenly and clears his throat in an attempt to contain himself. his tail is still swishing behind him, though. "i mean, uh. if it makes you happy, then..."

you chuckle. it breaks your heart that you have to re-adjust to being around gorou, but you love him all the same. you lean in and peck his lips, laughing when you hear his tail thump against your desk from how fast it's moving. "so long as you're with me," you murmur against his lips, "i'm happy."

✧ — 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞 — ✧

you know what, why don't we flip the script on this one?

let's talk about you making him jealous by accident.

because it is very, VERY bold of you to assume that he would make you jealous unintentionally.

everything this man does is calculated and intentional. he'll have his moments, but trust me

if he does it, 9 times out of 10, it's on purpose.

you wish you could just get used to it, but childe manages to find new ways to make you want to monopolize his attention every time, and it's embarrassing as hell

as you watch your boyfriend try to bargain prices with a vendor in liyue, you feel a familiar coil in your gut for the fourth time this week. childe has this infuriating habit of turning on the charm whenever he tries to get his way with others. he even does it to you, although his method of bringing down your walls is a bit more... hands-on.

you narrow your eyes at childe, who flicks his gaze over to you for a second. his lips curl into a slight smirk -- a sign that he's trying to rile you up. you shake your head with a quiet huff. this game he's so intent on playing has long since gotten old. you're exhausted; if this is what he's going to do all day, then you may as well find a new way to entertain yourself. "i'm gonna go look around," you say with a quick raise of your hand.

childe grabs it before you can turn to leave, his brows furrowing. "you're gonna leave me behind? are you going home?"

with a sharp shake of your head, you tug your hand out his grip. "i just said i'm gonna look around, ajax." you internally flinch at how harsh you sound, but quickly stomp out the guilt that follows. you have every right to be annoyed. what are you feeling bad for? "take your time and get yourself something nice, okay?"

as you turn and walk away, you think you hear childe mutter something along the lines of "but i'm buying stuff for you", but you ignore it.

today, liyue harbor is crowded as always. people bustle here and there, their voices lively as they chatter about new sales or purchases. a light breeze blows in from the port and you take a deep breath, filling your lungs with the smell of seawater. it's so... refreshing to be out here by yourself. you wish you could just aimlessly walk around with childe, but that man never knows when to slow down; he'd probably rope you into some weird activity.

you rub your temples with a sigh. the knot in your stomach has come loose, but you still feel uneasy. you love childe -- really, you do -- but he's a fucking headache sometimes. you are more than capable of putting up with his bullshit or, if need be, putting him back in his place, but to do it this often? you need a little break.

you feel a light tap on your shoulder and spin around to see none other than zhongli standing behind you, an inviting smile on his face. "i've been calling your name for quite some time," he informs you, his voice smooth, "is there something troubling you?"

ah, of course he would pick up on that. zhongli's knowledge runs deep, mostly because of his sharp eye for details. he may be lacking in mora, but he certainly isn't lacking in observation skills. you shrug dismissively, not wanting to talk or think about what's on your mind.

"there is, but i'm just walking to clear my head." then, an idea strikes you. "would you like to walk with me?"

at the same time, zhongli asks, "will you allow me to accompany you?"

the two of you blink at each other in surprise for a moment before you laugh and jerk your head in the direction you were walking in. "glad we're on the same page. c'mon, i wanna go see if the storyteller has something new today."

zhongli follows alongside you with a light chuckle of his own. the two of you chat about all sorts of things as you stroll. it shouldn't take you this long to reach the tea shop where the storyteller is, but whenever you're with zhongli, you feel the need to prolong your time together. ever since you two met through childe, you've been drawn to his side like a magnet.

not in a romantic sense, of course; you two just connected so well that you considered zhongli to be a very, very close friend -- perhaps it was because you both possessed geo visions. in any case, it was always reasssuring to know that zhongli felt the same about you, even going so far as to introduce you as his younger sibling on a few occasions. it's always a joke, but you will never fight the warm feeling that spreads across your chest each time.

you listen intently to the story being told, occasionally looking over at zhongli to see what he thinks. he always seems to fact check each story once they're over, and you can't wait to hear what he has to say about this one. the story this time is about rex lapis mobilizing his adepti to protect the harbor, and you know how zhongli gets whenever rex lapis is involved.

once it's over, you spin in your seat and lean your chin in your palm, grinning when zhongli chuckles at you. "are you waiting for my thoughts on today's story? you look like a child awaiting a present."

you scrunch your nose. "i'm here for the stories, not for the jokes, 'li. soooo, what do you have for me today?"

just as zhongli is about to tell you his thoughts on the story, a pair of hands drop on your shoulders, startling you so badly that you knock your knee on the table. "what the hell?" you seethe, turning to face your unwanted guest. "who-- ah. you."

it's childe. he lays a hand over his heart and pouts playfully. at least, you think he's trying to be playful; something’s... off about him. "i have a name, y'know?"

you roll your eyes. "trust me, i know." you push him away slightly when he wiggles his brows at you suggestively. "knock it off, zhongli is right there. get your head out of... wherever it is."

at mention of zhongli's name, you see childe's jaw jump. it's such a slight movement -- almost imperceptible -- but you pick up on it immediately. what's his deal? did he run into some unruly fatui grunts or something? you're pretty sure you're the only one who can feel the poorly restrained irritation that's rolling off of him in waves.

"sorry, zhongli, i didn't see you there." he extends a hand in zhongli's direction, shaking it firmly. "how have you been these days? it's been a while."

zhongli hums thoughtfully. "i've actually had my hands full with hu tao for a few days. that child," he sighs, "is frighteningly good at her job, but she's lacking in tact. at this point, i'm afraid i'll have to contact customers on her behalf."

you snort at his pained expression. "do i really want to know what she's been up to?"

"you really don't." zhongli answers instantly. "i would also prefer not to relive those memories."

"well, if that's that," childe cuts in, "we actually need to get going. prior engagements and all that."

you frown up at your boyfriend, but don't argue as you stand and follow beside him. he's definitely acting strange, but you'll question him about it later. you wave goodbye at zhongli and make a promise to meet again at a later date.

the two of you get home a lot faster than you expected -- childe was speed-walking for some reason. it wouldn't bother you if it was anybody else, but childe's stride was far too big for you to keep up at that speed. as soon as the door closes behind you, you cross your arms over your chest.

"talk." you say. it's not a question.

childe -- no, at home, he's just ajax -- mirrors your actions. his face is free of any emotion that would give him away. "you left."

"and..? i told you ahead of time, didn't i?" you squint. "what's your problem? and for celestia's sake, stop looking at me like that, i'm not your employee, tartaglia."

this is usually how confrontation goes in your house. neither you nor ajax were pushovers, so things often came to a stand still since you both refused to back down until the situation was resolved. part of the reason he fell in love with you, as he liked to tell you so much, was your ability to stand tall even when faced with something dangerous.

(the 'something dangerous' in question being ajax himself. both of you know who would win in a physical altercation, but even still, you held your ground against him, going so far as to talk him down from his foul legacy form whilst unarmed.)

apparently, ajax would be the first to back down today. he flinches at the usage of his official work name. he's always hated when you called him that -- it puts so much distance between you. you didn't want to say it in the first place, but he was eyeing you so coldly and you hate being intimidated. his shoulders sag in defeat.

"sorry, sorry," he raises a hand to the back of his neck. "work reflex."

you tilt your chin up, silently pressing him for answers. ajax makes a face.

"fine, fine! you win. don't look at me like that." ajax finally averts his eyes, a shadow starting to form over his face. he hates when you look like you may resent him; it's his biggest fear. "i'm jealous, okay?"

there it is, out in the open. you don't waste a second in piecing the puzzle together. "it's zhongli, isn't it?" you step closer. "do you think there's something between us?"

"what? no!" ajax looks scandalized at the very thought. "archons, no; i know you two are practically family, so i just... we were on a date and you just walked off. when i saw you with zhongli, i..."

the guilt you'd managed to extinguish earlier flares up, scorching your body from the inside out. looking back, you realize how callous of you it was to just storm off while you were supposed to be spending time with your boyfriend, but you didn't do it for no reason.

"do you know why i left?" you ask.

"do you want the honest answer or the stupid answer?"

"ajax, seriously."

"you're really a handful, you know that?" his smile is a bit strained. he makes his way to the couch and sits on it, patting the space beside him for you to sit. you follow suit. "i don't know why you left." he answers honestly, lacing your fingers together on the cushion.

you exhale sharply. how can he be one of the most observant people you know, and yet somehow simultaneously one of the most obtuse?

"you do this thing," you start, "where you try to make me jealous all the time. and don't even think about joking right now, okay? i know you know what you're doing."

ajax nods. at least he's listening.

you continue. "it was entertaining the first few times, i won't lie. i love when you let me have you all to myself, because if i'm being honest, i'm really, really selfish, ajax." you try to ignore the heat that climbs to your cheeks. "a-anyways, it's not fun anymore. i know you think it's funny, but it's starting to seem like you like flirting with others more than you do with me, honestly."

ajax stays silent for a moment, waiting to see if you're done speaking. when you say that you're done, he pulls you in for a hug, sighing when you return it immediately.

"i wish you'd told me sooner," he says lowly. "you let this go on for so long and i had no idea." you feel lips press against your forehead. "it was never my intention to genuinely make you feel insecure like this; you have to believe me."

you believe him. wholeheartedly, you do. ajax's sense of humor is... strange, but it's a part of him. you agree that you should have said something sooner, but there's no fixing that now. you melt further into his arms and he lays back on the couch, pulling you down on top of him. you two shuffle for a bit as you make yourselves comfortable, and once you're comfortable on his chest, you sit up to look him in the face.

"i owe you an apology too," you say quietly. "i shouldn't have just walked off like that. it must've been painful seeing me with zhongli like that."

"sure, that's one way to put it." ajax mutters. you slap his chest and he chuckles. "alright, alright. we were both in the wrong today, huh?"

you lay yourself back down to hear his heartbeat. it's strong and steady, save for a few skips here and there. you snicker quietly; at least you know you can still fluster him after being together for so long. "we were." you hum.

ajax drums his fingers on the small of your back. he hums, the sound noncommittal, and you can hear the rumble in his chest. he's so...

"i can feel your heart like this, you know." he teases lightly. "do you like my voice or something?"

you groan. "i can feel yours, too, cut it out."

"so... you do like my voice, then?"

you sigh fondly and prop yourself up on your arms so you're hovering over him. ajax is grinning at you, his face alight with mischief and tenderness. "i like you, idiot." you confess. you can't help but return the smile.

ajax raises a brow. "just like? it's been like, three years and you only like me?"

"you're fishing for compliments."

"i am. is it working?"

what a child this man can be. you ease yourself down a little and kiss him as sweetly as you can, pouring three years worth of love into the kiss. when you pull away, you puff a laugh at his dejected expression. "i love you. there. happy?"

"kiss me again, and i'll think about it."

✧ tags!: @marius-z (i almost forgot ;;)

There are many unexpected moments when it comes to XIAO, he never fails to surprise you, really—just as much as you never fail to surprise him. He says he doesn’t know anything about mortal traditions and yet he actually does. He knows that giving flowers to your lover might give them joy, or maybe gifting trinkets such as crystals or jades. He knows how humans, most of the time, would desire for their partner’s attention and touch, and would ask for them if they could. He has lived for thousands of years—he has seen thousands of humans interact with each other.

You’re still surprised, however, whenever three stems of Qingxin were left by your bedside, or when he forms them into a crown to give to you, knowing you’d look good on them, just like how those kids by the harbor do towards their friends whenever they have flowers with them. He’s not clueless, but you, for one, was baffled and wanted to love him more because of this—he was trying his best for you, for this kind of love a Yaksha like him could have never expected.

VENTI may seem like the most sociable and open of all, but he can be very selfish when it comes to you. He wants to be with you all the time, he wants to feel or see your presence in the room, he wants to show you off in front of everyone else, and he also want to take you away to have a peaceful time with you and you only.

“Venti, where are you taking me now?” you laugh as you both get away from being stopped by Kaeya who had been trying to get in contact with you due to work—who could’ve known you’d even be part of the Knights of Favonius and also end up with the Anemo Archon himself? You were bound to be busy, but he’s taking your time and you couldn’t even peep a single complaint—you liked it, you loved it. Spending time with VENTI was more exciting and fun than you could’ve ever had with just doing your work alone.

Sometimes it could be a nuisance to others mostly though.

“Liyue!” he replies, grinning towards you, “Do you want to meet an old friend of mine? Guess we could pay him some visit.”

And let’s just say that’s how you met the Geo Archon that day.

THOMA is always a positive guy who’s good with his words, that was what you saw him as, no matter how much other people in Inazuma say never to mess with him—the Retainer of the Kamisato Clan. You thought they were just rumors, after all, he never showed any indication that he’s actually a scary person. When it involves the safety of you or other people he cares about, however, you realized that he could be feared of—in his own way.

“Say, what do you think the Kujou Clan—Kujou Sara, probably, will say, if I report that there are a bunch of Treasure Hoarders around this area?” he says, his eyes darting towards yours every couple of times to check how you were. It was obvious that he was trying his best not to engage in a fight, not with you there.

“What if you let us pass this road safely, we won’t report it if you do. You know, we’ll keep it a secret,” he even winked at the Treasure Hoarders as he held your hand tightly, keeping his cool throughout the interaction.

When they did, however, he went straight to the Tenryou Commission and reported what you and him both saw, “Of course, I won’t let them get away. We never know who they’ll attack next,” he smiles at you, pecking you on the cheek as you both walk hand in hand on the way home, “I know you always pass by that road too, right? Your safety, above all, is my priority, darling.”

He’s good with words—more so that he could us it as a weapon and a shield, but this definitely is one of the things he doesn’t show often unless needed.

SCARAMOUCHE is always cold. You have come to terms with his hisses and his snaps, his raised brows or his sharp glances that are usually followed by an amused chuckle or a ghost of a smile that you always fail to catch since he turns away almost immediately. It was not quite obvious, but he’s actually softer towards you than he did—actually, he spoils you whenever he can. He has subordinates guarding you whenever you’re going out without him; he replies to your letters, though it may take awhile, he reads each and every word and responds to them well; he even may have small gifts or trinkets with the letter that was sent—most of the time, they’re local goods from the region he currently is. He prides in taking care of his beloved, to be honest. He feels powerful—relieved, whenever he sees your contented smile.

“You like that?” he raises a brow, a small quirk on the side of his lips, “Of course you would, I picked that myself.”

On the other hand, he can be warm when you really opened your eyes.

KAZUHA is a calm individual, indeed he is. However rare, though, due to the circumstance, he is quite protective, especially when it’s you involved. He will draw his sword whenever needed—most of the time, he would not even think when your safety is hindered.

“Are you alright, dove?” he reaches for your face with his bandaged hand, soon followed by his other, once he had finished scanning the rest of your body if you were injured anywhere else. When he met your eyes, however, you saw it—fear.

All of a sudden, you were in a tight embrace, his hair tickling the side of your face as he whispered “I thought I lost you.” Of course, how could you forget?

Wrapping your arms on his waist, you reassure him, “You won’t, Kazu,”

He didn’t say anything else, but you knew that in his heart, he was still erratic. All you could do for now, however, was hold him and hope that it would be enough.

KAEYA, no matter how flirty he was, is extremely loyal. He’s probably one of those who’s quite sensitive to your feelings most of the time. He never fails to reassure you. Actually, if you’re the jealous type, he knows, and he’ll be trying his best to comfort you in any way.

“Look at me, love,” he has his hand on your chin, egging you to do what he says with his velvety voice. When you did, that was when you saw him slowly smile—not the smirks that he usually let out though. It was different, “Trust me on this, yeah?”

Unbeknownst to you, he was also testing you, trying to see if you were to be trusted with his own very secret—secrets he never should reveal but he found the potential to tell you anyway. Trust is something he was willing to give and receive, as long as it’s you.

GOROU, when he’s not called in for work, is rather lazy. There may be times when he feels bad for making you do all the work in the house if you’re visiting his home—which is quite messy. You think it may have been due to his work or maybe it’s already mixed with his own blood, but either way, you find him utterly adorable whenever he says “It’s alright… you know. You don’t have to clean if you don’t have to,” or “I’m sorry I got you in this… uhm… what else should I do?”

Don’t worry though because after you both clean up his house, he’ll reward you with a long session of cuddling with his tail affectionately wrapped around your waist, whispering “Thank you”s by your ear as he scatter soft kisses on your neck.

DILUC, unlike popular belief, will show his affections in public when he’s already comfortable with it. He’s not a cold and heartless man, after all. This happens slowly and gradually, however. First were holding your hand while Kaeya or maybe others like Jean, Albedo or Barbara were there, then the next would be letting your fingers interlaced with him stay as you walk down the streets of Mondstadt City, letting the others see the progress of your relationship with the most famous bachelor of the town.

The next thing you knew, he was already comfortable with pressing you forehead kisses or letting his arms circle on your waist as you two walked home after a shift of his at Angel’s Share. It takes time, but it will definitely be worth it.

CHILDE would lose to you. Yes, you got that right. You never actually see this kind of situation most of the time, but it will happen more than you’d notice. You two probably tried pillow fighting somewhere in between your relationship and he would say “Come on, hit me!” and he wouldn’t actually dodge. His hits are also light, not wanting to hurt you, of course. He fights for the thrill, the fever, the fun—but for some reason, play fights with you were the same as well. Would you be able to push him down? Beat him on your own accord? How dedicated are you to beating him and winning against him? His chest pounds at the sight of your wide grin and the sound of your laughter.

Yes, he loves this—he truly is whipped for you, huh?

AYATO may be busy, but he never takes back any promises he makes. You expected he’d be the kind to never have time for you, you were prepared for it. After all, he’s the Commissioner of the Yashiro Commission, it was a given and you’ll still love him for it. What you certainly did not expect was whenever he tries to find you always and will be making time for you whenever he wants to—which is actually most of the time.

“Ayato, darling, I thought you’re working on some papers sent by the Tenryou Commission? You know how they are with deadlines…” you muse as you snuggle next to him, yet he only tightens his grip on you and buries his face by your neck, feeling him smile next to your skin.

“I can do them later, let me indulge with my beloved for a little more.”

ALBEDO wants to know everything about love; little by little, as careful as possible. Actually, he was not just curious about the concept of love, but of you as well—the very reason why he feels this way in the first place. Everything is so new to him that even if he does have sweet moments, he is still new to everything. Which meant a lot of patience for him. One minute he could be someone who could tell you sweet little nothings but the next he could neglect you for the work in front of him. If it would be too much, let him see your mind, hear your thoughts, your voices.

“I apologize, my love. I did not know I was hurting you,” he says as he rubs your shoulder lightly, gently, almost as if it was a part of his apology after not coming home for two entire weeks without a single letter or word, buried in work above the snow of Dragonspine. He doesn’t have any experience with any of this, and he hopes that you could guide him to your needs and desires, so that he could recognize his own as well.

AETHER is extremely protective of you. Even the other Abyss members doesn’t see you that often—actually, most of them doesn’t know your face. They just know that their prince has a lover, and that was enough. When you journey or travel alone, there’s a specific emblem or some sort that reminds them not to attack you—a symbol or a mark to never bring you harm. That’s why any Adventurer or civilian that may be being attacked by the members of Abyss and you unknowingly stepped in, the members will instantly back away when they see that symbol on you.

Or else they may be the ones who will end up hurting themselves from the wrath of the prince.

You never knew about this until he himself confesses about it—which might actually take a very long time to do so.

(p.s. i actually have other plans for aether but this actually sounded better hahah)

TAGLIST (pls send an ask to be added~)

GOROU ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

he should've expected this.

of course he should've! how could he not?! you disappeared without a word from camp, and now, now that your name has finally been spoken by someone other than him...

... it's because of your capture. you, the love of his life, are now going to be the 100th vision given to the vision hunt decree.

he immediately goes to the only person he can trust during these times, kokomi. if it weren't for her brains, he would've charged in with his bow and own vision, regardless of the cost.

thanks to kokomi's genius, there is a plan devised for the traveler. being the only one who won't be collateral damage, the traveler will rush in and swoop away with you! it sucks, gorou thinks, because he wants to be the one who saves you.

but beggars can't be choosers, and as long as you're safe, the general is content.

It took everything in Gorou not to start firing his arrows like there was no tomorrow.

The sight of you on the floor, kneeling before the Raiden Shogun, was one to make his blood boil. Your cryo vision glinted dangerously under the light, yet it was not enough.

The deity's hand raised up, an invisible force unshackling your brilliant crystal amulet before stealing it from your torso. It's gone, Gorou thinks. Will your ambitions and aspirations disappear with your vision?

His grip tightens around his bow, it's there to comfort him, not to slay.

Hurry, hurry! He wants to shake the traveler around and force them to save you! What's taking them so long?!

As if his prayers were answered (by which archon?), the Traveler appears. Racing in to save you just before the cryo vision lands in the Shogun's hands, the blonde intercepts the capture and takes your vision in time.

And then, they disappeared. In a puff of purple smoke, Gorou could only watch with a fervor grit as you began to fight against the samurai that was holding you. Scraping your ropes on one of the spears of a fallen guard, the lack of vision did not slow your movements in any way.

Gorou wonders if this is love. Watching you fight while he can only watch in awe, he wonders if you are his soulmate. Maybe one day, when Inazuma is opened to the world once more, maybe the two of you could travel along Liyue. Along Mondstadt, or Sumeru, or Fontaine.

The moment the purple mist disappears, and the traveler is revealed on the ground, Gorou's ears twitch. He draws his bow, against his mind and his instincts. Watching the arrow glow with geo, he's ready to strike.

And as if you could read his mind, which he knows you can't, you stood up. With your vision retrieved, you made quick work of the samurai, rushing off with the Traveler in hand as you did not bother to look back at the arrows being shot.

Fortunately, Gorou and you had planned a meeting spot in case one of you disappeared. However, it was unfortunate how such a thing should be created.

No matter. Gorou draws his bow and shoots one last arrow before disappearing into the shrubbery.

Just for today, Kangol Island would be your safe haven.

you were not worried, waiting at an unfamiliar island with an unconscious traveler.

gorou would find you, he would be there for you and he'd bring you back to safety... just as he's always done.

so for now, you'll bear the rain and thunder. the race of your heart and the chills that you've begun to get thanks to the cold air.

just hang in there, okay?

KAZUHA ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

the samurai finds out about your situation once the ceremony has already commenced.

it took beidou and the crew everything to keep the fugitive still. if they hadn't been there, kazuha would probably already be running to inazuma city.

he's desperate, his calm and cool aura that he's been honing in on since he... became a samurai, getting thrown out of the window as soon as your name leaves a bystander's lips.

he warned you, he warned you. he told you, time and time again, that the raiden shogun was a merciless deity that seeks eternity... even at the inconsequential cost of a mortal's life.

so why? why was it you who was getting your vision taken away? why couldn't it be him?

the minute the ceremony is over, kazuha rushes into the crowds. he's a local, so he knows what to say and what to do. but here, in this sea, he feels like an outlander.

Pearl white hair can be seen disappearing into the crowds. Kaedehara Kazuha, a wandering samurai and escapee from Inazuma, somehow finds himself back... at Inazuma.

'Please be okay, please be okay.' He prays to... nobody. What archon can he pray to, if his archon is the cause of this mess in the first place? There is nobody, no deity that can save him.

Kazuha continues to run feverishly. Where are you? Does your waistband still have that same benevolent hydro vision that he last saw you with?

His eyes widen when he sees you escaping with an unconscious traveler. If he didn't know any better, he'd rush in to carry the blonde for you.

But Kazuha is cautious, even in a time like this. Appearing now would only cause trouble for both you and him, and that was not a wanted scenario.

He follows you, blocking you from the gazes of others with his anemo powers before rushing off to finally see your face.

He's relieved when your clothes glint with blue. Gripping the hem of your shirt, the samurai pulls you back to him, his head hanging low as you are both hidden in the plains of nature.

"I found you," he speaks quietly. Vermilion eyes crinkling with a bittersweet emotion, he whispers like the last wind of a hurricane.

He examines you with those same melancholic eyes. Checking for wounds or sprains, he sets the traveler down for you before hugging you tightly.

Kazuha trusts the wind and fate to guide you back to him. After all, the strings of your lives are not so easily cut... and therefore, he will find you again. He will find you again like how he found you here, he will find you and you will be safe, no matter what.

Because one day, you will be too far for him to reach. But for now, he'll hold you tightly, like a tsunami's last tide.

THOMA ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

thoma is terrified.

why would you risk your dreams for him? he knows he's the original 100th vision-wielder, but now, it was you in his place.

he told you no. he told you not to go out there and sacrifice your beloved dendro vision, but as always, you shrugged him off and went and did your own thing.

that was what he loved about you, but right now, he hated it.

it should be him kneeling in front of the raiden shogun. it should be him, who was about to be stripped of their memories. it should not be you... no, it should never be you.

ayaka pulls the blonde back before he can do anything brash. take me! he wants to yell, not them, never them! he cries.

he can only watch helplessly as you bow your head in surrender. this is not happening, no way, please don't let this happen—

the traveler rushes in before he can say anything, and immediately, thoma gets the message.

he rushes in, hauling you up as he unties your ropes. it's going to be okay, it's going to be okay.

it will always be okay, just as long as he has you.

"Stay with me," Thoma whispers, hauling your arms over his shoulders as he stumbles up. The traveler is currently battling the Raiden Shogun, giving both him and you some time to escape.

'Just a bit farther until we reach the Komore Teahouse.' Thoma spares you glances every few seconds, partially relieved that you did not lack warmth.

He just wonders whether your vision will return to you on its own, or if the Traveler would have to retrieve it.

"it's going to be okay, my love," he says to your unconscious self. he has prepared tea by himself, a cup already warmed up for you as he waits for you to wake up.

he can't tell if he's reassuring himself, or reassuring you. regardless, he thanks whatever kind spirit that heard his prayer.

you're here, you're okay, you're fine. from now on, thoma will never let you do something like this again.

kazuha:

the soft-spoken boy working part-time as a florist. as one would expect, his good-looking features attracted customers left and right, just like how a flower allures bees with its colorful petals and sweet nectar.

he studies in a different university from you, but it's relatively close by and you run into each other a lot. you could say you're pretty good friends; you exchanged contact information and text every other day, phone each other up to have a meal together whenever you're both free, and hang out over the weekend.

he stirred up some drama with you once. on a rainy day, he invited you to eat lunch together, but you've forgotten to take an umbrella before leaving for school so you told him you'd be a little late 'cause you had to run to the convenience store first. however, he told you not to worry about it and abruptly ended the call.

fast forward to the afternoon: the glass doors to leave the corridors had a few people lurking by, covering what was beyond. you cocked up an eyebrow in question, confused over what was all the fuss, but then you see that familiar pale hair streaked with bright red.

kazuha stood innocently by the school gates, a crimson umbrella in hand, and a small bouquet in the other. he checked his wristwatch every few minutes, seeming to be waiting for someone. he completely ignored the gawking stares pinned on his frame, busying himself by humming a quiet tune.

you hesitantly pushed open the doors, approaching him with wary steps. he immediately perked up once noticing you, beaming brightly to greet you with enthusiasm. he offered you the bouquet, telling you it's nothing more than a small gift the owner had let him craft for free (who mistakenly thought kazuha had a lover, since he was always on his phone texting someone).

you might have known the reasons behind the present, but nobody else did. and what general implications could gifting a bouquet of flowers have?

thus, the school's online forum exploded with questions, asking for the identity of the pretty boy standing by their university, and the lucky person he'd given flowers to.

needless to say it was hard to convince your friends that no, he isn't your boyfriend.

but that was another issue! the issue NOW is the other bouquet you received, much more recent in nature. after suspecting childe, your next thought was to ask kazuha if he had any buyers who purchased the same flowers you had.

his lips twitch for a moment, faintly looking displeased. but he flashes a flawless, award-winning customer service smile, covering his initial expression easily.

“no such customer ordered for those flowers that day. but i am curious about this matter... could you humor me and explain more in detail, by any chance?”

albedo:

the med student fawned over by students and teachers alike. he's simply brilliant, idolized by the entire student body. though he's mainly studying science, he's been praised for his art as well, his paintings hung in the art room proudly.

you're not very familiar with him, only knowing him through hearsay. you don't know what he looks like, so you've never confirmed for yourself if he's as beautiful everyone says he is.

he's well-known but you haven't heard anything bad about him, which is an impressive feat. his name is only ever mentioned in concert with endless compliments.

you meet him by chance in exam season. unsurprisingly, the library is filled to the brim, tables stacked high with books and each chair occupied by agitated students sipping energy drinks and coffee to stay functional. amidst all the chaos, one student remains radiant and carefree, leisurely flicking pages through his notes. he's situated by a corner table, unbothered by the mindless zombies despite having plenty of free seats beside him and everyone else is squished together like canned tuna.

and you, carrying binders, books and stationery, are visibly desperate for a place to rest. his eyes leave the words in his notes briefly, beckoning you to come closer. and you, still unaware of his identity, gladly plop on a chair and heave your heavy supplies atop the table. it shakes for a moment as it bears the new weight, rattling his items, and the zombies gape at you in question. ironically, the person you've been bothering is not offended at all.

you sneak glances at him when you need to freshen your eyes from studying, nauseated by the letters that never seem to come to an end no matter how many paragraphs you've read. you're at awe by his fair skin, not a single blemish in sight, and he doesn't even have dark circles under his eyes. truly mysterious. either he has a magical skincare routine or he's not human. if anything, you'd think he just came from a relaxing vacation, not in the middle of hell week.

you snap out of your trance, and you scold yourself for being bewitched. you have more pressing concerns, and so you grill more information into your brain, oblivious to the turquoise eyes that begin to stare at you.

the next encounter comes when exams are finally over, and you celebrate by buying the pricey food set in the cafeteria. the crunch of golden breading is rewarding for your taste buds and you shovel more food towards your mouth, minding your own business.

the seat next to you is pulled back, and you pause from chewing. it's that guy again, his refined beauty easy for you to recognize. he places his tray on the table, smiling amiably as he asks if it's fine with you should he sit there. you nod, but there's plenty of vacant tables around. it's also pretty weird that he sat next to you, not across...

well, strange as it is, that's how you befriend albedo. you've yet to learn why he came on so strong, almost aggressive. like he really wanted to talk to you. but whatever.

the more you learn about him, the more his image of “golden boy” withers away. picture of elegance? the standard of sophistication? sure. but this guy doesn't hesitate to do the weirdest shit sometimes.

he doesn't fear anything. he puts anything edible in his mouth. one school trip to the countryside taught you a few things. if he's offered fried bugs, he'll eat it. if he's given frog legs, he'll eat it. he doesn't care. he'll eat seemingly anything. because of this, you worry his admirers will put something strange in the food they give him, but that possibility doesn't cross his mind at all. (well. not that he eats it. he rejects gifts most of the time. exceptions are when they come from you.)

you're starting to think he really doesn't fear anything. when you start to scream in fright like a headless chicken while watching a horror movie, he calmly studies the anatomy of whatever horrifying creature is on screen, questioning their ability to walk when half of their body is split apart. why is he questioning horror movie logic. “ghosts are supposed to be transparent and can pass through walls, how come she can grab the main character's hair and drag him to the incinerator?” “albedo, please.” (he comforts you when you get scared, hiding your face in his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you. he softly whispers in your ear to tell you when the scary parts are over.)

he's also an overprotective older brother. for good reason, actually. his little sister, albeit cute and outwardly harmless, is an explosive child who likes to make trouble. if he takes his eyes off her for more than two minutes, she will undoubtedly set fire to his little garden.

but aside from being a pain in the ass, his observation skills can help you — surely albedo can make a few guesses for your secret admirer's identity?

she's the reason why he's so observant. he can tell you trimmed your hair because he's all too used to klee chopping off her own hair with craft scissors. he also notices when you feel a bit under the weather. klee is the type to hide her sickness so she could play outside, and albedo would often have to forcibly tuck her back to bed. you're no different. he will, quite literally, drag you to your house and make you rest.

albedo blinks at you, uncharacteristically silent. he purses his lips, and gives you a small smile. he asks a few unassuming questions, things like what traces your secret left behind, or if they'd sent a love letter and he'd check the penmanship to see if he found it familiar.

he's not the most eager to help, you know that, but you're still slightly disappointed when he says, “sorry, i can't help you with something like that. it'd be better if you figured it out yourself.”

thoma:

the cute neighbor living in the apartment next door. just like kazuha, he studies in a different university, but you run into each other a lot because... well. obviously.

you find him rather silly. he'd signed the lease not knowing pets weren't allowed in the premises, and tearfully waved taroumaru goodbye when he moved in. to cope, he started staying at the park near the apartment building, playing with the dogs there and getting hit on by their owners in the process, but let's not talk about that.

despite being a newcomer, he fit right in with the tenants. he made effort to learn everyone's names and chatted with them whenever presented a chance, thus winning their favor. it isn't a strange sight to see him with middle-aged ladies and looking at home, listening earnestly to their complaints about their husbands or rowdy children. (his hard work pays off when they give him their special recipes and inform him of supermarket deals lol)

he seems to get along well with old men too, invited to their drinking parties. except thoma isn't good at rejecting alcohol from older adults, so when you save him from such situation — pulling him away from the old men prying into his love life, because surely a good kid like him would have someone to love him dearly — he's become eternally grateful.

he's honestly too good for his own good.

exhibit a: thoma is prone to cooking too much food for one person to eat in one sitting, so he tends to invite you to eat his hotpot with him or bring you packaged food you can easily pop into a microwave. after your one act of goodwill, he's become strangely attached to you, pronouncing you best buds. he then admits he used to live with a larger group of people (hence his cooking habits), and he's thankful for your company. (you'd argue you're getting the better end of the deal, receiving free food like this)

exhibit b: he's always available to help you in your troubles. need a hand with heavy groceries? he's on his way! ran out of soy sauce? just wait a bit, he's gonna grab some from the cupboard! forgot your key inside your apartment? then stay at his place for the meantime before the locksmith comes! your shower isn't working well?... he promises he won't peek in the bathroom, so feel free to take a bath h a h a h a. need someone's opinion on what outfit to wear for a date? sure, he's- wait.

YOU'RE GOING ON A DATE?

his face twists weirdly as you showcase two different shirts, asking which one he likes better. you raise an eyebrow when he doesn't dare to utter a single word. “are they both bad?”

he blinks rapidly, then shakes his head laughing. he half-heartedly points to the shirt in your left hand, but you can tell he doesn't really think much of it. he excuses himself fairly quickly, saying he had chores to do, and scurried back to his own home.

(you were only going to a date with ayaka's older brother because she insisted you both needed a love life, but it's not like you actually feel anything for him.)

it doesn't end there. thoma acts weird sometimes. he's strangely cold when he sees you inviting kazuha to your apartment to hang out. he also stiffens when he spots xiao walking you home.

but by far, he acted the weirdest when your phone number called him, but when he answered, he heard a different voice respond.

it's childe, whom you went drinking with. he doesn't know where you live, and you're not nearly sober enough to return home on your own, and it's not like you'll agree to staying over childe's house. you also refuse telling him your address, so childe is left with no choices but to call for someone he knows.

he uses your fingerprint to unlock the password in your phone, heading straight for your contact list, and dialed thoma.

it doesn't take long for thoma to arrive where you are, panting after running for a while, and childe is almost impressed. thoma hoists you up and you obediently wrap your arms around him.

“sorry for the trouble. [name]'s dead drunk as you can see,” childe comments, chuckling to himself. thoma doesn't look amused and replies with, “it's no trouble at all. i'd be glad to help [name] anytime.”

then in a way that almost seems possessive, thoma leaves childe behind.

so now when you arrive home, bouquet in your arms, red dusting your features, thoma is displeased once more.

(yet he is envious of those who can freely profess their affections, because he's certain if he were to ever admit his feelings to you, things can never be the same.)

gorou:

you first suspected childe because you thought the bouquet of flowers was a joke, but if it wasn't and it was real with the intentions of sweeping you off your feet...

then you might have another suspect in mind.

gorou is... a funny guy. can you put it like that? you don't know what to think of him. he's nice, you already know that very well, kokomi's good friends with him and told you a few stories about him, all of which are sweet and amusing. your first impression of him was that of a pure-hearted boy that can do no wrong.

he's younger than you by a year, and kokomi was fairly excited when she first told you he would be attending the same university soon. she promised to introduce you to him in hopes you'd be friends as well.

and okay, you could get behind that. there's nothing wrong with meeting new people. gorou sounded like a great guy too, and it'd be nice to take care of someone younger. you've been coddled by your seniors the past year as a freshman, and you thought it would only be right if you did the same to the new batch of students.

so you attended the welcoming party kokomi dragged you into. it was just a small gathering to get the freshmen familiarize themselves with older students, and she told you you'd get to meet gorou there, her eyes carefully scanning the crowd in pursuit of a specific face.

just as you were reminiscing over the past where your sadistic seniors encouraged you to drink a lot in the last welcoming party, shuddering in fright, kokomi tapped your shoulder and gestured to the brown haired boy standing before you.

it must be him. per courtesy, your lips curled into a practiced smile, exuding an amicable air. kokomi briefly exchanged a few words with him, but it looked like she was doing all the talking, the male frozen in spot as if he'd seen something strange.

he stared at you blankly, eyes slightly widened, and you slowly became unnerved with his vacant gaze, your smile faltering. you made eye contact with kokomi, silently questioning her, but she gave a subtle shrug of her shoulders, also confused by his behavior.

then, completely out of everyone's expectations, he'd dropped to the floor.

gorou had knelt on the ground with one steady knee, solemn in his endeavors. in an instant, your hand was seized, fingers enclosed in his warm palm. his piercing stare was impassioned, sincere at its core. heat shot up to the tips of your ears.

“marry me!”

his voice resounded in the entire room, earning unwanted attention. the chatter halted immediately, all eyes dedicated to the spectacle that was the both of you, and your mind began to spin, cold sweat dripping down your forehead.

your voice was caught in your throat, not knowing what to say, and all you could formulate was a garbled string of incoherent mess. undeterred, the grasp on your hand was unrelenting, gorou committed through this act until the very end.

everyone was thinking the same thing: we haven't even started drinking yet, but this little guy is drunk already??

shameless. crazy. a head with loose screws. you're probably the only one who'd describe gorou that way.

but what kind of sane man would say that upon first meeting???

kokomi quickly tried to mediate the situation for him, pulling him away and patting his back to knock him out of his dazed stupor, and pushed you to the farthest corner.

she vouched for him when she saw your puzzled expression, thinking of him as a weirdo, and she insisted he's normally not that odd. she swears he was never interested in dating before, and she isn't sure what changed for him to... propose... all of a sudden... to you, who he'd barely seen for ten seconds, no less.

naturally, it feels strange for you to see him. after that disastrous encounter, gorou — who did feel embarrassment for what he did, horrified at his own impulsiveness — tried to make amends, backtracking steps (he skipped way too many and immediately went to propose lol) and treating you normally like a friend of a friend, slowly trying to make the atmosphere between you casual instead of a freezing blizzard that kills off the amicable mood.

in spite of all that, however, you do feel as if his feelings are actually genuine. he can be clumsy, and incredibly so, you don't know who else could propose to another person within a span of a minute meeting them for the first time, but he means well! you started off on the wrong foot, and maybe this bouquet of flowers is him trying to curry your favor... or something...

yet all he gives is a disbelieving look, and that's enough to provide a clear answer: it's not from him, and he's upset.

it,, probably wasn't a good idea to ask someone who likes you about another person who likes you.

but if it isn't him, who else could it be?!

windrise had such lovely breezes, and soon you found that your anger had seemingly fluttered away with the calming winds. your walk had allowed you time to think, of both the words diluc spoke and your own behavior. neither of you were very polite or mature about your handling of the matter, much to your chagrin.

after some thought collecting at the large tree near windrise, you legs found themselves dragging towards dawn winery where you had only been hours earlier engaged in the fight of your life, with the love of your life. what was it about? you hardly remembered anymore, but what you craved most was not vengeance or the ability to be right, but diluc's arms wrapped firm around your waist and his intoxicating scent of fresh grapes and aged wine. you longed to run your hands through his thick locks instead of pulling out your own, or feel his palm, gloved or bare, in your own instead of anxiously digging crescent shaped holes into the flesh of your palms.

the doors to the winery felt as heavy as led when you placed your hands and pushed with all your might.

the usual dim candles that illuminated the winery were nowhere to be seen; the entirety of the property seemed void of light and deprived of the usual staff scurrying about. the pit in your throat began to jostle your insides but you swallowed it down with firm resolution and set off in search of diluc.

his usual spot, tableside by the fireplace, was devoid of warmth or any semblance of his being save for the reading glasses he often wore while tending to the winery's paperwork. you clutched the pair of spectacles in your hand and prodded around each room with bated breath, hoping to see the familiar mop of red hair.

just as you ascended the stairs and began to approach his office, your heart stilled as did your breath: the faintest of whimpers met your ears in a sorrowful kiss and the creeping hesitance that had been brewing in the deepest confines of your stomach had begun to resurface.

as gently as you could, you approached his office and peered inside.

the mighty diluc, so strong and so brave, looked much more akin to a lost child as he sat slumped in his chair, elbows placed limply on his desk while his hands took it upon themselves to hold his head over countless stray pieces of paperwork. his red locks had fallen out of its usual composed ponytail and poured out in waterfalls over his skin and desk. even from this strained angle, you could see the small splatters of teardrops that fell onto the documents below his face. and sweet barbatos, with every one of his muffled cries and sobs, you felt your heart break and scatter into pieces, a sharp bite coming to tingle at the ends of your eyes when your name passed his lips in a hoarse and whispered voice.

diluc seemed not to notice you as you approached with cautious steps and gently set his reading glasses down in front of him on his lacquered, wooden desk. the gentle stroke of your hand on his head was what tore him from the wallowing fields of his hands.

his eyes scanned over your body, his own hand hesitantly reaching up to overlap the hand you placed on his head. upon feeling the smoothness of your skin and the bumps of your knuckles, diluc bolted from his chair and wrapped his arms so, so tight around your body. the usual solid cadence of his voice felt wobbly and unstable as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck and shook with sobs. you squeezed back with equal force and ran a soothing hand through his mangled locks.

"i thought...i thought you left me," he managed to sputter out in between lulls of choked cries and sharp inhales.

a single tear slipped down your cheek, "shh i'm here now, i wouldn't leave you just like that." and how true it was that you never would.

you pulled his face from your neck and swiped away at the moisture that coated his face. the rims of his scarlet eyes pooled with a never-ending stream of tears. his skin felt hot to the touch as your nimble fingers worked to rub away his sorrow. diluc's hand found its way up to cup your cheek and brushed away at the stray tears that trickled down from the reservoir hidden behind your eyes.

"i'm so sorry, my love. i meant none of what i said, i truly do love you with all my heart. if i had been more mature about it-"

"no, diluc," you gently placed the soft of your palm against his lips to silence him, "don't blame yourself like that. i'm at fault as well, and i'm sorry." the tip of your nose brushed against his before aiming to slot your lips against his for a tender, chaste kiss.

"we can talk about it after you've calmed down, okay?" you asked once pulling away. he nodded in reply and returned his face to your shoulder, allowing his tears to be absorbed by the heat of your skin all while you cradled him in your arms and whispered words of love and reassurance into his hair.

the muffled "i love you" from your shoulder had you weak in the knees, and it was then that you knew that the both of you would be okay, especially when you replied with an "i love you too" in return.

cider lake was breathtaking at night: from the dancing glimmers of moonlight atop its rippling surface, to the gentle, cooling breeze that came in from the lake water. shoes clutched in one hand, your bare feet made soft footfalls and left behind imprints of your existence in the grainy, mushy sand.

surrounded by tranquility, you finally had a moment to breath and think back to your argument with kaeya. you no doubt felt terrible, both for losing your cool and the sharp imprints of his words that still left impact wounds on your heart. it was almost as though kaeya could target your worst insecurities and zero in on them like heat seeking missiles, and he never failed to miss.

but you knew deep within that it was both of your yelling, both of your disagreements that led to where you are now. and with the calming brush of cider lake's waters against your ankles, you knew you were calm enough to talk things out with kaeya. after all, you loved him, flaws and all.

the favonius headquarters were ominous to some at night, but you glided through the lacquered halls with ease, taking great care to empty your shoes of sand and water first. it wasn't the menacing darkness of the halls that worried you, rather the gentle trickle of candlelight from kaeya's office that urged you to turn around and discuss things in the morning. but you knew that you wanted to fix this, that you'd rather fall asleep tonight knowing you could wake up to his charming smile rather than cold sheets.

despite the glow that poured in from his office into the dark halls, only a single candle had been lit by his deskside instead of the usual four or five that he'd placed around the office. instead of facing his desk, kaeya's chair had been turned to gaze outside the large, paneled window that sat behind his desk. from his office, cider lake stretched on and glimmered under the moonlight for as far as the eye could see. with his cheek propped up by his elbow that rested on the arm of the chair, you almost thought he had been sleeping if not for the slightly ragged breaths emitted from his lips.

you cautiously knocked on the wood of his door, "kaeya? it's me."

the man in front of you hardly moved, transfixed on the gentle sloshes of crystal clear water in front of him.

"kaeya, please don't ignore me," your feet felt like on his wooden floors as you approached his chair, "i came here to tell you how sorry i am, not to fight anymore-"

the rest of your sentence fell flat in your throat as you finally came face to face with kaeya.

kaeya whose eyepatch had long since fallen to the floor and laid by his boots. whose hidden, milky eye seemed lost and confused. kaeya whose eyes gently trickled with silent tears. he hadn't noticed your presence until your thumb came to gently swipe away a tear from under his normally hidden eye. he seemed to flip a switch on as his usual seductive (though strained) grin formed on his face.

"finally come crawling back, sweetheart?" and if not for the warble of his voice or the tears cascading down this face, you'd think he was alright.

"oh kaeya," your hand gently pushed kaeya's head into the soft expanse of your body and wrapped around his broad shoulders, "i'm so sorry."

he sat motionless for a while before his arms pulled your body closer to his, and you felt the small vibrations of his hiccups through the cloth of your attire.

"m' so sorry, dove. i didn't mean what i said to you, i promise."

you gently shushed him and stroked the top of his head, "i know, i know, kaeya. i'm sorry too, we both handled it wrong."

your lips pressed themselves against his soft locks, then moved downwards to his forehead, then nose, and finally his quivering lips, sucking away the last of his breaths from deep within his lungs.

"i thought you left me, for good this time." his voice dripped with hesitance as he raised the heel of his palm to his forehead and humorlessly laughed, a strained smile on his face.

"somehow it's always the people i love the most that i hurt, it really is quite funny." despite his words, kaeya sounded so, so sad, as if he'd break under your fingertips.

the words you wanted to speak didn't seem to fit quite right, so instead you opted to squeeze tighter around his body to let him know how real you were, and let him know that you haven't left him.

"i hurt you too, kaeya. and i'm sorry, very sorry. but we can talk about it later, okay?" he didn't respond, but from the gentle, forwards tug of your arm that had you sitting with your legs slung over his lap and the tight grip of his arms around your torso, you had all the answers you needed.

"i love you, i'll always be here for you." you murmured just under a breath as your lips found solace pressing against the eyelid that held his hidden eye.

the gnawing pain in his heart began to slowly ease with every lingering touch you left upon his skin.

zhongli had once told you that the best way to relax in the famed port of liyue was to sit by the docks and count the ships as they entered in and out of the city.

you hadn't expected a use for this fact, nor for him to be right.

your legs dangled over one of the wooden piers, eyes trained on the elegant and grandiose ship that seemed to sparkle with gold in the setting rays of the sun. counting the ships and pointing our their details in accompaniment of a lovely, gentle sea breeze and the smell of salt in the air had given you time to reflect on your fight with childe.

his hair trigger temper and impulsiveness were things you never usually found yourself the victim of, not until today at least. you'd felt fear but never like this, not fear where the man you loved was at the center of it all. fear that he'd leave you, fear that he'd hate you, fear that you were the main source of his anger at that moment.

the momentum of your feet stilled as you recalled the way in which his voice would take on a tender tone in the early hours of the morning, or when his arms would sneak around your sides to startle you out of whatever task you were preoccupied with. you could never lie to yourself: you missed him dearly despite your argument.

which is how you found yourself alone in northland bank, shoes making gentle clicking sounds on the marble floors in search of childe's office. the fear that had been building up in you had manifested into sweat that trickled down your forehead and the nervous clench of your palms. his office was barren of his presence save for the closet door that looked like it had been flung wide open and the scattered mess of papers on his desk that you had helped him organized.

"are you looking for lord tartaglia?"

you turned your head around to face ekaterina, who send you a polite smile hidden beneath the fabric of her mask. you nod in response, unsure of what was to come.

"i'm afraid he just set out, his location was undisclosed." you frowned in response but thanked her nonetheless from preventing your fruitless search.

night had fallen when you emerged from the bank, eyes wide and wandering in search of the familiar head of ginger that you loved so much. your lead-heavy legs dragged you to the outskirts of the city where the hills began to climb and grass rolled heavy at your feet and tickled your ankles. you almost hadn't registered the slight thump of the footsteps behind you.

"(y/n)?"

you turned around at the sound of your name only to be met in a crushing hug by none other than childe himself. "childe?!" startled, your mind instinctively moved to wrap your arms around his waist and run up and down his back. it was only under your touch that you noticed the heave of his shoulder and the slight rasp of his voice.

his shaking hands gently pulled your body away from his to peer into the galaxies contained within your irises and it was then that you noticed the slight reddening of his eyes, the flush of his face, and the tears that cascaded down his cheeks in silent waterfalls. "i-i've been looking all over for you, angel, i-" he tried to speak but it was as if you could see the words getting caught in between coughed sobs and whimpers that pierced your heart and had you beckoning him back into your arms.

your own eyes began to water and soon slipped into a silent river of tears when his arms clutched your body with his life and his sobs heaved themselves into you.

"i'm so sorry, for losing my temper with you. i-i didn't mean it i swear! i just- i'm-"

"hey, hey, childe it's okay," like a lullaby, your soothing voice brought him back from the deep wrangling tentacles of his mind and cradled him in your warmth, "i'm sorry too, i wasn't very nice to you either. but let's talk about it when we're both not a mess, sound good?" the little laugh to the tail end of your sentence still somehow managed to send butterflies through his stomach. even with tears streaming down your face, he still found you so beautiful.

he nodded and kissed your wet lips with all that he was in a silent promise to both himself, and you.

scaramouche's sharp tongue never hurt, never pierced past the protective layer you donned when you took on the title of the balladeer's lover. but it seemed your shield had worn thin, and his venomous tongue had managed to stab holes through your heart and lathered your soul in poison.

you were thankful just this once for the shogun's principle of eternity. in the land that never changed, you found solace in letting the sea breezes of narukami's beaches lull you into a dream where scaramouche's words didn't sink their fangs into your soul, and where you didn't retaliate with arguments that made no sense and were fueled by anger.

but dreams were dreams, and you opened your eyes to the stinging reality that laid before you. bare feet clinging to remnants of sand, your shoes had been discarded on a rock in favor of strolling through the waves at ankle length, letting the water cleanse you of your anger and the breeze to soothe your battered heart.

it wasn't like scaramouche at all to lash out at you, sure his tongue was sharper than any knife he wielded, but you knew just how much he treasured you even if his words betrayed his heart. and it was that single thought that had you picking up your shoes and hurrying back to the little cottage scaramouche had managed to haggle into his hands.

your feet ached and burned from scratching against the dirt path, but you wanted nothing more than to hold him in your arms and tell him just how sorry you were, and hoped that he'd hear the prayers deep within your heart.

the doorknob felt all too heavy in your sweaty palm as you struggled to turn it. perhaps this was fate screaming at you to run far, far away, but fate has never enticed you into its grips, so you turned the doorknob.

the house hummed with silence and basked itself in the glow of the moonlight, devoid of any candles or electro spheres that scaramouche often used to illuminate the home.

"scara?" you called out tentatively in a small voice. with no reply, you heaved a sigh and set your sights on finding whichever corner of the house he'd gone off to.

you didn't need to look far, as a single glance into his home office revealed to you that he hadn't moved an inch since you left the house in a flurry of emotions earlier that day. hunched over his desk, elbows on the wood and head resting on his folded knuckles white from gripping onto thin air.

"scara?" at the gentle call of his name and upon seeing your worried look, he flinched.

"what do you want?" sharp as ever, he refused to look you in the eye and settled for huffing away and favoring a corner of the room. his sleeve came to brush across his eyes and you thought nothing of it.

"i want to talk, if you're willing." as if to test the waters, you took a cautious step forward. with the click of your shoe on the hardwood, scaramouche rose from his desk and slammed his palms face down onto the lacquered wood.

"i don't. leave." you would have respected his wishes, if not for the single glimmer of a tear that streaked down his flushed face illuminated by the moonlight.

"are you sure-"

"LEAVE! I SAID LEAVE! GO AWAY!" the sudden outburst hadn't phased you the way his rolling tears and choked sobs did. he tried to scream more profanities and "go away!"s at you, but his words were nestled between the crook of muffled cries and whimpers. instead of leaving, you found yourself coming closer and closer until your arms had found their way around his shoulders and your hand began to stroke his soft locks.

scaramouche thrashed and screamed threats and murderous words that would've had anyone else's blood boiling, but you knew from the salty tears that cascaded down his cheeks that he was just as hurt as you were.

"i'm not leaving you like this, scara." you cooed as the hand that had been stroking his hair moved to wipe away the tears from his eyes.

those words alone seemed to break the dam that had been holding back all of his tears, even if they came out in angry glares and single drops of tears rather than sobs. his hesitant arms found their way around your waist and squeezed tightly.

"why...why do you stay with me?" he asked in an out of character, soft, tentative voice that strained with emotion. "i can't watch my mouth...and you put up with all my bullshit. i don't get it."

"that's an easy question, it's because i love you, dummy." with a watery laugh and tears of your own in your eyes, you pressed a chaste kiss first to his cheek, then to his parted lips which tasted of salty tears and indulgence.

"and, i'm sorry for our fight earlier. we can talk things out later though, for now i wanna give you some cuddles." cheekily, you made grabby motions with your hands and smiled despite the evident tears on your face.

his pride would never allow him to mumble those sugary apologies you yearned to hear, but scaramouche had a way of speaking to you in which no words were needed. the slight tug of his arms around your waist and his muffed breaths accompanied by the burning touch of his skin and tears in his eyes were all you needed to know how sorry he was.

all your worries washed away as did the tears on his face fade when you reciprocated his love as best you could despite his flaws.

he made you a paw-shaped clay sculpture!

it was cute and small, fitting right into the palm of your hands

to others—it may look like some worn-down toy, but to you, it was a good luck charm from the ever-cute razor

but perhaps, it wasn’t quite the clay-shape that you held close to your heart... no, it was the strenuous effort razor put into sculpting the paw

you remember it vividly. how the boy would dig his hands into mud and sit under the burning sun, carving the dirt with his bare fingers as he hid the gift from your sight

so when a good-for-nothing hilichurl decides razor’s paw-shape charm was a nice pebble for hot potato... boy were you livid

Patting the ground beside you, [e/c] eyes widened upon the feeling of nothing but grass.

What...? Peering over, you stared blankly at the empty space, comical arrows pointing at the now-gone charm you had received from Razor. Just where was it? You swore it was right beside you...

And as if Barbatos were laughing at you, the wind blew, burning your eyes as the sight of mitachurls and hilichurls danced around the fire in the distance, tossing what looked like a rock into the air.

Ah. 

You blinked.

That was the charm Razor made.

first of all... how did the hilichurl get it? the charm was literally right beside you!

agh, whatever.

you’ll just retrieve it. easy, right?

no.

first of all, your power would literally turn the lush grass into a desolate canyon (not really). second of all, you’d probably end up destroying the paw in your rampage

hah...

—if the hilichurl didn’t destroy it first

Materializing your weapon, you couldn’t help but hope that the paw had miraculously survived the impact of a hilichurl throwing it against the floor.

Hah, what were you thinking? Of course it didn’t... physics just didn’t allow it.

But you know what physics did allow? Why, beating these enemies to a pulp, of course!

once you floored the hilichurls, you quickly scrambled as to look for signs of the paw anywhere

berating yourself as to how utterly foolish you were for letting it go and leaving it unguarded in the first place, you stared in defeat at the sight of crumbled clay and hardened dirt in the grass of the hilichurl camp

why? why were you so careless? seriously, how did this happen? if you had just kept it in your backpack like a regular person, razor’s hard-earned hours and craft would still be as grand as ever-

“[y/n]?”

Blinking, you hadn’t realized you had been sulking in the midst of this hilichurl camp. [E/C] eyes lifted up, widening once they had landed on none other than Razor, his crimson eyes like the agates that littered Dragonspine, his hair as grey as stormclouds.

“Ah... Razor...” You smiled in exasperation, staring at anywhere but said boy. How could you face him after watching his clay paw get destroyed by some measly hilichurls?

“Are you okay?” He asked, glancing around at the scene before him. The grass wilted, the camp that he remembered being obnoxiously loud and disturbing was silent and empty.

“Yeah, no biggie,” Waving off his concern, you began to walk away, your heart sinking with each step.

First, you let his gift get destroyed. Second, you walk away from him.

You were such a terrible partn—

“[Y/N]?” Razor’s voice cut through the air, a tension you had created solely on the thoughts of your own mind. Gripping your wrist with a tender touch, you didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes drooped down ever so slightly.

“Did I... make lupical mad?”

Gulping, you quickly waved your hands in front of your face, eyes widened as you tried to carefully explain the series of events that had just led down to this very moment.

“I—well, you see, your uh, paw-clay-thingy... I was careless and I—“

“Break it while hunting?” Razor answered, tilting his head as his hold merely stayed still, not wavering for a second, as if you were a boar in his hands.

“Ah...” 

Razor was much better at observation than you had thought.

“It’s okay. I make more for lupical,” Razor nodded, already beginning to pace over to a pond as he dipped his gloved hands into the water, wafting around for dirt as you rushed up behind him.

“Wait! But I was careless... you don’t need to make ano—“

“It’s for lupical. Lupical close, I give lupical gift that never break.”

Everlasting—that was what he wanted to make.

And a part of you couldn’t help but agree.

albedo, in all of his alchemy prowess, made you an artificial flower

how? don’t ask him. he’ll spew some lengthy thesis and paragraph about the fundamentals, the research, the prototype, the testing, the—

ahem, anyways!

you had never intended to bring it outside. but one day, you had left your camp under the supervision of barbatos (wow go barbatos) and ventured off to fetch some materials

and when you came back? you were met with the sight of hilichurls and slimes raving around your tent

what the—

“I...I’m hallucinating,” You deadpanned, slapping your wrist at the sight of pyro slimes and masked hilichurls dancing around your tent, the inside of your humble abode moving around as if it were possessed.

And the cherry on top? A pyro abyss mage emerged, the flower floating besides it. But oh boy, it was no flower anymore... it was a flaming flower.

At that moment, you were left to ponder. Maybe, just maybe, you kinned a whopperflower at that point. Because oh boy did your temper and sanity explode on those little enemies, the way your blade sunk into their forms—

you were already planning your apology to albedo. he trusted you and loved you enough to make an artificial flower for you... and yet, it so pitifully crumbled at your touch

okay, not quite your touch. but it crumbled at the ugly pyro abyss mage’s touch

so, as any good s/o would do, you sulked while rebuilding your camp. it’s okay. as long as albedo didn’t know his creation was charred, all would be well. besides! he was quite a busy man! chances were low that he’d discover!

busy, he was, observant, he is

perhaps, you should’ve known

“Ah... hi Albedo,” You winced, opening your tent to smile at the alchemist who merely stared at you.

“You were gone for a while. Is everything okay?” He noted, remembering your absence from visiting his own camp at Dragonspine. As an alchemist, he knew what it was like being holed up in a camp. But for two weeks? Even he needed breaks.

“Well, you see... I was out... gathering materials! Yes!” You gave him a weak thumbs-up, wailing internally once his piercing azure eyes trailed around your camp, noting that nothing looked new. 

 “You don’t need to lie to me, [Y/N]. Is something the matter?”

“I’m sorry!” You cut off, clapping your hands together in a prayer-like position, guilt welling up in the pit of your stomach.

“...Why?”

“Your flower—I left it unsupervised and it was set aflame and I’m so so so sor—“

“Don’t be.”

Mouth dropping, you stared up at the male, an amused expression painting his face like the canvases he dedicated to you.

“At least you were not hurt while it was set aflame. Come, I’ll show you how to make some more,” Opening your tent for you all the way, Albedo held a hand out to you, eyes flickering in mirth.

“And next time, don’t try to run away from your problems.”

“You cheeky littl—“ A blush of both embarrassment and fluster formed on your face, shocked at his sudden remark.

he made you an adepti amulet

enhanced with super-cool-adepti-no-mortal-can-have power, xiao had informed you that all you needed to do was hold up the amulet and it’d scare any kind of enemies away!

cool, right? too bad you left it unattended while fighting the irritable anemo cube! now it’s at the bottom of the sea <3

how did this happen, exactly? well... you see... when wind picks up and becomes strong... light-weight objects will fly up into the air!

and sometimes, those light weight objects will fall into the sea, and sometimes, those objects would be gifts from your adeptus boyfriend who was waiting for you back at wangshu inn—

ahem. anyways. you beat the crap out of the anemo cube (aka, beth. aka, tornado cube. aka, cube waifu)

I should just... not go back to Wangshu Inn today. Haha... I’ll go ask Katheryne for a commission... You nodded, stuffing the turquoise shards of wind into your pockets, your bags filled with mora and enhancement ores being thrown off the side of the cliff.

—Along with the adepti amulet Xiao had made for you.

Seriously... you still had to wonder just how that happened! One second, you were avoiding getting sucked up by the vent of the anemo cube... and the next, your bag was traveling the world!

Can’t have shit in Teyva—

Trekking back to Mondstadt in defeat, you were innocently oblivious to the worry of the Yaksha back in Liyue.

are they okay? do they need help? did they go to dragonspine? all these questions spun around xiao’s head as he watched the moon rise, his mask dissipating into the wind

you told him you’d return tonight... yet you hadn’t. and a part of him had wished you hadn’t left liyue, so he had at least some control over whatever dangers dared to attack you

but, he knew you were strong. why else would he love you, anyway? he does not find appeal in being the savior 24/7

so, he waits. atop the balcony of wangshu inn, across the stars and moon, he prays to his archon, wishing—no, hoping you arrive safely

And—you did. You arrived back at Wangshu Inn.

... Three weeks later.

“You’re late. Very late,” Xiao’s voice blared in your ears, a blessing and a curse all at the same time. You didn’t know how to tell him the amulet was thrown off a cliff—but at the same time, you really wanted to run your fingers through his hair.

“Haha... sorry about that,” You laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of your head as Xiao merely grumbled, appearing before you with a piercing stare.

“Where were you? You did not even send me a letter.”

“I’m sorry... it’s just... eh... well...” You looked away, your heart churning against your ribs as Xiao extended his index finger out, tilting your chin to face him.

“What?” He asked, his tone harsh yet soft, longing yet logical.

“I uh... kind of... lost your adepti amulet... I’m sorry.”

He blinked.

“You waited three weeks to tell me that?” He asked in disbelief, almost in disappointment. Seriously, he was an adeptus! A Yaksha, at that! He could’ve just made another one for you... But nooo... you decided to wait three weeks in the land of the free (America?) and then worry him to death.

“Mortals...” Xiao muttered under his breath, crossing his arms with a huff as he turned his head away, the wind picking up.

“Hey, wait! Aren’t you going to say anything? Like a disappointed lecture or something?”

“No.”

Disappearing, you facepalmed, already pulling out some sweetflowers and milk to whip up some almond tofu.

Damn that adeptus. Who was he to tug your heartstrings like that?

You sighed, sitting beside a cooking pot as lingering yellow eyes watched your form, their irises softening at the sight.