hind!!

Wanderer was at the market buying spices when a scene between a mother and her child happened. The child was crying, pointing to a little doll on the shopkeeper's table and the mother was pulling him away, desperate to stop his tantrum. Wanderer didn't know what possessed him but he found himself kneeling to the child, pulling out the doll he always carried with him.

The doll itself wasn't remarkable, a small copy of himself. Dark indigo blue hair and white clothes with a single tear at his eyes.

Wanderer gently pushed the doll in the child's hands and the crying stopped. The child had looked up at him, eyes shimmering with tears before a bright smile took his place.

Wanderer didn't know why he gave it away. It wasn't like him to be impulsive. Maybe it was because of the same shade of hair, the same face and eyes as... The child that once promised him that they could be family. The child that died and broke his promise.

He scoffs at himself, feeling hollow without the doll in his possession. It was a physical tear to his heart and he couldn't understand why. Maybe this was why he was thrown away. Maybe he was, after all that has happened, still too emotional. Still too stupid to understand himself.

He nearly chokes as he feels arms wrapping around him from the back. Wanderer stays absolutely still for a moment before looking back at you.

He had specifically chosen this place because it was nearly inaccessible to anyone normal. He had flown so high and searched for a secluded place in the forest and yet...

"You know you don't have to be alone."

His lips began to twitch as if he was about to cry just like the child in the market, but he holds himself back. He couldn't cry now, especially with you here.

"How did you..." His voice is gruff but shaky.

You simply press him tighter to your chest, laying your head on his shoulder. "Nahida told me you dissappeared. I went looking for you."

He swallows and nods slowly. He hates this. Hates how Buer had noticed his absence and cared enough to warn you, and how you cared enough to come searching. You shouldn't care. Not about a worthless being such as himself.

But you slowly turn him around and cup his cheeks. He can't find the strength to look you in your eyes. You were never meant to see someone with the potential of a god crying.

You coo softly, wiping his tears away and leaning closer, trying to tilt your head so your eyes can meet.

"She told me about your doll." You whisper, your eyes falling onto where his hand is still gripping the golden feather. The symbol of an archon's favour, of their proof that he was made by a god.

"You were very kind."

He doesn't need this! He doesn't need you telling him anything! He doesn't want to hear your worthless praise!

And yet, he shudders, eyes closing as another tear slips down his cheek. "What... Does it matter."

"It mattered to you." You continue holding his cheeks, warming the moistness of his face.

"Listen, I don't know everything about you. You're harsh. You're blunt." You start, comfortably settling down on your knees. "But you have the purest heart I've ever seen. I won't pretend to know your agony."

You lean your head forward, rubbing your forehead against his. You breathe in his scent - a unique blend of wind and rain and subtle smell of the forest clinging to him.

"But I want you to know that truly, I love you. Like the sun loves the moon and how the wind kisses the earth. Truly my dearest. I hope you know it."

As you slowly pull back, three more tears have been conjured up and he's breathlessly staring up at you.

Bonus:

akai shuichi

akai was never the type to display his affection in public, the only times he did it was in the past, for the sake of one of his missions.

with you however, it was as if his world went upside down. you always held either his hand or his arm whenever the two of you walked around, be it a date or simply to get to somewhere to meet some friends.

at first, he was very skeptical about these little gestures, and very shy. when you held his hand he would always put both of yours in his pocket, with a barely noticeable flush around his cheeks and ears.

the more months passed, he grew accustomed to your display of affection, even though he always prefers locking arms with you and walking side to side.

somehow, whenever you hold his hand, you always try to drag him somewhere out of excitement, and he doesn’t like rushing his moments with you like this. he wants to enjoy every single second, even your walks together.

even if it doesn’t show, akai is very polite, old fashioned even. he likes to court you, he always brings some gifts whenever you see each other. be it flowers, chocolate, a ticket to an amusement park, every little thing that you might express on wanting to do he is already on it, sometimes even before you say it out loud.

he knows really well that going out in public could be dangerous for the both of you, that’s why he always calls yukiko to change his and yours appearance. so that every time you look like a different couple. you find this very amusing, almost exciting. every time you look forward to it, and maybe, he does too.

amuro tooru

your dates with amuro always start at the poirot, be it that you are waiting for his shift to end, be it that you are there previously with ran, sonoko and azusa and he joins you briefly. whenever he sees you, he always, always makes time to come to you and press a kiss on your cheek. it’s become a greeting for the two of you.

he loves showing to everyone that you are his partner, his precious half. most of the times you’re at the bar, he gets so focused on you that everything else disappears, the cappuccino half made, the brand new dish strangely won’t come out the way he wants. you always find a way to his mind, that’s gets him every time.

amuro’s favorites spots for a date are very different from one another, but they always have a precise goal: spoil you.

he wants to take you in beautiful, but hidden gems of the town, knowing you like pretty sceneries. sometimes, he even buys high speed train tickets or airplane tickets to bring you to some spots.

his casual dates on the other hand, usually consist in shopping districts. he knows how much you love to buy things, be it clothes, books, gadgets, he is always looking for new stores that could suit your tastes and make you happy. of course, he insists to pay all the time. sometimes, the both of you have a race to the counter, because you want to pay for yourself of course. but he always beats you to it.

your daily dates end usually at his place, while he is making dinner for you. he knows perfectly what you like to eat, and he has mastered all the recipes.

heiji hattori

heiji is very clumsy with his emotions. he likes showing you off to his friends, he gets very protective when people try to approach you carelessly, he almost shouts when talking to you because of his excitement.

he still needs to learn how to manage his feelings and emotions. but he really tries his best to do whatever he can to make you happy, he really does.

but somehow…luck is not on his side, most of the times.

when he finally gets to secure a spot for the both of you either a murder happens or the weather is disastrous.

there was once specific time when he was able to book a trip for the both of you, a cheap but cute hotel, near to the beach. simple, but effective. he knew how much you liked to relax at the beach, so he spent all of his savings to make this vacation happen.

the first day when you two arrived, it was pouring, not a heavy rain so the damage was not too severe. he quickly adjusted the beach day to an aquarium date. all was going well so far, and he was very happy while explaining you all the different types of fishes there were in there.

there was first a manta fish, a catfish, even a baby shark and…a body?

at that point, you both knew the date was about to be ruined, not because of the body, but because some people recognised the great detective of kansai, and immediately started asking for help.

heiji wasn’t done though, he had a back up plan for the night. he read an article about a stargazing spot, just near the hotel he meticulously selected. he was very adamant about it, very excited to solve the case and get out of there.

when he finally caught the culprit, he grabbed your hand, leading you outside with a big smile, anticipating the sight of you and the stars at night. then you got outside, and a rain drop fell on your cheek. and then another, and then another one. the light pouring had transformed into a rainstorm.

at the end, you both laughed. it was more you than him. the thought that he could resolve a crime but not take a look at the weather forecast was hilarious to you.

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐

Despite the streets of Fontaine quite literally serving as Wriothesley’s home for a period of his life, “home” was the last word he would use to describe them. 

Streets so full of life, yet so devoid of what made it worth living. Boulevards he’d wandered as a lost teenager, struggling to make himself useful, to keep himself alive for his sole purpose of ridding the world of the evil that had raised him. Between apathetic stares looking down on his disheveled young form—as if his existence itself were some kind of unforgivable sin—and curious Melusine eyes gazing up at him when he was at death’s door, offering soup with a humanity that only a non-human could ever extend to him, there was hardly any more sense of belonging to be found in Vasari Passage than the hellscape of a foster home he’d escaped from. 

The stone paths reminded him not only of the world’s cruelty, but of his own. Every lightless alley and crime-ridden sector that those so-called defenders of justice turned a blind eye to served as a physical manifestation of the turbid depths his mind could pull him into. Everywhere he roamed, a loyal trail of red always followed, staining the pristine walkways with blood that dripped and dripped and dripped from his fists, never to be washed clean. 

Those stubborn shadows of the past hanging as heavy on his shoulders as the thick coat he donned, coupled with his general distaste for being seen—or, Archons forbid, recognized—in public, all cultivated an atmosphere that was far from ideal any time he had to make a trip to The Court of Fontaine. Even the calming blue haze of a cloudless sky did little to ease his tension; in fact, knowing that his face was perfectly visible to every passing stranger made it all the more unnerving.

When weaving through the chattering crowds with you by his side, however, he found that the experience became more tolerable—enjoyable, even, on days such as this one. The streets of Fontaine may have never felt like home to him, but over the years he’d developed the quiet, but firm belief that a home could be made just about anywhere as long as he was with you.

The sound of barking, shrill and frenzied, yanked him out from the meandering hallways of his head and back to the present. He couldn’t decide whether he should take it as a good or bad sign that he’d allowed himself enough lenience to zone out so severely in the middle of the quarter. Though, considering that even his daydreams were purely centered around assessments of danger—both past and present—he figured he could cut himself some slack.

Wriothesley’s gaze darted to you before he even bothered to locate the source of the noise. He was met with your eyes staring right back at him, a distinct glint passing over them, like you’d just uncovered a revolutionary secret. “About time something caught your interest,” you remarked. “Seems like they’re having an adoption event of some kind across the street. Wanna take a look?”

He followed the direction of your head tilt, and sure enough, on the other side of the square he found the culprit that had snapped him out of his thoughts; an exceedingly hyper dog—more of a puppy, really—with a dark, mottled coat, yapping gleefully away at every passing individual, barely restrained by the leash tethering it to the shop pole. A large tent had been set up near the central fountain, sheltering several crates of dogs, cats, rabbits, and birds of all sizes and colors. The entire set-up had a homey, welcoming aesthetic to it as opposed to the lux and glamor of a typical Fontanian boutique, and its makeshift sign with the words “Adoption Fair” displayed in bright, clumsily painted letters only added to its charm.

A smile played at your lips when you noticed how visibly Wriothesley perked up over the sight, like a wolf responding to the howls of his kin.

“Might as well,” he shrugged, but his feet were already turning in the animals’ direction. “Cages mean they can’t run away if I frighten them, at least.”

“As if you could in the first place.” You trailed after him with a scoff that failed to mask your fondness, not when his boots were gliding over the ground with an eagerness that he only seemed to have reserved for new batches of tea arriving in the Fortress. “Animals are as innocent as they come, and only the guilty have any reason to fear you.”

Good-natured as it was, your reasoning had an odd effect on him, chest fluttering with a sensation he’d always considered far too delicate for him to experience. “Oh? Is that an indirect way of calling yourself innocent, too?” he quipped over his shoulder. 

You pretended to mull it over for a moment. “I’d say our sins cancel out pretty evenly.”

Wriothesley could only chuckle in response, because he knew you wouldn’t approve of what he truly wanted to say in return. As if he wouldn’t consider you far more righteous than him even if you bathed these streets with his blood. You could’ve plunged your hand into his chest right there and ripped his heart out for all to witness, and he’d still use his final breath to defend your honor. Instead, his hand simply brushed against yours as you matched his hurried steps, not quite interlocking your fingers, but lingering for long enough to tell you that he wished he could. 

Your nerves buzzed with delight when you caught a glimpse of his expression; pale, droopy eyes brightened with a childlike wonder that he would swear up and down had died long ago. Unbeknownst to him—though, that may have just been wishful thinking on your part, given how keeping anything a secret from that sharp mind of his was nigh impossible—the entire purpose of your trip that afternoon was to provide you with a chance to scope out possible gifts for his upcoming birthday. It was still several weeks away, but you’d learned your lesson years ago that roundabout measures like these were necessary when it came to doing just about anything for Wriothesley. Especially considering how urging him to express interest in even the smallest of gifts was about as enjoyable as pulling teeth for both parties involved. 

He’d spent most of the day in a mood as pleasant as you could ask for when browsing the shops of Quartier Lyonnais; easygoing almost to the point of passiveness. Whether it was an intricately crafted teacup set or a limited edition detective novel to add to the collection in his office, he looked over every potential candidate you brought to his attention with the very same air of calm he always did. Eyes never expressing more than the appropriate amount of curiosity, brows deceptively relaxed, lips only showing traces of a smile when he snuck glances at you. 

It made the crack in his visage all the more gratifying, now. The excitement was written plainly all over his face, rays of sunlight that so rarely found him, now illuminating his jaded features to paint a picture you had trouble looking away from. With that same puppy from earlier now leaping at his boots in a fit of glee, Wriothesley looked just about seconds away from scooping it up in his arms and making a run for it to start a new life together.

“Welcome!” A young woman, one of the few volunteers hosting the event, chirped as soon as she took notice of you. “All the animals here are up for adoption, so feel free to look around! And please let me know if you have any questions.”

You thanked the woman with a smile, while Wriothesley gave her a brisk, gracious nod, far too preoccupied with the bundle of energy at his feet to get roped up into any idle chatter. Its tail was wagging a mile a minute, and the wide, unrestrained beam stretched across Wriothesley’s face had you musing that if he had one of his own, it would be doing the exact same.

“How cute,” you cooed, crouching down to bring yourself to level with the puppy, because you knew that Wriothesley would hesitate to take the initiative on his own. It brushed its wet nose over your hand for just a few seconds, giving you a friendly lick before turning its attention back to the man beside you. Small teeth that had yet to fully develop nibbled at the straps of his boots, as if to pull him closer. “This little guy’s really taken a liking to you, Wrio.” 

Sure enough, Wriothesley followed your lead like clockwork. With a soft grunt, that tall, imposing form of his sank down next to you, one arm resting on his knees, while the other extended carefully to allow the puppy to sniff his hand. “Must have pretty poor survival instincts, then.” 

His tone was lighthearted, but the self-deprecating tug at the corners of his mouth, probably meant to be disguised as another smile, didn’t have you fooled. 

“Seems like a good judge of character to me,” you hummed. “Animals have a knack for sensing kind souls, don’t they?”

Wriothesley blinked at you, unsure of what to say for a moment. Regardless of how much time had passed, he would never grow accustomed to how effortlessly you differentiated between his wry sense of humor and the flickers of self-loathing that slipped through its cracks every now and then, instinctively knowing when to play along, and when to gently steer him in another direction. It always left the tips of his ears feeling a bit hot, from the embarrassment of being seen through so easily, and the tenderness that came with it.

He cleared his throat. “I suppose I should say I’m honored then,” he said with a half-grin; genuine, once more. He twisted his wrist and spread his palm out to the puppy, as if inviting it to shake his hand, and to your amazement, it pawed curiously at him in return, tilting its head to the side when you and Wriothesley broke out into shared chuckles.

“Adorable, isn’t he?” The coordinator, who seemed to have taken immediate notice of Wriothesley’s fondness for the little dog, chimed in.

“Dangerously so,” he agreed. “Does he have a name?”

“Not yet, I’m afraid. We found him just a few days ago, wandering near Bertin’s House of Curiosities.” She gestured to the shop in question where it stood further down the street. “Given how friendly he is with humans, I can only assume he had previous owners that he was either abandoned by, or separated from.”

A wistful look crossed over his face, one that you recognized all too well. Brows furrowing, he gave the puppy a few scratches behind its ears, and your chest began to feel heavy for more reasons than one when his eyes clouded over, back to their typical, matte quality. 

“With a glowing personality like that, I’m sure he’ll find a new home in no time,” he murmured. His stare was still fixated on the animal, yet somehow, you got the sense that he wasn’t quite looking at it anymore. 

“I certainly hope so,” she responded with a tinge of pity. For the first time, you noticed just how tired the young woman and her fellow employees seemed to be, face betraying her weariness in the few heartbeats she allowed her polite smile to fade. You shot her a sympathetic look just as you felt Wriothesley shift next to you, rising to full standing again, as if he sensed that another minute spent with the joyful bundle of fur would effectively rid him of every last shred of self-control in his body. 

Still, he didn’t quite look prepared to leave yet. Giving the puppy one last affectionate pat, you stood up as well to find him observing a pair of kittens in a nearby crate, their tiny paws sticking out as far as the metal wires would allow them. 

“May we?” you asked, motioning towards the cage. He shot you a puzzled look, ready to protest, but the shopkeeper was at your side in a flash, keys in hand.

“Of course!” She made quick work of unlocking the carrier door so that you could greet the kittens properly, maybe even pick one of them up if you could convince Wriothesley to go that far. “They’re a bit shyer than that little fella, though, so approach them with care, if you don’t mind.”

You knew that Wriothesley would have done so regardless, but given that his appearance didn’t exactly scream gentle, you also knew to give her a nod of reassurance, as did he. It didn’t take long for one of the kittens’ curiosity to pique, a short-haired brown tabby, slowly padding its way from the back of the cage towards your outstretched hands. You weren’t sure whether it was the residual scent of the dog you’d just pet, or simply a distaste for your energy, but the cat gave you no more than a cautious sniff or two before turning towards Wriothesley and butting its head against his gloved hand without a moment’s hesitation. 

His amusement was clear in the way his lips twitched, and you might’ve been offended by the kitten’s blatant bias if seeing how Wriothesley mellowed at his edges again didn’t make it all worth it. You couldn’t necessarily blame the creature, anyway; in spite of the unpleasant blend of aromas that hung heavy in Meropide’s damp air—between the thick, inescapable gases constantly pumping from the production zone and the near-sickening tinge of seawater that seemed to coat everything—Wriothesley always managed to smell exceptionally good in comparison. Clean and natural, not drowning in the chemicals of cologne, but tinged with just the right amount of a woody edge that, ironically enough, reminded you of the world above. A scent that was pleasantly subtle, the kind you never truly realized how much you loved until it faded from your senses.

A steady purr rumbled in the cat’s throat as Wriothesley scratched beneath its chin with less force compared to how passionately he’d patted the touch-starved puppy. It set off a fresh wave of affection with you; for someone who had so few chances to interact with animals, he certainly knew how to treat each one in the way that suited it best. 

“Look at that, it’s like I don’t even exist to them,” you whistled, giving the wolf broach that was pinned to his chest a playful flick. “Starting to think those accessories of yours aren’t just for show, Wrio. Don’t tell me you’ve been able to communicate with animals all this time.”

He snorted. “It’d certainly make gathering intel a hell of a lot easier. Who needs an underground intelligence network when you can just ask the finches to share all their secrets with you?”

“Bet they’d make for more interesting conversation than a lot of humans, too.”

He smirked, not even bothering to deny it. The kitten, who seemed to have taken a liking to how his silver rings felt against its cheeks, began rubbing its face shamelessly up and down the ridges of his knuckles, and you weren’t sure what had you more captivated—the adorable sight, or the rare one of Wriothesley’s teeth gleaming in the sunlight; a full, pearly grin.

“Are you looking to adopt, today?” A voice interrupted, and you lifted your head to find another employee eyeing the two of you with a hopeful look on his face. The answer you wished you could give was on the tip of your tongue, but you kept quiet, waiting for Wriothesley to respond first. It wasn’t as if it had never crossed your mind to adopt a pet for yourself so that he could have an animal to care for without worrying about it being locked away at the bottom of the ocean—not to mention the perfect excuse it would give him to leave the cell of his office and come visit the overworld more often. But for an occasion such as his birthday, it felt wrong to do. You wanted to give him something for himself, something to call his own and cherish in the way that you knew he was so deeply capable of.

“Just perusing, thank you.” He gave a polite dip of his head, and—much to the kitten’s chagrin—pulled his hand away again, like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. “I’m afraid it wouldn’t be fair to any of these little creatures to take them back with me.”

The employee nodded back, though it was evident that Wriothesley’s remark raised some questions in his mind. If only he knew how mutual the feeling of disappointment was.

Gently, Wriothesley shut the kitten’s cage, making certain its door was secure with a few precautionary wiggles. “Shall we get going before the last of my resolve gets crushed by these little paws?” he asked you with a light nudge. 

“If you’ve had your fill.”

“That’s a dangerous metric to go by,” he warned, brow lifting playfully. “We might be here all day.”

“I’m having trouble seeing the issue with that,” you grinned back.

The longing glance he shot towards the puppy, now rolling around to expose its belly in full trust, told you that he couldn’t have agreed more. Its high-pitched bark rang out again as the two of you turned away, as if begging you to bring him along, and you could see Wriothesley’s face twist with the physical effort it took not to cave in right then and there. Even so, you didn’t press the matter any further when he waved goodbye to the employees and continued with you down the street. 

He matched your step with long, steady strides once more, closing just enough distance between the two of you so that he could feel the feather-light brush of your clothes against his arms; a hushed exchange of secrets amidst a roaring crowd. You walked together in silence for a bit, not having to speak a word to know that both of your minds were preoccupied with the same unresolved issues. 

“Have you given any thought to what the Iudex suggested?” you asked softly. “About purchasing property in The Court of Fontaine?”

“Some,” he admitted, a grunt that didn’t come off quite as casual as he’d hoped. “I even read through that comically thick stack of documents. Ended up giving a lot more thought to the parts left unsaid, though.”

“Those being?”

He gestured to the hustle and bustle around him as the evening crowd began to emerge under the setting sun’s orange glow. People he’d dedicated his life to protecting, yet drew the line at being perceived by. Countless faces swam up and down the off-white streets, reminiscent of trout in a stream. The only difference was, trout didn’t pause their journey mid-current to linger over the sight of his striking form, nor did they continue to stare so blatantly even after passing him by, as if to silently remind him that they knew he was no ordinary citizen, that they knew he didn’t belong there. The mere thought of himself becoming a permanent existence in the memories of these strangers, whose minds were less predictable than the change of the ocean tides, sent fresh discomfort creeping up on his spine. 

No elaboration was needed for you to understand, so you let him off with nothing more than a murmur of acknowledgement. Even if it never took much pressure for him to crack when it came to you, there was far more to this choice than one simple conversation could ever cover. Just like the black bandages coiled around his scarred body, unraveling them was only one step of many. It wouldn’t solve the root of the problem; what had festered underneath for so many years.

The two of you stopped by a few more shops before the sun’s final rays began to dwindle, making way for the curtain of nightfall. You could tell Wriothesley was beginning to grow suspicious of all the focus you seemed to be putting on his opinions, so, reluctantly, the rest of your time together was spent mindlessly browsing products that you feigned interest in, praying it would be enough to throw him off. Though your mission to gather ideas for his birthday gift had more or less failed, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel too disappointed after your short detour with the animals had left Wriothesley visibly more cheerful than before, even to the point of suggesting that you extend your outing by stopping for a drink at the Café Lutece.

It wasn’t until you and him agreed to part ways for the evening that the answer to your dilemma came to you in the sound of ticking clocks and clanking bronze. The two of you passed by the brightly lit entrance of Leschots’ Workshop just as you did every time he escorted you home. This time, however, the moment you laid your eyes on the display of creations in its windows, everything clicked in your mind, falling into place as flawlessly as the teeth of clockwork cogs meshing together to bring those very machines to life. 

Containing your excitement until you reached your residence was a challenge, but if Wriothesley took notice of it, he said nothing. In fact, his pace slowed significantly the closer you drew to your street, stretching out every step for all it was worth until you at last arrived in front of your doorstep. He placed a chaste kiss to the back of your hand, and his lips lingered there for a moment, ghosting over your skin with a tenderness that was near electrifying after he’d shied away from expressing his affection so openly all day. 

A part of you didn’t want the moment to end, but, mustering all your willpower, you clamped your jaws shut to prevent yourself from inviting him inside like your whole being yearned to do. If you could make it back to the workshop and place your order before closing, there was a good chance it could be completed in time for his birthday—even if the idea that you had in mind may have been a bit more complicated than Mr. Livre’s usual contraptions.

With a final brush of his thumb over your hand, Wriothesley pulled away.

“Goodnight,” he murmured, eyes not quite meeting yours.

“Goodnight, my love.” Internally, you cursed the streetlamps’ low lighting for depriving you of the faint bloom of pink that you were certain must be creeping up on his ears. “Get home safe, alright?”

It felt just as odd for you to say as it felt for him to hear; the implication that home could be anywhere but with you. Nevertheless, he gave you a reassuring smile before turning to leave, resigning himself to the murky depths once more. You waited by your front door, watching that wolflike silhouette grow smaller and smaller until it stopped at the end of the street to shoot one last look over his shoulder. Knowing that he wouldn’t take his leave until he saw for himself that you’d entered your house safe and sound, you did exactly that. 

By the time you slipped back out into the night and made your way over to Leschots’ Clockwork Workshop, your hand was still tingling with the residual warmth of his kiss.

You were beginning to think you’d gotten the dates mixed up and it was, in fact, Sigewinne’s own birthday present which you’d just revealed to her rather than Wriothesley’s.

“Adorable! Absolutely adorable!” she sang, gloved hands clasping together under her chin, like she was lost in a dream.

“Isn’t it?” With care, you placed the gift back into its decorative box, making sure it was well protected by the padding. “What do you think, Winnie? Will he like it?”

Sigewinne blinked at you, feelers twitching atop her head to interpret some kind of signal you must’ve unknowingly transmitted with your question. “Oh, my apologies. I was referring to you,” she giggled. “Birthday presents are one of the cutest human traditions, but this one is especially delightful. To think that you’d be clever enough to combine several components into one! If The Duke doesn’t want it for whatever reason, I know plenty of Melusines who would be thrilled to receive something like this.”

Your eyes glimmered with amusement as she prattled on, far past the point of being bewildered by her. “I’ll be sure to take you up on that.”

“Oh, but I’m certain he’ll appreciate it!” she rushed to correct her blunder with a smile so bright that it would’ve wiped any trace of annoyance from your system—that was, if you’d been capable of feeling any with her to begin with. “How should I phrase this…when I look at your gift, it exudes an aura incredibly similar to that of His Grace. Cold in its creation, but fuzzy in nature, emitting a chill and keeping us warm from it, all at once.”

Listening to Sigewinne’s description, you began to understand why there was a chance Wriothesley may have misgivings about the present; that being, if it reminded him too much of himself. You had, after all, made it a point to take inspiration from him when detailing your commission to Mr. Livre. Still, you were confident that its cute exterior would be more than enough to sway his opinion. 

“That’s a lovely way to put it,” you hummed, and she seemed pleased to find that you were speaking sincerely. She beckoned you closer, cupping her hand to her mouth when you leaned down, like she was worried Wriothesley might catch wind of your conversation—which, in truth, wasn’t such an outlandish possibility considering that he had eyes and ears all over the Fortress.

“When you visit his office, would you mind doing me a favor and checking if he’s finished the drink I prepared for him earlier?” she whispered. “And if not, please do convince him. It’s good for his health.”

You nodded dutifully, though, unsure if you could really make any promises when it came to her and Wriothesley’s neverending, beverage-based warfare. “You got it. Doctor’s orders.”

“Mhm! Though, I believe the orders may be far more effective if they come from you.” 

A battered-looking man stumbled into the room before you could respond, seemingly moments away from collapsing into one of the medical beds. You took that as your cue to leave, making a rushed promise with Sigewinne that you and Wriothesley would meet up with her later to celebrate properly at the Coupon Cafeteria. She gave you a cheerful wave that betrayed no underlying meaning to what she’d said earlier, but for some reason, you couldn’t help but exit the infirmary feeling a bit embarrassed, anyway.

Your hopes that Wriothesley may have been relaxing in his private quarters were dashed when you pushed through the heavy doors of his office to find that soothing, classical melody drifting from his record player on the upper floor, just as it did on any other day. 

“Hello, briefly state your business and I’ll be with you in just a—”

Barely one foot through the door, and you were already met with a leisurely call addressing you from above. Barely three steps up the metal stairs, and his voice trailed off mid-sentence, letting you know that you’d been caught red-handed. 

Though his hypervigilance had more or less spoiled your surprise, you felt no exasperation, only pure giddiness as you visualized the image of him perking up like a hunting hound as soon as he recognized those footsteps. With a newfound urgency, you scurried up the rest of the staircase to find Wriothesley already up from his desk and awaiting you, arms crossed and lips pulled into a lopsided grin.

“Now this is a surprise,” he drawled. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve been holed up in here for so long that you’ve forgotten what day it is?”

He clicked his tongue, feigning offense. “I may be a year older, but it’s still a little soon for me to be getting senile, isn’t it?”

He’d been all too aware of what day it was from the moment he’d opened his eyes that morning; and not just because of the extra stickers he’d found decorating his coat. Even if he wanted to forget, like so many other events in his past, it was etched into his memory just as permanently it was etched into yours—albeit, for entirely different reasons. In your mind, it was a day of joy and festivity, celebrating an existence that so few people knew of beyond the nebulous concept of him in their heads, yet held all the importance in the world to you. In his mind, it was simply the date of his sentencing to Meropide. Not a day of birth, but rebirth; the day he’d discarded his former self and emerged anew in the land of grievances. 

Though, privately, there were a few more instances throughout his life that he also considered to be days of rebirth—the day he’d stepped into the role of Meropide’s administrator, the day he’d finally pinned his Vision to his coat rather than concealing it within the threads of his clothing, and, most transformative of all, the day he’d met you. Perhaps he’d find his birthday a bit more worthy of celebration if he changed its date to align with your first encounter.

“I see Sigewinne has already begun the festivities,” you commented, tilting your head in the direction of the teacup placed at the furthest edge of his desk, as if the distance would somehow lessen its desolate aftertaste. There were a few other small boxes beside it, wrapped in colorful patterns and covered in doodles, no doubt from his Melusine companions in the Marechausse Phantom. 

“Mm. She was kind enough to spare me the milkshakes today and brewed some Romaritime Flower tea, instead.” His disgusted nose scrunch mirrored yours as you both recalled the spectacularly bitter flavor of the drink that Sigewinne had served you with such enthusiasm after days of perfecting its recipe with her friends. “She certainly has a talent for concocting flavors that should never be experienced by the human tongue.”

Despite his affectionate snark, when you took the opportunity to peer into his teacup, you found it near empty, with just a few droplets of that vibrant blue liquid remaining. The circumstances were unfortunate, but you felt yourself soften all the same—how very like him, to use his birthday as a reason to satisfy the desires of others, rather than his own. 

“I’m afraid this might only be the beginning. I just had a chat with her, and it seems she’s got quite the celebration feast planned for later.”

Wriothesley’s eyes glinted wryly, though it was evident to you that he was putting on a brave face. “I was more or less raised on those meals of hers; I think it’s you who might have to make a run for it.”

“Exactly why I plan to take my leave after dropping this off,” you joked, and he lifted an eyebrow as you finally revealed what you’d been hiding behind your back from the moment you’d stepped into his office. It wasn’t lost on you, how years ago your secrecy would’ve raised his suspicions immediately, killing any suspense with a swift and casual request to reveal what you were concealing. A nice change from the habits that had been drilled into him by the world, you mused. 

“Happy Birthday, Wriothesley.”

His lips parted for a moment, hands that had been outstretched to pull you into an overdue greeting hug, now carrying the present box that you’d placed in his palms. It was surprisingly heavy, dense in a way that screamed expensive, and when he blinked at you with an emotion that you could only describe as his own personal brand of panic, you couldn’t suppress your delight. Regardless of how many milestones you’d reached together, his reaction to you doing just about anything for him unprompted never changed, as if every time were the first. It certainly felt that way, to him. 

He unwrapped the silken red bow and reached into the box with all the caution of a stray dog approaching a stranger, longing for affection that he wasn’t built to accept. Then, something soft brushed against the pads of his fingers, and all at once, he pulled it from the box.

He was greeted by the figure of a puppy. Not a real one, of course, but the warmth that swelled inside of him as he brought it up to his face was every bit as genuine as if it were living. Gentle, calloused fingers ran along the frame of the toy—a clockwork meka, he realized with a start, structured from bronze parts and covered with a dark, scruffy coat of makeshift fur. When he looked into the glossy black beads of its eyes, he found his own reflection staring back at him. He hadn’t even been aware that he was smiling until he saw it for himself, a grin stretching across his face so wide that, for once, it reached far enough to make his eyes squint, the rise of his cheeks nearly eclipsing his scar altogether.

Your feet shuffled from side to side with a thinly-veiled eagerness, studying every microtwitch of his facial muscles to determine if you’d hit the mark, or if his reaction was just an ironclad ruse. Wriothesley could feel your stare boring holes into him, and though he figured his expression must have spoken volumes, he still found himself desperate to say something—a heartfelt thank you, a comment on its cuteness, even a lighthearted joke about what age you seemed to think he was turning. But nothing came, for the very simple reason that he feared his voice might fail him if he tried to speak.

“I know how long you’ve wished for a pet of your own,” you began, sheepish in a way that neither of you were accustomed to. “Especially after spending time with that Natlanese saurian you told me about a few months ago. It can’t compare to the real thing, of course, but I figured this could be a nice start.”

He swallowed, forcing down a strange lump that he couldn’t even pinpoint the last time he’d felt rise in his throat. Given your track record, it had probably been one year ago, to the exact date.

“It has a wind-up key,” you added, leaning in to touch the small, heart-shaped gadget sticking out of the dog’s back. “Twist it enough times, and it’ll bark or whine for attention at certain intervals. You can quiet it down by pressing on its head like this.”

To demonstrate, you gave the key just a few quick turns so that the wait wouldn’t be long, and sure enough, a cute, artificial yelp echoed from within the toy within seconds, making its whole frame vibrate just as a real puppy would when exerting all the strength in its tiny body to bark. Taking one of Wriothesley’s hands into your own, you guided it to rest on the puppy’s head, encouraging him to press the button tucked beneath its fur. He took a moment to brush his thumb tentatively behind its ears, pointed and fluffy, and he found himself wishing that he could remove his bandages to feel more of that downy texture against his skin.

“I hoped the fur might add a bit of realism. Y’know, make it feel more…alive,” you finished with an awkward chuckle, acutely aware of the fact that he hadn’t uttered a single word since you’d offered him the gift. 

Wriothesley’s face buzzed with heat, taking that perpetually pale complexion of his, dulled by the gloomy depths of the sea, and painting it with life—a reminder that blood didn’t solely drip from his fists, but flowed through his veins, just like any other human being. That same blood now pooled in his cheeks, wonderfully warm, like stepping into the afternoon sun after a long, exhausting swim in frigid waters that never seemed to end.

“Worked like a charm,” he said at last. Sure enough, there was a subtle crack to his voice, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about keeping his composure anymore. Then, as if the constraints of a smile weren’t enough to contain his sheer joy, he broke out into laughter. Not those low, breathy snickers of his that always melted away just as quickly as they came, afraid to overstay their welcome—real laughter, bright and boisterous, rising from deep within his chest and ringing out against his office walls. A melody unlike anything his record player could produce. 

You wanted to laugh along with him, but you wouldn’t dare taint such a precious sound with your own. Instead, you drank in the happy crinkles by his eyes, savoring every uncharacteristically gleeful rasp that tinged his puffs of laughter.

“I take it I won’t have to redirect this gift to Merusea Village, then?" 

“You’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands,” he declared, fingers squeezing tight around the puppy for good measure. His smile mellowed again, back to his usual expression. Cool, but not icy—all the softness of snow without the harsh chill of frost. 

“Thank you, my love,” his voice dropped to a murmur. “Wonder if I should be worried about how well you’ve got me figured out. It’s like you pulled this little guy directly from my brain.”

“Well, he was made in your likeness, after all.” You leaned forward, stretching out your arms to grab hold of those adorable, silver-streaked tufts of hair sticking up on his head. “Nothing for you to worry about except the threat of a gift, every now and then.”

His breath hitched when you drew close to him, eyelashes fluttering as he took in your scent in perfect sync with how you took in his—raw and soft, a testament to the man himself. His throat rumbled with a pleasant hum as you scratched soothingly at his hair, but you could tell by the flicker of pale blue irises down to your lips that he wasn’t quite satisfied with just that. 

Wriothesley was a humble man, never allowing greed to consume his heart even when a position like his made it so laughably easy. He’d spent most of his young life believing possessions were nothing more than a target drawn on his back, dreading any blessings that came his way when they could just as quickly be stolen from him. That being said, it was his birthday. So, he allowed himself to lean in a little closer, nuzzling his nose into yours with another hum that was just a bit needier, this time.

Tempting as it was to mess with him, you indulged his wish; the only one he would make known, even on a day where he had every excuse to cater to his whims. Tilting your head to the side, you met him with a kiss, pleased by the blissful sigh it earned from him as your lips locked to his. They were the slightest bit chapped now that the weather was growing colder, touched with lingering traces of Romaritime Flowers, bitter yet fragrant. He secured the clockwork puppy in one arm, wrapping the other around your waist to pull you closer into his chest, as if inviting you to feel his heartbeat racing inside it—inviting you to feel for yourself what you did to him.

You cupped both of his cheeks with your hands, delighted by the waves of pure heat they emitted against your palms. Before you could take the kiss any further, however, a loud yelping sound rang out that had you both jumping in your skin, nearly nipping at each other’s lips in surprise. Reluctantly, you pulled apart with a quiet smack that held all the fervor you’d built up between your bodies, glancing down to find the toy puppy barking away in Wriothesley’s hand. The sight of its mechanical tail shifting back and forth; as close to wagging as Mr. Livre had been able to construct it, was enough to quell any disappointment you felt over its interruption. 

In spite of the chorus of barks bouncing off his office walls, Wriothesley left the puppy to its own devices, watching it fondly for a bit longer before petting its head to quiet it down once more.

“A bit clingy, isn’t he?” he chuckled. “Hope he doesn’t also get that from me.”

You gave his forehead a playful tap as if to silence him, too. Though, inwardly, you were relieved that he didn’t seem irritated at all with the toy’s disturbance—in fact, he was far more endeared with his gift than you ever could’ve hoped for. “Think of it as practice for the real thing.”

“The real thing, huh?” His fingers brushed absentmindedly over the dog’s fluffy pelt, mulling the idea over with each delicate stroke. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”

Your hand cradled his head once more, and when he lifted his gaze to meet yours, he was taken aback by the intensity of it. Even so, he couldn’t think to look away, chest tightening with an emotion that he hadn’t been able to differentiate from fear for the longest time. “I hope it can keep you company until that day comes. Because it’s just as cruel to keep yourself locked up here as it would be for any animal.”

“Quite the refreshing one.” He traced around the outside of your ear, keeping a laugh stifled as you shuddered at the cold touch. His hands were always freezing. “Did any pleasant dreams about me come and bless you last night?” You rolled your eyes in mirth and squished his cheeks, muffled protests being as you did so. 

“Do you know what day it is today, Kaeya?” He snaked his hand around your waist, hand rested on the small of your back. 

“No, I do not. But you’ve piqued my interest so please, enlighten me, my dear.” Your heartful stare had him pause, the smile slowly sliding off his face. 

Outward distaste to this day wasn’t something often shown nor were these feelings common. But every now and then, a weight of sharp blues and cold whites always seemed to drop on his chest. Childhood lost and found in small increments, a mess of a man is what he considered himself to be; trapped between growing too early and making up for it too late. 

“Kaeya.” He hadn’t realised that tears had begun to spring, your warm hand coming to wipe them away. Warm, you were always warm to contrast his cold. A shaky grin came to rest on his face as he let out a wet laugh, one that didn’t sound deep but held no boundaries to its meaning.

“I wonder, what did I ever do to deserve you in my life.” The words came out quieter than anticipated yet you only smiled back. You went to speak but he placed his hand over your mouth. 

“Don’t. Just, I don’t think I’d be able to-” Slowly, you took his hand away, delicately placing a kiss on his wrist and interlaced his limp fingers with yours. Overwhelming warmth burst through his hand, cold skin burning up at the touch. A choked-out sob crawled its way out of his throat; tears stung the corner of his eyes leaving him to gasp. It felt like bliss; pools of warm colours off the spectrum thrummed in his heart and invaded his sight. 

“I love you, Kaeya. Always have, always will.” you cooed softly, a firm, but reassuring, kiss placed on his forehead as salty tears were carefully wiped away. “I wish I could’ve been there. To do more for you because you deserve more.” His blurry gaze was all that took up your mind and you leaned in closer, lips barely touching.

“Happy birthday, my love.”

“it’s still early dear, you should go back to sleep” his voice is deep and you can feel it rumble in his chest.

He uses the hand that was on your waist to move your hair off of your face, and he presses a soft kiss on your forehead. Warmth bubbles through your chest and the butterflies in your stomach go wild. Even after years of being with him, you’re still as smitten as you were when you first met :(( , and honestly he is too.

“mm… i know. you just look so pretty, ‘luc” you giggle at him, and even though it’s dark, you can see his cheeks turn a slight pink at your words as he looks down at you lovingly. You press a small kiss to his cheek as you bury your head into his chest again, and he wraps his arms around you, holding you in a warm and close embrace, his face buried in your hair as he takes in your scent. You can feel yourself relaxing as your body succumbs to sleep, but before you do, you can hear diluc whispering something against your hair.

“you’re the prettiest to me, dear”

You smile at his words and snuggle into him impossibly more, hugging his waist while your cheek is pressed against his chest. He smiles into your hair as he too drifts off to sleep once again, and off to find you again later in the morning.

-

the years have passed and the dynamics have changed, though the tavern remains all the same. it has been a long while since you have deemed yourselves more than companions, shifting from awkward meetings to the yearning of each other's presence. you both sit at the bar together, worry clear in your eyes. his jaw clenches as you clean his wounds, reluctance in your movement when you notice the tension in his body.

"i can stop." you softly remind him. there's concern all over your visage and there is the familiar feeling of guilt washing over him in waves. "we can take a break."

"it's okay. please, continue."

you hardly tend to his injuries, so such an occurrence is rare, but it still happens more often than either of you would like. he doesn't like to show the pain, doesn't want to worry you any more than he already does. you've known that he's been the vigilante all along, but there is something in the confirmation of it that makes you fret even more.

he cannot imagine it-- knowing that the person you love is out there, fighting alone, trying to right the wrongs in the world. that they are not by your side and that you don't know when they'll come home, or if they'll come home at all.

"i don't like the darkness." diluc tells you. you pause, think about the conversation that took place once before. "it frightens me." ( re: i try not to think about it. i don't. but the nights run long, and my mind cannot help but wander until i can no longer control it. )

the wounds sting. you remain silent, put aside the gauze as his calloused fingers brush against your cheek.

"you don't have to face it alone, love."

it's not the unknown that scares him the most, the oblivion of what lurks in the dark. it's the isolation, the loneliness that fills the heavy air. the fear still remains to this day, though it has dwindled to a faint uneasiness. ( and he thinks it'll always be there, and that's okay. it is a part of the journey to restore the light ). but there is something about you that makes it easier to venture into-- because diluc has so many things to fight for, and you have become one of them.

"i know." he says, and there's that delicate curl of the lips that eases your heart. "i don't face it alone. i carry you with me."

you laugh softly, the trepidation in your bones fleeting from his touch and words. there are too many wounds that diluc holds, but slowly, they are healing.

"thank you." he murmurs. softly, he tugs you towards him until you are safely in his arms, and he realizes that the pain abates when you are nearby. you return the affectionate gesture, intimacy in your touch as you wrap your arms around him, fingers grazing the cuts and bruises with utmost caution.

"thank you for coming home." you whisper, and you almost laugh again at the lump that has formed in your throat.

there is something so wonderfully beautiful about the way your fingers run through red locks-- and maybe it is the way you look at him that makes him fall in love all over again. he feels that familiar heat rise in his cheeks, that urge to whisper those three little words, but his timidness has always gotten the best of him, despite how charming he may be.

you notice the rose that adorns his cheeks, know exactly what he's thinking, so you'll say it first.

"i love you."

the bright rays of the sun were beginning to slip through the curtains of diluc's room, generously highlighting the built muscles of the latter's upper half as he continued chatting about what happened yesterday. you could only hum absentmindedly to whatever he was saying as he started tying his crimson locks into a high ponytail. 

at the point when diluc slips into a crisp white button up, you couldn't even catch a word he was saying. you admire the way your significant other looks absolutely stunning as he turns to a mirror to button up the piece of clothing accordingly, giving you mere moments to peek at his firm abdomen before tucking the remnants of the shirt into his buckled pants. 

"are you still there, my love?" diluc asks, a hint of worry in his soothing voice as he turns to the camera to check up on you, effectively snapping you out of your trance. 

your cheeks turn red at the horrifying realization that diluc's just caught you staring at him with the biggest heart eyes. you hope the light from your phone isn't bright enough to reveal the blush on your cheeks as you chuckle in embarrassment. 

"yeah, yeah. sorry about that, i spaced out a little," you admit sheepishly. thankfully, diluc made no further comment. you wanted anything else but to explain how you were shamelessly staring and awing at his figure. 

you swear you tried your hardest this time to listen to diluc, even commenting and joking about some of the things he was saying. but alas, both your eyes and mind were distracted yet again at the sight of diluc leaning closely into his mirror, tying a necktie around the collar of his shirt. 

he's still saying something as he tilts his jaw to examine himself further, but again, his words go through one ear and immediately out the other. he's making sure he looked the best he could for his work and all you can focus on is the sharp line of his jaw, the slight hollowness of his cheek bones, and all the little things that seemingly make you fall all over for him again. 

"(y/n)? are you sure you're okay, love? you seem to be spacing out a lot." diluc's caught you staring yet again, and yet he's oblivious. concern weighs heavy in his tone, clearly worried about you. "did something unfortunate happen today?" 

"nothing's wrong diluc, don't worry," you smile. his sweet nature causes your heart to thunder loudly against your chest in fondness. however, you still haven't answered him. so, you fumble with your phone, attempting to explain yourself in a less humiliating way. "it's just that… i can't help but admire how handsome you look sometimes." 

now it's diluc's turn to blush. his cheeks quickly turn into a deep shade of crimson, almost similar to the color of his hair. he clears his throat and picks his phone up from its makeshift stand, eyes avoiding the camera as to shy himself away from your gaze. 

despite still being embarrassed about your actions and your explanation, you chuckle in entertainment. your significant other still looked charming, even with a deep blush painting his cheeks red. 

"well, i'm glad you find me... handsome." you don't miss the small smile that creeps onto his lips before he finally turn to look at you through the screen. his features soften when you yawn and look back at him with slightly teary eyes that scream nothing but adoration and love. "but you need your sleep and i still have to drive myself to work, so we should hang up." 

"mhm, alright. talk to you later. love you, luc," you hum, rubbing your eyes with your free hand before waving at the camera. diluc takes his own time, a few precious seconds to stare at you with a lovesick look in his eyes and a gentle smile on his lips as he raises his hand to politely wave back at you.  

"mhm, i'll call you later and i love you too, darling." with that, you kiss him through the phone. you cheesily peck the front camera and smile at the sight of him chuckling in amusement before ending the call and drifting off to a content and dreamless sleep.

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A shiver runs up your spine as he chuckles deeply, hot breath ghosting against the shell of your ear. "You're not getting impatient, are you?"

Your little huff earns you both a kiss on the cheek and a squeeze of your hip. As silence settles between you once more, Wriothesley guiding you forward at a slower pace this time, the gentle lap of water becomes clearer.

Ten more steps, and your feet start sinking into the ground with every step.

"You're not making me walk around the beach with shoes on, right Wrio?"

There's a pause and you're brought to a halt. Expertly, he dodges your question. "Here we are."

Curious to see if he's wearing his usualy satisfied smirk, you turn your head to peek at him only for Wriothesley to grab your chin. "Ah-ah, I'm not the main attraction here."

From his voice alone, your suspicions are confirmed, making butterflies flutter in your stomach as you let him guide your head. A blanket has been laid out at a safe distance from the water, a basket (filled with delicious treats if the discreetly approaching blubberbeasts are anything to go by), a large bouquet of flowers, and a few wrapped presents sit idly in the sand.

"So? Aren't you gonna say anything?" Your heart skips a beat at the well hidden nervousness in his voice.

Smiling, you turn in his hold, slinging your arms around his neck and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "And does the busy Duke have time to stay and enjoy this lovely surprise with me?"

Wriothesley easily hoists you up, carrying you the last bit of the way through the warm sand. "I heard he has the entire day off to spend on his beloved."

You’ve been looking forward to the windblume festival for weeks, maybe even months now. But everyone knows that much. From the way you brought it up in conversations at work, mentioning it when patrons simply wanted their bread.

“Yes! and trust me, this croissant goes specially well with some dandelion infused coffee, it’ll be a special here during Windblume!”

“Ah.. Okay?..”

To the way you decorated the manor..

“Adelinde! Do you think these teal curtains contrast the manor too much?”

“Not too much, madame. Is there something wrong with the curtains i put up last week? It’s too early to change them.”

“No! That’s not it! I just think this teal shows off that Windblume spirit more.”

“Ah, I see. Then it’s perfect, madame.”

And the one person who knows it all too well, your husband, Diluc.

“Ah, but I’m too excited! Do you think the dandelions will be in full bloom in time for the festival? I think that’d be perfect!”

“You’re right, darling. For now, I think it’s best you sleep.”

“You’re right, maybe the festival will come quicker that way.”

“Mhm, sweet dreams, my love.”

Point made clear, everyone and their grandparents knew of your certain excited-ness towards the festival. You were specially excited for an event that was being held by the Knights of Favonius.

Horseback riding.

It’d been something that you enjoyed as a kid, but since you moved to Monstadt, that lacks horses, you couldn’t quite indulge yourself in it. You found yourself having less and less sleep as more and more excitement goes by.

And finally, Windblume has arrived.

You were giggling all morning, getting dressed in your dandelion themed outfit that Diluc got you as a present. He gave it to you long ago, but you’ve been saving it for this very occasion.

As you finally step into the city of Monstadt, hand in hand with Diluc, Kaeya pulls you away.

“Special VIP entry for my favorite sister in law.”

“I better be your only sister in law.”

Kaeya laughs in response, finally settling with showing you a black horse. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of it, dragging Diluc as he helped you up the horse.

Your instincts kicked in and the horse started to gallop, you rode with it flawlessly, moving with as you reminisced your equestrian side from childhood.

Diluc however, was having quite different things to reminisce on. The way your hair flowed with the wind, your effortless maneuvering of the horse, the way it all seemed so effortless. The way you rode.

“Try to hide it at least.” Kaeya teases as he sees how hard Diluc is staring.

“Will you shut your mouth.”