Feeding simps ;P

It was truly a lovely evening. The sun shone behind a thin veil of clouds, not too strong, but not too faint either. The sky was a serene blue, and its reflection in the stream beneath was just as peaceful. The forest was just as in much grace as the sky above it: all life and vibrancy in this time of the year. The bushes were in full bloom, the trees stood proud and tall, the birds sang their never ending lullaby…

Indeed, a sight for those who are willing to take some of their time and look. Your rug had been spread less than the quatre of an hour beneath the shadow of the most dense tree you could find next to the stream, a light scarf hanging to your shoulders, and a basket of yarn at your feet.

What more could you ask for?

Days like this were your favorite all year round: slow, calm, and beautiful to carry on. So much that even your work, as repetitive and boring as it usually gets, becomes less of a tedious duty, and more of a hobby for you to enjoy.

Oh, and there was the wind. Breezy, ever so light, balancing the warmth of the sun above and the freshness of the stream a few feet away. If you stopped your work for a moment and closed your eyes, you'd almost start to hear it harmonizing with the rhythm of both the birds and the water running.

You smiled to yourself. "Will you come out at last? Even with all of my patience, I'm afraid I can't bear with the awkwardness any more." You whispered to the wind, tone poorly masking its mirth.

The wind, of course didn't reply. But something else did.

You felt a shift in the foliage above your head, then heard the soft creaking of a weight settling down on a thick branch in the tree across from you, and the slow fall of a snow white feather that ended up in your basket.

"Aw, so fast to blow my cover yet." A familiar voice crooned. You didn't need to lift your gaze to discern the teasing mock-disappointed lit it held. "What was it this time? I made sure not to move around so much."

The ridiculousness of his words made you laugh softly. "The wind was singing. It never does unless you are around." You put down the half done piece in your lap, tilting your head just in time to see his roll his eyes with a delighted laugh.

"Oh, please. I could have made it sing even if I wasn't here." He crossed his legs, a hand under his shin, wings shifting behind him as he leaned slightly forward. "I don't believe this is enough for you to tell I was here."

"Did it work?" You replied, lips twitching in a somewhat cheeky smile.

All you got as a reply was a smile that was a bit too sweet for your liking. Before you could even take it back, a gust of wind, slightly stronger than the rest, brushed past you, lifting a few fallen leafs and making you squint your eyes. "Venti!"

"Yes, windbloom?" He only tilted his head slightly, not even bothering to hide his amusement.

"Archons above… You're unbelievable." You sighed, your smile bleeding through the feigned annoyance, one head lifted to brush the ruffled strands of hair back into place. "I'm trying to work."

"I can very much see that." He replied, shifting once more, wings flapping. One heartbeat, he was seated on the branch, the next, he was hoovering right beside you. His wings were huge, to say the least. At least a few inches taller than his own height. They could easily send the wind rushing with enough force to uproot the tree behind you, you'd wager. And yet, all that reached was the lightest puffs of air fanning your face.

Venti was perched on the lump of yarn in your lap. "Still working on that piece?"

"The onesy, yes." You lifted, showing him with pride how far you had come. "My sister is nearing her due date so she is staying with me. I couldn't find a time to work on it without her seeing me. To keep the surprise."

"Such tedious work. I'm sure it will come out as adorable." He replied.

"I hope so. I even made matching socks for it!" You pointed at the pair in the basket. "For when the baby takes their first steps."

"I've always found it fascinating." He mused, winking as he lifted himself a bit higher. "But flying is so much more convenient."

"It seems like it. But walking does the trick as well." You shrugged. "I mean, there must be times when walking is more practical than hovering around, no?"

He simply chuckled, giving a few unnecessarily strong flaps. "I wouldn't quite say so. My wings had been of the utmost use since… well, since forever."

That made you pause before asking with a grin. "So… How often do you walk instead of flying around like a chicken that had forgotten how to land?".

That earned a shoulder-shaking laughter from him. "Okay now, first of all, do not compare my wings to anything, please. I quite cherish them. And second, I don't walk. I don't need to."

"Explains why your legs are so thin." You muttered under your breath.

"What did you just say?" One eyebrow rising was all you needed to understand that one more joke would have a centuries' worth of songs written about you as the one who died from one too many strong wind currents.

"Nothing." You flashed him an exaggerated innocent smile. "But seriously… You don't walk?" You repeated, a bit too surprised by such revelation.

Maybe revelation was a strong word, but you really were incredulous.

"The texture of the ground isn't always the best. Gravel is horrendous to walk on, and grass sometimes isn't thick enough to cushion the steps from the mud and pebbles beneath."

"Yes, Venti. That's why we wear shoes." You replied, deadpan.

He laughs, slowly lowering himself until his feet landed on the rug next to you as he stretched one hand to you in invitation. "Would you do me a favor then and teach me?"

You blinked, unsure if you heard right. "Teach you? Teach you what, exactly?"

"Walking, of course." He beamed, and you almost started to suspect that he was enjoying to see you so miserably thrown off by his antiques. "It's only fair after you made fun of me, isn't it?"

You sighed, setting the yarn and hook back in the basket before taking his hand. "How can you not know how to walk? At your age?"

He only flashed you a bright smile, radiating nothing but innocent -debatable- delight.

You dusted your skirt before gathering it with your hands, lifting the hem until it rested right bellow your knees. "I don't know how to explain, but look."

You took a few steps back and forth. Then you walked back to him, offering him your palm. "Walk with me?"

You spent the next few minutes walking, ever so slowly, watching him as his own unsure steps mirrored yours to the tiniest details. It wasn't perfect, of course. More than once, you'd feel his wings twitching as if he were about to take off, only for him to laugh it off as instinct.

He wasn't ashamed of tripping. If anything, you almost believed he enjoyed it. Because once you had let go of his hand and let him move on his own, he barely took to more steps before one of his feet caught on the the other, earning a startled yelp from him. You moved, reaching out to steady him, only to find yourself dragged down as well faster than you could process.

You found yourself on the ground- no, on something a bit warmer, as soft as it is firm. "Ven-"

"Shh. Listen." He hushed you softly, arms wrapping around your shoulders to prevent you from sitting up. That was when you realized that it was his chest steadily moving beneath your head.

You strained to listen, but nothing came. You blinked, trying to focus, to not get distracted by the way his wings were slowly closing around you.

You shifted, trying to angle your head to prevent him from seeing just how red your face was becoming.

"Hold still for a moment, windbloom." You felt the whisper reverberate through his chest before your mind registered it.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, basking in the warmth of the sun, tucked into the soft cocoon that his wings made, a safe space for this embrace that neither was really willing to give up on.

It was only after so long that he finally let his arms loosen from around you. You used the chance to move, sitting up. "What was that about?" You looked down at him, confused until you saw how his face was flushed with an adorable shade of pink.

"I was just taking a break. Walking is tiring. Is it so wrong for me to enjoy?" He admitted with no shame or guilt, not yet moving, merely keeping his wings around the two of you.

You felt your face heat up. How could he say such things with so little care? Did he not know the effect his words hard? No… No bard would be that oblivious to what leaves his own mouth. This realisation, somehow, just made it worse for you.

"Venti." You pursed your lips, offring a purposefully stiff smile. "Don't talk to me until you can run leaps around here."

And now it was your turn to enjoy the sight of his smile dropping and the sound of a whiny call of your name as you moved back to the shadow of your tree.

༄˖°.🍃.ೃ࿔*:･༄˖°.🍃.ೃ࿔*:･༄˖°.🍃.ೃ࿔*:･

My masterlist

You’re about to escape back inside the shop, maybe pretend you have a question for her in an attempt to disappear before Lohen sees you, when you meet his gaze. Ah. Too late, he’ll just follow you inside without a care. A slow and smug smile curls on his face, visible even at the distance. Your chest does something complicated. And unhappy. 

You would like to say you hate him, honestly. On a level, you very much do despise him. Trouble follows in his footsteps, he spends his time harassing you and laughing when you snap at him, and he’s always picking a fight with something or another. 

He is also, unfortunately, one of the highest rated knights in Mondstadt purely because he takes as many jobs as possible, making him well liked by the citizens even if his personality is a bit nasty. He’s helpful. He’s helped you out many times. 

“Hey,” Lohen comes up on you, slowing to a stop right in front of the shop. You fold your arms on instinct. 

“Lohen,” you say flatly before he can finish his greeting. The nice aroma of flowers feels like too much now, cloying and thick enough to make you lightheaded. 

He smiles, gaze traveling over you like he’s sizing you up. He pretends to be the picture of chivalry as he presses his hand to his chest and gives the slightest of bows. He’s a little unnerving as he stares you down. The blank smile fixed firmly on his face does not shift.

Being around him always makes you feel like some sort of prey animal, and not in the fun way. Disdain practically drips off of you as you glare, scowling at him without bothering to at least pretend to care about customer service. 

“Esteemed citizen of Mondstadt,” he says as he straightens up. “What is the cause of such a bad mood?” Lohen’s voice dips with a mockery that only irritates you further. If the way he smiles means anything, then that was precisely his intent. 

“He’s standing right in front of me,” you say plainly. “There’s nothing in this store that will interest you, find someone else to bother.” 

He keeps showing up at With Wind Comes Glory looking for ‘souvenirs’ for his return trips to Mondstadt. You both know it’s just an excuse to come and bother you, but your knowledge of his purpose does nothing to deter him from it. If anything, it encourages him.

“Ah, don’t be cold,” he tilts his head to the side slightly, eyes flicking to the glass windows where Marjorie keeps the most tantalizing of her wares displayed. “I’ve been gone three whole days, Marjorie might have something new.” 

“She doesn’t,” you follow his gaze to the latest things put up in the windows. Clothes, jewelry, knick knacks that will get put on someone’s shelf and collect dust. All of the classic souvenir shop sort of things. With the Kamera coming to Mondstadt, Marjorie was excited to have post cards of the various places throughout the region. 

“Now look at that, turning away a paying customer. Your boss would be unhappy with you,” Lohen tuts, like he actually cares about spending his mora. “Imagine what this looks like,” he whispers conspiratorially. “The greeter being so rude…you’ll turn all the customers away!” 

“I am nice to people that deserve it,” you say primly. “You,” a pointed stare, “are not here to do anything but disrupt business.” 

“And now you pretend to be a diligent worker,” he rolls his eyes. “Real convincing. Now, if you will,” he waves his hand with a satisfied smile. “Do tell everything that you are selling so I know what to buy. Look, there’s even a few curious ears.” 

Smarmy. Frustrating. Asshole. These are three words that do not cover the depth of bad personality tucked inside the man standing in front of you. He keeps doing this. Trapping you into conversations, that is. Conversations is a strong word for it, but he calls them friendly conversations. 

Lohen raises a brow slightly, as if he’s telling you to go on. A few people have stopped to listen, whether out of curiosity for what Marjorie actually sells or because everyone in this city is nosy has yet to be seen. 

Since you can’t exactly yell at one of the Knights of Favonius in the middle of the city with a bunch of on-lookers, much less actually detract from the business by kicking up a fuss, you have to take a very slow calming breath and count to ten in your head. 

It does not help that much. You’re still annoyed, and he’s still smiling. You want to slap him across the face. Later, you think. For now, you start on your pre-rehearsed spiel about With Wind Comes Glory that Marjorie drilled into your head so often that you can recite it in your sleep. 

Lohen nods along like he’s actually listening and hasn’t heard this speech a dozen other times when he’s pulled this exact same stunt on you. He watches you with a content smile, hands clasped neatly behind his back in a picture of polite interest. 

It is offset by the blank intensity in his eyes. You would like to get a better look at them some day, they’re unique and somehow both dull and focused. Your heart is a traitorous thing, you have long been aware. It does a weird little flip at his attention. You internally beat it with hammers and ignore it. 

Of the small group of onlookers, you manage to pull a few inside and leave their fates to Marjorie. Some dissipate, and some are clearly just there to listen to you and Lohen. It’s your own fault too, you can’t scold a prominent figure of the town without catching a handful of eyes. 

“—so please come look, you can’t get it anywhere else,” you finish. The couple of people who slipped inside during your speech, you picked the longest version to make Lohen suffer along with you to no avail, come out a few moments later with bags in hand. Marjorie must have done a number on them. 

The rest of the onlookers slowly dissipate as a bard sets up further down square. Thank Barbatos. Lohen doesn’t move, continuing to watch you. His smile has smoothed out now, leaving behind a strange mix between neutrality and satisfaction. 

“Happy?” you recross your arms now that there isn’t a crowd. “Like I said, nothing new.” 

“Maybe so, but my presence brought more business! How kind of me.” 

“You—!” the rest of the unwelcome butterflies die in your chest. You look around to make sure there are no eye witnesses before grabbing him by the hair and dragging him inside the shop. The door opens with a soft jingle. His hair is unfairly soft beneath your fingers. 

Lohen doesn’t have the good graces to pretend to be hurt after being dragged by his hair. In fact, he laughs. It’s an amused thing with not an ounce of malice behind it. His eyes sparkle with mirth as he straightens up to smile at you. He doesn’t move to remove your hand from where it must be gripping painfully against his scalp. 

Marjorie isn’t in the main room, probably gone to the back to take inventory or a break, meaning you aren’t worried about her telling you off for how you’re treating one of the knights. Bad for business and all that. 

You shake him a little, venting your frustrations with him in the movement. Lohen’s smile only grows. It would be better if it was a mean smile or at least one that promised retaliation. No, he’s smiling at you like you’ve said something sweet to him. It is only his mouth that smiles. 

Scoffing, you let go of him. Nothing gets through his head. He catches your wrist before you can step away fully. You want to be uneasy, but something like warmth sparks up your arm at the contact. 

“Let go or I’ll slap you,” you pull slightly. You aren’t sure if you mean it, but it would be satisfying. You meant your words more strongly a few weeks ago. 

Lohen laughs again. “Go ahead, I don’t mind.” 

What a freak. He always seems to want you to hit him, rough him up in some sort of way. You don’t get it. It’s like he’s begging for it. He comes and pesters you to hell and back, sets up little tricks and trips you when you’re walking, and then he turns around and all but taps his cheek and tells you to give it your all. 

He’s confusing and unnerving. He doesn’t let go of you yet, adjusting his hand to have a firmer hold on you. “Missed me, right?” Lohen asks, giving you a slight tug. 

Miss him? He’s joking. 

You stare at him. It’s so hard, nigh impossible, to read his expression. You don’t know what it is he wants. 

“As if,” you scoff. “There was no one bothering me for three days straight. Was. Get lost.” 

“Hey now, I’m a paying customer. I want a souvenir from the best shop in the city,” Lohen looks around with exaggerated curiosity. Irritation coils low in your stomach. It’s directed at him primarily, but you’re also irritated with yourself. His hand on you is nice, the butterflies you have been trying to kill for awhile now continue to beat their wings up against your ribcage. 

You can’t like him. For starters, this is one of the vice captains of the knights. More importantly, this is Lohen. Reckless, frustrating, unsettling, and intense Lohen. No way. 

“Shop is closing for lunch, now you’re trespassing,” you try to pull your hand away again. His grip only tightens.  

“That’s not nice,” he chides you. “I came all this way to see you.” 

“I didn’t ask you to,” you say, “besides, you have to walk past the shop to get to headquarters, it’s not like I’m out of your way.” Your words end on a strangely bitter note that should not have been there. Fantastic. Now you’re double annoyed with yourself. 

Lohen watches you for a painfully long moment, eyes locked on you. It feels like he’s dissecting you and then playing with your guts. You want to snap at him, shove him away and out the door for disturbing the peace, but his stare pins you in place. 

“Huh,” he smiles again, gaze drifting to the side. You don’t like the sound of that one bit. He sounds like he’s figured you out and then some. You aren’t sure if what you’re feeling is humiliation or discomfort. Whatever it is, it’s sticking to your skin. You try to pull your wrist from him again. 

This time, he lets go. The sudden loss of contact sends you stumbling back a step with momentum. “Alright, alright,” Lohen raises his hands in surrender. “I’m going, geez. Talk about bad for business.” 

He doesn’t let you respond. Lohen gives you a lazy grin that promises to see you later over his shoulder as he pushes the door open. The bell jingles behind him and then he’s mercifully gone, leaving you alone again in the quiet to deal with your thoughts. 

His amused ‘huh’ bounces around in your brain on a loop. You clench your fist as you watch him slip down the street and further into the bustle of Mondstadt. You hate him. Hate is the singular feeling you have for him. That’s what you tell yourself anyway. 

You look down at the sleeve he was holding. Warmth lingers on your skin. The shock of orange and red tucked into your sleeve gives you a pause. Your breath stops, mind reeling. He tucked a flower into your sleeve. You hadn’t felt it. Did he do it just as he let go? You can’t remember how he had released you, focused in the moment on staying upright after he intentionally meant to make you lose your balance. 

You pluck it carefully from your sleeve, settling it on your hand so you can look at it. In your palm is a windwheel aster. The orange petals are cool and light on your skin, the green stem neatly severed when it was pulled.