This back pain makes me question my age.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

your apartment is quiet in the way that only late evenings can manage. the kind of quiet that settles into the corners and makes the whole world feel smaller, softer, and warmer. the city bustles distantly beyond the window, but in your room, there’s only the low warmth of a lamp and the muffled dialogue of a show playing in the living room that no one’s watching.

cipher shows up unannounced, like she always does. one knock, or maybe no knock at all. usually she enters through your window- why, or how she enters this way is a mystery. the first couple of times she materializes in your room, leaning against your doorframe, hood drawn up, and shadows pooling around her, you nearly put a hole through your ceiling. but even then, even in those first startled moments, the two fuzzy telltale ears poking through the top of her hood give her away completely. it’s very hard to be frightened of someone whose disguise is betrayed by something so soft and so utterly adorable.

“miss me?” she grins, stepping towards you before you answer

the two of you end up on the couch the way you always do, gravitating towards each other without a second thought. you’ve come to learn that cipher is not one to enjoy being fussed over. she doesn’t melt for grand gestures or patient waiting. cipher enjoys quiet normalcy, the simple, unspoken assumptions. so, you don’t make a performance when you lift your arm, quietly inviting her to fill the space. 

she sits close, snuggling up to you closer than she’ll ever admit, pulls her legs up beneath her, and angles herself toward the television with an expression of mild interest. As the show progresses, she presses herself tighter against you. her shoulder presses against yours, her elbow finds your ribs, and her hands find yours. little points of contact that she arranges with the precision of someone who has thought about this for more than she lets on. 

it's been maybe 30 minutes into the show, some sappy drama she had loudly declared beneath her and has since watched every episode of, when you shift your free hand to her hair. it’s not a decision so much as a natural thing, the way reaching for her always is. your fingers subconsciously drift past the soft fall of her hair, and then, gently find the base of one of her ears.

cipher flinches, her hand immediately flying up and wrapping around your wrist.

“what do you think you’re doing,” she says. it is not quite a question. her eyes do not leave the television.

you wait. 

cipher doesn’t budge.

after a moment, her grip loosens, fingers sliding down your wrist, quietly granting you permission with a small, dismissive huff.

so you continue.

her ear twitches beneath your fingers, small and involuntary and devastating. the tips of her ears begin to flush a beautiful, faint pink as you continue your gentle ministrations, her head subconsciously lifting upwards into your hand.

“i’m only letting you do this,” she says, very quietly, “because you clearly need the entertainment.”

“mhmm,” you respond knowingly.

cipher scoffs, but her head leans further into your touch, and the hand that was wrapped around your wrist a moment ago finds the fabric of your sleeve instead, holding on with a quiet, telltale grip. her breathing evens out slowly, and then, so quietly you almost miss it, a sound begins to hum beneath her composure. low, soft, and rhythmic- the kind of sound that seems to surprise even her, because she freezes the instant she realises you heard it. 

the silence that follows is enormous.

 “that,” she says, with a tremendous dignity, “did not happen.”

you open your mouth to respond.

“do not,” she warns.

you close your mouth shut, pressing your lips together very firmly against the smile that's threatening to spread across your face. you resume petting her ears with the same unhurried patience as before, and within a minute the sound is back. this time, it's quieter, more careful, like she’s allowing it in the smallest possible increments and reserving the right to deny everything.

cipher’s ears are glowing pink all the way to the tips now. she keeps her gaze fixed on the television, her jaw set at an angle that signals that she’s trying very, very hard to keep her dignity. 

“you’re smug,” she accuses, her eyes still glued to the tv. “i can feel your smugness from here.”

“i didn’t even say anything,” you reject

“you’re thinking loudly.”

you gently scratch behind her ear, and she makes an involuntary sound that is not dignified in the slightest. something small, light and helpless, a soft, uncontrollable noise that slips past every wall she has ever built before she even has the chance to know it is coming. cipher immediately buries her face into your shoulder in embarrassment. she stutters out half-formed sentences in an attempt to preserve some dignity, but she quickly realizes this situation is not salvageable. the purring, now muffled against your sleeve, continues with complete indifference to her now ruined pride.

you feel her fingers on your shirt tighten.

“i hate this.” she informs your shoulder

you press your cheek softly to the top of her head. “no you don’t,” you say, just as softly

a long pause.

“you tell anybody about this,” her voice muffled, “and i’ll make your life very difficult.” 

“i know,” you say warmly.

“i have resources.”

“i know.”

“i have connections.”

“cipher.”

she pauses. “what.”

“you’re cute like this.”

her purring stutters. she lets out an indignant noise and shifts as if she’s considering relocating entirely, but her grip on your shirt only tightens, and she does not move an inch. 

you resume petting and scratching her ears, her purring returning stronger, fuller, and warmer, rolling through her chest like it has stopped asking for permission. the flush that had been sitting carefully at the tips of her ears bleeds downward, spreading across her cheeks in a way she cannot school away, no matter how high she holds her chin. 

“i want you to know,” cipher says, her voice still reaching for her usual polished register, “that i am allowing this. this is a choice i am making.”

“okay.” you respond softly

“i’m in complete control,” she murmurs into your shoulder. there’s no edge left in her voice. it’s barely louder than a breath

“i know you are.” 

cipher falls quiet. 

the tv plays on, the show long forgotten. outside, the bustle of the city outside is barely audible. the quiet, warm, certain weight of cipher pressed against your side is the only thing on your mind. 

you look down at her. at the curve of her ear still warm beneath your fingers. at the flush still sitting softly on her cheek. at the slow rise and fall of her chest, her breathing stripped of its usual performance, belonging only to her and to this room and to the quiet that has settled so completely around the two of you. she looks nothing like the woman who appeared in your doorframe this evening, all her bravado nowhere to be found.

you let the silence sit, your fingers continuing to move in slow, unhurried circles. you are in no rush. you would stay like this indefinitely if cipher would let you, and a quiet, hopeful part of you suspects that tonight, she might. 

“don’t stop.” she whispers

“i won’t.”

cipher falls quiet after that, her threats and protests finally running dry, leaving nothing behind but the soft, even sound of her breathing and the warm, steady hum of her purring against your shoulder. 

at some point, her grip on your shirt, which had been so tight and so insistent, loosens by degrees. her fingers uncurl slowly, going slack against the fabric. her breathing, already slow, deepens further, each exhale growing longer, quieter, and further apart, until it finds a rhythm that has nothing of wakefulness left in it. you feel the last of her weight give way all at once. her head grows heavy against your shoulder. her body, which had carried even in its most relaxed moments some residual thread of composure, relaxes completely.

you glance down at her. at the slow rise and fall of her chest. at her face, smooth now and quiet, the flush on her cheeks faded to something soft and barely there. at her ears, no longer pink with embarrassment, simply resting. 

you carefully, slowly, reach over and turn the volume down on the television until the room is almost silent. then you settle back, adjust your shoulder gently so she is comfortable, and rest your cheek against the top of her head before closing your eyes. cipher sleeps on, unaware and unguarded. 

you don’t move.

you don’t dare.

In Belebog soulmates rarely found each other, what with the Eternal Freeze and later even with the ban between Under- and Overworld. Therefore people will be pretty open to marry somebody who is not their soulmate. That is if you haven't meet or have already lost their soulmate. If someone were to pursue someone else while their match is right next to them it would still turn some confused heads. But it isn't unheard of. Still, finding your match is considered special. The Landau Siblings, Gepard and Serval are a bit out the norm, wanting to wait for their soulmates. They haven't mentioned it to their parents, neither wanting to deal with the backlash and pressure to continue the family line -in fact they haven't even told each other. As for Bronya a romantic partner had not even been on the table till her soulmate shows up. From there on she feels lost, she doesn't want to let go of this possibility, but she also have no idea what to do with a soulmate. Others who would be blindsided by a match showing up where Natasha and Seele. Nat doesn't think she deserves a soulmate, her match has to convince her to give them a chance. Seele meanwhile had regarded finding a match as a fairy tale scenario, highly unlikely -even if she claimed to wait for them to stop her admirers. It was only a line, you know. Sampo is open-minded to finding a soulmate, but isn't searching or waiting. Pela used to believe she would find her soulmate and was ready to fight for that. Then she was sent to the frontlines of the Eternal Freeze and decided to give up and focus on reality.

(Characters: Gepard Serval Bronya Natasha Seele Sampo)

People of the Xianzhou Alliance are the complete opposite. They believe that matches are scared and married from birth. It is not only outlawed, but unthinkable to be with anyone outside the Bond. Soulmates are often refers to as Kindreds. Found matches will usually move together that very same day. Exceptions are made for kids, in which case they will have constantly alternating sleepovers. Xianzhou and Foxians share they longevity with they matches, while Vidyadhara share they reincarnation-cycle ability. One would think that make it easier to find their match, and really each ship has they citizens register their Signs and there is open communications to help everyone find their spouse. But there is also a danger in that; matches are thought to be one of mind. Which means if a crime is committed, both soulmates receive the sentence. So if your aging acts up be careful, you don't know what your soulmate was up to. 'You didn't know' will not hold in front of their laws. However if you are the soulmate of Jing Yuan, Fu Xuan or Yukong, it's up to school with you. As their Kindred you are considered their second in command and must learn their people's law and train in combat. Yanqing's soulmate will face similar, but as he is still in training himself, it will be more relaxed. Each of them will of course be with you every step of the way. Sushang is currently searching for you. Tingyun is content to wait for you, she collets trinkets over the years to gift you when you finally meet. Qingque has only just returned from a Search so she is currently focusing on her own life, but she has diaries about her searches she plans to gift her soulmate. Loucha is more a nomad, so he doesn't consider you his spouse yet and fully plans to woe you off your feet, but he has high regard for the soulmate traditions of the Xianzhou and might be quickly influenced by them. Just keep in mind to set boundaries early with any of them, they respect you to much to overstep even if those boundaries are things they are unfamiliar with.

(Characters: Jing Yuan Fu Xuan Yukong Yanqing Sushang Tingyun Qingque Loucha)

Space-Nomads have an interesting case where either each member of the group stays true to their home world's culture or a group has developed their own soulmate culture while traveling together. Other space nomads go with a mix of the two. But overall they experienced enough other cultures that they will have no problem adjusting to their soulmate's culture.

The Nameless mostly go by their home-world's culture, mainly since the culture that Pom-Pom says used to exist on the Express died before Himeko rediscovered said train. Still there are things they picked up from the conductor. Like calling Soulmates 'Soulcompasses' or just one's 'Compass'. Also, Pom-Pom considers each Nameless' match another guest of the Express and will cry if they don't board and travel with them. March 7 pretty much adopted his approach since she has no homeworld-culture to fall back on; in her mind a couple could take as long as they wanted to get together, as long both trailblazed together. Himeko is close to this ideal as well, but she wouldn't pressure someone into coming along. She can always visit with stories and souvenirs in tow. Her homeworld-culture teaches that no relationship is to be taken for granted, you don't own your soulmate, and sometimes they don't work out and that is okay. Welt is undecided on the tropic of soulmates, he has seen a lot. A soulmate is kind of unreal, but he won't push you away. The people of his world believe soulmates always work, but sometimes they don't work out right away. People are shaped by experiences. This means that at times matches can know each other for before they klick or even like each other. That being said he would never let anything happen to you if he could prevent it. Dan Heng has no problem connecting his heritage with the Express traditions, but from his experience traveling different worlds decides to give his 'Kindred Compass' the control on how fast the relationship goes. That said he is desperately hunting for his soulmate. Who knows what happen if they go to Loufu searching for him? He has to find them to at least warn them. The Trailblazer meanwhile, having no culture to remember, just adopts everybody's culture. Soulmates confuse them, but finding one's compass is good, yes?

(Characters Himeko Welt Yang March 7 Dan Heng Stelle Caelus)

Then you have the Stellaron Hunters. These guys are okay to play around or even marry prior to meeting their soulmate. But once they do, whatever relationship they had prior is over. No buts. Given how much they deal with the 'script', they will know when they will meet you and be ready a day or two early. They call the day of the meeting Destiny Call. Kafka confused everyone by bringing flowers to a fight the day she was to meet you. Silver Wolf thinks that is coming on too strong, but still makes sure to look her best on her Destiny Call. In contrast Blade will try to get a rise out of his soulmate the first time you meet. In his mind, his Fated One should know what they are getting into. They do take their other half a tad for granted, but that doesn't mean their aren't prepared to woe you for years to come.

(Characters: Kafka Silver Wolf Blade)

Now the crew of Herta's Space-Station all exclusively go by their home-world traditions. Except Herta herself. Herta has a pop-quiz ready that she will jump at you the moment she knows that you are her soulmate and make a plan based on your answers. Asta's world is neutral towards soulmates, but you only ever gift pearls or chocolate to a soulmate. So a relationship with her would be pretty normal. Except she won't stand for anyone giving you chocolate or you giving cholate out, not even to kids. Arlan has a plan on how to woe his soulmate -it goes flying out of the window the second he meets you. At his home planet you place your soulmate first before everything. There are laws against hurting one's soulmate, so he takes this very serious. Also, unlike some planets, Signs are thought as intimate, usually covered up. So if his soulmate were to show them off, he would be a blushing mess.

after that, he wasn't too interested in those drunken debates anymore, laughing in earnest when asked – who is the most beautiful in mondstadt? sometimes he says rosaria just to tease her when she's around, other times, he says barbatos for the heck of it.

"fools, all of you!" varka slams his pint of dandelion wine down the table, brows furrowed in irritation, "my wife is the sweetest and most beautiful lady there is! how blind can you be to suggest anyone else?" his voice booms all throughout the tavern, making people turn their heads.

"u-uh but grandmaster, let's be realistic here, you—"

the poor guy is now being glared at by the grandmaster of mondstadt, a living legend, a knight recognized by the great wolf boreas and the anemo archon – a smitten, wife-loving, hunk of a man who's willing to forgo all dignity in order to defend his wife's honor.

varka clicks his tongue, and it quickly shuts the soldier up, knowing who he's against but it's too late to stop when varka suddenly speaks up again:

"realistic, you say? you sayin' my wife ain't gorgeous, that it?"

older, veteran soldiers are now looking at the new recruit with pity in their eyes. they've known their grandmaster for years, have fought alongside him, and are even willing to lay their lives for him, so if they know one thing about varka, it's that you never speak negatively about his wife. don't even dare imply it.

a loyal dog may bark but a smitten one will bite.

"that's not it, sir!" the young soldier quickly tries to make amends, stuttering in the process but the only response he got was a small huff from varka.

the other soldiers circle around their table, snickering to each other, "now, now, you know your wife is never included in these kinda' stuff. we wouldn't dare speak of the grandmaster's beloved that way."

"damn right, she's above these petty discussions! AHAHAHAHA!"

he's actually hopeless when it comes to you.

a truly unorthodox man, he is. hard to understand but terrifyingly easy to trust and admire. adored by many despite his ruffian-like demeanor. a slacker yet somehow the most reliable knight there is in the people's eyes. a person of contrasting qualities.

varka of mondstadt is said to be a 'man amongst men', chivalry comes to him like second nature and his list of admirers could fill the favonius library's record book, literally.

but they're in tough luck, the grandmaster only has eyes for you after all. it is no secret how smitten the oh-so-great knight of boreas, varka is for his wife.

no one even tries to approach him with romantic intentions anymore after he's made it very clear where he stands, which is forever next to you. many women, early on in both of your relationship, have tried to swoon and seduce him but they're met with very firm rejections. if there's anything he's strict about, it's this. and he expects the same treatment others give him with you, meaning if someone ever tried flirting or oh lord barbatos – make you leave him, they're getting the harshest talk ever, from varka and the people of mondstadt. 'cause the vendors are your biggest fans after all. though just him would probably be enough, do you know how scary varka is when he's serious? it's more than enough to make a grown man cry.

that's only if you can't handle it or the person is too persistent and you might actually hurt whoever this is. varka's there as a middle man, and hey if he pushes a little too hard while trying to create some distance between the two of you, who's to say it's not a complete accident? he's not exactly a saint of patience, particularly when your safety and comfort is compromised. he isn't the grandmaster of the knights of favonius for nothing.

he's like an obedient angel towards you though, if the angel was over six foot and had a frame huge enough to become an umbrella during hot days.

like a dog wagging it's tail, he beams immediately when he sees your figure from afar. suddenly, he's standing despite jean's protests and kaeya's exasperation, jumping out the window (even though he's on the third floor) and jogging over to you.

"hon! over here!"

you try to walk faster, hoping you heard wrong. because if you did, that means varka is slacking off again and you have to force him to go back to jean, lest she actually pops a blood vessel this time.

"hey don't ignore me!" he catches up to you in no time, barely even taking twelve steps before making it to your side.

you look up at his hulking figure, "go back to work. jean looks about ready to drop dead. or drop you dead." you can spot her angry expression from here, shouting a stern 'grandmaster varka!' but varka pretends to be deaf, focusing on you.

"puh-lease!" he scoffs, laughing boisterously with hands on his hips, "jean dropping dead, hah! you're hilarious. that girl's tough as nails! plus, those look heavy – ah, here let me.."

varka takes your shopping bags from you, carrying three bags in one hand while he interwines his other with yours.

"cookin' up a storm, huh?" varka glances at the ingredients in the bag: some vegetables, fruits, spices, and heavy cuts of meat. no doubt for him and his big carnivorous appetite.

he's smiling in that gooey, lovesick, way again. varka has always been a smiley person, but with you, it was more of a devoted sort of smile – one with less teeth and more wobbly, licked, lips where he gets an itch to scream ' i love you ' on the top of his lungs – letting it echo all throughout teyvat to make sure everyone knew.

eh, he does the same thing anyways with the way he chatters about you to every person he's met. talks and talks and talks until the people are listless, for hours if he could.

he escorts you home, hand in hand. cuts the vegetables as you get the stove started. sings a tune of windchimes and cliffs in that raspy tone of his while he helps with the peeling and heavy work, places chaste kisses on your cheek while you giggle.

jean can't get too mad at that, but she can at least nag varka until his ears fall off.

varka hates writing, hates paperwork all together. can't even stand the sight of paper in the office, always dreading the mountains of it stacked on his desk.

he'd rather be out fighting monsters, training recruits, or having a drink at angel's share. there are a million better things to do than boring ol' paperwork, like bothering people and smothering you with his love. he really, reeeally hates writing!

but he loves you.

he only likes writing when it's to his beloved. it's rare for the grandmaster to actually smile whenever he picks up a pen, usually he does so with a grimace. scowling like a petulant child while he twirls the pen in his hand, sighing every second while he stares at the documents on his desk. however. . .

it's different with you, it always is.

fredwinn is looking at the grandmaster with a suspicious and concerned gaze, it's really odd to see him so happy. . .

while writing.

he's getting weirded out, enough to ask others why such a massive and well-known loafer is actually writing with so much delight his smile looks about ready to split his face. he's met with small knowing grins and giggles from the other soldiers instead. he'll figure it out soon, they say.

he takes a peek over at what varka's writing, met with over two pages of words, small doodles of things they've fought in the margins of the paper – and how the hell is it colored? did he seriously buy crayons just for this? it's badly drawn though if he were to be honest, looks like a child made it. but the amount of words written baffle him, he's never seen the grandmaster write this much.

sure, it's starting to look a bit like chicken scratch because of how fast and how much he's writing but varka's never been one to be happy while writing something – he barely even wrote! like at all. even if he did, he usually made others do it in his stead. the man's great at fighting but he's not exactly a sit in a chair and write reports sort of guy.

perhaps long expeditions change people.

or, maybe he's an idiot who rambles too much in his letters – as long as they're addressed to you. fredwinn soon learns of this after a while, spotting the name of the recipitent in every letter, always followed by a heart. because varka's sappy like that.

varka loves you to the point of blatant favoritism, although he's never been strict with his soldiers, he does dish out punishments when needed. makes sure they learn their lesson too, 'cause what kinda grandmaster would he be if he doesn't?

you could never do wrong though, simply not a concept that exists in that empty head of his.

his wife made a mistake? ah, no biggie, he'll take care of it. you accidentally set the favonius headquarters on fire? oh no! don't worry, he'll handle it, just make sure to get to safety. you ripped his coat to shreds while washing? haha! so funny, anyways did you hear what razor learned today? that's right, its how to write yours and varka's name! isn't that so cool?

you can slack of more than him and he'd still call you the most hardworking person he's ever met. you could never ever do wrong in varka's eyes, it's like telling him the sky is brown or alcohol is bad.

. . .wait, you hid the alcohol? honey, dont be like that! he'll cry, seriously.

you're an exception to many things, and for a good reason, a simple yet profound reason, and also the main reason he fell in-love with you in the first place: it's you. beyond being his wife, his other-half, and varka's closest confidant – you are you, that in itself is already enough for varka, even without the prior accolades.

with both of your legs entwined with each other, your face in his chest as you rest on his bicep. it feels like a rock is under the side your head from how firm his muscles are, but you've gotten used to it, now it just reminds you of home.

because varka is home, and you'd never get homesick if he's around.

"does it not bother you?" he hums, chin propped on your head. you can feel the rumble in his chest when he speaks, makes your head all woozy and sleepy. being surrounded by his scent relaxes your tired body, and you let your eyes clos in response.

"what do you mean?" you ask, nuzzling in his chest further, his clothes smell freshly laundered, with that familiar detergent that you use.

varka keeps quiet for a few seconds, wondering if he should even say anything, "the way they address you as 'grandmaster's wife' instead of your name."

you can only mumble an answer, something varka can't quite catch but he assumes the worst.

he sets a small kiss on your forehead, wrapping you in his arms, "i'll tell them to stop, don't worry."

finally, you jolt awake, "no, no! it's really okay, i don't mind it."

varka looks at you with a complicated expression, finding it hard to believe.

"i like it...being called your wife, being known as yours." you flush, hiding your face. honestly, whenever people greet you in the market as 'grandmaster's wife' or 'varka's lady', it makes you giddy, heart-racing like a girl being teased about her crush.

the people don't mean anything malicious, you know that much and he knows too but it makes you grateful that he's still asking how you feel about it. always so considerate, treating your heart like porcelain. varka's like that, you're pretty sure his worst nightmare is making you upset.

varka has been completely quiet for a few seconds now but you can hear the loud thump, thump, thump of his heart within embrace. you don't have to look at him to know he's just as, if not more, flustered than you.

"alright, if you say so." he buries his face in your neck, curling in himself to be much closer to you.

"i really like it too, when they call me your husband. gets me all happy, y'know?" he mumbles gruffly.

you already know that, because he goes beet red whenever the vendors tease him. it's really obvious. but he's always been obvious with his devotion, you love that about him.

varka loves you, he's loud and clumsy with it but who cares? that just comes with the package.

Furina had connections with the government, per being their former archon. Through those connections she learned of your true identity as a vigilante. She wasn’t all the upset about it; Furina had a hidden past herself after all. But she still encouraged you to talk to her about it. She knew better than anyone the stress and loneliness that came with hiding yourself.

She didn’t participate much in your after dark activities. But Furina did enjoy watching the spectacle of the court cases that surged through your hard work of detaining criminals. Neuvillette knew her boyfriend had some amount of influence in the crime rate decrease, but he couldn’t prove it; and Furina always had a new sweet to taste or play to rehearse whenever he interrogated her.

However as much as she sticks up for you, Furina doesn’t enjoy the frightening moments where you randomly appear behind her bruised up. Even if you say the other guy looked worse, she’d rather you not be a vigilante at all than get injured. Especially when the melusines keep reporting strange sightings of a shadowy figure climbing out her house at night; Neuvillette will never stop suspecting him.

She knew of her boyfriend’s second life. Sweetheart by day, vigilante by night. It didn’t upset Ei that you were helping her puppet keep Inazuma safe. Rather, it upset her that you felt the need to keep it underground; why be a vigilante when you can just be an official officer in her Tenryou Commission. Your added effort of remaining in the shadows made it harder to keep track of your whereabouts, and therefore, harder to make sure you didn’t bite off more than you could chew.

Ei has had to become more trustworthy of her people’s independence and ability to protect themselves. The same goes for her boyfriend; even if you end up injured, Ei expects you to get the job done. You’re more than capable, and if you know better, you’ll only pick the jobs that you can succeed in. She’ll come if you’re in serious danger, but don’t expect her to stop meditating for a minor injury.

She said this, but her actions always spoke louder than her words. Ei couldn’t stop herself from visiting you at night; she’d change your bandages while you slept, petting your head as she left you a new treat she discovered on one of her occasional walks.

Oh? Her man is a vigilante? She knew of your secret before you even knew her. Fontaine is Peruere’s domain and she can’t leave it unsupervised. You should’ve caught on when Lyney and Lynette kept you company so often. You were taking the work meant for her children. Work they needed to help train and become stronger with.

Surely you’d make up for it though. After all Peruere wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if her children met a fate worst than death because they became too rusty. But in the end you were helping, so, surely you wouldn’t mind being her boyfriend? And then delegating some of your free time to training her House of The Hearth? It would just be a small favor for her, really.

You’re free to decline from the training sessions if work gets too busy or you’re too tired. Just don’t be surprised when Peruere comes back from her work to check on you personally. You are her sweet, darling boyfriend; she can’t just ignore nursing you back to health. Medicine that’s disgusting yet effective, soup that leaves a hot impression, and a seemingly cold stare that never falters. Yet she’ll chuckle when you claim to feel the warmth hidden deep in her furnace.

Sir you were already working alongside her before you started dating. Navia was not shy about starting an alliance with you. Plenty of the Spina di Rosula’s patrons go through too much trouble trying to stay afloat. Thankfully you were always out there unknowingly solving their problems one by one; it was only natural that Navia would want to join forces with you.

Navia trusted in you completely. You’re both strong, smart, and have the drive to see a job through to the end. She loved whenever you’d tag team a group of good-for-nothing goons! Sometimes she’d want to flex and eat macarons as you fought in background, but that quickly ended when her bodyguards nearly had a heart attack after a bullet narrowly missed her head; she’ll always thank you for the last minute save as her pookie~

She doesn’t enjoy seeing you injured however. Even with your capabilities, you’re still human. Navia would sometimes ask Clorinde to help keep an eye on you whenever she had free time. And Navia always made sure that you both came home at the right time of day and night. She can’t sleep without her boyfriend nearby; just the thought of losing you like she lost her closest loved ones keeps her up late, so make sure to return home safe and sound.

Zani noticed first.

She stood by the reception desk, immaculate as always—white shirt pressed to perfection, red ribbon tied with military precision, high-waisted black pants hugging her form, and that ever-present cape draping elegantly from her shoulders. Pale skin, dark red eyes, black horns curving upward… She looked every inch the Montelli family’s most formidable employee.

And, of course, your wife.

A fact no one here—not even Rover—knew.

Rover was leaning against one of the marble columns, chatting with a junior banker. She spotted you and brightened immediately, striding over with the easy grin of someone who had no idea what she was walking into.

“Well, well,” she said, eyes twinkling. “Didn’t expect to see royalty gracing the bank today. What’s the occasion? Missing me already?”

It was harmless teasing, the kind Rover threw at everyone. You chuckled, replying in kind, but before you could answer, the faint click of heels cut through the air.

Zani’s approach was slow, deliberate—the kind of pace that said she wasn’t in a rush, but you’d better be ready to listen. The shadow of her cape fell across you before she stopped at your side, her gloved hand coming to rest lightly on your shoulder.

“Your Highness,” she greeted, voice smooth but edged with steel. “I wasn’t informed you’d be visiting today.”

“Surprise,” you said, smiling at her.

Her gaze didn’t linger on you, though. No—those crimson eyes locked onto Rover with the precision of a hawk sighting prey.

“Rover,” she said evenly, “I see you’ve met my husband.”

It was a casual enough sentence… until the weight of the last two words sank in. Rover froze.

“…Your husband?” she repeated slowly, looking between you and Zani as if trying to reconcile the idea with reality.

“Yes,” Zani replied, voice still perfectly polite, perfectly calm. “Mine. And I don’t share.”

The statement was delivered with such smooth finality that the room seemed to drop a degree in temperature. Zani’s hand tightened on your shoulder—not painfully, but enough to remind you that the grip could turn into an unbreakable hold if needed.

Rover blinked, mouth opening to explain that she’d just been joking, but Zani continued before she could.

“I’m sure you meant no harm,” she said, that faint smile not reaching her eyes, “but I would suggest exercising… care… with your words. Especially toward what belongs to me.”

The silence stretched just long enough for Rover to nod stiffly and mutter something about work before retreating.

When she was gone, Zani turned to you, the faintest flicker of softness replacing the intimidation in her eyes.

“You should have told me you were coming,” she murmured. “I would have met you at the gates.”

“Wouldn’t be a surprise then,” you teased.

Her lips curved ever so slightly. “Perhaps. But surprises invite misunderstandings… as you just saw.”

Still, she didn’t remove her hand from your shoulder. In fact, as she led you deeper into the bank, her other hand found yours—an uncharacteristic display of affection in public, but one she clearly wasn’t letting go of any time soon.

The Fisalia estate was a masterpiece of opulence and quiet menace—ornate gates twined with flowering vines, halls scented faintly of exotic blooms, and a lingering taste of salt in the air, as if the ocean itself had claimed the place.

You arrived on a bright afternoon, your carriage rolling to a stop at the front steps. Being fifth in line to a throne wasn’t a position that demanded constant attention, but when visiting another nation’s most infamous family, it came with an entourage and an announcement.

Rover, who’d been helping deliver a package to the estate, happened to be there when you stepped out. She blinked at you, then grinned.

“Well, if it isn’t royalty,” she said, leaning casually against the carriage doorframe. “Didn’t expect to see you in Fisalia territory. What brings you here? Sightseeing? Or maybe you’re here for the company—”

Before she could finish, a soft, melodic voice drifted down from the top of the steps.

“My dear.”

Cantarella Fisalia descended like the tide—graceful, deliberate, her lavender hair flowing with light blue streaks that caught the light like ripples over water. Her parasol twirled lazily in one hand, the sapphire at her throat catching the sun. Those vivid blue eyes locked onto you and seemed to glow with recognition.

Rover actually stepped back at the sudden change in atmosphere. Cantarella didn’t so much walk to you as she did drift, her presence as fluid and irresistible as the sea itself.

When she reached you, she didn’t hesitate. The parasol closed with a soft click and was hooked over her arm; then her hands found yours, fingers lacing together as if she’d been waiting years for this moment.

“You’re early,” she said softly, the faintest note of delight in her voice. “Were you too impatient to wait for me to visit you?”

You smiled. “Guilty.”

She leaned in, her forehead brushing against yours, voice dropping to a private murmur that somehow still carried to Rover’s ears. “Good. I’ve been drowning without you.”

Rover’s eyes widened slightly. “Wait—hold on. You two are…?”

Cantarella turned her head slowly, regarding Rover with polite curiosity—as though only now realizing someone else was present. “Married,” she said simply. “To him. Did you not know?”

Rover’s mouth opened and closed. “I… no. I didn’t.”

Cantarella tilted her head, that ethereal smile curling at the edges. “Then you must forgive me. I am not usually so… forward… in front of strangers. But my husband has been far away, and I…” She trailed off, looking back at you with such raw adoration that it made the air feel warmer. “I miss him too much to pretend otherwise.”

Her hands slid up to cup your face, thumbs brushing along your jaw. “Walk with me,” she urged, already steering you toward the gardens. “I’ve prepared tea. And I’ll not be letting go of you for the rest of the day.”

Rover stood frozen as the two of you disappeared into the estate, Cantarella’s parasol bobbing gently over her shoulder. She had seen Cantarella flirt before—light, airy, with strangers and allies alike. But this? This was something different. The dreamweaver of Fisalia clung to you as though you were her anchor in a world that constantly tried to pull her under.

By the time you reached the garden, Cantarella had looped her arm through yours, her body pressed close. She poured tea with one hand, refusing to release the other.

“You’ll stay the night,” she murmured as she set your cup down. “And the next. And the next, if I have my way. Your kingdom can do without you for a while.”

Her smile was sweet, but her grip on your hand was firm—a gentle chain you had no desire to escape.

Caesar loved going on bike rides with you; watching you run on foot and keep up with her as she went full speed was astounding. She thought of it as a good training method for the both of you, seeing as no matter how fast she went you always went faster. And even though she never got enough of it, looking at the faces of others in complete shock at the emperor’s boyfriend’s capabilities without even using a w-engine were always a blast.

She really appreciated how hard you worked to pay the bills. Considering how much it costed to keep you fed after going so fast so often. Keeping the Outer Ring safe had never been easier with you around. Caesar loved watching you gorge on the food in Cheesetopia as your bottomless pit of a stomach brought a knowing smile to her face; reminding Caesar of the characters in her manga that had similarly endless appetites.

However, she does get embarrassed whenever you used your speed to surprise her with romantic gestures. Caesar knew having a boyfriend meant being lovey dovey, but she still couldn’t handle how giddy romance made her feel. Keeping track of the amount of times you picked her up and flustered her was becoming harder, but Caesar not-so-secretly enjoyed it when you treated her like a princess.

Astra, whenever possible, would love to play hooky with you; running around Lumina Square as you window shopped with Astra in your arms bridal style all around town. Meanwhile Evelyn had to explain for the umpteenth time why Astra was almost late for another recording session after going on a rendezvous with her boyfriend.

Considering you don’t use a w-engine, Astra found your speed to be more than impressive. Watching you zoom around always gave her loads of inspiration for her choreography. Her favorite time of the day was when you would both dance together, and as Astra got caught up in the music, you’d spin her around so fast she’d get dizzy and hunch over in dazed laughter.

Although she was not the best at it and still learning, Astra wouldn’t mind cooking for you whenever she could muster up the free time. But the amount you needed to eat was pretty overwhelming for her, so she stuck to making what she knew best: a giant batch of fried rice and calling it a day. But in the end it was all worth it when you’d surprise her with a candle lit dinner for her after a long day of working.

You were a secret agent for PubSec, similarly to Jane, and you were teamed up with Zhu for a job. Having never worked together, Zhu was insanely impressed by your ability of speed. At first she thought you had an incredible w-engine, but when Zhu found out it was all you, she felt a sudden burst of astonishment with an urge to learn from you.

Even after dating you she still was amazed at your skill set. Your speed made household chores so easy that Zhu felt bad leaving them all to you. But your words of wanting her to relax on her day off with her garden, after watching how hard she worked at PubSec day and night, made her so happy; it was then that Zhu realized right there that you were the man she wanted to marry.

Zhu was initially worried about the copious amount of food you ate. But when she saw how underweight you were after coming home from a mission that went south and took longer than expected, leaving you without proper nutrition for a week…Zhu just barely fought back her tears. Ever since that day she made it a habit to always have dinner with you. Whether from a restaurant, takeout, or something homemade together, she would do it. Because it was moments like those, eating together, working together, being together, that reminded Zhu just how alive you both were.