kaf!

04. Trespassers, Transgressions.

Yet again a mundane day celebrated by the sky and the living. The Balladeer's eyes glint with a striking hue of indigo under the glaring sun, eyeing the specific delicacy laying before him. He (stole) got himself some tri-colored dango from the Inn's kitchen which surprisingly didn't take much effort. Not because he was hungry, no. It was merely due to a curious hunch he has for a while. Do they use the same water for their food? If so, does it retain the same regenerative effects on a body? His questions end on dead end when it occured to him that he has no 'body' to regenerate.. so his little experiment had to come to a pause.

Scaramouche's pondering was short-lived when a sudden noise emerged from the forest, reaching his ears. It seemed to grow louder and louder until he can make out of its screeching. Moments after, a familiar face emerge from his view to feast his sight on. (Y/n), with her disheveled locks flaying all over her face, was flushed and gasping for air. It's as if she ran a mile under a span of ten seconds.

Scaramouche was taken aback, but was slightly amused by her panting figure.

"You!" she managed to breathe out, chest still heaving heavily. "I finally found you! Quest- questions..! I mean— answers! I need answers!" The Balladeer only spared her a glance not caring less. A mess she was, yet in a span of a few minutes, managed to collect herself, clearing her throat.

"You are not registered within the Inn's reception. Not a guest nor an employee, and an official tourist or local of Wakumi Island." (Y/n) lay out briefly with a bemused expression. The purple haired man huffed as he crossed his arms. Ridiculous, you ran a background check? Foolish.

"State your name and your business. And most importantly, your explanation! What you're doing is highly illegal." she says with a clear voice with no sign of even a light stutter. She can't believe she'd be the first to witness a person of unknown origin by the peaceful borders of Wakumi!

Initially, our fair maidens' objective was to find out who this man was and send forth a gratitude gift— assuming he was a resident.

But to her surprise, no one of Wakumi Island found a man of Indigo optics with locks darker than a lilac familiar.

(Y/n) was feeling especially icky because of the new incidents that had been occuring down town, with thugs and frauds going out and about by the shore.

"Look, multiple suspicious individuals have set up around the Island not longer than a week ago, all of which contain various weapons and scrap machinery. They're importing spring goods to various regions, which loses its vitality the longer they are out of the vicinity of Wakumi."

His ears perk up, now turning his full attention to her. Wow. Now that's a surprise. He wonders what kind of idiots wandered into the border, getting the residents so worked up.

"Elaborate."

"These people have been vandalizing and stealing resources from local residents.."

"..And you're implying that I have something to do with them?" Scaramouche interjects, raising his eyebrow, almost offended. (Y/n) was about to retort but quickly had her lips pursed in a thin line. "You said it, not me. Didn't hear from me."

The Balladeer scoffs. The longer this silence drags out, the thicker the atmosphere gets.

But to be honest.. when Scaramouche started thinking about it, the more it started to make sense. He's starting to hypothesize that it could be Fatui. The official request he put up for surveying the area in hopes of making an alliance with Wakumi's land work utilizing its resources was issued not long ago; adding the fact that Fatui likes using force as a diplomatic tactic to the equation...

The Balladeers face turned grim— eyes almost rolling to the back of his head. He made it clear that the space was of great importance and wanted to handle everything civil for good measure. Idiots, a bunch of meat headed chunks thirsting for violence.

'No, that can't be..' he murmurs to himself, face slightly scrunched; displeased. He can't have those lot disrupt his future assets and investments.

Clearly irritated, the Balladeer released an exasperated huff. Scaramouche has no choice but to get to the bottom of this himself.

And the key is right in front of him.

"Woman."

"Huh?"

"Woman. Take me to the camp. Both of us, then we'll cross that bridge."

(Y/n) frowned. "I have a name. You can't just call me 'woman', that's the same as calling you Hat man."

"Let's go."

What— how rude! Is this really the guy who made his way out to save her from the brink of death? 'He looks like a self centered jerk that can't reach the level of kitchen counters to me!' she sneers. Despite her displeasure towards the Fatuu's attitude, (Y/n) led the way to various destinations.

Thump, thump, thump..

The walk was quiet and empty. Many words hung around the air, but the Balladeer seemed to find little importance in them. (Y/n), however, felt like she was walking on eggshells the moment he started spitting his thoughts.

Archons, this guy is chilly. Absolutely scary. She wants to sink into mud and never come near a 100km radius of this guy. Why does he act like everyone's a nuisance with the waste of air he breathes? Arrogant, so full himself.

Something about him seemed off, like how he doesn't flinch. His eyes doesn't seem to light up or show expression either aside from his usual sneer. It took a few attempts, but you finally raised enough to courage to try and start a conversation.

"..Would it kill for you to loosen up a bit? I know this is really concerning but you look constipated."

"Be grateful I'm forced to play nice with you in this vicinity." He says, irritated.

"You may not be one of those thugs but you sure are more than capable of.." You mumble as quietly as you can, but it didn't escape his ears. He says nothing but keeps his eyes ahead; the red eyeliner on his eyes emphasize how sharp his eyes were.. making it incredibly hard to keep gazes with him.

How strange. When (Y/N) last encountered the man near Granny Yori's house, he looked like a kind young man. Now his stature seemed more of a general, a warrior, ruthless and cold. More likely to have beheaded atleast 100 soldiers at war.

(Y/N)'s face turned pale.

Unconsciously, she reached out for her neck catching the Balladeers attention. He narrows his eyes at the pale maiden, as if she's seen a ghost.

He's not gonna ask why.

But a thought crosses his mind..

Maybe he shouldn't have kept tossing and throwing you around if your fragile body bruises easily. Scaramouche recalls that the anatomical composition of a female body is a lot fragile that an average adult male; most likely due to their size and overall mass.

He steals another glance.

Whatever.. Not like he cares.

Their patrolling comes to halt when an unfamiliar scenery greeted their sight. Hidden amongst turbulent flow of leaves, branches, and vines— a humble cabin settles by. The two gave each other puzzled gazes when the first thing they notice is the smoke emitting from the fire place, signifying that it was not long till there was company.

Scaramouche suddenly walks forward, approaching charcoal twigs. (Y/N) quickly interjected by telling him to be careful to which he didn't pay any attention to.

It was warm. Assuming from the scattered resources nearby, it's quite a rowdy crowd. Scaramouche didn't waste time by barging in the dusty cabin, kicking the door open.

"Hey! You'll alert them!" (Y/n) whisper-yelled.

"They can come charging in with pitchforks for all I care."

"You saw the other camps, right? There's atl least a bundle of them. What makes you so confident we'll win in a fist fight with a bunch of other people?" She retorted. He rolls his eyes. Scaramouche emits a mischievous chuckle turning back to her.

"What makes you think we'll fight? I'll be selling you off, duh. Limb by limb, 12 Million Mora per organ." (Y/N)'s face immediately turned pale, surprised.

The second worst thing after getting beheaded is to be profited off your body, apparently.

"No joking like that, please."

"I like it when you say Please. Do it often."

(Y/N) lets out a slightly disgusted and frustrated groan and storms off the cabin with a loud thud.

'So much for staying quiet, huh.' he deadpans. Whatever. Moving on. Keeping his musings to himself, he analyzes the area.

Bamboo baskets. Scraps. Food. Semi-rotten food. Rags. No sign of Fatui equipment. Scaramouche comes to a conclusion that the perpetrators are most likely thugs, treasure hoarders— considering the state and resources of the cabin. His eyes wander towards a sack that contains various booklets, a leathered cover catching his eye. He carefully grabs the notebook trailing his hands along the spine.

A journal?

He opens a random entry— silently reading.

XX-XX-XXXX It has been a month. We are starving. We managed to smuggle ourselves in a ship that was carrying supplies towards the Islands. Coincidentally, we ended up on Wakumi. Lucky men! My men are lucky. We are so lucky. I think I'm losing my mind, but i must hold on for my me—

Scaramouche turns to the latest page.

XX-XX-XXXX What the hell. We were shipped with these exploding papers. Juna told me it was fireworks, like what we usually see in Liyue Harbor. What the Hell. Juna was also smoking inside. We could've died. This is good, if someone interferes with our base, we can just blow it up.

(Y/N) was thinking.

(Y/N) was thinking hard.

She was thinking of her own hypothesis as to who and why would set up camps like this. The boxes were nothing but scraps of garbage and trinkets. That alone gave her an idea as to whom, but why? Why are they here?

Sun rays peek from the leaves among the blanket of greens, creating illusions of the sun. She can see that there are dust particles showing clear indications of motion and activity. In conclusion, the people who had been occupying the space left not too long ago.

The air suddenly turned different, and she heard a loud clunk! behind her.

Her heart almost jumped out of her chest when a sudden strike emerged from behind, aiming for her head. Fortunately, she was quick enough to turn her body around to evade, saving her very pretty head of flowers.

"Asus! You dumb prick! Now she knows!"

"Get her before she runs away!"

'Huh? What!?' The guy, 'Asus' prepared to swing again, this time much forceful than before. (Y/N) was in a frenzy; her feet quick to dally around the soil and dip around the waters. You don't know if it was because of the adrenaline but you were getting extremely lucky that you're not dead yet. The place was surrounded by a handful of fruff and lanky men, all with weapons— hollering different noises all at once. You couldn't make sense of either of them. (Y/n) attempted to yell and at least alert him—

Uh..

Oh no! She doesn't even know Hat man's name!

(Y/N)'s face loomed with pure despair; slapping herself mid chase. Damnit, (Y/n)! You forgot to ask his name! You accused a man of illegal loitering on the spot and ended up facing karma! Another screech emits from her throat when an axe came flying dangerously close to her arms, almost becoming permanently left handed.

(Y/n) ducks and exchanges hits with the perpetrators but there were far too many. Her hits were weak and uncalculated, but her speed outdid the men in rags. It was clear that they're exhausting her out and is willing to go for as long as you can. Although you were not a seasoned fighter, you were still taught how to swing.

She was taught how to swing, but not against 8 people! She's gonna die here!

And the inevitable happened, when our fair maiden got even the slightest bit distracted, a shovel slammed into her head— echoing a loud noise amongst the forest.

Both her yelp, the shovel and the gasps among the men echoed in unison.

And before she knew it, her eyes rolled to the back of her head; embraced by darkness.

"Did it..? Juna, you did it!" 'Asus's voice boomed after the lady falls with a thud. "Tie her up and wait for her to wake. Interrogate her as soon as possible. One step closer to our hometown!" He added. The group was festive, like they achieved successful heist. In the middle of their parade, a new face chimes in, joining in their shared joy.

"Incredible!" The unknown man sang cheerfully, the group quickly halted their celebration, turning towards the source. Their confusion was immediately replaced with a scowl, their gazes trailing over a man who leisurely sat atop on a pair of cargo baskets, smiling down upon them.

The slender figure gracefully hops down, offering slow applause.

"Incredible. A jacked mice took approximately 5 minutes trying to take down a helpless girl with his subordinates like cats and mouse. It was so lengthy, I finished writing two entries."

"Who the hell are you!?"

The Balladeers smile immediately dropped, and atmosphere went cold. Heavy tension brew amongst the thugs, as they all halted their activity, mouths let out a chorus of reluctance and choked up protest.

Scaramouche slowly made his way towards the slumped woman, picking her up gently— placing her on his shoulder.

"Hands off my prize, gentlemen. This one owes me an interrogation."

It's was as if the who place froze. His immense presence put a halt to their banters and frenzy. Scaramouche could see that they were weighing their options, so he pauses, keeping his thoughts to himself.

"You can fight a little bit. So what?" He murmurs seemingly to no one, huffing at her slumped figure. Eyes boring holes to each and every one of the group's heads, none of them even dared to move, nor have the courage to ask. This man emitted something far more dangerous than those of the shogunates' Hatamotos.

The man of Indigo, hair darker than lilac. One who supposedly sneaked into the Island as well, looked back at them with a side eye.

"Lot, be grateful."

Concentrated elemental power spasmed slowly, electro increasingly spasming all throughout the space. The Balladeer had smug look on his face.

"It'll be less excruciating—" one last flicker, and reaches into your pockets. With a tear of a talisman, everything was engulfed in white.

"—'cause you caught me in a good mood."

05. As If Nature Loves You

A pair of eyes follow her at once, some dreading, and others concerned.

(Y/n) tried her best to keep conversations standing, as the tension grew thick.

"And so.. uuh. I may or may not have hit my head with a shovel."

"...Archons above, girl."

"..I have hit my head with a Shovel." She replied meekly in shame, defeated.

The elder lady only stayed silent, observing her. She was hurt, hurting for her. It's as if she failed being a protector. Miss Aine's eyes softly gazed at her nervous form, releasing an exasperated sigh.

"Thank Archons you used the sigil, dear." Miss Aine, the current Head Manager sighed. (Y/n) could only avert her eyes as response. A familiar scent enters her nose. Looking around to inspect her surroundings, she blinks once or twice to take the sight in. The smell of varnish in wood, bitter yet herbal smell of green tea, and soft rays of sunlight hitting her hair was less noticeable. The gauze that gripped the crown of her head stood out the most out of all of them. It was the same room she resided in after once again, encountering the mysterious individual.

However, Y/n was confused.

She tore a sigil?

"Miss Aine, I-"

"Ta-ta-ta! Save it, young lady! You are not to engage in activities outside until you are in full recovery." Miss Aine commanded. "No going out alone. You seem to always attract trouble." The elderly pinched the bridge of her nose. Softly huffing, Manager Aine stood up. She signals the Doctor to come have a word with her outside- and they both disappear with a small thud.

A sigil?

She tore a Sigil of Wakumi?

This made her ponder. A Sigil of Wakumi is a divine equipment used in par with some sort of blinding Flash Bang- allowing to expose territory and cause diversions. The Sigil was originally used to protect the citizens- but it was only limited to personnel and of divine abilities..

Could The Balladeer have known this?

Her head is hurting.

"You seem to be lost in thought."

Y/n's ears perk up, turning towards the person beside her who was sitting quietly the whole time.

"Are you feeling well?" Yuuki's soothing voice entered her ears, allowing her to relax immediately. It was Yuuki, one of her long time friends she made with in the Inn. Yuuki gazed at her with concern, opening his mouth to follow up. "We got moving as soon as the signal was given. We found you laying on the ground." recounting calmly, his palm grazes (Y/n)'s gauze. "Those thugs of Liyue.. they smuggled through a ship and found themselves in Inazuma. The environment wasn't too ideal for them, so they wandered all throughout Wakumi to come sip our divine streams."

His expression was forlorn, almost pitiful; but all of it was wiped clean in a mere second- showcasing his gentle features and bright smile.

"You needn't worry, (Y/n). They are given due care and rehabilitation before proper punishment."

"Ahh.. Okay." Was all she could utter. Archons above, is it just her or every sound has been doubling in volume lately? Goodness, she might've caught a really bad hemorrhage with that damn shovel. Shaking off that iffy thought, she once again thinks to herself. So they found her braindead on the floor, with no signs of a floating lavender melon— or at least, a purple gentleman on sight?

That guy, so slimy; as sneaky as a fox!

Those icy blue eyes illuminated by moonlight, navy blue hair under the dark— purple by the morning sun, he wears a spur of raven hue clothing adorned with red embellishments. A stranger with an unpleasant demeanor yet puzzling behavior. Where was he when you were being tag teamed by a bunch of men twice your size? Surely, he couldn't be watching?

(Y/n)'s body stiffens, and slams it on tatami mat to release tension.

"I gotta make that guy pay." With a grim face, she mutters in newfound determination. She was kidding of course, there's a nagging sense of concern piling up on her chest, worried about the state of condition this stranger has been put in because of her actions. Just then, a low chuckle cut through her thoughts like wind. Yuuki questions her what was she talking about, but brushes it off.

"You should know, we have an important guest coming a week from now on." Yuuki crosses his arms, directing his gaze out the window. "We were told to prepare the finest garb and utilities to accommodate them. It makes you wonder if they're a diplomat." he finishes it off with a small grin.

"VIP? Sounds fancy. Guess I'll have to get better in three days to help!"

"You don't have to, you hit your head pretty hard."

"I think I make it obvious by how over the top my bandages are. I'll probably be all fixed up in a day or two!"

Yuuki doesn't mind your protest, only standing up to come and give you space. "Don't push yourself too much, work can wait. I'll see you later, (Y/n)." With that, he slides the door closed. Wow, total buzzkill. She lays her head gently, falling back into deep thought. Attempting to recount the past, her memory stops at the event of collision between her skull and shovel. Wincing, her calloused hands carefully caress the patchers of gauze wrapped on her temple; hair disheveled.

'I've been getting injured lately.. maybe it's just my luck.' She thinks sadly, frowning. 'Maybe I should stay inside for a while? It could be an omen.' A dead lady is nowhere near an adventurous lady. That is a lesson (Y/n)'s father taught her. That reminds her, it's been a while since you visited your parents. Working at an inn in the crisp years of 17 really keeps a score on time. Now that she has recently turned of age, her paycheck would definitely be more than enough to come and support the old man to retirement. (Y/n) grins cheekily— very pleased with herself. Not knowing that her thoughts divulged into multiple fragments of yesterday, she slowly drifted from consciousness; entering a dreamless slumber.

Two moons had passed before the illegal camps incident, and the grand estate of Tsubasa Inn was filled with busy bodies and hollering. The space has been filled with loud footsteps across tatami boards and wooden floorings— and a certain (h/c)-colored head was the most fastest and giddiest of them all. All the maids and worker gawk at her eagerness to take in all chores of others to make lighter work; half of them reluctantly accepting. Youngsters, filled with energy to the brim, always.

"(Y/n)! got a moment?"

"Alright Gene, I can't possibly— Coming!" You trudge away from your co-worker, who happens to be begging you to come switch stations. "We could switch tomorrow!"

Life in the inn is always a busy one. No matter the days, weekends and weekdays. It's such a staple in Inazuma, especially among the locals. It used to be a top tourist spot before the enactment of the Vision Hunt Decree coupled with the closing of borders from foreign lands. Despite the guards and occasional men in black clothing coming about, business has been surprisingly thriving no matter what political state the region has been.

She was handed a large rattan basket.

"Now, go forth Narukami Island and fetch the textiles. We've ordered a big batch this week, but it won't be very heavy so you'd guaranteed to be fine. Here's the receipt, do not lose it." Manager Aine strictly instructs, patting the order invoice to your chest.

You nod in understanding. Take the boat, traverse Narukami Island for the textiles, retrieve them, and come back home. Simple, right?

Okey dokey!

Except.. it wasn't simple. At all. It just wasn't possible.

Nokey dokey...?

After a while of retrieving the textiles, the clerk properly folded and arranged everything for (Y/n) to take back to the inn. A few moments into the journey back home, (Y/n) passed by Granny Yori.

"Oh, dear (Y/n), I haven't seen you a while." her soft, raspy voice called.

But you couldn't respond to her, not when a familiar figure stood right next to the soft lady— once again holding a cart. His faintly blue hued eyes narrowed at the sight of you, suddenly setting down the cart with a loud thump.

With an agape mouth and a tone similar from yours, you both exclaim:

"You again!?"

"Oh dear, you know each other?"

"No." Scaramouche quickly retorts, irritated— but makes sure his tone is still polite to Granny Yori.

"Yes!" the (e/c) eyed maiden asserts, both in unison. Scaramouche pinches the bridge of his nose, and turns back to the elderly woman in a polite tone, this time, strained.

"Well, granny. Seems like I have no business here anymore. I should take my leave." He dismissed himself, turning away before anyone else could say anything. Granny Yori could only softly smile as a response whilst (Y/n) scrambles to come and keep up with the Balladeer.

"Granny, can I leave these here? Thank you so much, a triple thousand! I just have to deal with something. I'll come back for them, I promise!" She says, hurriedly.

"No problem, dear."

The elderly shoots the maiden a smile. The (h/c)-colored lady leaves to chase after the mysterious stranger that has been haunting her this week. Scaramouche, who left in a hurry, was surprisingly walking at a leisure pace. Then, it was as if fate slowed down for them and was permitted a long awaited reunion. Slowing down—as if— the sun disappeared from their sights. The sky had been replaced with a shade of blue only reserved for the night, and the surroundings painted with luminous flora that glimmered like the stars. Scaramouche had walked far enough, and was done ignoring her calls. And so he stood, facing the maiden.

"Did you hit your head or something? You know, for following a stranger out in a forest like this." Scaramouche starts, taunting you.

"Please, we're barely strangers. You've seen me unconscious once or twice. And it's all because of—" before she could finish her sentence, her eyes trail towards a drumming creature. A small, plump racoon standing idly by her side; a leaf on its head. A bake-danuki, you presume. Whatever it's doing here, it's most certainly distracting you.

"—you..." (Y/n) trails off. She directs her attention back to the Balladeer, who had payed no mind to his surroundings at all; an austere look on his face.

"Look, since you're so keen on passing out and everything, and had you rely on me to deliver your body to that stuffy place— how about we just form an agreement?" the Fatuu says in a matter-of-fact tone, his slender figure stood with his arms crossed.

"Let my presence on the Island go, forget it all happened. You see me, you see nothing. I have business to attend to in these waters that doesn't concern you, woman." the way he speaks contrast his sharp and delicate features, those trenchant pale blue eyes staring straight at you.

"See how I'm doing you a favor here? Don't take this for granted."

Archons. Sound the alarm. No decent man speaks like that with such solemn look in their faces. (Y/n) carefully studies his image. She can't help but sneak in a few compliments or two. The hat he's wearing bears resemblance to a certain garb travelers wear that you forgot the name of, and those sleek red shadow on his icy eyes form the likeness of a mischievous fox— true to the stillness of his behavior.

"Be honest. Did you rescue me from those two incidents?" You has a hunch ever since your body regained consciousness. How could he, a stranger, bear witness to the events past, and lightly brush it off?

"Did you think I did that out of my own accord? Thank your Ōki Tori for that. It kept threatening me it'd electrocute and burn my insides if I dont step in. I would've left you dead long ago if it weren't for that stupid carcass." with a displeased tone, the prickly man directed his gaze elsewhere. He veils his words with enough malice to make you think he's got horrible personality, but enough humour to remind you of childish banter.

"That God forsaken curse about protection or whatever.." Scaramouche mutters under his breath. He reaches for his sleeve, pulling out a piece of fabric that looks all too familiar to you. It was like there was a ghost of an amused smile on his face once he caught wind of your bewildered expression.

With all the shenanigans he had to endure just to enjoy Wakumi's atmosphere, it was about time he had to get back at you for always getting him zapped or divinely burned. After all, you're outside it's perimeters.

No God can reach him here.

"Hold on.." you trail off. Those are..

The textiles!? One of them?

With an arrogant smile, he dangles the textile right in front of you, daring you to take it from his very hands. Scaramouche knows you're definitely a goody two shoes, and he knows just what to do to get under your skin without physically injuring you. The Balladeer never really thought he'd get this petty either, but he couldn't care less. After all, the patterns on this clothing reminds him of a certain someone, which makes everything all the more better.

"Hey, give it back."

"Over my dead body."

"I'm not messing around! That's important!"

"You'd have to grab it from my cold, dead hands."

(Y/n) takes a few steps to close the gap between them, but the devilish man takes two steps back, just a few hands out of reach. Is this his way of petty vengeance? Mere child's play? Since he can't get his revenge his own way, he'd rather inconvenience everyone to make himself feel better? The figure of the maiden tried again and again to snatch the most beautifully plated textile to no avail.

"Busy bee, What's wrong? I thought you were quick on your feet back there? Buzzing around and—" before Scaramouche could continue with his mockery, he was suddenly cut off by a pebble to his face. Shocked, his widened eyes met with (Y/n)'s (e/c) colored frustrated ones. She tosses another pebble in her palm with a strained expression.

"Did you just chuck a rock at me?" Scaramouche says in shock, gawking at the maiden. So much for being considerate, you're bold and fierce.

"It's nothing compared to being hit on the head with a shovel, but you wouldn't know that, don't you?" you attempt to taunt him, working him up. His purple hair moves with breeze of Chinju Forest, a scowl painted his face.

"I've had worse." Scaramouche closes the distance between the two of you, catching you off guard. He gracefully swept your feet off the ground, leaving you stumbling in the dirt with a yelp. Fuming, you pulled on his sleeves to gain advantage in tackling him to the ground with you. Surprisingly, he stays still as stone like an unmovable force. Embittered, you fling yourself to him as a last ditch effort. Finally grabbing ahold of the textile in his arms, your (e/c) eyes light up in triumph as a result.

"Give.." the (h/c) haired maiden tugs at the expensive fabric. "..it back!"

Poof! Smoke suddenly appeared before them, making the two stop in their wrestling.

(Y/n) holds onto an end of a medium sized log, with Scaramouche's fingers on the other end. The two halted their antics to stare at presumably expensive and most delicate textile Ritou has to offer— now reduced to a piece of fat, lumpy log.

Ah, screw this. You're dead meat now.

Both their attention turned to the joyful drumming of a certain tanuki in the forest, dancing as if to provoke the two of them into the deep. You make your frustrations known towards the tanuki, who started to flaunt the piece of fabric on the ground— dirtying it so.

"Aaahhhh Nooo!!! Stop! You're charred meat!!" the poor maiden exclaims in despair. The tanuki takes off into the distance, poofing offscreen somewhere— whilst (Y/n) scrambles to keep up with it in a frenzy. Manager Aine was not to be played with, and you would rather sweep the whole forest clean upside down just to find this troublesome tanuki.

You ran towards the direction it's guiding you by jumping and slapping its plumpy cheeks. To your surprise, Scaramouche ran past you, hell, even more faster than you! He moves like it's natural, an air of quiet imperturbability alluding his every movement.

"Got it."

He squishes the poor youkai into his palm like some sort of toy, but before he could continue— it vanishes into thin air accompanied by smoke. There was a small hint of surprise in his expression before it was wiped away with an obvious scoff. 'Right, of course, that's their thing.' Part of Scaramouche felt idiotic by thinking it was that simple, so he sighs and dusts himself off.

"You're on your own, moron."

You were taken aback by his sheer audacity. "Wh— But you started this, you toad!"

He huffs at the insult. A toad? Screw it, he's out of here. His hat— now remembering the term "Kasa", sways with the breeze; turning his back. Despite your fuming demeanor, you can't help but be entranced by how pleasing the way sheer fabric flows among the wind. The beautiful patterns of smoke and imagery further escalates the look of eloquence and sharpness— catching you entranced. It was enough to disperse that nagging fire in your head. (Y/n) huffs, dusting her (now dirtied) uniform.

(Y/n) trudges ahead first. With that, they go on their separate ways.

One step, two steps, three..

The mysterious air of Chinju forest has a charm like no other. The flowers that glow beckon you to come closer as the soft ground cushion your every step. It has been a few minutes of you going around looking for the youkai like crazy.

Four steps, five steps, six...

You can't brush off the thought like you're being watched, going in an endless loop of trees, weeds, and rocks. Slumping in defeat, you heaved a heavy sigh. You're lost, it's time to admit that now. Determined to get that piece of fabric back, the lost maiden racks her brain to come up with a solution to finally end this ridiculous situation. Rummaging through your pockets, you find three pieces of caramel bites, a sweet delicacy that keeps you energized all day and night. Staring at them blankly, your eyes light up for an idea.

(Y/n) crouches and places the three candies on the ground. For good measure, she backs up two steps away from her offerings. With a strained expression, she starts. "Oh, great and revered bake-danuki," Never forgetting your polite tone, you lower your head. You hear a noise from somewhere— akin to a snicker— but pay no mind to it. (Y/n) convinces herself that it's all in her head. Maybe her imagination is mocking her. Despite everything, she continues.

"Please accept my humble offerings in exchange for the treasure you've stolen from me."

(Y/n)'s call was met with silence, but after a few moments of awaiting a response, Poof! a cloud of smoke fills the air. There it is, that troublesome tanuki! However, it's boisterous personality was replaced with curiosity— peering attentively.

"Not so fast. One candy and you give me my fabric back, two candies is giving it back AND leading me to the exit. The last is a bonus if all is satisfied. What do you say?"

The charmed tanuki plays with its drums joyfully, tossing the fabric to you with glee. With a satisfied hum, it scurries over to get the three caramel candies and beckons you to follow it. With a thankful expression, you happily stood up to follow the plumpy racoon out into the forest with the same gleeful demeanor.

You see a path that leads to the familiar chirps of birds and the warm, captivating rays of the sun. (Y/n) turns back to look at the satisfied tanuki munching on your caramels, waving good bye. With a polite bow, you step out of the forest back onto the recognized clearing of Narukami Island. You lay the delicate and sullied fabric on your forearms as a sign of triumph, letting out a tired and exasperated sigh.

The suddenly, out of nowhere—

"Wow, you guys really must like overspending on textiles."

Dear Lord. You have not looked back so fast in your entire life. A spur of purple, scarlet, and charcoal black greet your eyes; his scarlet eyeshadow defines his scrunched expression scrutinizing a certain piece of paper. Scaramouche was standing right behind you, unperturbed by how shocked you are at the sight of his greatness.

"Hey! That's my invoice, why do you keep meddling with my stuff?" you say as you reach over for the receipt. Scaramouche catches your arm with ease, keeping you in place. His temperamental personality really puts you the edge with how sharp his words could cut, and with how fast his demeanor changes. Still, (Y/n) doesn't move away from his grasp but rather stiffen to keep it that way.

"Listen here." The Balladeers' eyes stare you down, meeting your stunned gaze. "I'm warning you. Quit following me everywhere like a dog and leave me be. If you witness something you shouldn't see, the rest is gonna be your problem." his grim expression spoke revelations, like that kind gentleman was a hazy dream from yesterday.

"If that happens, it's gonna be real messy and troublesome. Just do what you're told, alright? Glad we could reach an understanding." Scaramouche says with a menacing tone. His grip loosens on your wrist, and prepares to take off.

You're not about to let that happen. (Y/n) pulls the Balladeer closer to her, catching him off guard. With such force, they stand face to face. Scaramouche swore he almost stumbled, but later found out that it was her body catching itself upon his. He could feel how warm and calloused your hands were against his skin. Before he could react, the determined maiden spoke with a tone he'd never heard before.

"I don't care what you're here for, the same way you don't care for my well-being." He noticed that she smelled of cinnamon and herbs, with the hint of lavender and dirt; that pretty much sums up the kind of person she is. (Y/n) continues, tightening her grip on his arm. "If you think you don't deserve gratitude, then you at least deserve an apology. I'm sincerely sorry for troubling you within, and outside the borders of Wakumi." she says with contrite, frowning.

Ah, this wicked man can't focus at her words at all.

He almost formed a thought. A thought that nature seemed to love you. Like a radiant beam under the sun, he quickly kills that thought. Under the rays of warmth, (e/c) eyes glinted with soft mellow; you continue. "I won't bother you again, I promise. I just find it rude to ignore you after you've—"

The vagrant sudden chucks something at your face mid sentence with an unreadable expression on his face.

You let out a yelp, finding your vision hindered by some sort of fabric followed by a small click of his tongue. Alerted, you scurry to take the fabric off your face to give this brat a piece of your mind, but was cut off by his grumbling.

"Get lost already."

By the time you managed to unravel the fabric off your face, the nameless vagrant once again slipped under your nose.

All that was left under the ambient rays of light of the clearing was you, and your rattan basket of textiles.

Wait.

00. prologue.

There was a famous tale once spreading anew in Inazuma.

It was the era of Cataclysm.

Barren lands reeked of bloodshed. It's soil bathed in dry, thick ashes that was once life. The Serpent Deity had long left a blow on its neck, it's venom leaking with a trace of crimson. The Ōki Tori had its breath ragged, barely lucid.

Time was ticking quite rapidly for the God.

It's attention was nowhere, until small taps of footsteps on the ground were heard. It's gaze lazily trailed towards the noise, golden optics landing on a certain figure.

A mortal? On these barren lands?

The woman did nothing but gaze upon it's pathetic form, gaining nothing but a growl from the Deity. However her next movements caught it off guard, as she clasps her hands; kneeling.

"Thank you for your protection, your Grace."

A God does not die.

Ōka Tori's gaze softened, analyzing every detail of the woman with it's slitted eyes. Fading in and out of consciousness, the Deity flapped it's wings in acknowledgement.

The days went on where the maiden sung, prayed and honored the Deity. Touched in it's last lucid moments of this plane, the God blessed the lands with it's positive energy, making the area brimming with purity, life and peace.

Located at the heart of Inazuma, Ōki Tori was named the Guardian of the land. Iara, the woman who had spent days honoring the God with her kind heart had grown up to build an Inn within it's land which stood up really well.

400 years had passed, the business were at it's present Director.

Anyone who stays long enough in the residence if the Inn will be safe and protected as the blessing of the Deity was still active. Maybe even Everlasting.

(L/n) (Y/n), being a resident (helper) at the Tsubasa Inn was no stranger to this blessing. So when a certain Fandango boy went to try and mess with her on Ōki Tori's land, Scaramouche immediately regretted it as he was mercilessly zapped and inwardly burned when he even tried to lay a finger on the clueless girl.

"AAAAHH!! I'm sorry- I mean— He's sorry, I swear! YOUR GRACIOUSNESS, PLEASE!" (Y/n) begged for mercy, as the lavender boy only sprawled onto the ground writhing in pain.

Mind you, a strike of a God is no joke. With a physical form or not.

01. The Man in Indigo.

Morning dawns upon the lands of Ritou, various hustles already unfolding. Given that Ritou is one of the busiest islands among the various of Inazuma, it is definitely the first and foremost busiest other than their City.

On hours such as these especially, people of Ritou consider time management to be virtuous.

You were on morning duty, strolling around with baskets and robes. You were but a humble helper at the infamous Wakumi Tsubasa Inn.

(Y/n) let's out a breathy sigh as she looks at the sky, the sun barely even peeking.

Busy days.

The Sun hasn't even fully shown itself yet, but the (h/c)-ered maiden has already completed 8 tasks off her routine. The maiden gazes at the sky filling up with it's golden light at a leisurely pace.

"My, watch your step." Suddenly pulled out of her thoughts, she turns towards the voice she knows well.

"Oh.." the (e/c) eyed woman trailed off, an embarrassed smile painting her face. "Granny Yori. Thank you! How have you been? And— err..."

Her eyes trailed off to a strangely familiar one.

His hair was of purple hues, eyes icy painted with a faint indigo. He was a slender frame wearing an attire that she assumed that was of a traveler.

An Inazuman Traveler.

Moreover, he seemed as surprised as you. Granny Yori noticed the rising tension, only turning towards the youthful man in question.

"Oh my, you know each other?"

Perking up, you quickly nodded. "Ah, It's you! I'd like to apolog—"

"I'll go take my leave now. I'll put the cart here, granny."

"Oh! Okay. Take care, child." Before you could even say anything, he gently puts down the wheel and struts off. (Y/n)'s tongue tied itself, stunned as the young man disappeared from their vision, Granny Yori waving goodbye.

Did he just.. Did he just purposely cut me off and snobbed me?

Mouth agape, still in disbelief, she turned towards Granny Yori.

"That was so rude! You saw that too right granny?!" the elderly tilted her head in confusion, seemingly clueless.

"Shouldn't it be me that should be snobbing? Along with that, there's no way Their Graciousness would come and hit on a random guy without ill intentions!" (Y/n) groaned in annoyance, storming off as she fumes.

"Why does it seem like I'm the bad guy here!?"

"Calm down, calm down, my child.."

02. A Bad Omen, Blessing in Disguise.

Have you heard of the tale of Wakumi Island, The Heart of Inazuma?

It's a beautiful island akin to Watatsumi. Riddled with lakes and other bodies of water— unlike Watatsumi Island, Wakumi has rich soil that's capable of growing sufficient crops for harvesting seasons. The land is where the Ōki Tori, a diety who greatly contributed to accumulating charcoals, gems and the likes to pre-cataclysm, lay rest.

"May your land rest and further prosper along-side Inazuma, for I will surely wish for your presence amongst turbulence," The Divine Shogun offered condolences to the land, as the Phoenix God was once a close familiar serving under the Divine. Those were her last divine graces, before she shut herself from the world.

"—Good bye, old friend."

Spring water in Wakumi is no other. Given that it's of pure positive energy— it is able to give benefits to mortal bodies. Often, the water is used for medicinal treatments.

Often too, however.. is that it is used against the Island.

Fraudulent cases are everywhere. This is what the Island agonizes over the most.

Often as well that (Y/n) is tasked to fill in their weekly spring water vials that lay storage in the main estate.

(Y/n) hums a tune carrying jars and baskets. The streams, lakes and other bodies of water are highly blessed amongst its vicinity. There is one specific spot the waters tend to gather in large among the streams, producing a mellifluous melody.

The Balladeer seems to have taken great fascination by it, unfortunately. His sightseeing spot is where you find it most practical to gather water into your vials and jars.

Everytime the maiden tries to fill her luggage, seeing that the man whose been ruthlessly err.. 'tested' by her Óki Tori— and is also of unwelcoming personality, you have no choice but to scurry away to find a different solution for your dilemma.

(Y/n) does not have the guts to try and be in the same breathing room as him due to very obvious reasons.

However..

(Y/n) stupidly ingests a suspicious herb that turned out to be a fungi hailing from Tsurumi Island leading to the poor maiden feeling gravely ill from the moment she popped it in her mouth. 'It was supposed to be Matsutake, I swear!' you helplessly exclaim in your head. With your vision doubling, you scramble to try and find at least a bottle of spring water to relieve yourself from shroom poisoning, but couldn't find not one in sight.

(Y/n) felt her eyes like it was melting. Her heartbeat increases; her breathing erratic. There's a burning sensation in her head that seemed to melt through her skull, cracking it open. She coughs a few times, knees falling weak holding onto whatever she gets her hands on.

'I feel like dying!' (Y/n)'s mind in a frenzy, fumbling through every cabinet trying to find a remedy. Suddenly, she remembers the blessed springs nearby— propping her knees to stand straight, rushing straight outside the estate. She bumped into no one which was off putting— where is everyone? The spring lake was not too far off the Main Estate, so she was confident that she could make it in time.

Unfortunately for her, her heartbeat started to slow the moment she caught a glimpse of shimmer among the waters.

(Y/n) was slowly gasping for air. (Y/n)'s muscles were growing weak.

The glistening hues of the stream peaks through her welling eyes. She approaches the stream slowly, steadily taking her steps. (Y/n) kneels down, breathing shallowed.

She'll take a few sips and this will be over soon.

Just a little more. A little more....

..before she suddenly collapsed!

Unbeknownst to the prying eyes of a man framed of scarlet lilac.

The Balladeer crosses his arms idly. Dumbfounded as the maiden flops down into the pebbles weakly.

Should he be concerned..?

Not even a second of analyzing her frame, he feels a sudden chill on his spine.

He should definitely be concerned. Your pathetic God is watching.

Reluctantly, the youthful man nudges her cautiously with his foot— calling out with an authoritative voice. "Hey, I really have no time for this. You doing good?" He grumbles. Nudging the trembling maiden a little harder, he managed to get the girl to roll over, revealing her flushed face— a silent call for hyperventilation.

Scaramouche doesn't need to be a genius to know that something is gravely wrong.

He kneels down to her level and lazily checks your temperature and pulse.

'So slow...' The hatted man thinks to himself. What a nuisance, a brief moment for idling shattered by a groveling maiden.

His face scrunches up, mildly surprised. "Hey, you gonna die or something?" Scaramouche pressed further, half expecting a reply. You retort with nothing but a mumble, barely above a whisper, eyes clouded.

"Mnff... Nith..." She grabs his collar limply and he let her.

"What?"

He pulls your mouth closer to his ear...

..but a different voice commands him instead.

"Help her up, and Go." It says.

Another chill creeps up his spine and before he knew it, he already had the maiden in his arms— standing straight. The purple hued locks deeply knew that if he left you here to die he'd suffer grave consequences by this damn bird deity. Scaramouche was still recovering from the burns he suffered from last time! God, you really do owe him for thus. He bites his lip. Hard.

"God damn it, woman..!"

In a spur of a moment, (Y/n)'s world spun. A ringing in her ear played stubbornly along with a stinging sensation overcoming her head.

Then, it was black.

Lo and Behold!

Residents of Tsubasa gather around in commotion; some idly chatting away, some diligently performing their tasks, and others wonder about what could be the noise that's transpiring down the hallway,

—for it was 7AM. Voices hollering, different noises echoing throughout the estate.

"Isn't that (Y/n)'s room..?"

"Why are they yelling so early in the morning?"

"I hope she's okay!"

Well she definitely was not.

At all.

"For one, you actually ingested a mushroom that's used as a sedative! It could've stopped your heart, induce permanent paralysis and cause irreversible damage to your body!"

"I thought it was Matsutake, Miss Aine!"

"It looked similar to one, yes." Aine, an elderly woman with curly locks pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'll admit.. we shouldn't have stored dangerous goods in the kitchen that can be easily mistaken for another.." she starts, slowly. "I'm more than glad your body didn't sustain any irreversible injuries."

"I have a bandage on my head, though.."

"You probably hit your head on your way here or something."

That said, for a while under 2 days the maiden has been on bed rest, (Y/n) had agonized over the fact on why her back hurts like hell, adding onto the circumstance that her head had been stinging as well.

Before discovering the (h/c) haired girls unconscious body, she was sprawled in front of the Main Estate after a loud thud.

That leads to the conclusion that (Y/n) had successfully manage to drink spring water and back to the Estate alive.

The thing that bugs her though.. she was sure it wasn't the only thing that happened. There was a walking, talking Lavender Melon.. and a few trees dancing.. along with a really firm grip on her waist like she was being dragged around by a busy bee.

A walking, talking Lavender Melon..

(Y/n) slaps herself on the face earning a concerned gaze from Manager Aine.

Maybe the Shroom is still in her system..

03. Oh! A Floating.. Lavender Melon!?

A man of Indigo optics gaze above the horizon, a tune of sweet-sounding melodies singing. His coat flutter along with the harmonious breeze that softly brush through his slender frame. The Balladeer didn't want to go back here, yet here he lies. He undeniably found the whole Island enchanting, the sense of ease diluting his tensed vessel tempting his silent yearning of having the means to– no— having the privilege to unwind.

The weight of tranquility envelops his stature, fluttering his eyes closed indulging in this leisure moment even for just a second.

Scaramouche's state of serenity was short-lived when his steps halted, eyes widening.

The thought dawns upon him on why he recently found himself reluctant to visit.

A pair of (e/c) eyes stare back at him reciprocating his revelation.

The Balladeer was put up with hard defense. He sneers, crossing his arms. "If you have any words to say about the other day, save it. I don't need to hear your dull gratitude, your half-witted reasons or a even a breath of your uttering. I thought you looked pitiful groveling at my feet, so I took the liberty of—" he continues to ramble on, earning a concerned look from the maiden, tilting her head

With the seemingly final words of his lengthy excuse that could definitely be adapted to a novel, the youthful man glares at her clicking his tongue.

"Do you understand?"

"Uh.." (Y/n) nervously started, voice trailing off.

"I'm sorry you seem to be upset, but I'm looking for a hairpin."

In a blink of a moment, Scaramouche's harsh and impenetrable defense immediately faltered. What in the hell..?

"It must've washed ashore around here somewhere.. I'm a bit worried. If you find a Lapis pin decorated with pearls, please come find me!" His mouth hung open, gawking at her. Dense and Naive. Now, not he's witnessing that this woman is not inquiring about his whereabouts at all nor the occurrence of which he most definitely saved you from deaths door, she's also rubbing the fact that he stands irrelevant in her mind space seeing that every word he has spoken flew right above her head!

(Y/n) offers a kind smile, continuing. A contrast to his slightly bitter thoughts. "(L/n) (Y/n) of Tsubasa Inn. Though I highly doubt you would actually come across it— let alone give it back to me after what happened days ago.." she muttered the last part, yet it didn't escape The Balladeers ears.

"...Seriously?"

"I did not take to heart. I hope you're doing well, I'm sorry for what happened. Well, I'm glad you're doing well—ow, ow, ouch!" her sentence was cut short with a hiss of pain. (Y/n) reaches out on her back, caressing it in such a manner in attempt to soothe the pain.

"Sorry.. I think my back may or may not have had a little accident.."

Oh. That. He remembers as soon as he caught sight of one of the Inn's buildings, Scaramouche just tossed her off his arms as quickly as he can. Though he says nothing, quietly observing the girl.

She cheerfully says good bye and leaves.

He is left to himself once again.

Scaramouche looks down and huffs, a loud exasperated sigh escapes his lips. He walks over a little more leading to a large boulder. There he quickly settles down, taking in the rich, cold breeze of Wakumi once more.

Golden rays of Sunlight softly caress his pale skin, a gentle reminder that the sun is soon to retire for him to witness. He flutters his eyes closed, focusing more on his breathing— blocking out his surroundings.

He had more important matters to attend.

A sudden clinking was heard right beside him causing his eyes to open.

There gleamed under the sun, a reflection of harsh ocean hue returning a gaze as curious as his. Angelic pearls decorate it's metal frame, all the more making it shine below the waters. An ornament washed ashore like it was weaved through a fate for delicate hands.

Scaramouche only spares the ornament a glance.

"You seem to really like peeling oranges."

"Oh, they're really fragrant on my hands."

"In fact, you've been peeling the same orange for 5 minutes."

(Y/n) gaze trails to said fruit, gawking. "Oh."

There's no doubt that somethings been bugging our fair maiden. Absentmindedly doing work like your minds been going through self transcendence; (Y/n)'s colleagues didn't fail to notice her small sighs every second of the day.

Everytime (Y/n) tries to think back of what happened the other day, her head would jumble all together giving her a headache.

"If you have any words to say about the other day, save it."

The other day...

The other day... The (h/c)-nettes eyebrows knit together in hopes of carving out an explanation to every question in her head. Strangely, whatever in due effort she makes only results in further conflicts. Not before long, a coherent thought finally crosses her mind.

...(Y/n) was appalled.

Suddenly, the imagery of a floating lavender melon came stumbling to her keeled over state in panic.

Upon this moment, (Y/n) wanted to tear her hair out.

And the lavender melon's arms caress the small of her back as the scent of lingering herbs and spring water accompany her jumbled senses.

Shame! Shameful! Such thankless woman! The first thing she does is ask favour of her savior for a measely trinket!

Her rapid train of thoughts were cut off when another prickling sensation overcomes her back.

Ow.. Now that she thinks much deeper into it, that man was definitely the one who helped her drink the water. In truth,you were under the impression that you managed to black out and do everything yourself because of the poison in your system.

It wouldn't be too much trouble to try and thank him, right? After all, he most probably saved your life!

Feeling good, you pop an orange on your mouth, but getting a sudden chill in your spine.

No way, that guy is too intimidating..

"Right this way, Ma'am." Arlecchino set her gaze towards the head butler, greeted with the sight of a tensed figure in return. The head butler winces, stammering on his words. Was she glaring? She doesn't know. That's not important. She's needs to get through the door. "I- I will inform the Master of your arrival—"

"That will not be necessary." Her sultry voice cut through his words. "We have been long collaborators, a reunion shan't wait too long."

Her monochromatic figure heaves a soft breath, looking blankly towards the excessively pretentious door, it's sheer size looming over Arlecchino's figure— the entrance towards an office.

Eloquent and graceful, although her lips were painted with a polite smile, the person before her couldn't tell if the crimson woman was brewing something from within. The Knave was calculative and perceptive, an expert at keeping herself cold despite the scorching flames imbedded within her. The man kept his gaze at the floor, lacking the courage to even contest her gaze.

Those eyes, terrifying crimson hued crosses that could mess with your head tried to dare his optics to even catch a small gaze. Staring into them was ill advised indeed. The butler knew this for his heart was racing, and what added to the cold sweat undeniably trickling in his jaw was that Arlecchino stood unnervingly still— as if contemplating something under deep thought. Before anything could be done, Arlecchino firmly gripped the mansion door's handles in a few momemts, swinging it open with great force.

There had always been an air of nobility in Arlecchino's presence. As soon as she stepped foot into Farlahr's office, the doctor stood up in shock, startled.

"Please, excuse my abrupt visit, Doctor." Arlecchino deliberately spat out the title, a composed smile tugged at her lips. Farlahr's eyes widen at the sight of her monochromatic elegance painting his mansion floors with her presence.

"You're not too busy, I presume? Do let us catch up, I insist— I truly do." It was way beyond the wee hours of the night, the breeze was cold and unforgiving, and the doctor could feel it crawling up his spine. The Harbingers assertive words leave no room for arguments. As if there was an invisible wind from the room, forcing every bit of his movements to bend at her own will.

"I admit that it's quite off fashion to visit at this hour empty handed, Lord Harbinger." The man chuckled in an attempt to disperse the growing tension in the air. He swings his hands— decorated with glimmering stones to mask his nervousness. The woman quickly responded.

"I won't be empty handed for long."

"Pardon, Lord Harbinger?"

Arlecchino doesn't clarify any further, but directs her unwavering gaze to him. Dark, piercing. It was like a warning, a ticking bomb for the doctor to diffuse except there seemed to be no signs of dismissal any time soon.

His crisp smile quickly dropped.

"...I merely jest." Farlahr quickly followed up, as if it was the most amusing joke in the world. Arlecchino doesn't seem to share the same opinion, as her expression stood the same. Whatever The Knave came here for, he doesn't know just yet. And if he fails to catch on, Farlahr just might lose something. His head fell from the deep crevices of his panicked mind falling into one topic he suddenly could bring up as distraction.

With their history of collaborative partnership of 13 years, Arlecchino didn't have a single problem in regards to the business and it's contributions to the House of Hearth. Arlecchino didn't care for his obsessions with women and adulterous activities, the poised lady simply stood her ground due the information the Doctor withheld about the history of medical fallacies and treatments alike.

Arlecchino's rigid gaze quickly looked relaxed, unbothered. Her voice had voice lowered and her arms and legs sit crossed.

"I came here to offer a deal."

"And that is?"

It was no surprise to Arlecchino that Farlahr was a worldly man. Riches to riches, he has re-married at least three times and he's proud of that. Arlecchino didn't bother to comprehend his thought process. She believes that his brain was processed waste ideally converged with multiple nerves. His body reeked of metals, teeth gleaming brightly with silver. She kind of wishes she could rip it all out of his jaw..

"You will retract your marriage proposal." Arlecchino starts, "And I say this, your wealth, status, and people— all safeguarded as per usual."

Farlahr was taken aback by the sudden demand. He doesn't know if her statement stemmed from concern for his safety or a wake up call to his unethical hobbies. The opportunist in him say the opposite, it says that maybe you are some sort of leverage in this world— so valuable that even the 4th Harbinger of then fatui would personally come and abolish his plans of marrying you.

But the curiosity of his consciousness gnaws it's way out of his lips, asking one particular question.

"You disapprove of my wife and I?"

How disgusting. Utterly repulsive. Its almost an offense to your whole existence to be called a wife to someone as repugnant as him. The monochromatic grace managed to suppress her disgust by responding in a more poignant tone.

"Ah, forgive me." Arlecchino very slowly tilts her head, eyes unblinking. She effortlessly stands up from her seat, her coat elegantly swaying with her refined and poised movements, breath light as a feather— a shadow cast on her face.

"But I don't disapprove of your proposal, pig." In a moment, there was a switch in her tone. Her pointed high heels shoes dragged themselves against the expensive velvet carpet, dreaming to at least peirce through the back of a certain crisp, fragile cranium. With every step closer Arlecchino gets, the more Farlahr's heart pounds in his chest, daring to jump off.

She raises a hand and firmly places them on his shoulder.

"...I forbid it."

Serenity was all that could be described throughout the night. And you, as a person of idle leisure in the evening, appreciated the tranquil breeze that brush past your cheek. A soft sigh escapes your lips, falling into deep thought. What is there to do? With the last 28 hours you were given to decide on an answer, you're left quite bewildered. Tapping your fingernails on the terrace by muscle memory, your train of thought was disturbed when you head familiar foot steps behind you.

You turn around to see a sight of dignified beauty, standing before your sleepless eyes. Arlecchino's presence, despite the abruption, quickly calmed your disgruntled nerves down.

But something was wrong. Before you could ask about the residual crimson stains on her cheek and darkened hands, she speaks in a tone softer than any voice you've heard her.

"If I may ask, my dove, could you marry someone with an absent ring finger?"

Wow. What a random question. Completely uncalled for. Maybe the ungodly hours of the night got to her? Despite the conspiracies flowing through your mind, you try hard to think of an answer.

"Hmm. I should rephrase that. Could you marry a man with no fingers?" Arlecchino ponders out loud, "Despite a marriage contract, you must need a ring to put on his finger, right? Quite a shame, really.."

"No, I don't think so. Wedding rings are to be put on ring fingers, if I recall correctly."

"That's a relief." You raise a brow, completely lost. You gaze at Arlecchino, a subtle triumphant look paints her expression, her fingers play around with her numerous rings that sit comfortably on her fingers. Taking one out, she approaches your figure.

"May I embrace you, my lady?" Suddenly, the Harbingers sultry voice was sullen, sulking. My, what's up with this woman? A moment ago she shows up with (possibly) blood around her person, and now she's asking for sudden physical contact? After just a consonant of the reply 'Yes' was uttered, Arlecchino quickly took you in her arms, embracing you deeply— taking in your presence wholely.

"How I wish I could rid you the scent of that swine." She loosens her grip for a moment, putting a stray hair strand behind your ear. All this feels like a fever dream.. you remember that just mere hours ago, Arlecchino's face looked grim and unpleasant when she received news of your sudden proposal— her reaction left you perplexed. You thought it would be a good idea since Farlahr was a good business partner of hers, why the grim expression?

You pat her back comfortingly. Before you could say anything, Arlecchino quickly lets go of you, standing perfectly straight. Her face once again unreadable— she speaks in a calm and collected manner.

"That fool said that if you'd marry him, you would be set for life." She recounts, almost irritated. Arlecchino's crimson crosses gaze was away from you, but hands traced their way back to your arms, carefully holding them in hers. Her thumbs brush the back of your hands affectionately, with tenderness and care in her voice. Arlecchino's knee made contact with the floor, and her hands delicately handled yours as if they were the most precious thing in the world.

"You must marry me. All he could offer you, I could provide tenfold."

All of the sudden, the wind started to pick up, and the ethereal lady before you never looked so grand. Her monochromatic hair danced with the cool breeze, and her crimson eyes looked from above, transfixed on your figure. Your throat felt like there was too many words you could spit out in one go, and you were terrified that you'd ruin the atmosphere by stammering over your words.

"Marry me so you are mine to gratify. This is a promise I can keep, unlike that farce. Even at your grave, my everlasting flames will be buried with you in the dirt where you lay— in turn that you will never freeze from the cold kiss of death." The Harbinger adds, tenderly placing a peck on your knuckles. Her gaze could contest even the eyes of Archons at this very moment, possessing full confidence that upholds the standards of her capabilities.

Compared to her, what could a limbless man offer you?

He knew you were capable of fending off threats yourself. He knew you were somebody who could defend someone from harms way.. and he especially knew just how gentle and kind you treat everybody.

Oh, what is he doing? Sulking all by himself in the archives. Dan Heng's thoughts ran rampant the past minutes. This happens when he's alone or sitting idly by. The poor man's thoughts catch up to him leaving him disgruntled. The thing is, you could always see it in his face.

You've been out and about for a while. He misses you, you know. Not that he would admit! Dan Heng's stubborn, just like that. He's definitely not mulling over how you're attention has been elsewhere, either. He doesn't mind. You have the freedom to do what you want! Just leave him sulking here in the archives unattended, it's okay.

The teal eyed prince clicks his tongue. That chatty, flirty, touchy writer. At first, Dan Heng thought that he was quite a man. The writer guy was nice and respectful with a golden gaze for things that were held high. That said, the Author quickly took interest in you.

He was never one to be possessive. Why should he? You're not even in a relationship. But sometimes, as soon as the guys hands find their way towards yours, intertwining in a clasp, something in him dims. Suddenly, his eyes can't leave your figure. It was your smile again, and Dan Heng's not at the receiving end of it.

You're not on the express today, either. A shame. Seriously, that guys been hogging you all week! What's up with that? Don't even get him started on "(Y/n), my muse. Accompany me today?" bullcrap! It's nothing but a sappy excuse to get into your pants so bad! Seriously, the absurdity. Dan Heng shakes off the thoughts before they continue. Did you know? Just by his gaze alone, someone could freeze in their place— like daggers against their back.

"Hmm? Mr. Ferr, are you okay?"

"It's nothing, my sweet, I strangely caught a shiver in my spine.." the author, Ferr, replied calmly.

"Okay. So about your first draft.."

Draft this, draft that, can't he got an editor instead?!

Irk marks basically float up his head just thinking about what they're talking about right now. Can you blame him? He's been neglected.

Dan Heng slaps himself, hard.

Woah. He's getting way ahead of himself. Him? Neglected? In what way? Again, it's not like you're both in a relationship. It's not like he's entitled to your affection in any way. Dan Heng really needs to calm down. Lately, all he's been doing is updating the archives. He's also learned of what you will be traveling for next, and added data with a note addressed to you as well. His calloused hands were flipping through various pages all day, pulling apart scrolls and wiping away holograms.

His thoughts become strangely quiet. His presence was like frost.. constant. A little chilly. He starts to fiddle with his fingers, his gloves, and his nails.

He really misses you a lot.

Can you come back soon?

Dan Heng sighs. He stands up with his impeccable posture as usual. Those arms held scrolls and books, and puts them back where he got them from. At this point, he's zoned out. He exits the Archives, strolling near the parlor car. Light footsteps echo throughout the space with Dan Heng taking in the air of tranquility within the express; It seemed like everyone had their own agenda today.

Well, except for one.

"Dan Heng," Himeko's sweet, gentle voice called out for him. The boy turned towards her, a little surprised. She smiles, and beckons him to sit with her. Her silky locks framing perfectly on her face, she put a stray strand behind her ear. "Come, I have coffee to share."

Dan Heng was indeed in dire need of indulgence. Without hesitation, he walked over to the red head and sat down. He forgot how comfortable the sofa was.. his nerves began to relax. Himeko starts to pour the hot beverages into elegant coffee cups, befitting if her style. It was comfortable silence, the stars glistened into glass windows— reflecting the beauty of life. Himeko seems to have noticed his aloof vibe, joining him to stare at the stars. Opening her lips, Himeko starts.

"You've been busy for a while."

"Being an archivist is a lot of work, huh?"

"I have."

"It's fine." The gentle lady can't help but chuckle. He's so dry. This only confirms her hypothesis. That daunting look on his figure may intimidate some, but not Miss Himeko. Never Miss Himeko. She doesn't want to expose her hidden agenda now, but she just can't wait to run her mouth. After all, Dan Heng's been down the weather and it's very obvious as to why.

"(Y/n) wanted me to prepare these for you. Enjoy them." She takes a sip. His expression softened. Dan Heng can't help but think bitterly. It'd be lovely if they were her to prepare these herself, but the teal eyed prince quickly take back the thought.

"I'm thankful.. but why? Is there an occasion? I don't seem to recall any." He speaks in a cautious manner. The woman only sighs, a palm on her cheek.

"Be honest with me, Dan Heng." Her tone quickly changed. Now her eyes are staring into his. Like it was rummaging through his soul. Dan Heng's feet were cold. He couldn't contest her gaze, so he averts his eyes. Himeko frowns at this, but she doesn't seem to mind.

"Your eyes betray you greatly."

He was a little taken aback. His eyes? He was never expressive. He was sure he'd been called at least poker faced and stoic before.. Dan Heng's brows narrowed. "I beg your pardon?"

Himeko only chuckles, dismissing her last claim. "I'll tell you what. They'll be here soon.. and they're going to leave just as quickly." She adds the last statement with dramatic disdain before the elegant lady takes a sip once again. Dan Heng's stomach drop. Ah.. he's lost the appetite to even finish his mug. Himeko continues. "Ferr is taking them to a space station for one of his projects. Given the current circumstances, they have no reason to refuse."

His face scrunched in annoyance upon hearing the name again. Mr. Ferr this, Mr. Ferr that! He's getting sick of him. Taking (Y/n) on a space ship? How long will that take? Is it some sort of rendevous? A date?

..will you come back?

"i don't think that decision befalls to us. (Y/n) is capable of making decisions.."

"I don't want them to go."

"..on their own because— wait, what?"

Himeko chuckles dryly. "I don't want (Y/n) to go, you know? It's selfish thought, I know. But, it's good to be selfish once and a while now, right?"

That was a half baked lie. First of all, Himeko fully supports what (Y/n) wants. But Ferr.. isn't exactly known for his patience. Himeko knows full well as soon as (Y/n) steps in the spaceship— he'd pull something like a proposal! A profession, a deal! She's not stupid, Himeko is far from dense. The Scientist knows that the Author has a huge thing for you, and it shows. And knowing Dan Heng? He'd just nod along albeit against it. She can't just stand here and let them distance each other! Himeko's seen it.. that prying gaze of a distraught, pining lover.. the watchful eyes of a lovestruck persona. The only way to get a stubborn man to act, is through tremendous pressure!

Dan Heng's lips pursed.

"And you want me to.."

"You don't have to, really."

"But.. if it will benefit them, should we encourage it? After all, they're energetic and knows their way with words. There must be some sort of good reasoning behind his invitation."

"I don't know. Do you want them to go?"

"I.." Dan Heng couldn't finish his sentence. He couldn't form a response at all. Does he want you to go? If you would enjoy yourself, he'd love to allow it.. If you'd return with a smile on your face, tell him all about what happened, he'd love to receive you with utmost sincere..

Even if it took atleast a hundred years for you to return to him.

...Hundred years his ass! You will not spend a hundred years with that man!

"If (Y/n) wants to, I personally don't see why not." Dan Heng's thoughts actively contrasted his responses. A stubborn man.. Himeko sighs, an apologetic smile on her lips. Finally backing away, the lovely lady puts down her mug and sits straight.

"It's okay to be honest. After all, they.. wish for something."

Dan Heng replies quickly in a heart beat. "I will be honest, then. I want their wish fulfilled."

"Then you better greet them in tip-top shape." Himeko winks saying this, standing up to excuse herself. Dan Heng tilts his head in this, not quite sure if what the she's implying. Himeko only had that knowing smirk on her pristine face. The lady excuses herself promptly, leaving Dan Heng all by himself. The man is once again left alone with his thoughts, except this time, he has new material to work with.

"Great..." He huffs bitterly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Just.. splendid." God, his head hurts. He's tired and he's drowsy. At this point, he doesn't find anything of urgency at the moment— only thinking about grasping that sudden warmth the sofa beneath him exerts. Dan Heng would like to find peace of mind at least once in a while. Both that in mind, his eyes find their way to the Parlor ceiling, half lidded and tired.

Slowly, his breathing calms down.. and slowly, his eyes drift closed, consciousness slipping away from his grasp.

Slowly.. the darkness embraced him, and his body rested in slumber.

You stand a little surprised.

After all, Dan Heng was casually sitting upright— his eyes closed. Is he napping? Is he okay? You're not sure, and you're concerned. Frankly, you were supposed to be here for him— feeling that he deserves at least an apology that you haven't been getting back to his messages in a while. But looking at the sight.. he looks like he's accompanied at the moment.

Such a hard working guard. The guard of the express, the unmatched Archivist of the Nameless.. the one who would always hold your heart gently. You swore if he blew air on your figure, you'd crumble immediately. The only one who'd sway your heart. That's how much power he holds, his whole fingers wrapped around your being with an invisible string keeping you binded to him.

You curb a grin. Strolling near your quarters, you pick up something warm. A blanket. You envelop his stature in a comfortable tuck, pausing for a moment to take in the melancholic state Dan Heng's exhibiting. The handsome prince's eyes fluttered closed, lips slightly apart. If he's sitting upright sleeping, then he must be atleast tired enough to sleep but still be on his feet.

But he doesn't know that, he doesn't need to.

"Ah.." was all Dan Heng could muster. You look back at him in a awe, but quickly recovered. You didn't remove his hands on your wrist, you held onto them instead. The archivists eyes softened, his brows relaxing. You attempt to give him a smile, defusing the tension.

Your sightseeing was cut short when Dan Heng started to stir, his eyes fluttering open. It was for a short moment, the first those greyish teal eyes found their way towards yours.. and the way they slightly widened upon meeting gazes with you, Dan Heng's slender, warm fingers slowly snuck their way toward your wrist; apprehending their movements further. Dan Heng held onto you like you were unreal, like you were unbelievable. Oh, he looks stricken. He looks.. almost as surprised as you. Dan Heng doesn't say anything yet, the blanket that was once on him fell off just a little while ago.

"Hey. Sorry. It looks like I woke you up.." You offer an apologetic smile. He quickly shakes his head at this, responding to you in haste.

"No.. no. Don't apologize."

"I have a lot of apologizing to do."

"No, you.." before he could finish, he cuts himself off. Why must he be so accepting? He keeps brushing his feelings aside, and before he knows it, he utters something he doesn't even mean. No, he's not okay. No, it's not fine. You upset him greatly. He couldn't focus on anything because you weren't answering his messages. Your phone was unreachable.

You had Dan Heng worried sick. What if something happened to you? You reckless, Trusting, thick skulled—

"Everything good?"

Your voice immediately snaps him out of his thoughts. Dan Heng let's out a small breath, his hands still clutching yours. He was still sitting down, and you were towering over him. God.. just by your gaze alone, he's already so full. If you could just stay with him a little longer, he feels like this churning in his stomach would go away soon. He wants you so bad, he needs you so bad.. he doesn't want you to let go anytime soon.

To your surprise, Dan Heng himself removed his hold on you. His movements were slow and languid, like a flow of water within the rivers. Moving in chorus, mellifluous.. elegantly. You can't take your eyes off him at all. Dan Heng clung to your waist. His warm body enveloped your lower half, nuzzling deep into your stomach. You let out a surprised yelp.

Suddenly, your face is hot. Your stomach was dancing with abundant butterflies, and you don't know where to put your hands. As if the archivist could read your mind, his hands led yours into his head, fingers entangling itself into those dark locks. They were so soft.. so warm and lovely. Your hands run through his hair gently— cherishing just how close he is to you at this moment. What's up with him? He seems to be a little more laid back.

Dan Heng shifts in his place. That's when he finally looks up at you. His arms around you, eyes looking directly at yours. You could see his expression.. eyes soft. Gentle. A slight pout— face flushed. It looks like he wants to say something, and it's still processing in that pretty head of his.

Dan Heng's hold on you tightens, you didn't fail to notice. He wants to be selfish for once. Let him be selfish for once. Just once. With a small breath and a soft tone, he finally utters.

"Don't go."

It was getting harder and harder to calm your heart down, and that didn't get any better.

Your heart immediately melts, and your knees almost gave out. What? Go where? Has the rumours already spread? Whatever it was, it's not happening. Especially if he asked you, it's already set in stone. "I won't. Not anywhere." You respond tenderly. Dan Heng's eyes lit up. You swore his fingers even twitched just a little bit. A little more after, his face suddenly scrunched. The archivists' frame was decorated with blazing hues of red. Whatever he's thinking seems to strain him so. Not even bothering to give you time to further analyze, he stands up from his seat, arms still around you. This time, you have no idea what'll he do. Dan Heng's eyes averted yours, hesitantly taking a step closer. My.. your palms are starting to sweat. This is the effect of anticipation.

When he pulled back from you, Dan Heng quickly analyzed your expression to see even a tinge of displeasure. Now you.. face decorated with the hue of peony, looked awe struck. Absolutely enchanted.. bewildered, blown. Gathering your nerves to work back up again, your eyes slowly trailed back to his nervous ones: awaiting your reaction.

"..You can hit me after this." Dan Heng suddenly says, making you tilt your head in confusion. So carefully, he cupped your cheeks. Whatever that was you were going to say was caught in your throat. There was a bubbling feeling in your chest, waiting to pop open; and as soon as his lips brushed past yours, it popped so beautifully vibrant it blinded your vision for but a moment. As your eyes fluttered closed and his eyes half lidded, he greedily drank the sight of you from his eyes.

Dan Heng's eyes widened once you grabbed his collar— smashing your lips back to his. The kiss you've given him burned with fervor, impatient, like you've been yearning for more. You were starved of his lips— like a lone hawk hunting for aeons.

Now that the opportunity presented itself, might as well make the most of it.

The archivist had a hard time keeping up with you, keeping the both of you straight by holding the small of your back. Your arms were in Dan Heng's chest— eagerly taking him in yours. By the time you both ran out of air, you were standing in amidst the parlor car— with the stars accompanying the moment being the sole witness. You could hear Dan Heng's heartbeat whilst you rest your head on his chest. Clutching his jacket, it was tempting to go for another one again.

There was silence. A lot of words hung out in the air. The first to cut through the already light air around you was you.

"For how long?"

Dan Heng breathed heavily, burying his nose into your hair. He thinks about it for a long time before finally answering.

"Quite a while."

His hunger is insatiable. For someone who had lost all desire to live, he thinks hard of a way he to angle your legs making every thrust unreal. Blade reaches the most unknown parts of you, making you grip and scratch the sheets yourself. You could barely make out any words, and he's already fucking you raw deep within that cute hole of yours. His thrusts are relentless, and his grip on you was iron. All you could do was whine pathetically which each slow drag he teases out of your lips.

Pathetic pathetic pathetic! You can't even keep yourself sane under him, nor can handle his undivided attention, how can you reach equal stature now?

Blade hears you beg and beg, this only makes me wipe away your tears. Didn't you want this? To be bent over, fucked raw.. humiliated, used? You were the one who offered him a fuck toy, you gotta prove your worth by not breaking so early. But you have to admit.. you came so much, too. Everytime he pulls out, splotches of his and your cum spill out almost immediately, leaving a trail that slowly drip lewdly. His tip would tease your sensitive nub, grinding over it ever so slowly. Get a grip, (Y/n)!

Your fucked out face is a feast in itself.

Your pussy invites him so sweetly. No need to go slow, who are you anyway? You're just his fuck toy. Nothing but his fuck toy. Blade would grab your waist and pump you into his cock until he came. He'd return you back to where you came from with cum oozing out of your hole. Maybe he's even going to be nice enough and brand you with his teeth. Everytime you hear him say such words, your walls would clench him so good he can't help but fuck you harder. His fingers would always find their way to your mouth, letting out those muffled moans out of your lips. Fuck, you're really hot.

Have mercy on him, will you? His back is so red from all the scratches you give him. No doubt he likes it, even if you draw blood. You'd chase his lips so avidly while his fingers are railing your insides. You don't have to worry what to do, because he already knows what you want. You're a whore who knows nothing but the shape of his cock inside you, and a slut who'd get on her knees just to get the release on her tongue.

He's so cruel.. oh so cruel. Sometimes he fucks you so good he'd leave you lagging and trembling in the sheets. He'd stare at you just to see how much of a mess he made you— whilst you don't even know whats going through his head. Does Blade like it? Does he find amusement in it? You can't think.. you can't even speak straight.

Blade suddenly leans into you, propping your legs into his frame. His lips were in your ears. You can hear him whisper something.

"Stay with me a little longer, will you?"

..Was that an answer?

This is when Jing Yuan takes notice just how flexible and amazing you are. He can't help but get his already high ego boosted just by looking at his own length. Wow, fuck— he's big. The general cant help but notice the fact that the tip keeps hitting the back of your throat. This is what you put in your mouth? The one where you lull your tongue, fuck and suck on it like you've been deprived? Still, from the way his body was jerking and crying all over the place— Jing Yuan thinks he's doing a pretty good job.

Now that Jing Yuans in your body and he's in yours, you both get to experiment on how you usually turn the tables this way. Jing Yuan never knew he could make those noises before. You were so loud and whiny in his body, groaning and taking in sharp breaths ever so often.. your lovely Jing Yuan can't help but rise back up to your face level and wipe away stray tears, hot breath on his skin.

"Oh, but darling," he coos in your voice. Your sultry lips smirking ever so slightly. "I barely even begun.. are you giving up already, General?"

Your breath hitches at just how mischievous he can get, even in bed.. but fuck the way he calls out to you.. it's just so intoxicating. You let out a low chuckle, heaving a deep sigh. Jing Yuans body's hair was disheveled, and his lips were so swollen from all the kissing he begged for. On top of that, his cock was still riled up for more.

He kisses your lips once more, giving you a smile. Ah, even if he's in your body, you could always tell it would be him just by his smile. Jing Yuan has that certain charm.. that even if he wore a thousand faces, you would never be deceived— and that's a good thing.

But it makes you wonder, how far can you go?

You'd love to see his reactions, his faces— just putting his body in different positions he put you in when he's fucking you silly. As you quickly flip your body with his bodies unrivaled strength on all fours, Jing Yuan catches up to your agenda quickly, and he's not about to disappoint.

It's just that Jing Yuan underestimated how reckless you would be in his body. With his stamina and grip, you fuck into him so senselessly. By the time he already came two times, you're still ramming his veiny cock into your pussy chasing your high. This time he's drooling— eyes rolling to the back of his head as more cute and whiny noises come out of your mouth.

One things for sure is that you both love your respective voices. It's just something about how you vocalize pleasure and how good your making each other feel good so arousing. You're a lot more breathy and hot when you're in his body.

Jing Yuan always knew your body was sensitive to his touch, but never first hand. Now that he's getting a taste of his own medicine, Jing Yuan claws and scratches his own back just to get you to stop pounding in him so much. ♡

Roleplaying as each other was disorienting at first. After all, if you think about it, it's still your body. But, can you really afford to think about that when your significant other is kissing each and every part of yourself? You can't help but gaze at Jing Yuan even for just a moment. It's as if his natural charm is so perfect for your body. The way those slender fingers of hers go down your broad chest to the way he bats your eyelashes.

On his end, he really loves the way you respond to his advances— especially when you try and buck your hips just to give his cock more friction from your hands. His body or not, he loves seeing you squirm just because of him. ♡ Didn't you just overstimulate him a while ago? I think this time, you'll pay a price.

Jing Yuan knows how it could be to be teased and edged until tears. With his dick so angry and swollen, the only thing keeping it pretty is his white, thick precum. He knows how bitter it is, but just to mess with you— he'd drink it all up and refuse to kiss.

"It doesn't taste good, you know?"

You can't help but let out a small tsk. You literally eat him up every chance you get, and he wouldn't kiss you just because he still has traces of his own cum in his mouth?

Jokes on him, you're in his body. You're physically able to come and force a kiss with his body. Ah, such lovely perk. Witnessing him just widen his eyes in shock as you take his lips into yours was so amusing.

Pulling away from his lips, the bitter aftertaste was left on your tongue— connecting a string of saliva. You don't mind. It's him, after all.

"(Y/n), sweet heart.." you'd never thought the day would come where you would be the one seductively calling out to your own name with his voice, in his body. My god, that just brings out the most unhinged parts of Jing Yuan. He felt just how vivid the way his sex throbbed.

You were usually a sweet girl, a very very sweet girl. The kind of lady who gives flowers every so often to people she cherishes— you know, the kind who praises and pampers her friends every chance she gets. You were reserved, cheerful, polite, keep to yourself, and most of all, you really work hard. As a soldier, you believed that every life must be treated preciously, as if you only have one duty: to help create a sanctuary for humanity free of— or less of Honkai.

These attributes of yours served you tremendously. The Halo Effect never fails to accentuate your genuine kindness and tenderness you give out to others. But alas, such as Kalpas, Mobius, and many nameless others, it's often looked down upon when it's given correspondence to your occupation.

But the itch.. that undeniable itch you get just by letting your mind wander even for a little bit.. It's dangerous. Especially for mind readers in the MOTHS, you're sure to believe the Su himself started to mind his own business when he even catches a glimpse of you drooling. Your height has a big gap in-between the lines of those measuring meters with everybody else— His body could easily tower over you long before he even got his transformative surgery done (even if you had not seen it for yourself, Elysia has told you many times!). You shift your body from where you stand. Those quick glances you give Kalpas every time your paths pass— every stolen gaze would leave him wondering: what the fuck is your problem? Are you looking for a fight?

So one time, Kalpas decides to act upon it. His booming footsteps echoed all throughout the lobby signifying his entrance. His mask didn't manage to make you feel better as his whole tall, and jacked figure loom over yours— back against the wall both figuratively and literally.

His temper was like a ripple in a wave, one swift motion and everything follows through his rage. But you.. you weren't scared at all. In fact, you were terrified. You were panicking! What now? What has he learned? Did he manage to read your mind? Does he know you want him to wrap those big, cold, veiny hands of his on your neck? From the way you're averting your eyes mashed with the way you stumble on your words, Kalpas knew something was wrong. Unaware of your.. well, unorthodox thoughts— he starts to feel excitement himself. After all, a person showing absolutely no signs of a mean bone in their body, looking so small under his eyes, jittering with crossed arms, Kalpas thinks he definitely hit something in your nerves.

Kalpas wants to see you seethe with rage. He needs to get a rise out of you. You're fucking boring! He can't stand being in the same room with someone all smiles and flowers! Sure, he's seen you bathed in blood and dust— but surely you could be more grand than that? With each tick the clock makes, he grows impatient.

"You gonna say something or what?" His voice sultry and low. More often than not, he wonders what even led you here to this treacherous path. Especially where your ideals lie on hopeful visions of image-less salvation— where even the world itself spoke openly of a war neverending. A war where he would become the smoke, the dust, and the blood soaked dirt of the very plane you stand; someone as soft and cute as you.

You, however, couldn't bring yourself to even say a thing. Not one word out of your mouth. You're afraid that if you even say one thing, something else would come out. Kalpas is staring down at you hard. From the way he's eyeing you, you would've thought he's already eating bits and pieces of your soul. Then again, you would've loved to do the same— just not in a way he thinks. Really, looking up at him top to bottom, you're dying to taste him in your mouth this instant. That bitter, wet after taste on your tongue kept plaguing your phantasmic senses; so much so that you unconsciously lick your lips.

Gross.. you're a pervert. And as this whole ordeal prolongs, you're starting to come to terms with it, internally chuckling at the irony of it all. If only you were bold enough like Elysia, even charming enough like Eden— or perhaps as mesmerizing as a Serpent like Mobius, then maybe, just maybe you would bat your eyelashes at him flirtatiously and shoot your shot?

But you're not crazy. Maybe down horrendously bad, but not insane.

But when he started putting those hands of his on your body, that's when you started to get increasingly nervous. Kalpas, without restraint, grabs your collar and pulls your frame closer to his. His forearm rests behind you leaving you nowhere to look but him. Your throat lets out a suppressed yelp. Suddenly, the air was hotter and the colors were a little more indistinguishable. Heat started creeping up on your face, spine tingling with every breath he heaved behind his mask. Oh.. that tickles.. and suddenly, the floor was quite interesting. But that didn't work. You can't see the floor now that his chest is obscuring your vision.

Kalpas could very much sense that something is wrong. First of all, you're not giving the reaction he wants from you. Where's the narrowed eye glare? Or even a seat from your hands now that his fist is curled on your collar? Come to think of it, you're being awfully submissive to his taunts. Even if he came here with a second agenda, isn't hostility a normal reaction? For God's sake. You're insufferable. Your cheeks puffed out in a pout, averting his figure like a goddamn plague— he finds surprise in your hands trailing their way towards his arm, holding onto it gently.

"Kalpas. I don't like telling people what to do."

"So your mouths finally serving you? Good."

You gulp a little, looking up at him while he loosens his hold on your collar. Part of you yearned him to caress your cheek, but he was no sweet man. He's a funny guy. You like his humour. But you can't help but think— what is he here for? Before letting you even have a heave of peace, Kalpas suddenly turns you over, and toss you on his shoulders. His big, warm hands grabbed your waist, and you let out a small noise.

Noise. It was a noise. You swear it was a noise, not a moan or anything.

Kalpas suddenly tenses up, stopping in his tracks with you still in his arms. His grip on you almost loosens, as you limp weakly into his arms. Oh wow. Your face is basically a CPU heating up. You were shaking and quivering from the humiliation that you wished you could just be thrown across the room head first now.

"Don't—... Don't say anything." You could tell he was a little surprised, but he carries on like nothing happened. You can't even focus on your surroundings right now because all you could think was fifteen thousand thoughts about how weird you are and he's never ever going to approach nor talk to you again. In my opinion, that's a little far fetched. He's a weird guy as well! It's not just you who should be at fault ~

Kalpas grumbles under his breath. You didn't quite catch it, but you couldn't care less. Not when his scent was mere centimeters away from your nose.. this is something you will not be forgetting that's for sure.

Oh, you kinda want to bite him. Before you entertain the thought, Kalpas once again grabs you by the waist and tosses you across the couch of the lounge. For a moment, you were stricken with dizziness— your body bouncing a little upon the cushions.

Confused, maybe a little shocked (and definitely turned on) you space out a moment, only being brought back to reality when Kalpas slams the door closed.

He was gone.

What just happened?

"Oh, hi~ you're here!" You quickly turn towards the source of that sweet, cooing voice. Elysia stood just a few meters away from you, a sly smile on his face. "Enjoyed the ride I organized for you?"

"Elysia!"

"Hee-hee, a ride.."

You looked heavily flushed. You're eyes were unfocused and hazed. It didn't take even a moment of pondering for Dan Heng to know you were intoxicated and he wasn't about to ask why. Don't get him wrong, this man doesn't like to pry. As he approaches your figure, he observed you were quiet, as always— absorbed in your own little bubble universe. Making his way to the counters, the Trains kitchen always kept an abundance of food sources; he got you a glass of cold water.

Tapping onto your shoulder lightly, he hands you the glass. Delighted, you take it from him gleefully; giving the teal eyed prince your thanks. Dan Heng knows you don't talk much when you're tipsy. Times like this were pretty rare, he knows you don't usually drink.

The raven haired boy sits beside you silently, joining you in comfortable silence. On the occasional tap of your fingernails on the glass, he counts the minutes he's been spending with you. Stealing a glance from your figure, he notices your face was flushed in hues of heat. Slowly, your gaze found themselves to be locked with his — as Dan Heng can't seem to look away from.

"I'm not drunk, you know."

His eyes narrow at you ever so slightly. Humouring your antics, he voices out his own thoughts.

"How so?"

"I'm dreaming. I definitely am!" You say that so proudly, he can't help but curb a smile. He almost sighs, leaning towards the counter— letting his jaw rest on his palm. You continue your musings. "I can barely make out of anything. Hey, there's this local specialty I've been gifted in a world recently. Its so strong, i think I'm going to pass out."

Dan Heng's gaze never left yours, urging you to continue. Did you know? Aside from the calming splash of ocean waves, he loves listening to your voice. He loves hearing you ramble about every little thing you'd like to share.

"I'm not surprised if I passed out just recently, so I might be dreaming right now."

"So you mean to say I'm a figment of your subconscious." With that remark, you can't seem to refute. Thats what he at least thought. But no, you surprise him with your next words.

"You're still divine, even in dreams."

It wasn't related to his previous response at all. Dan Heng seems to be taken aback, his eyes slightly widening. Nevertheless, he purses his lips and let's you keep talking.

"Ah, you've stuck to me so deeply even if I can't see at the moment, you're perfectly fine to me.." a slight pout on your lips, you shake your head dismissively. "Dream Heng, let me tell you something ~" you coo sweetly, trying to attain his interest. Come closer, you beckon. A little reluctant, he leans into you, his ears at your disposal.

Dream Heng? So you really do believe you're asleep. What in the world did you ingest anyway?

You lean into his ear. He feels your hot breath on his cheeks, inciting that fluttering churn in his stomach. You're hand lay rest in his shoulder, while the other slightly caress his green earpiece.

"I really like your earring. Is it an earring? I don't know.. I'm not sure." You ponder out loud. Heat rushes up to his cheeks very quickly; not just from the close proximity, but from your sincere praise as well. "Your eyeliners really nice too. Can you apply mine?"

There was a reason, and he knew. Dan Heng knew why his heart fluttered, the mere fact of that is extremely conflicting. If he gets you involved in his life, and gets you tangled in this mess..

You pull away so suddenly, flushed. He inwardly deflates. It's embarrassing that he almost pulled you back just to have you near him. In Dan Hengs defense, it was a reflex.

"I've always wanted to ask you that, I'm embarrassed.." gushing, fanning your face. He blinks. Sitting straight up, his ears was still dusted with a cute hue of peony. Dan Heng clears his throat before you continue. "Dream Heng, you'd do that for me, would you? Please? Awwe, this is so nice! I feel like I can do everything with Dream Heng ~" your voice was so sweet. As you play around, you almost trip when you stand up.

Ah, the floor is like jelly right now, it feels like you're in a Donut. Dan Heng was quick to put you back on your feet.

"Be careful." he says softly. The boys hold on you was firm, making sure you don't stumble. God, you really we're drunk. There was an entirely new aroma somewhere, not of the usual beverage he knows. Maybe it's the new specialty you've dug out in a new world? Nevertheless, your hold on him was just the same. Tension was in the air, and you were about to make a move on it.

Dan Heng's teal woven eyes slowly travels to your lips. Was it conscious cognition? Maybe, maybe not. But the dark haired prince knew you saw, and you weren't about to let go.

"You can kiss me. I really like you, so it's fine." His breath hitches, face brightening up with brilliant red. You say that with no reluctance, non-existent restraint, and with a grin so shameless! Of courses, he admits— he wants to! But he j can't. He just can't! In a attempt to collect himself, Dan Heng gives himself a pause.

After a few mere moments of him sulking, as you were completely oblivious to his internal crisis, he finally speaks.

"You.. like me?" Dan Heng asks, slowly. He swallows thickly. His voice lingered in your head— echoing his heartbeat. Was it his? No, maybe it was yours. You don't know!

"Hmm? I do." That seemed to flip something in him. Oh, he wants to keep hearing you say this. But at the same time, there's something crawling in his back. It watches him like a hawk and it gets under his skin— but before he could say something, you cut him off.

"Hmmm. Even Dream Heng can't kiss me in my dreams. How could I ever get with a real one?" you sigh, breathless. It came out more like a soft whine. What? Eyes avoidant of his, you go about your way of immersing in your own thoughts. Maybe you didn't have thoughts at all, just zoning out. Dan Heng holds you closer this time.

Suddenly, the so-called ice prince lifts you up into his arms, carrying you effortlessly. Surprised, you let out a yelp. Eyes averting yours, even if you're in his confinement, he disallows you to see his face. You can't help but think what's up with him?

"I can't." he says sternly; like there was no room for discussion. How could he? How could he when you're at your most vulnerable? Your thoughts may be distorted, and maybe it's feeding you these untrue and conflicting feelings.

What if he got this all wrong?

He'd prefer if you flirt with him sober.

"But what I can do is to let you get rest."

Upon hearing that, you quickly protest, trying to get out of his hold. "What? No! If I sleep here, I'd wake up pissed. Imagine sleeping in luxury and waking up in an alley way! Just put me on the floor. I'll wake up soon."

He shakes his head in disagreement, only holding you closer. "You'll be fine. I promise. If your real Dan Heng wouldn't lie to you, how could I be any different?" Dan Heng says this so calmly— as if it was natural. His words were truthful, and he could only wish you knew. He would never deceive you— Dan Heng would never dare take advantage of you.

You swore your heart leaped. Are you in it so deep your brain creates these fantastic fantasies? You've always loved his sincere attitude, as well as his considerate nature. Dan Heng was always a man of his words, rationalizing every bit for the sake of his dear ones and himself. As your thoughts for on, only before then your eyelids start to feel heavy. Drooping sleepily, your hands lay on your sides, snuggling to his body heat closely.

After that, all left was darkness.

"Everything alright?" He's a little cruel. After subtly riling you up, he's going to ask for your welfare. That doesn't matter. What happens is, no matter how you reply, you always find yourself under his figure.

Jing Yuan's charm is in his subtleness. His presence may be grand, but those small antics he does greatly helps with his lovely expressions. The way he nibbles on your neck while you entangle your hands on his grey hair, when he gives you the sweetest kisses on your knuckles everytime you reach over to him, nuzzling deeper into your palm there right after.. you can tell the general just thrives on pleasing you.

You noticed he barely pays attention to his needs as well. He's so busy eating your cunt out you could only imagine how suffocating it is to have his erection confined in his pants. The thing is, Jing Yuan doesn't even mind. His cock can twitch and leak precum all it wants, the general's grip on your thighs were still firm, unrelenting.

You'd squirm and whimper, god he loves hearing you when you do. He'd reward you with praises that even if you just finished, your sex would just twitch in anticipation. Maybe if you soil his fingers with your juices, he'd even put up a show for you eating his fingers out clean.

If there's something he's not willing to do in bed, that would be hurting you. As soon as there's even a hint of discomfort in your side, Jing Yuan would immediately halt any activity to see your condition. Despite being a general, usually known for his accomplishments in a very stern and relentless environment, his eyes could get so soft. It never fails to melt your heart everytime he looks at you with those saffron optics. You can't help but reach over to his frame and shower his face with butterfly kisses.

Jing Yuan doesn't say it, but he doesn't need to verbalize it when he's basically grabbing onto the plush your ass when you sit down on his face. He loves it when you sit. Even when he's gasping for air, especially when he's gasping for air— he'd be holding onto you for dear life like your his life line. Something about you riding yourself senseless on his nose while his tongue's chasing after those sensitive nerves on your slit has his dick twitching. As soon as he hears you utter the words "Lay down" from those pretty lips of yours, he wastes no time ♡

Another thing is when you cum so hard you twitch and lag into his arms. Gripping the sheets, eyes decorated with dried tears, a broken moan breaking out of your throat.. it's like a celestial noise no one can recreate but you.

He's fond of giving. Shen it's his time to be receiving, his demeanor doesn't change much. He's still gentle, guiding you to what he wants. You absolutely love how he communicates. Jing Yuan asks for requests with term of endearments and pairs with with handful of praises. Maybe this is why you try your best when you service him? After all, he does so well with your body, its only fair you'd return his diligence, right?

When he moans, Jing Yuan doesn't whimper, no. He groans deep. Sometimes he'd attempt to curb it, but after finding out that it actually gets you off— he can't help but let it out once and a while. He'd be putting away stray hair strands from your face when his cock is deep all the way to your throat, trying your best to take it in.

As soon as theres that knot below his stomach, waiting to snap, you always insist on taking it from your mouth. You love it when he breaks in you, broken moans intensifying just as he grips your head down his crotch. When he finally catches his breath after moments of breathlessness, Jing Yuan makes sure you're okay, profusely apologizing.

He understands you get tired, so he always prepare something for you after every session with him. He views this time with you as intimate, sacred of heart. There'd be scents you'd like around the room, may it be incense or candles, sometimes he'd even massage any muscles you find sore or tired. But often times, you'd just want him to clean you up and stroke your head while cuddling him up— just listening to his heart beat accompanied by the calming rise and fall of his chest.

You were no stranger to solitude. It doesn't scratch an itch anywhere in your mind space that requires you to gnaw on your lip every waking moment you feel that churning feeling in your stomach. Definitely not— Absolutely not! You believe that some parts in life are needed alone to be addressed with just the right amount of tenacity and resistance. You would come back to your loved ones with triumphant smiles chanting "I'm back, I'm back! I did it!" like a warrior.

Your mind spiraled into incoherent theories about his unknown agendas— too indulged notice the recurring voice that seems to speak your name.

And when you finally turn to see behind was when he finally graces your presence.

CYNO.

There was tense aura in the air, the last breath leaving even more awkward than the last. It was obvious Cyno wants to say something, but his lips stay sealed— quietly observing you waiting to see how you will move instead.

It seems as if he thinks you're really upset. Just an inference, his intuition— a baseless assumption. I mean, who wouldn't be after leaving your partner hanging for 3 months straight venturing out into the desert?

He's a lovely partner. You think that, wholeheartedly. You really do. But seriously!? You understand there must've been at least some sort of viable explanation, but a part of you couldn't help but feel upset.

"I'm glad you're home safe." You finally speak, releasing a big sigh. It was as if a big weight lifts off your chest. Your smile says nothing more than joy and relief. Well, maybe a little too joyful.

Because you know full well if you speak your next words, your voice would break.

So you keep your lips pursed only for you to keep your own thoughts. Cyno is no average man. As a Mahamatra with fearsome agendas, his life is always on the line whenever he ventures out into the wild. Once, he returned to Avidya Forest with curse marks all over his body— crimson spurs trail over his gear, you were barely keeping it together!

Seconds pass, it was grew concerning that none of you were saying.. well, words. After all, you both have just reunited, and Cyno has probably gone through a rigorous mission that rendered his lips sealed, right? With curious eyes, you steal a glance from his figure. Your partner stood with remarkable posture, eyes evasive of yours. The young man seemed to be contemplating something.. expression a little solemn and glum.

With a gulp and a hesitant stare, he finally speaks his mind.

"I'm.. sorry. Forgive me, dear. There was a huge misconduct within the Akademiya and Matras I had to keep anonymous for—" he stops a little before continuing. Cyno's gaze is at the floor. "I had to keep anonymous for you.. for us. I couldn't send out letters. Please forgive me, (Y/n)."

Cyno takes another deep breath. "I understand if you'd like to lash out on my sudden return, so feel free to do so—" you quickly wave your hands in fluster.

"Ah, no no no! Really, Cyno, it's fi—ne...uhuh." You suddenly hiccuped.

With the first crack of your voice, your eyes immediately began to flow waterfalls. Salty tears pricked your (e/c) optics glossing over them with a glint. Cyno immediately rushes to your side whilst you immediately clung onto him like he's your life line.

Oh, Archons. He's your life. Just by his voice just now, you almost felt like your heart melted AND got crushed at the same time with just the weight of his words. Lash out? Of course you would! You're worried SICK. And you've missed him!

"You have no idea! I was holding onto these for 15 minutes earlier!" Your voice broke, fighting for your feelings. Cyno only wipes away your tears and nose with his sleeves in panic— repeating his apologies in a hushed voice over and over again.

AL HAITHAM.

The scent of scroll dust, his calloused hands, his warm breath on your head. For the past hours of his return, you only asked for one thing: to be held until you, yourself— let go of him. And judging by how how long Al Haitham has unknowingly neglected you, he's willing to make up for his wordless days.

But..

"Hey, honey.. dear..?" the Scribe softly calls out, gently tapping your shoulder. "Sweetheart? (Y/n)?" A little too indulged in his arms, you fail to give a response. This was when he sighed, and nuzzles deeper into your neck.

"(Y/n), it's been six hours. Surely you're feeling a little better now?"

"You've been gone for months."

"I know. But it's almost dinner, and we haven't eaten yet."

"We can starve here." You respond just as quickly. He sweatdrops, unable to tell if you were joking or dead serious. Look, his arm is cramping, his whole body is sweating, and he's dehydrated. The blanket that was wrapped around your body was on the floor, and you seem to be a little tired yourself. Taking matters into his own hands, you get surprised that his arms suddenly wrap tighter around you, lifting you up in his arms.

"You're ridiculous," Al Haitham puts you around his shoulder like you're a sack of rice, making his way through the kitchen. "I'm making dinner. You cling onto me all you want. We're eating."

After all, you never said anything about him moving while holding you, right?

All you could do was grumble and whine in his ears. The scribe doesn't seem to mind, as he gets a pan, his seasonings, and his food. Tapping your back occasionally, with every turn he make, your partner makes sure the doesn't accidentally burn or hit you with something while you're in his shoulders. With time passing, you're starting to get a little embarrassed yourself.. getting dragged all the way from the bedroom the the kitchen. Tugging on his clothes, you called out his name.

"Haitham, please let me down.."

Maybe it was the wind carrying your words away, but he doesn't seem to react. Your partner only focuses on whatever he's frying at the moment with his free arm on your figure. With lips pursed, you repeat again.

"Haitham."

"I heard you. I don't want to, you're staying there."

"What? No way! You're probably tired!"

"Oh? Don't back out now, I was going to feed you as well. I'm yours the whole week— I'm not leaving your sights very soon." Your partner says with a voice enough to leave no room for rebuttals and arguments. Seeing your face, slowly being taken over with embarrassment, ignites a small flame in him.

After a few mere moments of your silence, you grasp onto his clothing once again. This time, your voice was softer, a little more calmer.

"You're gonna be mine the whole week?"

WANDERER.

Ever since his return, the Wanderer has been gracing you with diverse stories from different parts of the land. Now, he isn't one to ramble his mouth nor entertain anybody with his experiences— so the indigo haired man could consider this "spoiling" you rotten.

After a long, exhilarating lectures of Vahumana Darshans, as well as interviews from other nations regarding his thoughts on different political matters— Wanderer has finally made enough time to spend with people he could actually tolerate.

On the other hand, he has been too kind, taking you to vast sceneries and feeding you all sorts of delicacies. It's as if he's trying to make up for something.. and you know what, you have no idea. But this? This is nice! Ignoring his witty and no-filter-opinion attitude, Wanderer has been significantly nicer to you last time you met.

Shopping, sight seeing, trying all sorts of new things. After all, what does he do with all the Mora he receives when he's but a puppet who doesn't even need to eat nor sleep?

He looks for no reciprocation nor gratitude, because he unknowingly believes seeing your smiling face because of him is enough to make his entire day. Of course, that doesn't stop you from profusely thanking him and actively trying to lessen all the things being given to you because do you really deserve it?

I'd you asked him, he'd look at you like you're crazy. Why wouldn't you deserve it? Why else wouldn't it be you? Do you prefer I do this for anyone else?

As night engulfs the sky, kissing it with a gentle good bye, the moonlight greets your resting frame. The Wanderer had found interestingly large lily pads that could hold up to 4 persons. Apparently, aranara's use it to navigate around lakes they couldn't get across.

The scenery is wonderful. Fireflies emerge from the shadows, and the lake sings a mellifluous tune every gush of waves it encounters. You were resting well, and his elysian self was beside you.

You were strange, that's for sure. Strange enough he'd like to keep taking you in like you're oxygen, as if you're some sort of life line to live from. Wanderer is not a man with too much words, so he could only gaze up to your figure.

A familliar noise of waddling makes their way towards you, an Aranara falling suit. It bee lines towards your figure, cozing up to your body.

Wanderer picks it up by its head gear, clicking his tongue.

"Hey. No cuddling. You lay beside me."

XIAO.

Xiao melts deeper into your arms as if he's lightweight, surprising you with the sudden return of his warmth.

His touches were featherlight, his firm hands on the small of your back. Fully aware of his fatigue eating away his skin, the Adeptus clutches your figure tightly.

"Sorry.." Xiao's voice was barely above a whisper. You frown upon his state, but your eyes were never pitiful. He knew of that. You say nothing but hold him in your arms in response. Mere moments pass with the wind blowing ever so softly in the sky.

You lull him with soft whispers, sweet nothings grazing his ear leaving out one another. Xiao's a little bashful— he's the one who's failed to keep up with your mundane agendas in everyday life leaving you alone, yet upon his return— you greet him with the best embrace this world has to offer.

After all the events at the Chasm, his encounter with Bosacius, and most of all, the lingering miasma that's been exceedingly abundant within the area, Xiao wasn't able to make time and shake off all the troubles he's facing. The Adeptus lie solemn with the softest look in his eyes gazing at your own. You know full well if he opens his mouth now, all that will come pouring out is his endless apologies that could be recited in millenias.

Instead, your hands gently caressed his cheeks— pecking those pursed lips who let out a soft sigh.

Xiao returns the gesture by holding you waist down, firmly keeping his hands on you. Chasing after your lips it was like something clicked in him the moment you even lent him a moment of your vulnerability. He was hungry, that's for sure. The Adeptus made it obvious with his knitted brows and those piercing gaze.

Amusement bubbled at the bottom of your stomach, letting out a small chuckle. Xiao's confused eyes met yours, questioning your sudden interest.

"You returned to me, that's lovely."

He responds to your claim in a grumble, now averting his eyes. Xiao's hand never leaves yours.

"I have to.." Those hands slowly travel to your cheeks, caressing them in pure affection. "I need to."

In hours where the whole world was engulfed in shadows— where the land was kissed in delicate rays of moon light, Albedo would be caved in his tent way over in Dragonspine. There was something about the solitude in these hours that bring the Alchemist clarity and fresh eyes. In your small quest to find him, you often wander about through the locations he often spends his leisurely time with.

Today might be your lucky day, after all.

Albedo stands across from you, seemingly busy with his manuscripts. From what you remember, he's been working on something that involves cultivation of soil through extreme weather conditions. Setting down your cloak, you greet him with a smile.

"Hello, Albedo." Upon hearing his name, he quickly turns towards you. His face showed parts of surprise before putting down his pent to shift his stolen attention.

As soon as you set yourself down in one corner parallel to his, Albedo makes his way towards you hurriedly. Surprised, you turn your attention towards him.

"What's the matter?" Taken aback by his own movements, Albedo immediately composes himself. Opening up a small distance between you. Albedo has this hesitant look on his face, making you equally nervous.

"Nothing," he starts. "I'm glad you came here today. I don't know how to act at the moment."

Oh? You start to feel a little flustered. Albedo has always been blunt. The flush on your face starts to seep in when he takes your arm, enveloping you in a side hug. It was an awkward position so you guide him towards your arms.

Albedo almost immediately melts into your arms, engulfing you in an embrace with a small sigh. Albedo never went for a hug before. Not before, not even at present. This is his first embrace that was given to you, and it looks like he isn't letting go of you any time soon.. You pat his back comfortingly, attempting to pry those cloudy eyes of his with answers.

"(Y/n), can we stay like this?"

You couldn't even manage to refuse. What's gotten into him? He's never been this bold before. Albedo gingerly plays with your fingertips kissed by Dragonspine's relentless frost. It was as if his hands served at a warm blanket, enveloping it with their warmth. Analyzing his features a little more closely, you can't help but appreciate how beautiful he really is.

Like a painted canvas with delicate strokes. The world really took their time constructing him. It's evident that he was made with something in mind, something much more greater beyond the world— an enigma, a question that leaves unanswered for centuries. The very same blond locks messily framing his face, the other-worldly glint of his birthmark on his neck. You often wonder how nice it would be to give love on a person that was as closed off and busy as he is..

With spying eyes, you could've sworn his lips tinged upwards just a little bit. Despite his flawless and innocent appearance..

Albedo rests your palm on his cheek, seemingly having a world on his own.

..That's not Albedo. That's not my Albedo.

The intuition of a lover can't be deceived nor cheated. It's something that's imbedded in your very heart like some sort of sweeping system that validates every hypothesis you come up with. You know how they feel, their energy or how they talk. A lover is familliar with every fragrant poison that drips out of their halves mouth. A lover simply knows.

Yet despite all that, this entity was extremely adept in enticing you. When your vision couldn't leave Albedo's lips, you knew you were in trouble. Every touch he gives you left you nervous. Even as Albedo put a stray hair behind your ear, you could do nothing but helplessly watch and debate with your inner conscience if this is right.

When he starts to go a little lower with you, it felt as if you were being dragged towards dirt. Like a barren land welcoming you as their new home. It's in his image, and you're engaging shameful acts with it, is that agreeable? As Albedo's lips nibble in your neck, you firmly push him away from you— staring right into his eyes. Your heart was beating fast in your chest as your painfully aware of where his hands currently rest: on every sense of your body.

"You're not Albedo. I know you're not Albedo.." you say almost sadly. Almost disappointed, almost a little softly. "For all I know, you're a hallucination."

"Does that matter?" The entity replies nonchalantly. He caresses your cheeks affectionately. "For all I know, I'm doing you a favor here. Don't you like him?"

"You're a charmer, just like him." You scoff.

"I am him, (Y/n). You should get used to it." he says, placing a chaste peck on your knuckles. The sight alone was enough to make your heart flutter, but the churn in your stomach distracts you from butterflies that will be soon eradicated by poisonous flowers. Just who is this guy? Who is he? What is he? If it could mimic individual behaviour, what else can it do?

Albedo was already decorating your collarbones with kisses, unbuttoning any top clothing that could hinder his lips. The chill of Dragonspine greets your skin earning a shiver from you.

"Are you cold? What do you think about sex by the fire?"

"You say.. things..! So casually! Don't do that!"

"I'm serious, though." He retorts. You face was flushed not only by the cold, but his sheer shamelessness as well. "Do you not like it?" You trying to respond as calmly as you could, but your voice shook to no avail.

"We're not going to have sex, Albedo."

"Oh, but we are. If you didn't want to, you would've pushed me away the moment i kissed you." Fuck. He's not wrong. You sneer at his subtle smirk. The imposter held your hand so gently, like he hasn't been doing any wrong at all. "Do it, (Y/n). Tell me to go away. Tell me you don't want to fuck me, (Y/n). Can you do that? I'll listen to you without hesitation, (Y/n)."

Oh heavens, he really likes saying your name that way.

"Your silence isn't an answer, sweetheart. I'll take it as a no and leave. Do you want that?" Something about engaging with him in his image is conflicting. It's wrong to you, wrong to him. Albedo, Chief Alchemist of Mondstat. Despite knowing this fact, why did you put your lips on him? His tongue is swirling incantations into your spine, you drink every last bit of attention "Albedo" gives you with no restraint whatsoever. The blonds hand trail over to your waistband, tugging onto them so feverishly. You know he wants you just as much as you want him, and that shows just by how the prince licks his lips.

"You're very obedient," you gasp when he slips his hand inside your pants without warning giving your sex a few lazy strokes. His hot breath touches your ears giving you faint surprise. "I was thinking of maybe we'd take our time bantering." He breathes, unlike your Albedo. That's fascinating. Just as the blond leans in for your lips, you pull away to inquire about certain matters.

"I'm not calling you Albedo." You start firmly, looking at him straight in the eyes. He's kinda adorable; looking surprised— impatient trying to curb his own desire. "Which is why I'm going to ask, who are you?" His ocean hued optics dull, a little dramatic. You quickly add once he frowns at you— "I know you're not Albedo, so I.. that's a little unfair."

"I'd prefer if you'd call me Albedo.." he plays with the hem of your shirt, subtly undressing any buttons or zippers. "But if you insist, I go by Dorian."

"Dorian.."

"Dorian." He repeats. "Considerate of you to ask who I am, sweetheart." Right at this moment, he's already taken off your top and bottom. Dorian's teeth sink into the waistband of your undergarments, looking up at you with such pretty eyes. Assisting him by shifting your weight, he was able to get it off just by his mouth alone. With a satisfied hum, Dorian teases your sex with a quick stroke.

Your eyes never leave his figure— specifically his hands. Those slender fingers brushing over your sensitive spots so delicately, that perverted smile in his lips that seems to induce more conflicting feels in your stomach. There was something lewd about how Dorian moves his hands.. especially when he contests your gaze as if his sole purpose was to give you a fine show.

Your heart was already racing, but it started skipping beats once he starts opening his mouth. Dorian's pretty little grunts to his quick breaths— you knew you were already in trouble.

"You're drooling.. you like me that much?" Refusing to look at Dorian in the eye, you quickly avert your gaze towards something else, but he disallows you to as he quickly takes your sensitive sex into his mouth.

"Nnh..! Hold on— Wait! F—uuck..!!" You whine helplessly, grabbing onto his blond locks. "S- Slow down.." The Alchemist swallow your fluids like a craved manwhore, looking so angelic you swore you just twitched a little. Just a little.

Oh, who are you kidding? You're down horrendous.

"Yes please— oh, fuck. You perverted fuck..." Dorian's nose kisses your sensitive areas, doing his best to take you as full as possible while you run your mouth with your hands tangled in his hair. "So eager, so hungry..♡ Look at you eating me up, you're enjoying this too much aren't you?" Dorian only managed to give you a strained hum, seemingly agreeing in delight.

"You already knew I'd come here, don't you Dorian? Because you're a pervert. Because you studied me, didn't you?" You tug on his disheveled locks when he groans to reply. "You're so cruel, Dorian— cornering me like this, you know? Now you're taking your time to let me cu—um...!!" your sentence died in your throat as he suddenly picked up his pace, determined to let you reach your climax. He sucks your sensitive nerves needly, kissing every tip of your sex attentively. Dorian pays very close attention to how you react to certain things, keeping a close eye on where you drag your words and breaths.

"Dorian.. Doriaaan..♡ Don't stop, please?" With the last flick of his tongue, you could feel that knot in your lower stomach collapse— your knees growing rigid and weak, locking Dorian's poor head in place. Your breath hitches, holding onto his hair for dear life eliciting a loud groan from the Alchemist.

The blond looked at you with such deprived eyes, that bulge in his pants becoming a lot more evident. His face scrunches up in discomfort when your knees deliberately brush over his erection.

While you're brain was trying to process your orgasm, Dorian managed to escape your grip, placing his hand on your lips. "Hey, (Y/n). Look at me please? I don't want you looking at anything else.." with a shaky sigh, you peck his lips. Ah, fuck. He's so cute. He's so clingy. Dorian's slowly growing on you, like a stubborn fungi taking over your feeble brain to come follow its own wishes.

He's absolutely enthralled by how you gaze at him with cloudy eyes. Those half lidded eyelids trying it's best to make sense if it's surroundings.. Dorian could guess how you haven't played with yourself for a while, considering how fast you came with just his mouth.

"I can't hold it in anymore. Can I put it in?"

"..Not yet." Dorian's hold on you came firm, further showcasing just how on edge he is. Part of you wants to keep edging him, but how could you do that when he did such a good job trying to make you feel good?

Then again, you feel like you're no saint.

Dorian thinks different. It's a little unfortunate. He thinks maybe if he gives you a little gift, you would have no choice but to stay..

You have always been a fan of kissing Kaveh in the lips, the cheeks, his forehead, his neck— everything. He's so lovely. Of course, hearing you utter those words to him just when he knows his dick is right inside of you makes him twitch in his place.

Kaveh melts into you like honey. You're more on the soft intimacy, but is later overshadowed when Al Haitham enters the rim. The scribes touch has always been so electric. Kaveh feels it in his skin, those slender fingers tracing circles on his waist.. his hot breath on his ears humming every other second.

You have to make it up to him somehow! After all that teasing, he's often times lagging onto the sheets, exhausted. You both would always prepare him the best aftercare. Massaging oils, vanilla scented candles, a damp towel to clean yourselves up.. a warm rose bath for him..

If Kaveh requests, you could just lay there a little longer and spend time together. On the other hand..

Kaveh's dick is always hard, his lips are always swollen, and his cheeks are always flushed with the both of you. Sometimes you would edge him to the point of crying, begging you to let him cum already. When you're feeling nice, you'd give him a nice, passionate head.

But noo! Do you think Al Haitham feels the same way?

Al Haitham would immediately grab you by the chin, bellowing you to come closer. Taking your lips into a quick kiss, he bites your lip just slightly— making you yelp. "Look at you.." he weaves a breath before keeping his gaze on Kaveh, continuing.

"Kaveh, I'll bend you over." Al Haitham wasted no time whilst the blond only responded in a surprised gasp. Al Haitham's tip that was slicked with his own precum prodded over his entrance. "That's okay, right?"

"Geez.." the blond responded. His golden locks were disheveled as your hands combing their ways through it. Kaveh found it a little embarrassing to be saying Yes, but inevitably wordlessly nodded. You start caressing his sweet face, a pout painting the curves of your lips.

"Oh, if only i have something to stuff your pretty mouth with.." you say a little coyly. Kaveh only looked into your eyes waiting patiently. Tracing his flushed lips with your fingers, you continue. "Will my fingers do, Kaveh?" Kaveh playfully bit your fingers, sucking off the spot in attempt to ease the stinging pain. You chuckle in amusement.

This time, you firmly grabbed his jaw, forcing those beautiful vermillion eyes to look at you.

He doesn't miss the way your breath hitches when his hand brushes over those bundle of sensitive nerves. The scribes eyes trail over your throat that gulps everytime he emits a groan. Al Haitham's gaze is like that of a hawk.. stalking.. preying. Waiting for even a drop of vulnerability in you. Though he's not gonna deny the fact that you drive him absolutely fucking crazy.

When your hands are gently pampering his shaft, lubing up and giving love to his tip, Al Haitham's way of giving attention to your sex is a little more rough. Actively contrasting both your pace, it quickly began a battle of wits.

Now that he's wrapped his hands around your bitch, fuck— the way he strokes and tightens around your sensitive areas really melts you so good you almost want to get up and sit on his dick already.

Almost. Just almost. After all, you didn't raise yourself to be a whining quitter. So as soon as you added your teeth to the equation, the scribe suddenly changed demeanor. His eyes showed unexpected surprised, followed by his well hidden groan.

"Nngh..! Fuck. That's cheating." He dragged a hiss, whilst you lick his bruised shoulder in attempt to subdue the stinging pain. "..What's this? Can't be fair? I thought we were only using hands."

"I have many limbs, scribe. And they all have their purpose."

"You're laughable.." he says in a low mumble. You only draw closer to him, grinning. "—finding excuses.." he continues, taking back his hand that was drenched in your juices. Sticky and wet. It was a lewd sight, but what made it even more dirtier is how he licks all of you off his own digits, all that but never taking that piercing eyes off you.

Ah, shit.. I think I just came a little.

"You twitched."

"I did? Did I? Hmm.." you reply coyly. Al Haitham lips curved into a subtle smirk. That face again.. nothing good happens when he makes that face. Al Haitham waves it off, his free hands suddenly on your waist— dragging your posture a little lower.

"It's obvious you aren't comfortable in this position.. here. I'll help you." His cold hands snake up the back of your clothes. "You can arch a little more. Don't be shy now."

This little—

Impulsively, you let your spit drop to his tip, twirling your thumb around. His expression— a little strained, never falters. He only starts playing around with your sensitive areas; tracing circles, leaving marks, hell even slapping it just to hear that cute voice of yours. At this point, you're full on jerking his cock off. His breaths became more ragged, eliciting small vibrations in your core that turns you on a little more than you initially thought.

The way your eyes draw close, half lidded, cloudy and euphoric really puts the Scribe on edge. Seeing both your sex be gingerly played with by one another really gives wild visualizations. Is this how you play with yourself? You tease yourself to the point of breaking, and eventually go all out desperate for that release?

The room gets hot, or maybe it was just the both of you?

God, right now his scent is so intoxicating. There's nothing more than you want but just to ravish his stupid face right now.

There's that familliar sensation surging through both of your lower stomach, pace getting more and more inconsistent. Chasing that high, that knot in your stomach finally snapped as you both release on each other. White streaks of cum followed by broken moans— you held onto his arms tightly while he felt you spasm in your place, back arched as he delved into you deeper.

Working your way through both your orgasm, you both collapse onto each other. Your arm was numb, his fingers were twitching and all you could hear right now was Al Haitham's muffled breathing through the sound of his own racing heartbeat.

Hmmm♡ It seems that this round was a tie.

Al Haitham has always been a man of stoicism. If it's something that's unnecessary for his work, he skips it. If it disrupts peace of mind, he puts it away. If something is hindering his progress, the scribe will undoubtedly push it out of his way.

He almost never goes home. When he does, it's either to grab a few relics and artifacts that's essential to his current progress. All your husband gives you is a quick peck on your lips and he waves goodbye once again.

Atleast.. that was supposed to happen.

It started with a small kiss, but all of the sudden Al Haitham's breathing was ragged as you once again take him into your lips— hungry, roughly, and rigid. Your tongues danced and swirled into a rhythm-less pattern seemingly incoherent. It was like an instinct on play, desperately trying to relish and prolong the warmth you've oh so waited to finally devour.

Al Haitham's hand supports your figure, a firm grip on the small of your back. He allows every crevice of his mouth explored, neck absolutely violated by hungry, yet delicate kisses enamoured by yours truly, alone.

Alas in but a few moments— he pulls back from you leaving you wanting for more. Voice barely above a whisper, he tells you that you need to breathe. Take it easy, and breathe. Eyes hazy, you're surprised by the sudden haste you've displayed when you nodded meekly.

He lay his forehead on your own when a moment of silence was shared between you two. He feels your breaths turn softer and softer before he finally speaks once again, only to get cut off.

"I want you right now, you know?" You say slowly, and he doesn't interrupt— only giving you a slight smug look as if he's won something. He dips his head back to your lips but it's much more calmer this time. Al Haitham's pecks and kisses were tender and warm— and it somehow enchants you more to speak out.

"I miss you, you know?" barely letting it out as a mumble, he stilll grasps your words. You latch your arms onto his neck for support when he targets your neck, emitting small mewls from your throat. "It was so lonely. Your bed was always empty."

"I know."

He offers hums and hushed words. His velvet voice strumming each and every one of your nerves ro relax. Al Haitham's comforting words threatened the tears in the corner of your eyes to betray you, but alas you let them. They fall from your eyes hurriedly— yet he doesn't mind at all. In fact, he kisses your tears away, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

Strong arms quickly pick you up from his lap proping your figure on the table. He took the liberty of discreetly organizing the files away because he knew this would inevitably happen sooner or later. It was you, after all. Al Haitham's tongue was all over your chest with his hands trailing all kinds of intentions in your body. No skin left unloved, his firm grip on you was apparent.

"W-Wait. Your documents—"

"You don't get to think about that right now." He softly taps your forehead, cheeks flushed with soft rose hues. "All I want to know is how you've been." You don't respond. It was a question he already knows the answer, but his voice is so so gentle and soft you take his lips back to yours.

"I'm fine now."

"'Now'? So you weren't fine before?"

"Don't tease me, Al Haitham.."

Al Haitham hums. Oh well, now you have to finish what youve started, right? Al Haitham traces circles on your thighs, seemingly thinking about something. Before you could ask what's on his mind, he tugs on your undergarments, those royally gem imbedded eyes of his trail back towards yours with a glint of mischief.

"Take them off."

For what it was worth, it certainly looks like he wasn't the only one holding back. The grey haired man firmly held you in your place making the most out of what's in between your legs. He traces circles, he sucks on your sensitive numb like his life depended on it. Al Haitham would trace the curve of your back when you arch for him when he hits that sweet spot that never fails to elicit a strong electrifying reaction out of you.

The Scribe diligently works his way through your folds, glistening with both his spit and your juices. Once you start holding onti him tight, he slows down and resumes again. God, he loves seeing your face contort from anticipation of your orgasm to a puzzled scrunch.

"Cumming.. cum- cummin—g..!! Ahn, aahgg! please—"

"Ah, ah. Eyes here." He leaves your pussy hanging, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. Your cute face is so flushed from the stimulation it's taking every inch of his being to pull down his pants and fuck your face right then and there. You hands attempt to entangle in his hair, but he pushes you away. "Don't hug me. I want to see your face."

You could only whimper back. He was so mean when you're clingy. Although he never means it in any way repulsive, his tongue is adept in such filthy language that gets your cunt throbbing. Al Haitham dips his face into your lips, his tongue exploring every crevice of it like it's his fucking birthright. Those slender fingers if his creep up on your heat, inserting his middle finger while his thumb rest on your clit.

Al Haitham's breath hitches. "Fuck, you're so wet.." before you could respond, he shuts you up by kissing you deep again. "I love you. I love you.." your husband repeats to you like a matra as his fingers rut themselves into your sopping pussy. You don't know whether or not he's telling that to you, or your cunt but you're not complaining either way. You were too sensitive to think straight, but you're not too lost to not reciprocate his words. Although your words are a little broken, you managed to let out a few strings of affirmations yourself. "—Haithaam... i love you, my Haitham...♡".

You could feel Al Haitham's breath hitch in your neck.

"My Haitham. My Haitha— fuck. I'm gonna cum I'm gonna cum I'mgonnacumm...!!" His fingers' pace starts to pick up that your legs were barely even getting a hold of themselves— trembling just by how playful he is playing with your cunt. Al Haitham breaks eye contact, nuzzling into your neck. His breaths ragged and hair disheveled from all the hair pulling you've been doing. He relishes in your scent and speaks.

"I'm listening.." mumbling, hinting for you to go on. He's always loved it when you're fucked dumb. When you ramble what you usually don't say in public. When you tell him your deepest desires just for his ears only, looking at the way your face scrunches up under him.

"I want your cock deep in my pussy haithaamm...♡ I want it kissing the deepest part, Haitham. Please? Pretty please? Please pleasepleasepleas—" You whimper like a pathetic slut. Your nails dig deep into his arm when his tongue starts lapping up in your neck. "I deserve it, I do. You know I do, right? I d—unnggff..!!" Whatever it was to come out of your mouth died in your throat as your whole body spiked up in his arms, your climax washing over you.

Your husband pumps a few more thrusts helping you ride out your orgasm, planting tender kisses on your collarbones.

You could feel hot breath on your neck, hitting your flushed cheeks. Al Haitham's right hand rest on your waist, subtly guiding the plush of your ass to his erection. His free hand clasps yours, thumb brushing your knuckles. Chaste pecks all around the nape of your neck, from this view.. it really does tempt him to bite and mark you down right now.

"Ah.. ah. I'm a little sensitive.."

"It's okay for you to back down." He softly mumbles. "Do you need to go?" He says, concern laced in his tone. You were a little more conscious of his hands on your waist, as it grips you tighter. You shake your head no.

There's no way you would back down. Not when you could feel his painfully erect cock behind your back. You expected him to ask another question in his gentle voice, but was met with a surprise of change in demeanor instead.

"Then bend over."

You huff at him, shoving a book in his face. It's not that you're embarrassed, you really just wanted to mess with the red head. His pouting face is so cute, impatiently tapping on his lap so occasionally everytime you would meet eyes— hoping that he'd receive atleast your heart to finally let him hold your waist and relish in your presence.

Fortunately, he caught you in a good mood. Your face was just freshly painted by the soft rays of sunlight, eyes still droopy signifying your recent wake. Heizou had a cheeky smile on his cheeks as he sees you strut slowly towards him.

It was hard to wipe his smile off. Even as you gently lay yourself in his lap, his arms snaking towards your waist giving them a secure hug— you can feel the upward tinges of his lips in your back. His face lay on your back whilst you close your eyes, both of you sharing an intimate morning.

"See? This isn't so bad."

"This will be the first and last time."

"Oh c'mon!"

KAVEH. "Unexplainably Physically Strong" reader

"Oh, please? Just one last time!"

"No! No more!"

Just because you can, doesn't mean you should. Due to your unexplained physical prowess and your adornment with your romantic blond, Kaveh has always been the target of your amusement. Out of random periods of time, you would intertwine your arms below his knees and waist and hoist him up the sky.

His reactions would often be a yelp, or a full on lecture about how you should give warnings and ask if hes okay. Ultimately, Kaveh just holds on to your figure and flow freely with whatever you'd like doing. Sometimes you'd pepper his face with your kisses endlessly, then you'd put him down gingerly with a smile.

He's not too vocal about it, but he does find comfort in your arms. Kaveh also doesn't say this, but he's also terrified of those arms!

One time, a scholar caught the two of you fooling around. Said scholar has the unfortunate choice of reprimanding how childish and 'unfitting' it is to be carrying around a man like he's a princess!

You only put Kaveh down, hoisted up the Scholar into your strong arms and put him down at the roof of Al Haitham's house.

"Look! You're at the top of the world!" You cheerfully exclaimed.

"Let him down!! You're gonna get apprehended!!!"

"I can throw him on top of Surasthana, if you'd like."

ALBEDO. "Low Temperature Resistant, Nerves of Steel" reader

"What's on your mind, Albedo?"

"I'm not sure you'd like to know."

Yes. He wants to see how you're anatomically composed. But as a gentleman, he can't just ask to conduct self indulgent research on your body, can he?

You're fascinating. Your breaths are recorded through serene huffs of the cold air on your lips. You breathe. You have blood on your nerves, yet you don't find temperatures in Dragonspine all chilling?

Albedo doesn't press any further, only keeping his gaze locked into you. Before he could say anything, you open your mouth. "Do you think i have internal body temperatures?"

His lips pursed, unable to formulate an answer. Instead, observed you. You put up your hand, cueing that he'd hold it. Albedo wastes no time taking off his gloves, locking his hands into yours. Maybe it was the coldness of the air around you, or maybe even his lack of warmth himself— but you lack warmth. You lack the temperature of a human being.

His eyes glint of fascinating sapphires. You're an enigma. How brilliant. The alchemist's eyes steal a glance at your figure, gazing quietly at your arms. The sun starts to rise in the peak of Dragonspine.

The apricity of the atmosphere makes you look like an Angel that isn't quite from the skies.

"Hehe, it's normal for humans to have cold hands, right?"

"..So you say, (Y/n)."

XIAO. "Strong Resistance to Karma" reader

"You delude yourself with fantasies I have nothing to do with."

"Say it while you're looking at me, Xiao."

Dishonesty is often correlated with your body language. Unfortunately for Xiao, his whole body often betrays him.

No matter how he sternly voices out the consequences of bathing amongst his karmic miasma, you would always just stick your tongue playfully at him and he'd immediately be at loss for words.

He dislikes the gentleness of your tone, your tall figure looming behind him, telling him the same thing: of how you're resistant to his karma— of why your foundation doesn't easily absorb anything of the world prescribed above. Xiao doubts this greatly as he sees no vision on your person, nor any protective barrier around your body.

He keeps great distance of where you find challenging to close in. But.. everytime he takes a step back, you always manage to take two forward. It's as if the world is playing tricks on him— with how calm and serene you look everytime you open up a conversation; seemingly unbothered, he starts to think maybe your words are of the truth.. bellowing him to give in.

He knows you're not immune. There is a vast difference in resistance. But...

Xiao stands amongst a field of qingxin, one you have always found fond of. The soft breeze plays with his hair with harmonic rhythm. He picks one off gently, placing a soft peck in the fragility of its petals.

In the dead of night where the afterglow peaks it's way through the cracks of your window, you were surprised to be greeted with a basket of carefully placed qingxin, decorated with a handful of sprinkling crystal cores.

The cores reflect the glowing moonlight, kissing face softly.