#kaeya fluff

he steps past the entryway and a weary sigh escapes his lips. he leans on the wall, tipping his head back in an effort to ease the crick in his neck. archons above, he’d feel this magnified tomorrow, wouldn’t he? 

his head was killing him. 

regardless of how seasoned an adventurer and how much of a captain one may be, a week scouting in dragonspine mountain was bound to be draining, not to mention the pages of reports that he’d had to finish immediately after returning.

he pulls his hair free from his ponytail, and it cascades down his shoulders in a waterfall of azure and navy. he rakes his fingers through, shaking it out at the roots before moving to massage his throbbing forehead, thumbs resting on his temples. the hair tie that rests in his hands, the one that he pockets delicately, is a sparkly gold one that you’ve given him.

he slides to the floor to undo his boots, fumbling ungracefully with the gilded clasps and buckles adorning brown leather, taking far too long for what would ordinarily be a simple task.

despite his exhaustion, he smiles when he sees your shoes lined up neatly, and he arranges his boots next to yours, the sides of his left shoe touching the sides of your right.

 it almost makes him forget his headache. 

almost. he winces as another throb radiates the pain behind his brows.

a shower can wait, kaeya thinks, as he walks towards the bedroom. he’d much rather be cuddled up with you and rest till the morning comes. 

his footsteps are quiet, and he walks as slowly and as softly as possible despite wanting to run to bed immediately. the last thing he wants is to wake you up.  

he cracks open the door in the same measured manner, the soft light of the living room’s lamps permeating through as he does, and he sees his shadow magnified on the plush carpet you insisted on for the floor. as his eye adjusts, the first thing he sees is you sleeping, as peaceful as can be.

warmth blooms in his chest. it feels right, he thinks, to be able to come home to you after a long, hard week. 

he moves through the space to kneel by your side, to press the softest of kisses on your forehead, carefully stroking your hair, unwilling to disturb your rest. as much as he’d adore hearing your voice after going a week without, he could wait till the morning.

he peels off all his clothes, layer by layer, dropping his eyepatch in the drawer before grabbing the first pair of clothes he touches in his closet. 

he laughs quietly to himself in the dark, realizing he accidentally got ahold of one of your shirts.

pulling out the right article of clothing this time, he trudges onward to the bathroom, finding himself with just enough energy to brush his teeth. your toothbrush, identical to his, and your toothpaste sit in a glass next to his, and he fondly looks at the strip of satin ribbon you tied to the handle of your brush to mark it as yours. 

it feels right, he thinks. to see your possessions next to his, to see traces of you everywhere he looks in his home. to be reminded of your presence by his side everyday. 

he slides into bed, a grin finding its way onto his face as he spots a little bit of dried drool at the corner of your mouth.  “hey,” he coos when you stir at the feeling of the mattress dipping with his weight. “it’s just me, no need to be alarmed.”

“kaeya?” you call sleepily. “you just got home?” 

“mhm.” he settles himself next to you, the length of his body pressing comfortably against yours. your blanket-warmed skin on his draws a content sigh from his lips. 

“what time is it?”

“something ungodly, i’m sure,” he stifles a yawn, his brows knitting together when his headache makes itself known again. “go back to sleep, darling.” 

“headache?” you ask, blinking the sleep away. he hums.

“it’s nothing, don’t worry.”

“don’t give me that, kaeya.” you wriggle closer to him, your fingers cradling his temples. your thumbs press gently, rubbing to ease the pressure. somehow, your touch helps.

he smiles, a soft puff of his breath hitting your wrists.

it feels right, he thinks, to feel you nestled against him, to hear your breathing even and content, to see your face calm and half buried in the embrace of sleep even as you clumsily attempt to soothe his aching head. 

it feels right, he thinks, to have your things scattered next to his, your keys with his and his shoes next to yours in a household chaos so wonderfully familiar.

it feels right, he thinks, to see your life so intertwined with his that they’re almost one; where he cannot imagine his days without you.

he feels you stir, hands dropping back down to rest on his chest. “what are you thinking about?” you ask. 

“you,” he says, brushing an eyelash off your cheek, completely sincere.

you huff, rolling your eyes. “sweet-talker. did you miss me that much?” you nudge him playfully.

“i did,” he admits, and your eyes soften in the face of his earnest response. 

“i missed you too.” you sleepily press a kiss to the base of his neck, where his pulse lives. “it really isn’t the same without you.”

“now who’s the sweet-talker, hmm?”

“you’re ruining the moment we’re having, kaeya.” you poke him in the chest in faux annoyance, huffing lightly. “besides, pillows shouldn’t talk.”

he chuckles. “alright, alright.” he acquiesces, his voice mellow and fond. he kisses your forehead and pulls you closer, yawning. “i’ll quiet down and be your pillow. we’ll talk in the morning.”

“mhm,” you hum in response before a yawn leaves your mouth. “goodnight, my love.”

he nudges your head with his nose. “sweet dreams, my love.”

✦ ending notes: this doesn't flow as smoothly as i'd like it to, but i still adore this with all my heart. thanks for reading. :)

✦ taglist: @maopll @number-one-love-lover (send an ask to be removed!)

Kaeya is clever, observant, and careful.

Then there is you who ignored all of that.

Kaeya spends days constructing the perfect mysterious image and then there is you who spends on the same days trying to convince the blue haired child to climb trees.

"Kaeya!" You called out, sitting on the thick branch with a smile on your face. "Come up here already!" "No." He replied, no so amused. "Why not?" "It's childish." The child, Kaeya said. "You're ten." You said, looking at the child below you. "And?"

You were immune to Kaeya's charms as the two of you continued to hang out together. You were immune to his smiles, his dramatic sighs because you remembered the boy who scarpped his knees, the boy who got angry when he lost games, and the boy who secretly liked sweet things.

In one of those days where time passes by slowly, you and Kaeya were hanging out. Nothing out of the ordinary, it was quiet at first and then laughter entered his ears.

Your laughter.

Kaeya looked to his side and saw you with that usual bright smile on your face and your eyes softened, laughing as the crystalfly decided to perch itself on your nose. He stopped and stared and oh— you look lovely.

Very lovely.

Now every childhood memory becomes a problem, how could Kaeya Alberich flirt normally when he remembers you chasing chickens through Mondstadt? How was he, Kaeya Alberich, supposed to act cool when he remembers you eating half of his lunch? It was impossible.

He discovered jealousy first before he discovered love. You were the friendly type, almost all the people in Mondstadt were your friends, after all. Kaeya simply finds it irritating when people talk to you. Quite suspicious, no?

"Who was that?" Kaeya asked, letting out an easy smirk. "A friend?" You replied, turning to him. "Mm." Suddenly you were looking at him, puzzled.

There was many things Kaeya expected to happen but he didn't expect you to trip on your own feet while walking down the last steps of the stairs in front of the Favonius Cathedral.

You fell on your face.

Seeing you fall, Kaeya immediately went to your side. He didn't visibly show it but he was panicking internally, his hands shaking slightly while he helped you up on your feet. You noticed it, of course you do.

"Why were you so worried?" You asked him and Kaeya opened his mouth and slowly closed it again. He suddenly realized that there was no friendly explanation to your question. None. There was not even one.

Years later, you continued to stay beside Kaeya. Even if he didn't show it, you knew deep inside he needed someone. So you stayed and Kaeya quietly cherished it everytime.

The evening was cold, the sort of evening that the both of you had shared a hundred of times. Sitting together, peaceful, comfortable, familiar. Kaeya looked at his hands and suddenly whispered, "I think I've been in love with you for a very long time now." And suddenly your heart stuttered. You looked at the person beside you and saw that he was already staring back at you. "..How long?" Kaeya couldn't help but let out a groan and then smile a little fondly, a little annoyed at your question because it wasn't really? or are you serious? He thought about it for a moment and remembered the moment his heart started reaching for yours— he wanted to say it was from the moment you were laughing and there was a crystalfly on your nose. But he wanted to save a little face. "Probably when you punched a boy for making fun of me." "I was thirteen." "Then probably around then." You rolled your eyes but you tried to suppress the smile threatening to bloom on your face, "You know.. you're not bad looking, Cavalry Captain." You teased. "You wound me, is my looks only not bad looking? I 'm surely the most handsome man you know." "Well, I like everything about you, looks included."

Very little changed between the two of you.

The difference is that now Kaeya doesn't have to pretend he isn't looking at you. He doesn't have to pretend he doesn't care. He doesn't have to pretend that you aren't the first person he searches for in every room.

modern! Aether who lets you try all the trendy hairstyles you find on the internet without a complaint. Who gives you permission every time you ask, even if it's simply to occupy your hands while you're out with friends. 

He lets you sit him down on your bed before spending what feels like hours doing his hair – not even for him to keep it ! 

"You don't even have that much hair," he complains as you pull a little too harshly.

"Not yet," you spat, frowning at him but loosening your hold in the process. 

You love playing with his hair, and he loves having you doing so, but you know you have to be careful to keep this privilege. Instead, you entangled the difficult braid buns you just tried with your fingers, taking a moment to scratch your nails gently against his scalp in a small head massage to ease the tension building in his nap. 

"But that way I'll know how to do it when I do," you added on, taking in how his eyes open a second to side eye your form in the mirror before closing it again.

"Stop cutting your hair every three months, then we'll talk– ouch!"

You pulled again gently, but consciously this time, making him turn around with a small frown. 

"It was damaged," you scolded gently.

"No shit," he said, playfully this time as he turned around to the edge of the bed, pulling you to him so you stay between his legs. "I told you not to dye it the last time you did." 

His fingers gently grabbed the end of your hair, there was still some dye left, but not so much, and your hair was visibly less dry than it has been for months now. 

"I know... I'll listen next time," you murmured as your hands slowly left his hair to hold his cheeks instead, holding back from leaving kisses all over his stupid face.

"I know you won't," he answered, pulling you even closer. "But I still love you." 

With that, he's the one who takes the last step it takes to leave a kiss on your lips.

modern! Al Haitham who helps you study despite the fact that you've already given up on this subject. Who sits with you through it, through and through, stays up late with you and explain again and again, just so you don't feel unworthy. 

"You should go now," you whispered to him, your chin resting in your hand.

Your eyes are heavy, dressed with purple and green eyebags that you just seems to carry all the time. There's no will to fight in them, no fire that he can try to lights up again. There's only resilience in your, you think, coming failure that can't be undone with a night of studying. 

"You still need help, right ?" he was stating it, with gentle eyes that made you feel uneasy and cared for at the same time. You didn't knew how to deal with that. 

It made you scoff. "Yeah, but it's wayyy past your bedtime," you added with sarcasm. 

It was true, he couldn't deny you that. He couldn't deny anything in fact, but you didn't figured that out yet. Even with that tough exterior, he could see how you didn't wanted to be alone. The way you leaned onto his side without realizing it, how your arm keep on touching his while you write but never pull back right away. 

"I can make an exception," he said then, calmly to not disturb the quietness of the library late in the night. 

Your eyes widened at his worlds. You hate the softness in his voice, lingering in his eyes as he careful study you reaction.  

"Why..?" you proceeded to ask, bur not without looking away from him. 

"Because you asked ?" he answered as he leaned in, enough for his shoulder to rest comfortably against yours. 

The silent stretch between you two for a moment, but he doesn't move and neither do you, making his heart beats a little faster without meaning to. Just like that, he started explaining you once again the same thing he just told you another hour earlier, without raising his voice or a condescending tone. Because he knew you were trying your best, and he was there to help you bring the best out of you. Even if you couldn't give him anything in return. 

modern! Wanderer who never stop speaking about how soft you are without everyone and how it bothers him. How he hates the way you never tell a stranger off when someone's bothering you, how you never raise your voice and how delicate you are even with people you barely know. But who also cave under any soft touch you give him, who can't seem to resist the touch of your hands on his cheeks. 

"You need to stop doing that, something is gonna happen to you sometimes," there's a tint of harshness in his voice, but mostly, he's just worried about you and your safety. 

"But nothing happened," you defend gently. 

He sends you an unsure side eye, along with a frown. All this because you helped a stranger with direction while he was, his words, being "weird". The man sure did look disoriented, making him kinda unpredictable, maybe high, but everything was fine. 

"Until it does," he was talking ahead of you now, barely waiting or looking back. 

It didn't changed a thing though, you knew he would never left without you. That if you even squeal under your breathe, he would turn back and check on you immediately. Because he was always like this, harsh but caring. 

So you take the few steps missing and slipped your hand in his without a word, just a smile on your lips like nothing happened. Like he didn't took a small halt in his steps, like he didn't even hesitate to hold it tight and you know it. No-one talk for a moment, enjoying the soft breeze as you walk down the street to your place, before he comes to an halt and pulled you closer. He wasn't much of the pda type, but he couldn't help but lean into you, leaving a small kiss on your temple. 

"Please stop doing this with anyone," he whispered into your hair before pulling away and acted like nothing happened. 

When all you could hear was 'keep it just for me'. 

modern! Kaeya who come pick you up at anytime, anywhere. It can be from an appointment, uni, your job – anywhere. You just have to ask and he'll be there, always a little early, waiting in his car as he search for you outside. If he can, he'll have something for you in the car, but nevertheless, he's always taking you somewhere to eat if you're hungry. 

He made sure to stop right in front of the door of your job, just so you wouldn't have to walk outside in the rain. It was raining cats and dogs, he could barely see a meter away from his car – there was no way he was letting yah coing back home alone. He saw the gasp when you when you meet face to face with his car, and he couldn't help the proud smile that showed on his lips. You didn't asked, but he was still there. 

"Today was horrible !" you groaned as you sat beside him quickly. "I'm so glad you're here." 

"Of course," he said gently, his hand finding yours before giving it a quick squeeze. "Wanna eat something ? I  drive." He added, as if it wasn't obvious, with a silly smile. 

Before you can ever answered, he's already putting the playlist he made based on what he's heard you listening the most, but still named like it had nothing to do with you. He knew you would tease him for it. 

"I'm dying for some fried chicken," you exhaled dreamily, already tasting it on your tongue. 

"So that's decided."

He can't let his hand on your thigh for too long when he drives in town, but he'll put it back there every time. This or holding your hand, because he knows you like it better. He's driving slowly, comforted by the sound of the rain hitting the glass. 

"So, your day ?" 

And just like that, you started to rant about it and how the customers were absolutely insufferable. Your huge raising, you started talking fast and telling unspeakable insults to them and their family line – which only made him laugh. Because never once did you let go first anyway, despite all the movements your free hand was doing. 

modern! Kaveh who cut your hair for you, following a random girl's tutorial on tiktok as if it couldn't go wrong at any time. He watched them several times, different one for each haircut you asked until he was confident enough to tell you yes. 

“You're sure about it ?” he asked one last time as your wet hair lay in his hand, scissors in the other one. 

He already sectioned your hair and watched the tutorial at least twice. Not that it was the first time he did it, and until now, he never truly failed, but he still preferred to check twice before cutting. 

“Yes, oh my god ! Just do it !” you whined, tired of waiting. “You're stressing me out every time.” 

He frowned at your reaction, but still started to cut your hair as you assured him one last time. 

“I want to be sure so you can't blame me if I fail !” he defends, but without hesitating a second longer, he cuts right after he left his voice, like he did multiple times now. 

There's a content smile on your lips when you feel him move his fingers skillfully through your hair, the tutorial playing behind. You can't miss the serious expression on his face reflecting in the mirror in front of you, the way the tip of his tongue brushes his bottom lips, or the knit creating between his brows from time to time. It makes you giggle every time without a fail. It feels like he's working on a piece of art – or like he really doesn't want to mess up his partner's hair. 

"What are you smiling about ?" he asked, shifting his eyes to your reflection a few times in a row. 

"You," you answered gently, shrugging but not without smiling at him. "Thanks again, Kaveh. You're the best." 

Again, you don't miss the way his gaze shook in the mirror before he went back to business, finishing the last few stands, getting busy around a few that don't need anything you're sure, just so you don't notice the obvious pink on his cheeks. 

"Anytime," he mumbled in the end. "I mean it." 

Kaeya walks up to his gelding and pats his chest gently. “He doesn’t buck when he’s being ridden, especially not by a beginner. Really good with people who are hesitant and unnatural in the seat or give unclear commands. No tugging. Tolerant when you pull the bit too hard, and even better without the bit” — you remember this tidbit from the conversation that got you here, and you regret expressing interest in seeing the horses now that they’re back from whatever expedition the Grandmaster took them on, you really do — “he’ll be nice to you.”

You arch a brow and shake your head, stubbornly digging your heels into the sand beneath you. “I’ve seen the horse. Kaeya, please,” you try to soften your tone and wheedle him into letting you out of this, but the glint to his eyes makes you lose hope that he’ll let you out of this. “Let’s go. Home.”

He shakes his head and comes closer to you, gently pulling you into a hug. “I’m not gonna let him hurt you, sweetheart. C’mon, trust me.” He brushes hair off your temples and smiles when you curl your hand and place it against his chest, steadying yourself to the beat of his heart. “I’ll take you out to dinner after and everything, and I won’t make you come visit again if you don’t like it.”

It’s obvious he wants you to share his passion so, hesitantly, you nod and find your voice from beneath the lump of anxiety forming in your throat. “Okay… just a few minutes, though. I sit on him, I get off.”

Kaeya laughs, sweet and boyish. “Is it alright if he walks? I’ll do it, don’t worry your head about it. Just sit there, look pretty, and enjoy the ride.”

You roll your eyes. “There are other rides I’d enjoy far more, Alberich.” 

His smirk turns a little devilish. “I’ll keep that in mind for after dinner.” He guides you and the horse over to a mounting block, and adjusts the tack with quick, practiced movements that make it look effortless. “Up.”

When his expectant gaze meets yours, you let out a shaky breath and fumble your way to holding the saddle and slipping a foot into the stirrup (with his help, his hands supporting your calf and holding the tack in place as you squirm and fumble). “Now, swing your other leg up and over,” he helps there, too, by letting you use him as a pushing off point to get on and settle into the saddle.

The leather feels stiff despite how much he uses it, and it’s weirdly unsettling to be so high and balanced entirely from the strength of your core and legs. “Woah,” you breathe out, gripping the front of the saddle so tight your knuckles whiten when the horse walks a step forward underneath you.. 

Kaeya smiles at your shock, and you realize he made the horse move with a gentle tug of the reins. Bastard, you think sourly, trying to scare me just for fun. “Relax a little,” he croons, as if he didn’t just startle you on purpose, “you’re stiff as a board. Sit up straight, heels down, and remove some of the tension in your legs. You just focus on sitting upright, I’ve got him under control.”

You glare at him but oblige, albeit with difficulty. It’s hard to find the balance and feel stable, but you know he won’t let you fall. 

Then, he just… walks. Slow. Not scary. Interesting, really, feeling the sinewy muscle under your legs shift, and to move in such a steady sway. Kaeya controls him smoothly, and he’s beaming at you when you hesitantly reach up and stroke the side of the horse’s neck. 

“You like him!”

“I would feel bad not petting him, he’s carrying me.”

Kaeya rolls his eyes. “It’s his job to.” And, then, once he’s taken you around the arena twice and back to the mounting block. “Not that bad, was it?”

As much as you hate to admit it, it wasn’t. “It was okay.”

“Such high standards,” Kaeya laughs. “Should I be honored I meet them?”

“Of course,” you smile, shaky when you grab his hand and unsteady on your feet once you’re back on the ground. You keep holding his arms to steady yourself and try to will the weakness out of your legs. “You should kiss the ground I walk on.”

Kaeya hums. “I’ll think about it. I’d need something in return.” He pulls away when you’re finally steady and untacks his gelding, hanging the gear over the hitching post and guiding the horse out to the paddock. He’s not gone long, and he kisses you quickly when he’s back. “You’re gonna be sore, baby. Watch your legs.”

“How sore?”

“The usual.” He snickers, pleased with himself, and you smack his shoulder as your face burns with heat. “C’mon, I owe you a dinner.”

A young postal carrier, drenched to the bone and shivering, came skidding around the corner of your home. He was clutching a leather satchel to his chest as if it were a precious treasure, his cap drooping low over his eyes. His eyes darted toward the darkening sky as though the clouds themselves were chasing him.

"Just one more!" he called out, more to himself than to you, as he fumbled with his bag. He spotted you, his breath coming in short, white puffs of mist. "Ah! Excuse me! A delivery! Apologies for the haste, but the rain is catching up!"

Before you could even offer a greeting, he thrust a single, heavy envelope into your hands. His fingers were cold and trembling from the chill, and the suddenness of the gesture made you stumble back a half step. 

"Make sure it stays dry!" he urged, already pivoting on his heel to continue his race against the storm. "The Captain was quite specific about the timing!"

He disappeared into the gray veil of rain, muttering, "If the wind picks up, I'm a goner. I swear it, a goner." The street fell quiet again, broken only by the steady drumming of rain against your roof.

You looked down at the object in your hands.

It was not the cheap, pulpy paper used for common town notices. This was fine yet heavy parchment—the kind that felt cool against your skin. The edges were crisp, and the entire thing was sealed with a thick, dark blue wax, its midnight hue swallowing the dim lamplight. There was no insignia stamped into the wax, only a smooth, unadorned seal.

Strange.

As you turned it over, the handwriting caught your eye. It was beautiful an elegant, flowing script that seemed to dance across the surface of the paper. Each stroke was deliberate and practiced, possessing a fluid grace that suggested a hand accustomed to both the sword and the quill.

But as your eyes traced the ink, a small frown tugged at your lips.

The name written across the front was not yours.

You flipped the envelope over, searching for a return address or a hint of where it might have originated, but the back was as pristine and empty as the sky above. There was no sender, only a name pressed firmly beneath the wax seal.

Kaeya Alberich.

The name sent a quiet ripple of recognition through you. 

In Mondstadt, it was nearly impossible to avoid the shadow of the Cavalry Captain. Depending on which tavern you sat in, he was described as the city’s most charming protector or its most silver tongued rogue. He was a man of many layers, a man of secrets, and a man whose presence always seemed to command the air around him.

Still, his reputation was of little use to you now.

To you, he was simply a name attached to a misplaced letter.

A logical thought crossed your mind: a mistake. A courier in a hurry, a sudden downpour, a misplaced house number it was a simple enough error. Perhaps the intended recipient lived just a few doors down. Perhaps the rain had simply made the boy too frantic to check the digits twice.

You stood there for a moment, the dampness of the air seeping into your bones, feeling the weight of the letter in your palm. Your thumb traced the intricate and jagged ridges of the wax seal, feeling the slight temperature difference between the cool parchment and the hardened surface of the wax.

It would have taken so little effort to break the tension, to shatter the seal and finally unveil the words that had been sent with such breathless speed. You found yourself holding your breath, but as the moment stretched on, the impulse to pry began to fade into a quiet, trembling hesitation, and your hand slowly fell away, leaving the seal intact and the mystery unyielding, a silent barrier between you and a story that wasn't yours.

With a small, resigned sigh, you stepped inside, the warmth of your home wrapping around you like a blanket. You set the groceries on the counter and placed the envelope atop the kitchen table, leaving it there a blue sealed mystery resting amidst the scent of Cecilias and fresh bread.

For now, it was just a letter. And you intended to leave it that way.

The night had passed in a blur of rhythmic rain and the soft, comforting scent of damp earth and Cecilias. The storm had long since retreated, leaving behind a world washed in silence.

Morning arrived not with a burst of light, but as a slow infusion of mist that settled over Mondstadt like a silken veil. It softened the jagged edges of the stone walls and blurred the lines of the cobbled streets, turning the familiar city into something dreamlike and indistinct.

The city stirred with a sluggish grace. In the distance, the muted chatter of merchants rising their awnings sounded muffled, as if heard through a layer of gauze. Wooden cart wheels groaned softly against the stones, their rhythmic echoes the only thing puncturing the quiet of the morning.

Deep within your satchel, the envelope rested.

It was a light thing, a mere sliver of parchment, yet it felt strangely weighted, as if it possessed its own gravity. With every step you took, you felt the phantom press of it against your hip, a constant yet silent reminder of the task at hand.

As you passed the Good Hunter, the warm aroma of Fisherman’s Toast drifted from the kitchen, cutting through the crisp morning chill. It was a comforting scent, one that usually prompted a slow stroll and a friendly nod to Sara.

But today, the warmth failed to settle your nerves.

Your mind was a tethered loop, circling back, time and time again, to the blue wax seal tucked away in the dark of your bag. The color of it burned in your mind’s eye.

By the time the Knights of Favonius headquarters loomed ahead, the morning quiet had been breached by a small cluster of locals gathered near the entrance. Their voices, light and gossipy, drifted toward you on the breeze.

"...They say he didn't leave Angel's Share until nearly sunrise," a woman remarked, her voice tinged with an amused, knowing lilt. She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Though, in his case, it’s hardly a scandal, is it?"

A soft laugh followed from her companion. "When you possess the charm of Captain Kaeya, the sun is merely a suggestion."

"A little too much charm," an older man grumbled, shifting the weight of a crate against his hip. His brow furrowed in a way that suggested a long standing skepticism. "Half the city is still deciding if he’s a man to be trusted or a man to be watched."

"And yet," the woman countered, her tone softening with a hint of respect, "if the winds ever turned sour and trouble found Mondstadt, he’d be the first shadow you’d want standing in its path."

The snippet of conversation dissolved into the mist as you climbed the stone path, leaving their debate behind.

A strange, prickling sensation settled in your chest. Yesterday, Kaeya Alberich had been nothing more than a name a figure of legend or distant reputation. Today, it felt as though his name were woven into the very fabric of the streets, whispered in every corner, echoing in every shadow.

You shook the thought away, trying to reclaim your composure. The city’s fickle opinion of the Cavalry Captain was irrelevant to your purpose. A courier had been careless; a mistake had been made. You were merely a vessel for a correction, returning a letter to a destination it was never meant for you.

But as the headquarters rose to meet you, its massive stone walls standing with a quiet, intimidating authority against the hazy sky, the lie felt thin.

You reached the foot of the broad staircase, the sheer scale of the building making you feel small and exposed. You reached down, tightening the strap of your satchel until the weight felt more certain, took a steadying breath of the damp air, and ascended the first step.

"Captain Kaeya?"

The young knight stationed at the threshold of the headquarters looked up, the name acting like a sudden clarion call. His polished armor caught the pale, watery light of the morning, gleaming with a sharp, metallic luster as he straightened his posture with instinctive, soldierly discipline. Yet, despite his formal stance, a flicker of bright curiosity danced in his eyes.

"Oh? Are you looking for Sir Kaeya?"

"Captain Kaeya?"

The young knight stationed at the threshold of the headquarters looked up, the name acting like a sudden clarion call. His polished armor caught the pale, watery light of the morning, gleaming with a sharp, metallic luster as he straightened his posture with instinctive, soldierly discipline. Yet, despite his formal stance, a flicker of bright curiosity danced in his eyes.

"Oh? Are you looking for Sir Kaeya?"

You offered a small, measured nod. "I believe so."

The words felt unanchored, drifting away from you with a strange uncertainty. Even with the envelope resting securely in your satchel, a quiet tremor of anticipation seemed to vibrate in the air between you.

"He's inside at the moment," the knight replied, his tone softening. "Buried under a mountain of paperwork, last I checked. I can send a messenger to let him know someone is here, if you’d like?"

"No, thank you."

You reached into your bag, your fingers brushing the cool parchment as you withdrew the envelope. You handled it with precision, as if the unbroken blue wax seal were a fragile thing that might shatter under a heavy gaze.

"I only came to return this," you explained, holding it out. "It was delivered to the wrong address."

The knight’s eyes dropped to the letter in your hands. As he took in the specific shade of the blue wax, a sudden flash of recognition swept across his features.

A lopsided, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "...Ah." He let out a soft, breathy huff of a laugh. "Another one."

You blinked, the confusion catching in your throat. Another one?

Before the question could form, the heavy, oak doors of the headquarters groaned on their hinges, swinging inward. A brief swell of muffled conversation spilled from the warmth of the interior into the cool courtyard, only to be swallowed by the stillness once more.

Then, a figure stepped into the light.

Your gaze lifted, drawn upward by a sudden shift in the atmosphere.

Blue.

That was the overwhelming sensation that struck you first. It wasn't merely the sheen of the eyepatch that masked one eye, nor the deep, midnight blues woven intricately into the fine fabric of his uniform. It was the very essence of him.

His presence felt cool and effortless, reminiscent of the sea in the moments before a storm a surface so calm it invited you to drift closer, yet possessed a depth so profound it served as a silent warning not to wander too far.

A stray breeze caught his dark hair, stirring the strands as he scanned the courtyard with a practiced, languid grace. Then, his gaze found you.

It traveled from your eyes to the envelope held between your fingers, and finally back to your face.

For a singular, heartbeat stretching moment, a flicker of genuine surprise raw and unscripted slipped through the cracks of his composure. It was a momentary lapse in his legendary poise, a crack in the porcelain.

And then, as quickly as it had arrived, the mask was back in place.

But the expression that followed was not the sharp, teasing grin whispered about in the dim corners of the Angel's Share. This was something different. The corner of his mouth lifted in a gesture that was quieter, softer almost sheepish as he stood there in the morning mist, caught in the sudden gravity of your arrival.

"My, my...."

His voice was a low, melodic drawl, smooth as aged wine. "Have I inconvenienced another innocent citizen?"

His gaze drifted downward, tracing the lines of the envelope in your hands with a lingering curiosity before sweeping back up to meet your eyes. A playful glint danced in his visible eye. "Or has the postal service decided we’re playing a game of hide and seek again?"

The sheer ease of his presence was almost dizzying as you took a tentative step forward. You held the letter out, your arm steady despite the strange, fluttering sensation in your chest.

"I believe this belongs to you," you said, your voice sounding clearer than you felt. "A courier delivered it to my doorstep yesterday."

"The rain," he mused, his eyes narrowing slightly as if reconstructing a memory.

You nodded, the dampness of the previous day still a vivid memory. "He seemed rather eager to outrun it. He practically fled the moment the seal was broken."

A soft, melodic laugh escaped him a sound that felt far too intimate for a chance encounter on a stone staircase. "Poor fellow. Even the wind seemed to be chasing him."

He reached out to take the envelope, and as he did, the world seemed to narrow down to a single, infinitesimal point of contact. Your fingers brushed against his in a fleeting, electric moment where the warmth of your skin met the cool, steady composure of his. It was a brief sensation, no longer than a heartbeat, yet it left a lingering tingle on your skin long after you had withdrawn your hand.

By the time you had regained your composure, he was already examining the familiar blue wax, his thumb tracing the edge of the parchment with a practiced grace.

"...Again," he murmured, the word barely a breath.

"Again?" you asked, the confusion rising in your throat.

Kaeya closed his eyes for a fleeting second, a small, weary exhale escaping his lips as a smile tugged at his mouth. "It would seem that I have become something of a regular inconvenience to Mondstadt's postal service."

"You've done this before?"

"Oh, several times." His smile tilted, a delicate balance between genuine amusement and a sort of charming exasperation. "I've learned that, in this city, addresses are apparently treated as mere suggestions."

A sudden, curious thought struck you. "To the same person?"

His eye curved, the mischief within it deepening. "Fortunately, no."

The tension of the moment was abruptly punctured by a muffled, frantic cough from the doorway behind him. You turned to see the young knight, who had been standing guard with such stoic discipline moments ago, now suddenly and intensely fascinated by the texture of the stone wall at his shoulder.

His face was a telltale shade of pink.

Kaeya didn't even turn his head, shifting his gaze sideways with an expression that was infinitely more knowing. "Lieutenant."

The younger knight stiffened. "Yes, Captain Kaeya?"

"You seem to know something," Kaeya remarked, his tone light, yet carrying the weight of an interrogation.

"N-No, sir!" the knight stammered, his eyes still glued to the wall.

"No?" Kaeya pressed, a slow, dangerous grin spreading across his face.

"None at all, sir!"

"Then I imagine that cough was purely coincidental. A sudden bout of seasonal allergies, perhaps?"

"...Yes, sir," the knight managed, his voice cracking slightly.

A heavy, expectant beat of silence passed before the boy spoke again with a sudden, desperate conviction. "I think... that I shall go and inspect the perimeter."

Kaeya raised a single, elegant eyebrow. "The perimeter?"

"Very... very thoroughly," the knight added, his eyes darting toward the stairs. Without waiting for a formal dismissal, he turned on his heel, his armor clanking loudly in the quiet morning as he disappeared down the steps with a speed that bordered on the miraculous.

Kaeya watched the retreating figure, a quiet, almost fond sigh escaping him. He turned his attention back to you, his gaze softening into something much more personal. "I do hope he finds whatever it is he's looking for"

You blinked, the sudden clatter of the knight’s retreating armor still echoing faintly against the stone walls of the headquarters. Beside you, Kaeya remained unbothered. He turned to the spot where the lieutenant had vanished with nothing more than a faint, lingering smile a look of quiet satisfaction that suggested he enjoyed the theater of it all just as much as the onlookers did.

"I do apologize," he said at last, the sound of his voice pulling you back from your confusion. He turned his attention fully to you, his presence settling over you like a warm shadow. "It seems my subordinates have become rather dramatic"

"I don't think that was your fault," you replied, your voice soft, perhaps a little too breathless. You found yourself looking at the way the morning light caught the silver embroidery of his uniform, making it difficult to maintain a steady gaze.

"No?" His brow lifted, a silent, elegant question. The amusement in his eyes was quiet, but it was there, shimmering like sunlight on deep water. "You've only just met me. One would think a stranger would be a bit more... judgmental. You wouldn't dismiss the possibility so quickly."

He was testing you, you realized. Not with malice, but with a playful curiosity, as if he were trying to see how much of his charm you could withstand before you faltered.

Despite the careful composure you tried to maintain, the corner of your mouth betrayed you, threatening to lift in a smile. It was a small, involuntary reaction to the sheer absurdity of his confidence.

He noticed.

Of course he noticed.

He seemed to live in the spaces between breaths, attuned to the slightest shift in the air or the tiniest flicker of emotion on a face.

His smile widened, not into the grand, sweeping grin of a performer, but into something more knowing.

"I should also apologize for the letter," he added, his gaze dropping to the envelope he had tucked securely beneath his arm, as if it were a prize he had finally reclaimed. "I imagine this was not quite how you intended to spend your morning. Most would prefer a quiet walk or a warm tea to a sudden errand of correction."

"It wasn't any trouble," you said, trying to regain your footing in the conversation.

"No trouble at all?" He placed a hand lightly against his chest in a gesture of theatrical disbelief, his eyes dancing. "How fortunate. I was fully prepared to receive a stern lecture from a complete stranger regarding my lack of attention to detail."

"I think you'd survive one," you murmured, a sense of uncharacteristic boldness blooming in your chest.

"Oh, I'd survive," he conceded, his head tilting thoughtfully to the side, a stray lock of dark hair falling over his brow. "My dignity, however... that might be a much more difficult casualty to recover."

The sheer, ridiculous charm of his self deprecation was the final blow to your restraint. A laugh escaped you before you could catch it not a loud, boisterous sound, but a soft, melodic ripple that seemed to catch the morning light.

For a singular, breathtaking instant, the atmosphere between you shifted.

The practiced, polished mask of the Cavalry Captain didn't fall, but it softened. The teasing glint in his eye smoothed out into something much more genuine, something almost boyish and startlingly real. It was as if your laughter had reached through the layers of his carefully constructed persona and caught him entirely off guard, leaving him momentarily unguarded.

"Well," he said, his voice dropping to a lower, softer register that felt meant only for you. "In that case, I shall consider myself forgiven."

Just then, the great cathedral bells of Mondstadt began to toll, their deep, resonant voices rolling gently over the rooftops and through the misty streets. The sound was a heavy, grounding force, a reminder that the world was moving on, even as time seemed to have slowed to a crawl in this small corner of the courtyard.

Kaeya straightened, the moment of quiet intimacy preserved even as he prepared to depart. He offered you an elegant, sweeping bow the kind of gesture one might expect from a nobleman rather than a soldier.

"Kaeya Alberich," he said, his voice clear and steady.

When he straightened, the familiar, mischievous spark had already returned to his gaze, the Captain once again in full command of his surroundings.

"Cavalry Captain of the Knights of Favonius... and, as you have so kindly discovered, Mondstadt's least reliable correspondent."

You couldn't quite hide your smile this time; it was a warm, genuine thing that felt light in your chest. "I'll try to remember that."

"Do so," he countered, his eyes locking onto yours one last time with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "Though, I do hope you remember something a little kinder."

There it was the grin. The one the travelers whispered about in the taverns. It was a beautiful, dangerous thing, the kind of expression that made it impossible to tell where the clever joke ended and the truth began. It left you wondering if he was teasing the world, or if the world was teasing him.

The entire exchange had lasted only a few minutes. A misplaced letter. A captain with an unfortunate habit of losing his mail. A brief, strange encounter in the morning mist.

Nothing more.

By the time the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long, amber shadows across the cobblestones of Mondstadt, you had tucked the memory of his blue eyes and his easy laughter away alongside the rest of the day's small curiosities. You walked home with the cool evening air on your skin, never once imagining that this fleeting moment this simple correction of a mistake was merely the first, delicate page of a much longer story.

Meanwhile, deep within the silent, stone walled sanctuary of the Knights’ headquarters, the world had slowed to the rhythmic ticking of a clock and the soft sigh of the wind against the masonry. Inside the dim privacy of his office, the returned envelope rested untouched, tucked away within the dark, polished mahogany drawer of Kaeya's desk.

It lay there in the shadows, exactly as you had handed it back to him.

The blue wax seal remained perfectly intact, unmarred by his touch, a small, silent testament to the fact that he had chosen not to break the spell of the encounter. He had held the letter, but he had not consumed its contents; he had preferred the memory of the hand that delivered it.

The office had long since emptied of the day’s frantic energy. Reports and dispatches lay stacked in uneven, neglected piles across the desk, abandoned in favor of the heavy, contemplative stillness of the night. A single candle flickered in its holder, its flame dancing a lonely rhythm and casting wavering shadows that stretched across the room like reaching fingers. Moonlight spilled through the tall, arched windows in great, silvery ribbons, painting the floor in pale light and softening the sharp edges of the furniture until the room felt less like an office and more like a confessional.

Kaeya sat alone in the center of that silvered gloom.

He was not working. He was not reading. His gaze simply lingered on the slight protrusion of the drawer where the envelope lay hidden.

A slow, unbidden smile found its way onto his face, creeping upward with a gentleness that he rarely allowed the world to see. This was not the easy, practiced grin that charmed the patrons of the Angel's Share, nor was it the polished, charismatic mask of the Cavalry Captain who commanded the respect of his men.

This was something quieter. It was a smile born of genuine, startled wonder the expression of a man who had stumbled upon a moment of unexpected light.

"...Well."

The word was barely a breath, a soft exhale that dissolved into the heavy stillness of the room before it could even reach the walls.

"That was unexpected," he murmured, his voice a low vibration in the dark.

He sat in silence for a long moment, letting the thought settle. His fingertips tapped a slow, thoughtful rhythm against the dark wood of the desk. Finally, with a movement of deliberate, almost reverent care, he slid the drawer shut. The soft click sounded unnaturally loud in the quiet.

The envelope would remain exactly where it was. Unopened. Preserved in its pristine state, as if by opening it would be to end the lingering warmth of the morning. To anyone else, it would look like a forgotten piece of correspondence, a clerical error tucked away to be dealt with when the sun rose.

But Kaeya was not "anyone else."

His attention drifted away from the drawer, settling instead on a fresh, blank sheet of parchment resting beside an uncapped bottle of ink. The ink sat dark and still, a deep pool of potential waiting in the candlelight.

He regarded the empty page for a long, heavy moment, his gaze tracing the grain of the paper as if he could see the words before they were even written. The silence of the room seemed to press in on him, not as a weight, but as a canvas.

Then, with a soft, private chuckle that stirred the shadows, he reached for his quill. The feather caught the light as he lifted it, a sharp, elegant silhouette against the moonlight.

"Perhaps," he murmured to the empty, moonlit room, his eyes glinting with a newfound, purposeful mischief, "I'll be a little more careful with the next one."

Outside, the city of Mondstadt had settled into a deep, peaceful slumber, the streets quiet and the wind whispering through the windmills. The world was at rest, oblivious to the shift in the tides of fate.

But inside the quiet heart of the headquarters, the first letter had yet to be opened.

The second had already begun.

TAGLIST: @fireriyu

"i'll be fine, diluc... honest."

"who did this?" he asks, his voice suddenly a lot lower than before.

"...what?"

it almost startles you, the way small, almost unnoticeable flames flicker along the skin of diluc's forearms. his voice is calm, but strained, when he speaks, "who?"

"it was just some treasure hoarders, i'm-"

"where?"

"they're dealt with, diluc."

he stares at you for another few moments, eyes watching your face as if searching for some sort of sign that you were being dishonest. finally, he shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath, and opens them again. this time, when he speaks, his voice is much softer and caring than before.

"do you need anything?"

"i'm okay. some water, maybe?"

"of course," he hums, moving to press a kiss against your forehead. "just get some rest."

kaeya ━━━

you were supposed to be back an hour ago.

and yet, you weren't back.

he hates that he's pacing, hates that he feels so helpless. he should go find you. he should tell jean he's leaving, that he's not going to work for the rest of the day, that he's going to the outskirts of mondstadt to-

"kaeya!"

his head snaps up, his gaze falling to you. you were limping, why were- oh. there is a gash across your hip, bloody and staining your pants almost black, fading into red at the edges.

he's at your side as quickly as he can be. he's holding your shoulders, a silent plea not to move, not to put weight against the wound.

"shit- what happened? who did this to you?"

you swallow thickly, panting slightly. "just- i ran in to some people-"

"what kind of 'people'?"

"people that got taken care of, kaeya. i promise."

he stares at you for another few moment, a muscle ticking in his jaw. then he nods and moves to your injured side. he grabs your arm to drape it over his shoulders and around his neck, his other arm wrapping around you and pulling you into him.

"we're getting you inside, and safe, and then i'm going to make sure every last one is properly dealt with."

you shake your head at him, but don't say anything. you're grateful for the support on your leg and you weren't about to complain. slowly, he helps you hobble back to the city and slowly deposits you into an infirmary bed.

a nurse ushers kaeya away, and he spends the next twenty minutes pacing outside of the building, his arms crossed. finally, the door opens, and the same nurse sticks their head out of the door, "kaeya? you can come in."

he moves back into the building, maneuvering around people and equipment to kneel at your bedside.

"hey..." he says softly. his hand comes up to your face, back of his hand running affectionately across your cheek. "you feeling alright?"

you give him a small smile. "i'm fine."

"you are," he affirms. "but i still intend on finding the sons of bitches."

you frown at him, though it holds little heat. you study him for another moment before you give him a resigned sigh, "near cape oath."

he presses a kiss against your forehead, already standing up, "i'll be back before dark, my love."

wriothesley ━━━

wriothesley did not consider himself to be a violent person.

today, he was about to be.

it was the way you stumbled into his office, looking so worn out, blood draining down your face and down your chin. your lip was busted and a gash broke the skin near your temple, crimson trickling down your face and dripping onto his floor.

he’d been by your side before you could even utter a word, letting you lean against him and forcing you to sit on the floor. his thumb ran over the blood, as if trying to convince himself that this was real. that this had happened. likely in the fortress, no less.

had it been? no. there was no way. no one would harm someone so blatantly important to the duke… right?

he was pulled from his thoughts by a gentle grumble from you.

“give me a name.” he said, without really thinking about it. his voice was stern, and cold, and left no room for argument.

“what?” you blinked hard, seemingly trying to ground yourself.

“shit.” he cursed under his breath, helping you stand back up. why the hell you had come looking for him before medical attention, he’d never know.

still, he held you against him and helped you to the infirmary, whispering sweet affirmations under his breath the whole way. his string of ‘you are gonna be fine’s and ‘everything is gonna be alright’s dissipates as he slowly lowers you into an infirmary bed.

he straightens, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl twisting his face.

“who did this to you?” wriothesley asked again, this time more firmly.

you shake your head. “is… okay, wrio-”

“give me a goddamn name.” he asks again, and then his voice softens. “please.”

you watch him for another few moments before nodding and letting the person’s name fall from your lips. a muscle in his jaw ticks. he looks down to one of the melusines.