#sini writes

“Zhongzhong, I’m about to go bathe~!” you sing, sliding along the wall to the bathroom with intent to seduce. “I’m going to take a luxurious bath, Zhongli! A nice, long one! With my legs sticking out of the tub!”

The Zhongli in question only smiles fondly at you. “Is that so? I hope you enjoy yourself, beloved.”

You grin and jut your chest out. “Oh, I shall! Very much so! It would be such a shame if someone were to come and have a peek at me while I’m bathing in all my naked glory.” A dramatic pout for effect.

“You can trust me not to disturb your relaxation,” your husband assures you.

“Imagine if one were even to—gasp!—join me in the bath! How scandalous it would be! How flustered I would become!”

Zhongli chuckles and shakes his head. “There shall be no disturbances of the sort.”

“Such a shame it would be! Such a shame,” you bemoan, finally slithering into the bathroom but leaving the door halfway open. As invitation for a certain someone to come join you.

An invitation that flies over this god’s head, because he is a man of honor and respect for your verbal wishes.

There is the sound of frustrated splishing and splashing from the tub for a good half hour before you come back out, mildly disgruntled and draped in your towel.

“I am going to get dressed now,” you announce slowly, fiddling with your towel, “and how awful it would be to be peeped at while I’m slowly sliding my clothes on!”

At this, Zhongli dutifully picks up a book and turns his chair the other way so as to give you your privacy. You don’t want him to see you get dressed, right?

You ostentatiously open the closet doors. “I’m getting dreeeeeessed,” you enunciate, eye twitching. “I’m getting real butt-naked with my amazing husband in the room!”

But Zhongli, sweetie pie Zhongli, is busying himself with reading so as not to infringe on your privacy.

A beat of silence, then two. “Oh, I’ve just about had enough,” you growl, marching over to where Zhongli sits like the respectful husband he is.

You get right up in his face and yank your towel off before he can say anything. “Look at me! Touch me! Pay attention to me! Do anything you want to me!”

Laughing at your adorable desperation (and trying not to have his gaze rove over your bare form hungrily), Zhongli’s hands find claim on your hips as he pulls you onto his lap. “Darling,” he breathes over your lips, “if this is what you wished for, you should have said so from the beginning.” And then he kisses you fervently.

“Zhongli!” you call up eagerly to your husband who’s basking in all his draconic glory, long body sprawled out languidly in your ample yard. “Wanna play with me?”

The dragon fixes his churning golden irises on you curiously. “Oh? If my beloved so wishes.” His tail swishes about. “What are we to play?”

You grin, rubbing your palms together. “So pretend I’m a delicious piggy you’re trying to eat, but I’m always cooped up in the house! So you threaten to huff, and puff, and blow the house down in order to get to me!” Without waiting for his response, you dash into your shared home, immediately popping into a window to watch him expectantly.

Zhongli merely cocks his head, mane rustling in the process. “Mere wind would not fell this house.”

“I know, but it’s for the game!” you say, voice slightly muffled through the glass. “Be scary! Threaten me with your monstrous breath!”

But the dragon is having none of it. “If intimidation were the play here, I would simply crush the building in my claws without offering warning.” He flexes his talons, sharp and shiny curved death blades.

Seized by alarm that he may actually do it (he never would, come on), you rush back outside. “Okay, okay! I changed my mind!” You wave your arms frantically. “How about this instead?” You point to one of the tallest trees in the yard. “Pretend there’s a princess up there, and you’re the evil dragon holding her prisoner. And I’m the knight sent to fight you!”

“But I do not wish to fight you,” Zhongli rumbles, drooping. It’s almost comical, truly.

Hands on your hips, you glower at him. “So you can pretend to crush a building, but you draw the line at pretending to fight me?”

“Yes.” Zhongli lowers his head to nuzzle you gently, warm breaths fanning over you.

You let out a long sigh, stroking his snout in defeat. “Alright, fine. Something non-violent, then. How about a…game of chase? We can take turns catching each other. I’ll chase you first!”

At this, Zhongli purrs in approval…and immediately takes to the skies, weaving into the clouds with no effort at all.

Down below, you gape up at him like the earthly peasant you are, your hair and clothes frazzled from the wind pressure created by his abrupt launch.

The day is pleasant and there are few responsibilities that require tending to, so it’s perfect for some leisure. Zhongli suggests taking you out to a lovely new sweets shop that’s opened up near your home, and thus the afternoon quietly saunters by at a cozy outdoor table while savoring some lovely almond jelly and dragon’s beard candy.

It should be uneventful, but Zhongli’s keen hearing picks up on something rather interesting from the table behind him. A perfunctory glance reveals two young people, perhaps tired adventurers guessing by their sun-kissed skin and frazzled appearances, here to recuperate.

“That Mr. Zhongli sure is handsome,” sighs one of them, all moony. “Even the way he eats is so dignified. The kind of man you’d proudly bring home to your parents.”

“Oh, I agree. I haven’t been in this city long, but I can say for sure everyone loves him. He’s super friendly, too!”

“That person sitting across from him—that a friend or a lover? You can be honest and it won’t hurt my feelings, I promise.”

“Oh, I don’t think you have to worry about them. It’d be a miracle for a man like Zhongli to be single, but it doesn’t look like they’re an item,” the other one comments. “They don’t seem to be doing stereotypical couple-y things, after all. I don’t see them, like, handsy with each other. Get what I mean? Seems like the kinda congeniality you’d show a coworker you’re being nice to for brownie points.”

“So you’re saying there’s a chance?” the former whispers excitedly. “D’you think I can ask Mr. Zhongli out when I catch him alone?”

Zhongli’s eyebrows rise ever so slightly. Why, he had never reason to believe anyone would view his relationship with you as platonic. But if they are basing it on a lack of customary outward gestures, then…

He gets up without a word and crosses to the other side of the table, seating himself directly beside you.

“Oh?” You stop mid-scoop of your jelly and gaze at him. “What’s up, Li?”

You think he’s about to tell you something serious, but his face only breaks into a smile. “Allow me,” he says warmly, taking the spoon from you. With practiced care, he digs into the supple jelly and holds the spoon out to your mouth.

You eat without question, but as you do, Zhongli pats your head and supplements it with a kiss to your forehead, his smile unwavering. “My darling.”

“H-huh?” Shyness creeps up your veins and you turn your face away, but Zhongli gently hooks a finger under your chin.

“Ah ah,” he chides softly, “let me see your cute face.”

Also, is it just you, or is he speaking a little louder than usual?

He feeds you several spoonfuls more of the stuff, all while you’re steeped in confusion and fluster. He pats your head after each bite, beaming all the while, and after a few minutes of—well, whatever has come over him, you ask, “Aren’t you going to have the jelly yourself? It’s almost gone…”

“Ah, but you see,” Zhongli says silkily, running his gloved thumb over your lower lip, “it shall taste sweetest from your mouth.”

He kisses you before you can say anything, a firm and divine little kiss that’s over in a second, but you could have sworn you heard the clatter of silverware somewhere nearby. No matter, you’re too dazed to think of anything else.

You blink dumbly at him, the god as composed as ever. “O-oh my…” At this, he merely chuckles and pinches your cheek.

After you two are finished eating, he stands up and holds his hand out to you. “Well then, my dearest gem, shall we stroll about the gardens for a bit? I do wish to show you the new blooms that have graced the green—though none shall compare to your own beauty, I believe.”

It’s the Liyue of old, and Rex Lapis still holds explicit reign over the nation. Merchandise in his image have recently been popularised—little things like keyrings, incense holders and the like.

You’re perusing the goods of one such peddler, bored eyes scanning the wares for anything new and exciting. You already have enough stickers, charms, standees and the like; it’s about time for something fresh and fun.

And then you spot it.

Soft-looking and adorable, it’s a stuffed toy fashioned in the image of the Geo Archon’s dragon form, aptly downsized and compressed into a cute marketable version.

Grinning, you pick it up. Aw, even the soft fur seems so real… “This one. I wish to buy this one.”

The vendor takes one look at it and scratches his head. “That one? I don’t remember taking inventory of—oh, never mind. That will be ten thousand mora.”

It’s a hefty sum, but it’s worth it. Shelling out the money with glee, you take the plushie and march on home, giving it a little squeeze. It even makes a faint squeaky sound when you do; how fun! And it’s so warm, too!

You set it on a chair at your table and make a show of bowing to it. And then you gather your other merch and spread it out on the table and prattle on about the kind of tea parties you’ll host with your awesome new plushie.

It’s almost like the plushie blinks in response.

“And since the Geo Lord is oh-so prim and proper, I can finally imagine what it would be like for him to put on a tutu and a tiara…because that’s what I’m about to do to you, little plushie!”

It’s like watching a mountain stir.

A brilliant light emanates from the chair, molten beams of sun that are gone as quickly as they had come. In a cloud of golden mist lies no longer the cute plushie you bought, but a grown man in rich brown robes, flowing hair a similar hue, and golden horns atop his head to match his equally aureate eyes.

Rex fucking Lapis himself sits at your table, embarrassment coloring his regal features. “I would prefer not to be dressed up, my dear.”

If he said something just now, you didn’t hear. Your eyes are wide, your heart is hammering in your throat, and if it were not for the way your mouth is opening and closing, one would think you’d turned to stone.

And then you slowly inch backwards. “What is…what the…I…”

Rex Lapis gets up from the chair, grimacing as it screeches against the floor gratingly, and while he rights it, he extends an arm to you. “Please do not panic. I had not foreseen this outcome, but I mean you no harm-”

“Oh…oh gods…” You stagger back, ashen, until you hit the wall, the beginnings of a meltdown imminent. Your arms are waving frantically, words unable to form themselves on your tongue besides dumbstruck hedging-

The god, for his part, holds out his hands in an attempt to becalm. “I had not intended for it to get this far, but I urge you to remain-” But the dam bursts, and it’s too late now. You wail:

Chonkli is not happy, to say the least.

“Awww! He looks just like Rex Lapis!” he hears for the umpteenth time as a gaggle of people gather around him and coo at his every move (even his half-hearted attempts at batting them away, which only comes off as cutely pawing the air).

“I know, right? My puppy’s costume is sooo awesome!” You stand there proudly, hands on your hips and a smug grin on your face. It’s obviously not a costume, just Chonkli in his natural glory, but it works so beautifully.

The little creature pads begrudgingly beside you along the crowded alleys and takes every bit of praise and coddling these people have for him (because what other choice does he have? This is to make you happy after all). It’s still frustrating, though, to be stuck like this and pretending he’s just a puppy in cosplay who knows little beyond chasing his own tail.

But it’s after someone graciously offers a little maid dress to elevate the Rex Lapis look that Chonkli has finally decided he’s had enough—and so he bounds away, squeaking, leaving you to chase after him.

“Wait up!” you call out, giggling, and spot the little critter turning the corner into one of the restrooms. You follow him in and immediately frown, whipping around for a glimpse of him in this empty space.

Thud.

Zhongli, in human form again, slams his hands on either side of your head, effectively caging you in. The gleam in his eyes is incandescent; Zhongli doesn’t exactly get angry, but this is as close as it’ll get.

“Have you amused yourself enough, or are you still not sated?”

You pout. “Come on, I thought you’d like the undercover attention. Someone even offered you treats!”

“They were dog treats.”

“Well, what about that cute maid outfit you could’ve had if you’d just-”

“Enough,” he says firmly, leaning even closer. “Or do you wish for me to dress you in frilly garb and parade you around?”

You blush and stare at your feet, feeling Zhongli’s warm breath on your face. “Well, um—I wouldn’t be as cute as you, I think…”

“I believe otherwise. Were I to dress you as such, you would be quite the spectacle.” He pauses for a moment. “Now that I think of it, I ought to do so…privately.” A smile tugs at one corner of his mouth.

It’s vastly different from the silly and carefree version of you Zhongli had known prior to getting into a relationship with you. While it’s rather comical, the way you sit stock-straight in your seat to avoid slouching or pull your blanket farther up your face so he can’t see when you drool, he is still perplexed by the switch-up.

One time, after you leave the room and come back a moment later (and Zhongli knows why, after all the sweet potato you had for lunch), he’s finally decided to ask you about it. “Darling, why have you been acting so strange as of late? You are not being yourself.”

“Oh,” you stutter, avoiding eye contact as you fidget, “I just want to be perfect in your eyes so you won’t ever hold anything against me.”

At this, Zhongli frowns. “What would I, and why ever would I hold it against you?”

To this you tell him sadly, “You have a photographic memory. If I did something embarrassing you’d remember it for the rest of your life! The heat death of the universe could approach and you would remember how, eons ago, your darling farted really loud it sounded like a struggling tuba player.”

The god opens the doors to your bedroom with a grander flourish than his usual gentle-natured disposition, beaming.

“My lord, you’re back!” You hop out of bed and bound over to him eagerly. “How was the- oof!”

Rex Lapis engulfs you in an intense bear hug, the smile never leaving his face. “Ah, my dearest sweet,” he hums, “how long has it been since I have embraced you like this? Decades have passed since our last meeting.” His horns and tail have manifested, the latter wagging intensely like an overgrown puppy’s.

You squirm in his tight grip, finally catching a whiff of the wine on him. That Barbatos… “No, it’s only been a few hours. If decades had passed I’d be old and wrinkly!”

“And I would still savour the taste of you every night,” the Geo Lord coos, relentless in his cuddling. His tail does not stop.

Your face turns hot. “A-anyway! Please let me go and I can help you with your…current state!”

“There is nothing that can sate my affection for you,” your divine lover declares, although his grip does thankfully loosen, “except by engaging in fierce, passionate lovemaking until tomorrow’s morrow’s dawn breaks.”

The day after tomorrow?! “My lord, you’re drunk!” you cry out. “None of that until you’re sober again!” Wriggling free from his grasp (and dodging his sloppy grabby hands), you usher him to the edge of the bed and sit him down, which he does so with surprisingly little resistance.

Rex Lapis lets out a huff. “Very well.” He crosses his arms and closes his eyes and waits silently.

You frown. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting until I am sober.”

“My lord…” You stifle a giggle. “Wait here while I get you something to eat, okay? And…perhaps a bucket in case you retch.”

“Are you saying I appear a wretch, my dear?”

“Retch!” you repeat. “As in, throw up.”

But the god droops and looks down at his palms. “Wretch…” he repeats morosely, tail thumping sadly against the bed.

You shake your head in exasperation and make to leave, but he grabs your arm. “Oh, what now, my lord?”

He fixes you with a gaze so intense, the gold of his irises gleam in the comfortable dimness of the room. It’s smouldering, the strict curve of his lip almost intimidating… “I demand a kiss before you go. I cannot remember the last time you gave me a kiss.”

“Oh, please. You have impeccable memory which should tell you I kissed you just before you left for the Archon gathering.” You roll your eyes but peck him on the cheek anyway, then worm out of his hold before he can demand another one.

“Fine, at least hear me out.” His gaze turns even more intense than before, an incandescent mountain.

You turn to face him again. “Yes, my lord…?”

He eyes you from head to toe. “I love you.”

“Awww! I love you, too!”

Giggling, you slip out of the chamber to bring back the necessary remedy, leaving a thoroughly disgruntled god sitting on the edge of the bed with his tail thumping petulantly.

In the eyes of most, such a simple gesture would be mundane, insignificant, minuscule even, in the grand scheme of things.

But when your hand slides into his welcoming palm, all you can think about is how this is the hand of a being who has forged countless divine weapons of fine jade, piercing his targets without room for error and claiming the land as his own. Not just weapons, but gold too—Mora, the very currency that makes Teyvat go round. It feels as though even a snap of his long fingers might send the world crumbling to dust.

This is the hand of one who has built his nation from the ground-up, introducing the traditional sloped roofs and sturdy stone exteriors. Under his guidance, Liyue had been turned from a barren land of mountains and valleys to a thriving trade nation raised from the roiling sea. If given enough time, these hands could shape the entire universe, having him mould it to the way he desires.

This is the hand of one who has slain countless gods and monsters alike, showing no partiality as long as the war raged on. This is a hand stained in blood, but all that violence has done little to whittle away at his gentleness. His touch ought to be crushing—yet here he is, beckoning for you to join his outstretched hand.

How can such an exalted presence such as Zhongli even care to throw a glance in your direction, much less hold you like this?

But your insecurities are dispelled with the way he gazes at you, honey-dipped affection and serene smile abound. He tilts his head at you the longer you stare at him, and he merely asks, “Is something the matter, my love?”

He squeezes your hand gently, his thumb running circles over your skin. Yes, all these lofty feats—and he still chooses to hold your hand like it’s the one thing that matters most to him in this moment. The one thing he treasures as much as his own history.