🧸ྀི WHEN THEY REALIZE THEY LIKE YOU
PREMISE . . . In which they remain completely oblivious to the feelings they've already developed for you, even as their actions grow increasingly affectionate, attentive, and unmistakably devoted, while everyone around them can see exactly what's happening long before they finally realize that they've fallen for you. ꫂ᭪݁ STARRING . . . lohen, dottore, tartaglia, wanderer, varka, kinich
⚠︎ WARNING . . . › sfw!!, word count : 700-900 each character, brief mention of blood, oblivious pining, mild protective/possessive behavior, physical affection, teasing, fluff!
note . I LOVED WRITING FOR WANDERER SO MUCHHH argh my baby ;; and I was actually contemplating whether to write for dottore haha I hope he's not so ooc,,
── ( 𝒍. ) lohen wouldn't intially realize he was falling in love with you because he simply wouldn't have the framework for recognizing it. He understands caring for people, protecting them, helping them, and enjoying someone's company, but the idea of 'love' as something separate from all of that isn't something he's ever spent much time examining.
His behavior toward you would therefore seem completely natural to him. He'd find himself looking for you whenever he entered a room without consciously deciding to, his eyes automatically sweeping across the people there until they found you.
The change in him would be subtle but unmistakable to anyone who knew him well. Lohen could walk into a room with his usual mildly distant expression, not particularly unhappy or irritated, simply looking as though his thoughts were somewhere else, and then he'd spot you.
His eyes would immediately brighten, his entire expression warming into a genuine smile before he'd even realize he'd done it, and he'd naturally make his way toward you. He might interrupt whatever conversation he'd been having just to greet you, or wander over after finishing his current task and ask whether you wanted to train together.
Training would become one of his favorite ways of spending time with you, he'd invite you to spar, teach you a new technique, help correct your stance, or ask you to watch while he practiced. Sometimes he'd deliberately challenge you just to see how much you'd improved, and other times he'd patiently demonstrate the same movement over and over until you finally understood it.
If you were already sitting nearby, he'd simply gravitate toward you between exercises, talking about whatever happened to cross his mind. None of this would strike him as unusual. When someone remarked that he seemed particularly happy whenever you were around, he'd genuinely look confused, because from his perspective he was simply enjoying your company.
He wouldn't understand that the way his expression changed at the sight of you, the way he instinctively searched for you, and the way he kept choosing your company whenever he had free time were signs of something much deeper.
Varka would be the one to finally put the pieces together for him. He'd eventually notice the pattern that Lohen himself remained completely oblivious to, the way his expression transformed whenever you appeared, how often he found reasons to train with you, and how naturally he gravitated toward you whenever you were nearby.
Eventually, after seeing Lohen practically light up when you walked into the training grounds, Varka would casually point it out. "You know you're always looking for her, right?" Lohen would initially dismiss it, genuinely unable to see anything unusual about what he was doing.
But Varka would continue explaining that it wasn't merely that Lohen enjoyed your company and it would leave Lohen unusually quiet.
He'd start thinking back over everything and, for perhaps the first time, actually examine his own behavior. He'd remember entering rooms and searching for you before he'd even realized he was doing it, the way seeing you could immediately brighten his mood, how he'd started looking forward to training sessions specifically because you would be there, and how strangely empty those same sessions felt when you couldn't make it.
The realization wouldn't arrive with some sweeping romantic epiphany. It would be much simpler and much more bewildering, Varka had given him a word for something Lohen had already been doing for months.
He'd stare ahead for a long moment before quietly saying, "You're saying I like her?" Once Varka confirmed it, Lohen would look genuinely stunned, as though someone had just explained a rule of the world he'd somehow never been taught. He'd probably glance toward wherever you happened to be and watch you for a few seconds, noticing the same warmth spreading across his expression that Varka had been talking about. Then he'd slowly run a hand through his hair, half laughing at himself. "So that's what this feeling is?"
From then on, he wouldn't suddenly become dramatically romantic, he'd simply become much more aware of what he'd already been doing. He'd still ask you to train with him, still teach you techniques, still wander over whenever he spotted you, and still smile instinctively whenever you entered a room. The difference would be that now he finally understood why.
── ( 𝒅. ) dottore would be particularly difficult to catch off guard because he would initially refuse to acknowledge that there was anything unusual about the way he treated you. He would regard his attachment as something that could be observed, analyzed, and eventually explained through reason, and for a considerable amount of time, that explanation would be enough for him.
Before realizing he has 'feelings' for you, he'd already be making deliberate accommodations that he would never bother making for anyone else. He'd allow you into laboratories and restricted areas where other people would be turned away without a second thought, tolerate you interrupting his work even when you arrived at the most inconvenient possible moment, and remember seemingly insignificant details about you with an accuracy that bordered on excessive.
He'd know which food you preferred, which subjects made you lose interest, when you were likely to become tired, and exactly how much patience you had for his experiments before you started complaining.
If someone questioned why you were permitted such liberties, he'd dismiss the matter with some clinical explanation about your usefulness or his own preference for your company over that of his colleagues.
Even his time would begin quietly accommodating you. He might postpone an experiment or a meeting because you were expected to visit, leave his laboratory earlier than usual because you had asked him to accompany you somewhere, or arrange his schedule so that you would encounter him during the few hours he was otherwise difficult to reach.
None of this would register as affection to him. He would simply categorize you as an exception, and Dottore was perfectly comfortable with exceptions when they were his to make. The more telling signs would appear in moments when his usual indifference should have taken precedence.
If you were injured, he would immediately notice. If someone endangered you, his attention would sharpen with a frightening immediacy. He would remember every detail surrounding the incident afterward, not because the information was scientifically interesting, but because he couldn't tolerate the possibility of it happening again.
Yet even then, he'd find some rational explanation for his behavior. You were a liability he needed to account for. Your safety affected his work. Your absence would be inconvenient. Your presence was simply preferable. He would keep giving himself increasingly elaborate explanations because admitting that he cared would require him to acknowledge that there was something about you he could not reduce to utility.
The realization would finally come when his own behavior contradicted every explanation he'd constructed. Perhaps he'd be in the middle of an experiment when news reached him that you'd been seriously injured.
Under ordinary circumstances, Dottore would finish what he was doing before allowing himself to be distracted, whatever problem existed could wait until the immediate task was complete. This time, however, he'd simply stop. His hands would go still over the equipment, his eyes lingering on the unfinished experiment for several silent seconds before he set everything aside without calculating the consequences.
He wouldn't even realize how strange the decision was until he was already on his way to you. Once he knew you were safe, the real disturbance would begin. He'd return to his laboratory and find himself staring at the abandoned work, mentally reconstructing what had happened and realizing that, for once, he'd made a decision without weighing its usefulness.
The experiment had simply stopped mattering the moment he'd learned you were hurt. That conclusion would irritate him more than the emotion itself. He'd begin examining the evidence with almost clinical precision, every precaution he'd taken specifically for your safety, every time he'd changed his plans because of you, every detail about you he'd memorized without intending to, every moment when his attention had instinctively shifted toward you even while surrounded by something more important.
Eventually, the pattern would become impossible to dismiss. He'd lean back, stare into the silence of the laboratory. "How inconvenient."
There would be no dramatic panic afterward. Instead, he'd become intensely curious about the realization, almost treating himself as another specimen to be studied. He'd test his own reactions, deliberately placing himself in situations where he could determine whether his behavior toward you was truly different from his behavior toward everyone else.
The answer would remain frustratingly consistent. He would continue insisting that nothing had fundamentally changed, even while becoming more deliberate about keeping you safe and maintaining your place within his life.
He wouldn't suddenly become openly sentimental or affectionate, that would be entirely contrary to his nature. If anything, he'd become more controlled, more attentive, and maybe even more possessive of the time and space you occupied in his world.
The difference would simply be that he now understood the reason behind it. You were no longer merely an interesting exception, a useful presence, or a variable he happened to tolerate. You had become the one variable he could neither explain away nor bring himself to eliminate, and for someone like Dottore, realizing that there was one person capable of becoming genuinely irreplaceable would be more unsettling than admitting he had fallen in love.
── ( 𝒄. ) childe would realize it almost accidentally, long before he ever thought to call it love, he'd already started treating you as someone distinctly more important than everyone else around him.
He'd invite you along whenever he had the opportunity, whether it was something as simple as wandering through the city or something more exciting that gave him an excuse to show off, and he'd turn nearly everything into some kind of game or challenge just to keep you entertained.
He'd constantly look for ways to make you laugh, deliberately exaggerating stories from his missions or pretending that some completely ordinary situation was far more dramatic than it actually was. He'd also develop the habit of bringing things back for you whenever he traveled, not necessarily expensive gifts, but small souvenirs he'd happened to see and immediately think you'd enjoy.
At first, he'd barely notice how often this happened. He'd simply return from a journey, spot something that reminded him of you, and think, you'd like this, before buying it without a second thought.
The difference would become more obvious in the way he treated your presence. Childe was naturally sociable and energetic, comfortable throwing himself into conversations and making friends wherever he went, but with you, there would be an extra degree of attention that he didn't give anyone else.
He'd remember things you'd told him weeks ago, notice immediately when something was bothering you, and instinctively check that you were alright whenever a situation became dangerous. If you were present during one of his fights, his attention would periodically flick toward you even while he was occupied with his opponent, and if you'd been left behind somewhere safe, he'd find himself wondering what you were doing before he'd even finished his mission.
He'd never consider any of this particularly strange. To him, you were simply you, someone he liked having around, someone whose company made even boring days more enjoyable. It wouldn't occur to him that he'd started measuring certain experiences by whether he could share them with you.
He'd return from an 'adventure' wanting to tell you about it first, encounter something amusing and immediately think about how you'd react, or catch himself looking through a crowd simply because some part of him expected to find you there. The thought would remain so ordinary in his mind that he wouldn't question it until one particular day made the pattern impossible to ignore.
The realization would probably hit him after returning from a particularly dangerous assignment, when he'd come back expecting the usual noise and bustle surrounding his arrival. He'd barely have time to step into the area before his eyes began moving through the crowd, searching automatically. He wouldn't even realize he was doing it at first.
His gaze would pass over familiar faces, fellow Fatui members, merchants, strangers, anyone standing nearby, until it finally landed on you. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he'd already been imagining the way you'd greet him, probably with that warm smile he had apparently grown so accustomed to seeing after every assignment.
But the moment you spotted him, that smile wouldn't come. Instead, your expression would immediately change with concern when you noticed the blood staining his clothes and the signs of a rough fight still visible across him.
You'd hurry toward him, asking whether he was hurt, your hands instinctively checking his arms and shoulders for injuries before he could even properly greet you. Childe would initially try to laugh it off, assuring you that he'd be fine and that most of the blood wasn't even his, but somewhere between your worried questions and the way you kept looking him over, his teasing response would gradually fade.
He'd simply stare at you. The warmth spreading through his chest would catch him completely off guard, almost like a flutter beneath his ribs, and for once he wouldn't have an immediate joke to cover it with.
He'd watch your worried expression, the way your brows had drawn together, the way you were still checking him despite his insistence that he was alright, and something inside him would suddenly feel impossibly light.
You were worried about him. The thought would make him stare at you with an almost bewildered fondness, his usual grin slowly returning as he realized just how much he liked being the person you cared about this deeply.
He'd blink only when you finally caught him staring and asked why he was looking at you like that. For a moment, he'd simply smile, almost dazed by the realization that had settled so naturally into place.
Then he'd laugh under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck as everything he'd previously dismissed began connecting at once, all the times he'd searched for you first after returning from an assignment, every souvenir he'd picked up because it reminded him of you, every story he'd wanted to tell you before anyone else, every excuse he'd invented to spend another afternoon together, and every time he'd found himself wondering whether you were safe while he was away.
It suddenly made perfect sense. "Ah." The word would escape quietly before his smile widened. "How'd I not realize this sooner?" He'd probably find the whole realization almost amusing, especially after realizing how long he'd apparently been oblivious.
Yet rather than pulling away from the feeling, he'd simply let himself enjoy it, looking at you with that same soft, fascinated expression while you continued fussing over his injuries.
── ( 𝒘. ) wanderer would resist the realization longer than almost anyone because the very idea of being emotionally attached to someone would irritate him before he ever allowed himself to accept it. Long before he understood what was happening, you would already have become one of the few people capable of bringing out a warmth in him that he himself barely recognized.
It would almost feel like some forgotten part of him had resurfaced whenever he was with you, something softer and strangely content that he would immediately try to bury beneath his usual indifference. You could invite him somewhere as simple as wandering through the city, sitting somewhere quiet, or accompanying you while you talked about something that interested you, and his first response would almost always sound annoyed.
"Do you ever get tired of dragging me around?" Yet he'd still go. He'd complain about the destination, complain about how long you'd been talking, complain when you got distracted by something along the way, but he would never actually leave.
In reality, he'd be paying close attention to everything you said. He'd remember the details of your stories, ask questions when something genuinely caught his interest, and occasionally offer his own opinion before pretending he hadn't been listening that closely.
If you noticed how engaged he was and smiled because he was clearly enjoying himself, he'd immediately become defensive. "What? Don't look at me like that. I'm only listening because you won't stop talking." But he'd remain beside you anyway, sometimes so close that your shoulders nearly brushed, perfectly content to let you fill the silence.
He would especially enjoy the moments when you became animated about something you loved. He'd watch you talk, occasionally interrupting with a dry remark or challenging something you said simply to keep the conversation going, and then act irritated whenever you pointed out that he was clearly enjoying himself.
If you suggested doing something together again another day, he'd roll his eyes and pretend to consider it a nuisance. But he'd remember the suggestion perfectly and, when the day came, would somehow already be waiting for you.
His affection would also begin showing itself through physical closeness in ways that would be almost shocking compared to how he treated everyone else. Wanderer generally wouldn't tolerate unnecessary touching, but with you, the rules would quietly change.
If you were walking too slowly and he wanted you to follow him, he'd simply reach down and take your hand, tugging you along without even thinking about it. If you tried teasing him about it, he'd immediately look away and mutter that it was faster than waiting for you.
He might catch your hand again when crossing a crowded street, pull you closer when he wanted your attention, or casually keep hold of your wrist while leading you somewhere, all while behaving as though none of it were remotely significant. He wouldn't be affectionate in an openly sentimental way, instead, he'd simply become accustomed to having you within reach.
Sitting beside you would feel natural. Walking with your hand in his would feel natural. Listening to you talk for hours would feel natural. And the fact that he was genuinely happy during those moments would be something he stubbornly refused to examine.
The realization would therefore hit him not simply because he protected you, but because he would eventually recognize what being around you did to him. Perhaps you'd invited him somewhere he had initially called boring, only for the two of you to spend hours together talking about whatever happened to come to mind.
At some point, you'd laugh at something he said, and he'd catch himself smiling before immediately trying to hide it. Or perhaps you'd reach for his hand without thinking and he'd instinctively let you take it, realizing only afterward that he hadn't pulled away. Instead, he'd tightened his fingers around yours. That would make him pause. He'd look down at your joined hands, then at you, and something about the quiet familiarity of it would feel strangely profound. He'd remember how often he'd allowed himself to enjoy these moments despite pretending otherwise, how quickly his mood improved when you appeared, how he'd started looking forward to your conversations, and how your absence left a peculiar emptiness that he would never have admitted existed. Most importantly, he'd realize that you brought out a version of him he had almost forgotten existed.
Around you, he could be irritated without being cruel, quiet without being distant, playful without feeling foolish, and genuinely happy without having to explain why. The thought would bother him more than he'd like.
"No." He'd immediately reject whatever conclusion had begun forming, looking away as though the realization itself were an insult. But once he started noticing it, he wouldn't be able to stop. Eventually, he'd click his tongue, fold his arms, and mutter bitterly to himself, "You've got to be kidding me."
The realization would make him defensive, but it wouldn't make him pull away. If anything, he'd become even more attached while pretending otherwise.
── ( 𝒗. ) varka would probably be one of the last people to realize it because, for months, he'd have absolutely no reason to suspect that what he felt for you was anything beyond genuine fondness. He was naturally warm, affectionate, and generous with the people he cared about, so none of his behavior toward you would initially strike him as unusual.
The real problem would be that he simply talks about you constantly. You'd become an almost ridiculous fixture in his conversations, to the point that the Knights would eventually know far more about you than they ever intended to.
Someone could mention a meal they had recently eaten and Varka would immediately remember something you'd once said about that particular dish. He'd return from an expedition with some strange object he'd found along the way and immediately start telling everyone how you'd probably love it, or how you would have laughed at something he'd seen, or how he wished you'd been there to see a particularly beautiful view.
Even when he was hundreds of miles away, you'd somehow find your way into his thoughts. He'd be walking through unfamiliar territory and suddenly wonder what you were doing back in Mondstadt, whether you'd eaten yet, whether you'd enjoyed the weather that day, or whether you'd have liked the place he was currently standing in.
He'd talk about you so naturally that he wouldn't even realize how often your name came up. "She'd love this place," he'd remark while looking over some distant landscape, only to continue talking about you for another ten minutes without noticing he'd completely changed the subject. The Knights would eventually exchange knowing looks whenever it happened. Varka, meanwhile, would remain oblivious. If someone teased him about it, he'd simply laugh. "What? I'm allowed to talk about someone I like," (the other knights would be frustrated how easily he's throwing around those three words).
He'd insist that he was merely fond of your company, yet somehow another story about you would inevitably follow.
His affection would be just as obvious when you were actually nearby. At gatherings, he'd naturally keep you within reach, throwing an arm around your shoulders while talking to someone else or casually drawing you closer whenever the crowd became too dense.
If he noticed you becoming overwhelmed or uncomfortable, he'd quietly shift the conversation so you could participate, introduce you to someone you hadn't met, make sure there was a seat available for you, or bring you something to eat before you ever thought to ask.
He'd notice whether you were getting tired, whether the room was too cold, whether you had been standing for too long, and somehow solve each little problem without making it obvious that he'd been paying attention. None of it would feel particularly romantic to him. He'd simply be taking care of you in the same easy, instinctive way he took care of people he considered important.
Once someone finally pointed out just how often he talked about you, however, Varka would actually stop and think about it. He'd initially laugh, perhaps insisting that everyone was exaggerating, until someone began listing examples.
Varka would gradually fall quiet as he realized they were right. He'd think back to all those expeditions where something beautiful had caught his eye and his first thought had been that you should see it, all the meals where he'd instinctively remembered which portion you'd prefer, and all the gatherings where he'd automatically checked whether you were comfortable before settling himself down.
He'd realize that even when you weren't physically there, some part of his mind was constantly accounting for you. The thought would be almost absurdly simple once he finally saw it. He wouldn't merely enjoy your company, you had become part of the way he experienced the world.
Everything reminded him of you because, somewhere along the way, he'd started wanting you involved in everything he experienced.
Varka would stare into the distance for a moment before slowly rubbing his chin. "Huh." Then, as the realization finally settled, a deep laugh would escape him. "Well, I'll be damned." He'd find the whole thing more amusing than embarrassing, especially when he realized how long everyone else had probably known.
After that, his behavior wouldn't become dramatically different because he'd already been treating you with affection for months.
── ( 𝒌. ) kinich would take much longer to recognize it simply because he wouldn't spend much time examining his own emotions in the first place. Before realizing he was in love with you, he'd already be making countless small adjustments around you without ever thinking of them as affection.
He'd wait for you before leaving somewhere even when there was no practical reason to do so, automatically slow his pace when you fell behind, remember exactly how you preferred to train, and quietly step in whenever you struggled with something without making a point of announcing that he'd noticed.
If you were tired, he'd alter the day's plans without complaint. If you were carrying something awkward, he'd simply take it from you. If you were struggling with a technique, he'd demonstrate it again and correct your stance with the same patient precision he used when teaching anyone else, except he'd somehow always have more time for you.
His version of quality time would be particularly practical and understated, he'd ask you to accompany him on commissions, invite you to train with him, teach you techniques he'd learned, spar with you when you wanted to improve, or let you sit nearby while he prepared his equipment.
He wouldn't need constant conversation to enjoy having you there. Your presence itself would become something he naturally accounted for. Other people would begin noticing long before Kinich did. Mualani, especially, would find it amusing how easily you seemed to slip past the distance Kinich normally maintained with people, while Kachina would notice the quieter details, how he always seemed to know where you were, how he waited for you without mentioning it, and how naturally you could stand beside him without him ever seeming bothered by your proximity.
Kinich wasn't someone who allowed just anyone to become that close to him, which made your place beside him increasingly obvious to everyone watching. He might normally keep conversations brief or prefer doing things alone, yet with you, he'd tolerate you sitting beside him for hours, answer your questions, listen when you talked, and occasionally even start conversations himself.
His acts of service would be just as subtle. He'd check your equipment before a dangerous journey, make sure you had enough supplies, adjust plans if he knew a route would be too difficult for you, or silently position himself on the side closest to whatever posed the greater danger.
He wouldn't call any of it protective. It was simply efficient. At least, that's what he'd tell himself. Even his protectiveness around other people would become increasingly obvious. If someone began acting strangely toward you, standing too close, speaking to you in a way he didn't like, or making you visibly uncomfortable, Kinich's attention would immediately shift.
He wouldn't necessarily confront them outright. Instead, he'd quietly move closer, place himself between you and the other person under some perfectly reasonable excuse, or simply call your name and redirect your attention elsewhere. His expression would remain calm, his voice level, but there would be a subtle firmness to his presence that made it clear he was paying attention.
If Mualani happened to notice, she'd probably find the whole thing hilarious because Kinich would insist he was merely being cautious. "You don't usually do that!" she'd point out. Kinich would simply look at her and dismiss what she said.
The realization would probably come from Ajaw after he'd spent far too long watching all of this happen. Ajaw would eventually become unbearable about it, loudly pointing out every time Kinich changed his plans because you were involved, every time he automatically searched for you in a crowd, and every time he positioned himself nearby when someone made you uncomfortable.
Kinich would ignore him at first, insisting there was nothing unusual about it, but eventually even he would start thinking about the pattern.
He'd eventually pause in the middle of whatever he was doing, staring ahead for several seconds as all those little observations finally connected. "So that's what this is." While Ajaw loudly screamed at the back of his head, "THAT'S WHAT I'VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL YOU!!"
There wouldn't be much outward panic, Kinich would simply become unusually quiet, processing the realization with the same patience he applied to everything else. The next time you appeared, however, the difference would be almost imperceptible. His eyes would follow you a little longer, his expression would soften when you approached, and when you sat beside him, he wouldn't merely make room, he'd shift closer without thinking.
Ajaw would immediately notice and start laughing, while Mualani and Kachina would probably exchange knowing looks because, to everyone else, the answer had been obvious for quite some time.
