#yoimix.req

“more, more, more... more,” he drabbles on, as you try your best to drag him out of the tavern.

“goodness, kazuha, we both know i’m not cut out for this job,” you heave, as he finally takes a step in your direction only for you to lose balance and land on your knees. mondstadt cobblestones aren’t the softest to land on but your battered knees are used to a little bit of beating.

he looks down at you with a slight pout and furrowed eyebrows. “my love, did you fall again? are you hurt? oh dear.”

he stumbles onto the floor beside you, his outstretched hand meant for you to take breaking his fall instead. how could one fruity cocktail reduce him to this? to be fair, you don’t need even that to be as bad at keeping balance. 

“kazuha, we have to get up,” you tell him, brushing your knees as you get back on your feet.

“i’m up,” he says confidently while still sat on the ground. “you’re looking so blurry, maple, are you falling?”

“i’m afraid that’s not the case, sweetheart.” you shake your head, grabbing both his hands to lift him up.

your efforts do get him off the ground. however, instead of standing, he leans over onto you till his entire bodyweight is on you. of course. what else did you expect? he’s still so cute, you think. when did babbling, drunk men start looking cute to you? but then again, it’s only kazuha. you love every little detail of his.

“you’re gripping me too tight,” you say, trying to loosen his grip around your waist. 

“of course i am, (name). i don’t want you falling,” he mumbles, finally standing up straight. his arms don’t move. “do you know much it worries me to see the bandages?”

“i’m alright, kazuha. you don’t put me in any trouble more than i put myself in.” you press your hand against his cherry-red cheek, revelling in the warmth. “you can- you can let go...”

“i’d rather not let go of you,” he refuses, face as golden as the setting sun.

you furrow your eyebrows. met with his deep autumn eyes, what more can you do?

his grip around your waist isn’t getting any looser and the blood flows into your cheeks as he refuses to lower his stare.

“you will always worry me, (name).” kazuha sighs, but it soon turns into a smile. “so don’t wander too far off from me.”

✽ zhongli, ever observant, incorporates your tendencies into his habits. he can never be too careless with you around. in your defense, you couldn’t look at the man without your heart doing flips and somersaults. even as lovers, it’s ridiculous how you struggle to keep your balance around him. the number of walls you’ve walked into as a result of his smile is ridiculous. in fact, zhongli reflexively stretches out his arms before you can bump into anything. he will pull you by the waist if you walk a little close to the docks, place his arm between you and any solid surface that might hurt your shoulder, take your hand every time you step over the puddles after liyue’s much needed rain. it’s deeply evident how he cares for you. sometimes, though, he will just let you do your thing and look at you fascinated. he always carries bandages and antiseptic creams on him, even if he forgets his wallet.

“dear?”

“yes, zhongli?”

“did you fall into the pool or were you planning to take a swim fully clothed?”

you lower yourself into the waist-level water, fully drenching yourself. there’s a large scrape on your thigh and you’d rather not let your lover take note of it. partly because you’re embarrassed and partly because you don’t want him to fuss over you later.

“i’m fine down here, honey,” you mumble, looking away from him. you can still feel his intense gaze, regardless. 

when you stormed out of the house, annoyed with his lecturing on your habits, you should’ve expected some bad luck. (luck referring to your muscle coordination.) you know he only spoke out of concern but you took it a bit too personal. he knows you too well—and familiarity breeds contempt. soon, your little quirks will be burdens to bear. you didn’t want him to worry when you waked off, you just wanted some fresh air. to be fair, you did get some fresh air before plunging into freshwater too.

“i don’t want you catching a cold, love.”

zhongli gets down on his knee beside the clear pool of water, extending a hand for you take. after a moment of hesitation, you give your hand and he gets you out effortlessly. 

the thing is, you expected him to let go after you’re up. instead, you’re pulled into his chest, his arms settling at your back and waist, a deep chuckle leaving the man. you’re sure the water’s soaking through his clothes and yet there is no notion of his discomfort. is he made of rock?

“zhongli! why’d you do that? now both of us are drenched...”

“does it upset you, my dear?”

“no. but... you don’t have to go so far to coddle me,” you grumbling.

“hah...” he sighs. “one moment, you believe i’m angry with you and the next you think i’m coddling you? you’re as bewildering as ever.”

“you’re teasing me again,” you huff as you pull away and cross your arms.

“you know my adoration for you. i never meant to preach.” he presses his lips together and hums a sigh. “i should’ve worded it better. i don’t mean to coddle you and neither do i want to show you tougher love.”

his hand at your waist wavers and finally moves to rest against your cheek.

“now let’s get you fixed up. blood is not a nice color on you,” he speaks grimly, but not as a reprimand. if there’s anyone who wouldn’t either baby you or treat you with indifference, ire even, it’s your ever-steady lover.

“how did you...” you shake your head, a smile growing. everyone needs someone to lean on. “thank you, my love.”

✽ venti is quite mischievous with you, though he makes sure you’re alright in his own way. he sometimes blows a particularly strong wind in your direction just to see you flail, and follow up by grabbing your hands and pulling you towards him in a funny little dance. even if you step on his foot more times than you can count, he always finds a way around it—making fun of the mistakes you make till you’re forced into a rebuttal by pointing out his own. he just enjoys the way you move, as far as graceful as you can get, and yet as animated and lovely as windwheel asters. he also jokes often about how you don’t need alcohol to act silly. you say it’s the same for him; he’s not the most serious of men. venti also gets more affectionate when he’s drunk, much like a cat on catnip, and will show you off with the weirdest titles. (“my s/o can trip three times on a hike and still be okay!” “venti stfu”)

“oh thank barbatos,” you heave, as soon as you reach the tip of starsnatch cliff.

“you called?”

you shriek, your fists flying up to fend the source of your momentary fright off. however, instead of getting into a defence stance, you stumble backward and land on your butt right at the edge of the cliff. 

“you’re going to kill me, you idiot!” you scream while venti snickers, landing softly beside you. oh, to be as nimble as wind. you’ve got to say you’re a little jealous of the bard.

you scoot away from the edge to a much safer spot, while venti shrugs and lays his head on your lap.

“who said you could do that?” you quip, though you don’t move his head away.

“aww, didn’t you come here to meet me?”

“i meet you if i want to add more injuries to my body. every time i fall, you make me fall harder.”

venti’s eyes go wide. “my, that’s quite the romantic thing to say.”

you sputter out a half-assed denial. “y- you know that’s not what i meant.”

“well, do you want me to sing your bruises better?” he sits up giggling, the tune of his laughter playful.

“very funny, venti- oh dear archons, you don’t have to whip out your lyre harp.”

he strikes a familiar chord, a song of love and mischief, and you cave. it’s so easy for him to quieten you. then again, his melody always calls for attention. it’s so easy to lose track of time with him, and you’re glad you do. life can get hard, even in the city of freedom, and what’s better than the archon himself lifting your spirits? he’s quite good at that, even if he doesn’t realize it.

venti clicks his tongue when he notices you zoned out.

“c’mon now, i’m pouring my heart out for you!”

you roll your eyes. “oh lord barbatos, i don’t believe you could ever surpass the admiration i hold for you already.”

“unimpressive.”

you shake your head, huffing loudly.

“shall we dance then?”

“here?” you look around, furrowing your eyebrows at the steep ledges. no way. but of course, why would the anemo archon ever listen to you? he does as he pleases. you’re pulled to your feet and you take the tiniest of steps in his direction. the motion makes venti laugh, eyes closing. it really is a wonder how he makes the breeze howl in your chest.

“you don’t have to worry, (name),” he grins wider, taking your hands in his. “you can always trust the wind to catch you.”

“(name),” childe slurs, a blissful smile on his face. “just please look at me. oh my, you’re so pretty.”

“ugh, tsaritsa guide me. the stench of alcohol.” you pinch the bridge of your nose. “just because the wine was free didn’t mean you had to glug fifteen glasses of them! what will the qixing think?!”

“that i’m the pride of snezhnaya?” he laughs loudly. “okay, okay, don’t get mad at me. but did you see? i outdrank all of those old fools! ugh, the little lady seemed unimpressed but that hardly matters. who did she think she was anyway? the yuheng?”

“she was.”

“oh.”

he pauses to blink slowly, before turning to you with a boyish grin. it’s horrifying how it makes your heart flutter, and you might as well plunge into the chasm before you admit that. the rain outside the hotel gets louder, and you just want this night to be over with. when morning comes, you can pretend childe didn’t make it look like you’re on a honeymoon to the entire city of liyue and half your subordinates.

“well, at least the crowd loved me.”

“and you’re going to be throwing up all night,” you huff, pulling him up by his shirt before he leans too far and faceplants onto the ground. instead, he takes it as an invitation to wrap his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder. you’re not sure when, in the transition to adulthood, it started bothering you. he’s the last person you should be thinking about like that.

“ah, i love it when you hold me,” he grins with the glee of a kid watching fireworks. “this is so much more comfortable than my coat. how do you always have warm hands?”

“and how do you always manage to embarrass me in the most ridiculous ways?”

he furrows his brows, plush pink lips forming into a pout. “what did i do?”

“what, pretend to profess your love to me in public and crash a dinner party? i get that everyone was drunk and saying stupid shit but you didn’t have to rope me into it!”

“please, it was hardly a serious matter.” he waves his hand dismissively. “a little coworker outing, if you will. it’s a coincidence some qixing officials were having a dinner party.”

“it got so loud we were kicked out of the restaurant.” you might as well be steaming from the ears now. “what do you think the qixing will do if they see snezhnayan diplomats making trouble in liyue? you’re lucky i talked it out with the yuheng but goodness, you made us- you made us look so silly!”

you say it with so much distaste, childe flinches. the blood rushes to your face at the memory of him clinging to you the whole time you tried to explain to keqing that snezhnaya is in fact not up to weird schemes or trying to drown the harbor.

“aww, you had fun too. you were all cute and flustered talking to the qixing girl.”

“that’s because you made us look like a couple, stupid!”

“what’s so bad about that?” he asks quietly.

“oh my god, they think we’re dating.”

“we could be,” he responds softly, a longing sigh following. 

you turn to look at his face, flustered. you can feel his breath against your cheek, his ocean eyes trained on your own. when did he lean so close?

“you’re drunk,” you state bluntly. 

“but the truth is...” he pauses to giggle. “...is still that i love you.”

you gulp. “liar.”

he lets out a dry chuckle, running the pad of his thumb over your lower lip. “don’t say that. i’ll just keep falling.”

“stop it, ajax.” a pang of hurt shoots through your chest, a wistful weed blooming between your ribs. he only wants you when he’s drunk, does he? you should’ve expected no better from mr casual himself.

“i know you think you’re smooth, but you’re taking it too far now.” you take a deep breath, trying not to get too upset. he’s just drunk.

“how far do you think i can take it?” he breathes over your skin, leaned far enough to kiss you if he wanted to, if you wanted to. the flush of his cheeks rivals his oh-so-pink lips, but it’s the vulnerability in his eyes that throws you off. you always thought they were starry like the reflection of the night sky over the ocean. the others, however, describe stormy seas, with no guiding light for miles. 

the consequences to mistaking his feelings is just too catastrophic for you to bear.

“(name), stop.” he comes to a halt abruptly, twisting his wrist from your grip to grab yours instead. you’re suddenly pulled into his chest, a surprised yelp leaving your mouth.

“let’s go home, ajax,” you press, impatient. you didn’t mean to say that, especially when it doesn’t make sense so far from home. you’re just used to saying that when he’s being difficult.

“i am home.” he frowns, gloved hands holding onto both of your wrists. his eyes are pleading, but for what you don’t know. “and did you miss my entire i love you speech or did i imagine saying that?”

“you’re drunk out of your mind and just saying—”

“i’m not. i’ll say it to you in the morning, i’ll say to you tomorrow and the day after and i’ll keep saying it till you just look at me.”

you finally meet his eyes—the intense azure you’ve known all your life begging for you to see him the way he does you. there were better ways to go about this. what did you expect from this walking disaster?

you hold his face between your thumb and forefinger, his cheeks puffing up. he looks too adorable and it’s pissing you off. before you can have any second thoughts, you quickly press your lips against his in a featherlight kiss. pulling back, you can only hold it in for two seconds before the expression on his face makes you burst into laughter.

“do that again,” he mumbles, a dazed smile on his face.

you grant him a quick kiss.

“again.”

kiss.

“and again.”

“you used to say three is the lucky number.”

he pouts. why did you have to fall in love with this manchild?

sighing, you grant him one final kiss, a satisfied sigh parting from his lips. “happy now? it’s time to go to bed, ajax.”

“woah, (name), is that why you wouldn’t kiss me? because you had other plans in the bedroo—”

“no. you’re going straight to sleep.”

he hums, smiling. “i love you.”

“mhm. i can tolerate you.”

“hey.”

“i love you too.”

✽ ayato’s self-restraint is the bane of your existence. he will look at you with his sharp lilac gaze, glance at your lips even, but he will do nothing more than a light touch to your hand or a flick to your forehead on certain occasions. it’s as though he’s aware of the rapid beating of your heart—but he refuses to be anything more than a tease. lately, he’s taken to leaning in closer than before when he pretends to not hear you during your evening walks. is he not aware you can feel his breath? and sometimes, he will place his hand on the small of your back to guide you. does he not know his touches light your skin on fire? honest to god, you hate him beyond measure at this point. when young love grows old, it’s only natural to harbor resentment too. you resent that teasing smile, you resent those playful eyes, you resent the mole by his lips you want to kiss so bad. and just like that, your heart is another piece he’s captured in this game of chess. in a way, though, you understand his roundabout ways of doing things. a man in his position ought to behave. for instance, right now, he shouldn’t be taking your hand outside a social gathering of inazuman elites, and running away like a schoolboy skipping class.

“are you sure you can do this?!” you huff, trying to keep up with ayato. there’s an idle sense of joy to his pace, his posture still elegant.

you, on the other hand, look like you just survived a dumpster fire. disheveled from the running, you finally catch a break once he stops by the torii gates of chinju forest.

“well, wasn’t that fun?” he asks, a smug smile on his face. “archons, the blabbering these men do. half a night and all i heard were complaints about their wives and their boring, unambitious ideas for inazuma.”

you whistle. “i never know how you handle your meetings. each one sounds worse than the last.”

“yes, but i can’t brute force my job like some people do.” he gives you a pointed look. 

you glare at him. “well, some occupations don’t require being a crafty, meddling rascal. you wouldn’t know.”

“i like that about you,” he says, quieter. his gaze is soft, like a field of blooming hyacinths. it catches you off guard. 

“w-well- i- uh i- i have a lot more likeable traits than you give me credit for,” you defend, unable to return his gaze.

“so do i,” he responds, a sly smile playing on his lips. “a lot more than you give me credit for.”

“i never said i didn’t,” you mumble in defeat. 

a firefly beelines for ayato’s shoulder but he gives no care towards it. instead he finally takes out the cup of boba tea from the little bag you’ve been carrying. the proximity of his face when he reaches, however, makes you hold your breath longer than intended. it’s so unfair that he’s this pretty. he smiles when he meets your gaze, taking out the other cup for you.

“you’re so easy to talk to, (name),” he sighs. there goes your poor heart.

you hum, tearing your eyes away from him. you’re hardly thinking as you blabber on. “you- you too. i... i don’t say this often but you... you’re a good person, ayato. i wish i could be with you forever.”

realizing what you said within the next fraction of a second, you straighten up, eyes widened in panic. it’s not the first time you’ve been reduced to a stuttering mess in front of the yashiro commissioner. curse your reckless tongue.

“forever?”

“i- i mean, i want to fall for a guy like you someday,” you laugh awkwardly, smacking his arm. what on teyvat are you saying? you have fallen for a guy like him and it is him. 

ayato presses his lips into a thin smile, eye twitching in annoyance.

“wh-what i mean is, it- it would be nice to be with someone like you,” you try to save and miserably fail.

you might as well get a shovel and start digging your grave right here in the forest. maybe the tanuki will dance over your dead body for entertainment. anything to get out of this situation that you, all by yourself, got into.

slender fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling you closer to the source of your misery.

“boba?” 

ayato looks at you expectantly, pressing the straw to your lips.

you nod, fighting the heat growing on your face. he’s too pretty.

“you know, i like it when you say these things to me.”

he’s always been a rude rascal. his smile is cheeky, yet it relieves of you any uncomfortable thoughts like rain on a hot summer day. i want to protect that smile, you thought to yourself once. it’s so rare to see him like this, as just ayato—your friend ayato who taught you to play (and lose) shogi, who gave you his best onikabuto whenever you sulked about yours, who smiled knowingly while you screeched about his awful cooking and showed him the directions again. how many afternoons had you spent with him till he was lost to the rhythm of life? if there really is a god to hear you, you’d pray for ayato to smile like this all the time.

“what do you mean?” you ask softly.

“you said once,” he muses, “that you want me to find someone who likes me for me.”

“i did?” you clear your throat. “i mean, i’d like that too. i- like- isn’t that what everyone wants? to be with someone who likes them as a person?”

“i like you as a person.”

you breathe in too hard, the tapioca pearls caught in your throat as a result. an ugly cough follows till ayato’s patting your back in a concerned motion. you finally spit out the boba, which unfortunately lands in a bush nearby, spooking some foxes.

“oh.” he looks like he’s holding in a laugh. “come now, this is no place to litter.”

“shut up.” you glare at him. “if you didn’t say things so suddenly—erm.”

you’re not sure how to explain yourself. his statement could be taken the wrong way, and you don’t want to be the first one to reveal yourself. if this is a game of shogi after all, you intend to win at least one against him.

“hm? is that what gets you so flustered? a few words from me?”

“you wish,” you huff. 

you feel his warm chuckle against your ear, and the warmth spreads down your neck. you turn to face him, feeling a bit stupid for reacting this way.

“what is it you want to say to me? hm? be honest, now. we're far past playing games, aren't we?"

"i don't know what you're talking about." you feign ignorance, hiding behind your fan.

you take a deep breath, hoping his presence will help you calm yourself. he's such a handful and you know it, but he also makes you feel so alive.

"oh? we can keep playing this game then," he hums, smiling. "you haven't won once against me, you know?"

"th-there's been several times i've beaten you in shogi," you huff.

"by cheating."

"i never cheat!"

“that smile is foul play,” he whispers. there’s barely a gap between your lips and ayato looks like he might just close it.

you feel panic rising. quickly, you press your palm to his mouth, effectively stunning him. it’s honestly cute to see him make this expression.

“we’re friends!” you blurt. “r-right? but god, there are things we can’t do when we’re just friends and you- you just keep testing my patience, ayato!”

a muffled response follows. you take a deep breath and remove your hand.

“it’s like you were going to kiss me,” you complain quietly, embarrassed.

he blinks monotonously. “but i did want to kiss you.”

your face heats up at an alarming rate. “huh? are you supposed to say that out loud?!”

“how else am i supposed to know?”

“know what?”

“if you want to kiss me or not.”

“i always want to kiss y—”

you clasp your hands over your mouth, embarrassed beyond thought. there is no way you said that out loud. the spark in ayato’s eyes only brightens to a more mischievous look.

“you said it yourself,” he says casually, “there are things we can’t do if we’re just friends.”

he takes a step closer. “and i want to do them with you, (name).”

you open your mouth but no response forms.

“so will you please let me kiss you?” he completes, the frustration built over the years finally fizzing out.

“yes,” you say, without thinking, admiring the beauty mark by his lips.

after all, in a sighing forest of promises unkept, who’s to tell of a nobleman’s kisses?