xiao’s dex

"is something on your mind?" he asks, bemused at your blatant ogling of his perfectly crafted features. instinctively, you giggle, always ready to burst out into peals of infatuated, lighthearted laughter around him.

"this is the point where we say goodbye for the night, right?" you say. you hope you don't sound dismayed.

zhongli nods and, for the briefest of moments, looks almost regretful. "very well then. it was a pleasure to spend the afternoon with you, (y/n). take care."

you stare at him and clear your throat as he begins to turn away, causing him to pause and look at you in confusion.

"is something the matter?" his question echoes his earlier sentiments, but his voice lacks the teasing tone. instead, it’s been replaced by confusion as he tilts his head.

“this is the third time you’ve walked me home,” you state and zhongli nods, waiting for you to continue. “and yet, you’ve never given me a goodbye kiss.”

zhongli’s eyes widen and this time, he is the one drinking in your features. upon seeing no indication that you’re joking, his cheeks flush with faint smears of flustered pink.

“oh,” he manages to say. “would… would you like one?”

this is the first time you’ve seen your newly proclaimed boyfriend look nervous. after all, he’s such a gentleman that he’s been determined to take things slow with you. extraordinarily slow, in fact. slow enough to where the two of you haven’t even kissed yet, despite all the signals you’ve attempted to give him. and now, your implied request has him stumbling over words for the first time. you scan his features, searching for discomfort, but fail to detect any in his eyes. nonetheless, not wanting to pressure him, you give him an out.

“it would be quite lovely, but if you’re not ready y-“ you begin, words falling flat as he lifts a hand up to gently cradle your face. his thumb gently swipes across the apple of your cheek as he looks tenderly into your eyes. affection glistens in the amber eyes you adore so much, holding emotions softer than any plush fabrics.

“very well then,” zhongli murmurs lowly, fondly. the rumbling, deep tone of his soft-spoken words sends a shiver of anticipation up your spine. "may i kiss you?"

even as you voiced your wishes and even as desire consumes his gaze, zhongli remains ever the gentleman. cute, you think.

you nod and zhongli descends upon your lips with fervor. yet, the brush of his mouth against yours is carefully consuming, slowly overtaking the both of you as his arm wraps around your waist, the other still holding onto the umbrella. he pulls you in closer and you let him. his lips begin to move rather clumsily, as if the earlier, smooth movements were no more than a false bravado of talent he does not actually possess. you love it anyways because it is zhongli. the kiss represents the imperfections in an outwardly perfect man, but the errors taste of long-steeped tea leaves and the faintest flavors of honeyed lip balm once applied hours prior, so you indulge in his failures adoringly, painting them into masterpieces anyways as you move your lips against his.

when your lips finally part, your face feels warm from the chaste intimacy you've been craving so long from your lover and his cheeks glow faintly, like the ripples of the sun in the morning sky before it finally peeks its head past the horizon. he stares into your eyes, searching for an answer to a question that you will never be prompted with. and, upon finding a suitable answer, zhongli's expression relaxes and he chuckles gently.

"i hope that it was suitable," he says, arm still lingering around your waist.

"it very much was," you begin, before the corners of your lips quirk up mischievously. "but."

"but?" zhongli echoes, confused, and you almost feel bad for what you're about to ask. almost.

"was that your first kiss?" you ask, voice laced with faux innocence. zhongli freezes, blinking at you and tilting his head, as if he can't quite comprehend being asked such a question. his cheeks darken even further as he grows increasingly flustered.

"no?" he says and you giggle at his confusion.

"then i guess i have to kiss you even more to be the person who has kissed you the most, don't you think?" you loop your arms around his shoulders and lean in closer, lips hovering just in front of his as you tease him breathily. he melts into your touch and chuckles once more.

He takes comfort in the fact that he’s tasked with making the shaved ice at the counter in the hut while Tomo does the actual serving to the customers.

But thanks to Tomo’s over-enthusiastic service, he had to rest at home due to overexertion. This leaves Kazuha to get through the whole weekend on his own.

His first customers start coming in before lunch. With how hectic things are getting, he feels blood rush into his head, making the heat a hundred times more unpleasant. He’s never understood how the heat makes people do crazy things that he sees. But he does when he has to resist the urge to dunk a bowl of shaved ice with pink syrup over his head.

Due to the traffic at his shop, he doesn’t realise it’s you when he takes your order. You sit at one of the tables near the counter with another male, who Kazuha dismisses as your date.

Placing the bowl on your table without looking at either of you, he says without thinking, “[name], here’s your order.”

“Thanks, Kazuha.”

Only when he returns back to the machine, does he realise that he’s said your name and that you’ve said his name. But he doesn’t remember telling you his name. He turns back to you to see you shaking your head to your date. You shift your gaze to him, his eyes catching yours until you look away.

Jealousy churns in his chest and he hits the button of the ice machine a little too hard. He tests the button again using the next bowl and feels relief when the machine still works. Tomo would be mad if he destroyed the machine.

Throughout your time there, he steals glances at you whenever he can. He notices you fiddling your fingers under the table, flexing and curling your fingers up. You’re looking out towards the ocean or the back of the hut every now and then.

Kazuha senses incoming trouble, but he only keeps his eye on you as he goes about with his business. He laments how he’s right when your date slams his palms on the table.

Your date accuses, “You know him, don’t you?”

This time, you don’t deny it but you don’t confirm it either.

“Jeez, you didn’t have to play with my feelings like that…”

His voice trails off and he mumbles, “No wonder your friends have to set up blind dates for you.”

You stand up to retort back. But Kazuha shifts himself in front of you, using the back of his arm to nudge you behind him.

“If you’re going to be unruly in my shop, please take your leave. I’d prefer if my shop didn’t turn into a circus.”

Your date does a visual sweep of the vicinity to see people staring at him and he doesn’t wait long to turn tail.

People start peeling their eyes off from the little scene. Kazuha turns back and asks, “Are you alright?”

You nod, avoiding eye contact with him and rubbing the nape of your neck. He waits for you to say something, but you don’t. Another customer calls for him and he’s forced to leave your side. It’s only a few minutes that he’s taken his eyes off you, but you’ve left.

He’s a little disheartened that you don’t remember him. Maybe a little disappointed by the fact you didn’t even ask him why he knew your name. But he doesn’t have time to ponder about it with the floods of people that stream into the beach.

Business only slows when the sun starts to set, its warm orange rays spilling into the stall through the windows. Kazuha slumps down on one of the chairs exhaling as he thinks about the day. The sound of footsteps reverberates in the hut. His back faces the entrance of the hut and he musters whatever energy he has left to stand up. With a polite tone, he says, “I’m sorry, we’re close-”

His voice lodges in his throat when he turns around to see you.

A little out of breath, you say, “Do you think we’ve met each other?”

He blinks several times at you.

He chuckles, “Perhaps so. Shall we find out?”

Kazuha opens his arms and you leap into the embrace without second thoughts. Your face in the crook of his neck, skin-to-skin, gives him a sense of home.

“So, what’s your answer, [name]?”

“I don’t know why, but I do. I know you.”

You pull away, furrowing your brows. You lean in towards him, closing your eyes. Your face hovers in front of his but you don’t move any closer. It’s not close enough for a kiss, but Kazuha is uncertain if you’re asking for one. He realises you aren’t when he hears faint sniffing.

Before he says anything, you open your eyes.

“First of all, you work at the beach but you don’t smell like the sea. Second, that smell of dried leaves…”

Kazuha makes out a tint of pink on your cheeks and he has to resist the urge to tease you. You stutter out, “It… makes me feel loved.”

나에게 두 번째 삶이 온다면 아마도 지금과는 다르게 살아가고 숨 쉬겠지만 모른 채 지날 거리 속에 우린 서로를 기억하기를 그다음 생에도 그때도 너에게로

If I am given a second life I may live and breathe differently compared to now Among the streets we’ll walk past each other without knowing I hope we remember each other Even in our next life Even at that time, I’ll go to you

The only time Xiao remembers crying when he was six. He wept for his pet dog that died. But he’s been waking up with tear-stained cheeks. He wakes up with his hand outstretched for something, but he doesn’t know what.

He can never recall what happened in his dream. He can’t recall what makes his heart ache.

As he goes about his day, the pang in his chest subsides. Though each time, there is a part of him that grasps at it as it’s about to slip away. It feels important. It feels as if it's the only remaining connection he has to something important that he’s forgotten. Someone important.

As per normal, he takes the same route to work. He’s pretty sure he’s got onto this very same train for almost his entire work life. As usual, he detaches himself from the reality of packed crowds on the train by playing his game on his phone. Except after a while, he takes his eyes off his phone screen and views the scenery outside of the window.

He doesn’t take his eyes away from the glass window of the doors even when the train pulls into a station. Past the door, he sees you staring wide-eyed at him. You stand dazed in the middle of the sea of the crowd, almost pushed away by its waves. Only when the beep of the train doors go off, do you snap out of your trance and bolt towards him.

Feet moving on its own, Xiao finds himself shuffling towards the closing train door. His palms push flat on the glass window and he cranes his neck around to try to catch a glimpse of you as the train pulls out.

Xiao never runs as of late. He only runs on that one occasion he’s almost late for work. But in the next station, he darts out of the train like a bullet out of a gun. He let his feet lead and they choose to take the direction opposite of his workplace. He forgot the speed he could reach and the familiarity of the wind that brushes through his hair.

He slows down when he sees you running towards him. Both of you slow your pace outside a Liyuean restaurant, stopping with some distance between two. A whole barrage of emotions hit him. It bothers him that he doesn’t know why he’s feeling this way. It scares him.

Both of you look at each other, neither of you taking the first step forward. The world remains in a trance. He decides he should act nonchalant and walk past you. But you drop to your knees, breathing heavy. He takes a step towards you out of concern.

You ask between pants, “Xiao, have you been taking this same route to work every day? Archons, I've been passing your station every single day.”

He halts. Narrowing his eyes at you, he chooses not to answer. He’s sure few people get asked about their job during their first meeting. You’re starting to get a little suspicious.

You chuckle, “As distant as you used to be, huh?”

He’s sure that he hasn’t met you in his entire life to warrant such a statement. Having steadied your breath, you stand up to talk to him.

“I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve said this, but we met a long time ago. Even before this era.”

Your eyes don’t leave his face and he feels you searching his soul.

You sigh, “You don’t remember again.”

He walks away, partly thinking you’re a looney. But his feet get heavier with each step he takes. Footsteps approach him and a hand circles around his wrist. Your fingers touch his wrist as if they’re fragile antique, as if it could crack if you put too much force into your grip.

“‘If you awake to a knife at your throat, if monsters dig their claws into you, if death comes knocking at your door, call out my name. Adeptus Xiao. I will be here when you call.’”

It’s as if you’ve taken words out of Xiao’s mouth, even if they feel foreign to him. He turns back to look at you, longing swirling in your eyes.

“‘Once the snow is thick enough, we can eat it.’”

A tranquil and intimate silence falls upon the two of you. In the twinkling of an eye, nobody else matters. Not the wailing child in the distance. Not the guy who stared at the both of you as he walked past. Not the sun that hangs in the sky. The moment feels more eternal than the sun could ever be.

“Are you telling me I said these?”

You nod. Xiao realises his disbelief is all over his face when you let out a hearty laugh. He hurries to wipe his emotion off his face.

A bittersweet smile graces your lips. You mumble with affection laced in your voice, “Some things about you never change.”

Outstretching your hands, you suggest, “I’ll buy you a plate of almond tofu. In exchange, give me your time and I’ll convince you. Again and again, if that’s what I’ll do.”

It’s the first time you’ve held his hand, but it fits right in yours. Your hands tell him that he is safe with you. Just maybe, your hands were the ones that he’s been reaching for in his sleep.

We’re already beautiful 우리라서 좋은 건 아무런 말 필요 없이 바라보는 눈빛 손짓

We’re already beautiful I like it because it’s us No words are necessary The gaze, the touch

Albedo contemplates the dream he had for several nights, including last night. What else could he do on a drive to an important meeting anyway?

He was in Dragonspine with someone else. The paths were way more beaten than he had remembered the last time he visited. He wore a short-sleeved coat, which he thought was insane despite his tolerance to the cold. He held a sketchbook in one hand while his other hand held someone else’s gloved hands. They’re wrapped in layers of warm clothing, their movements stiff. He can only recall their eyes no matter how many times he tries. When he said something that he doesn’t remember, his partner laughed. But he doesn’t remember what it sounds like.

The wooden planks on the path beneath his feet rattled. Looking up, he saw boulders tumbling down and before he could react, he heard a shrill scream. The ground beneath his partner collapsed. The world around him seemed to slow (which he thinks is the result of his dream being dramatic) as they fell backwards.

Albedo manages to grab one of their hands and pulls them into his embrace. The chilly updraft buffeted him, making it difficult for him to open his eyes. Whenever he could, he looked for a way to lighten the fall.

He felt them shivering in his arms, a hushed admission of fear almost escaping his ears. Relaxing the hold of one of his hands and tightening the other, he cradles the back of their head.

Albedo thinks for a split second that he’s a fool for taking his mind off the surroundings. But he remembers that he doesn’t mind taking the full impact of the fall.

He closes his eyes and strokes their head. Jean once told him words of reassurance, while it doesn't directly address the situation, it does wonders.

So, he says, “It’ll be alright.”

His butler wakes him up before he finds out whether he found a way to soften the landing. On one hand, it would be difficult with the terrain from what he had remembered. Yet. he is confident in his capabilities.

The car comes to a sudden halt. His subordinates apologise and scramble out of the car. Albedo doesn’t pay any mind to the commotion outside of his car until it takes longer than he expects.

He steps out of the car to see his henchman’s hand reaching for his gun from his pocket. You pull a small boy closer towards yourself. Slowly shifting, you position yourself between the boy and his subordinate. Your hand moves up to the back of the boy’s head. The same way Albedo cradled his special someone's head in the dream.

With a firm tone, he orders, “Stop. There’s no need to point your weapon at them.”

“But sir, they’re the child of the other group that’s been opposing us.”

Albedo puts his hand up and his subordinate keeps his mouth shut. Some unrest swims in his chest from protecting you. He could very well use you to threaten the boss of the other mafia. But he doesn’t take back his order.

A frazzled woman stumbles over to you and you let her pull the boy towards her. She introduces herself as the boy’s mother between sobs and apologises for the trouble her son has caused. She drops to the ground and pleads for Albedo to let them off.

He does. When they leave, Albedo puts his hand out to you. His henchmen shriek and protest against him doing that, but he doesn’t withdraw his hand.

Surprisingly without hesitation, you take his hand. A jolt of electricity runs up his arms and he stumbles backwards. You too pull your hand back as if you’ve touched boiling water.

Albedo hers his henchmen gasp and he steadies himself before his henchmen decide to threaten you.

He looks at you to find the same look of realisation.

You outstretch your hands and he walks closer to you. Your fingers touch at the bottom of his neck and you don’t tear your eyes away from the spot. In the faint reflection of your eyes, he sees a four-pointed star on the spot that you’re touching.

His fingers start to trace the skin above your ears. When he closes his eyes, he feels the rough texture of a stalk in his hand as he tucks the flower behind your ear. When he opens them, there’s no flower there, but the laugh that you let out is all the same.

Both of you are breathless from the waves of memories that he’s not sure if you should be having.

He dismisses his henchmen and tells them to clear out his schedule for the rest of the day. There’s a puzzled look on their face that screams “Is this our boss?” in capital letters.

Everyone in town knows the stone-cold Albedo. So cold he can make chills run down even his right-hand man’s spine. A look of softness in the tundra of Albedo’s eyes is ever so foreign and they don’t know if they can get used to it.

Regardless, his orders are absolute. They make themselves scarce in a matter of seconds. But it doesn’t take long for him to realise they might tail him.

He says out loud, to seemingly nobody, “If I see anyone from our group, I am cutting off all your fingers.”

He hears scurrying and he knows they’ve left.

Still having not spoken, you chuckle as you hook your pinky around his. Both of your feet start moving in the same direction. You wrap your fingers around his one by one until your fingers intertwine.

He doesn’t want to speak. Words feel too heavy for this delicate bubble of a paradise he’s indulging in. You raise one eyebrow at him, knowing there’s something on his mind he wants to say.

If you’ve come back to him, he can always have more moments like this in the future.

He finally says, with a straight face, “Your father will be livid.”

나에게 두 번째 지금과 다른 삶이 와도 딱 한 가지 말할 수 있는 건 난 네 옆에 있을 거란 것

Even if a second life That’s different from now comes to me The one thing I can say is That I’m going to be by your side

In the silent museum of the night, the whirring of the door to the exhibition room tethers on becoming a sign of his presence. But Thoma knows that he is safe from security. He’s got the floor plans of the entire museum and the patrol routes of the security guards memorised. Even if an anomaly occurs, he knows he got what it takes to escape.

Faint moonlight scatters into the exhibition room through the glass ceiling. He’s about to approach the painting when he hears shifting and footsteps above him. A figure descends towards the prized painting located at the centre of the room. They shift themselves around in the air as if they’re dodging invisible obstacles.

The bits of moonlight shine on parts of your attire. It doesn’t take him long for him to realise you’re the most famous jewel thief around. He doesn’t know why a jewel thief would come hanging around an art museum and he’d appreciate some answers for crashing his heist. He takes a few steps towards you, loud enough to catch only your attention.

You shift your visor up your forehead and lock your eyes with him when you turn to him.

An image of an older Inazuma City flashes his mind. He sees a person with the same pair of eyes walk towards him at the harbour of what he supposes is olden Ritou.

When he pulls himself back to the present, he notices that you’ve stopped too. You blink several times.

He knows it’s risky because the more he remains on this site, the higher the probability of him getting caught. No, he still has some time. He asks, “What’s the most infamous jewel thief of Inazuma City doing in an art museum?”

Still swinging in the air on your rope, you giggle, “Sorry for crashing your party. This is a special commission.”

You slide your visor back on and continue to descend.

Thoma takes a few more steps forward. A tone of annoyance in his voice, he says, “Hey, that’s my-”

The sirens blare and he hears you curse under your breath. You drop down to the floor and proceed to drape a large cloth over the artwork. You pull the knot of the cloth tight, shoving the painting onto him right after.

He hoists the painting on his back and doesn’t have time to react when you tie your rope around his waist.

“Drop it down immediately after you reach the top.”

You tug on it and Thoma finds himself yanked up to the roof. His heart skips a beat from the sudden movement, but he gets himself together to throw you the rope. Not long later, you get up onto the roof.

You stretch out your hand and he stands up, shifting his weight around the ball of his feet to balance himself. Without waiting for him to steady himself, you pull his hand and run.

For someone inexperienced in running around roofs, he thinks he’s doing a good job not falling. That’s until you approach the end of the roof with increasing speed and he realises you’re going to jump off to the adjacent building.

His grip on your hand tightens as both of you leap.

In his mind, he recalls a memory he didn’t know he had. He has his arms around you as he jumps off a wooden platform into the grass.

He almost trips on a tile on one of the roofs and you chide at him to get his act together.

When you feel that you’re out of the radar of the security, you finally stop running. You let go of his hand as he drops to his knees and tries to calm his hammering heart.

You quip, “I see that the most infamous art thief sucks with roofs.”

“Look, I may be fast, but no one’s taught me how to manoeuvre around high places.”

He gives you a pointed look before he hangs his head to catch his breath again. A smile creeps up onto his face, but he suppresses it so you don’t see it.

You keep quiet for a long while such that he gets concerned. He’s about to look up to you, but your hand cups his chin to tilt his head up. His breath hitches in his throat.

Using your free hand, you peel his mask off his face. His ponytail falls out of it and strands of his hair flutter in the wind. The cold midnight breeze runs its fingers through Thoma’s hair.

You pull your mask off and he sees your glazed over eyes.

He remembers a tender kiss in old Inazuma City and your flowing tears that touch his cheek. When you pull away from that kiss, he sees faint tear stains down your cheek and he wipes them away with his thumb. Before he lets your hand go, he kisses your hand and he recalls mouthing a silent wish against it for your return.

It doesn’t take him long to hold your hand in his and he presses his lips onto your knuckles. As if the wind has turned down its howling for him, he asks in a hushed tone. Only for you to hear.

“Will you… let me be your partner in crime?”

Taglist: @tiredzephh @rxspbrrry @almondoufu @bluexiao @yeetmeoffjueyunkarst @chichikoi @bookuya @under-a-starry-night @mikachuchu @serenenation @xenuuu @irethepotato @shxnosuke

You gagged dramatically into your Minlin Sunrise when Ajax did a poor imitation of your voice. “I don’t talk like that,” you said, before taking a small sip of your drink. “And I don’t wave my hands around that much when I talk.” He laughed at the little show you put on, the hand he had around your waist as steady as ever even if he was swaying from his slightly exaggerated laughter. It wouldn’t take a genius to guess that the uncharacteristic wobble in his movements was also a product of the many glasses of Fire-Water he had downed at the egging of your uncles and the assortment of old guys present at the wedding who you called ‘uncle’ regardless of blood relation.

Much to your disappointment, your drink had gone tepid and watered down from the unnecessarily long conversation with your cousins and their company from earlier, and you rose from your seat to order a new one from the open bar. Ajax immediately sprung to a standing position, his hand leaving your waist for what must be the first time in two hours and going to tug gently on your wrist to keep you seated.

“Let me get you that drink,” he said, throwing a wink and a toothy smile and a half-baked finger gun over his shoulder, not leaving you room to decline his offer since he was already three steps closer to the bar than you were.

He walked headfirst into the crowd of bodies on the dancefloor that sat between the dining area and the bar. From where you sat, you could admit to yourself that he looked just a little cool, effortlessly dodging flailing arms and straying legs from the people who were bouncing in tune with the peals of electronic dance music that echoed all over the wedding hall.

You took another sip from the remains of your Minlin Sunrise to check if it miraculously got better in the three seconds Ajax has been gone. It was worse. To wash down the less than pleasant aftertaste, you reached for the carafe of water to your far right and refilled one of the empty glasses from a drink you had earlier on in the night.

“The best Minlin Sunrise ever, only for the most attractive person in this part of town.”

His words dragged a laugh out of you first, but then you shushed him, quickly scanning your surroundings. Apparently, Ajax found the way you became a little nervous funny and he snorted into the back of his hand.

“You can’t say stuff like that at weddings to someone who isn’t the bride,” you said, after you thanked him and took the drink from him. “You were lucky we’re alone back here.”

He hefted himself onto his assigned seat beside you, like the walk to the bar and back had taken too much energy out of him. One glance at the glass he was still holding told you that he had gotten a much milder Wolfhook Spritz instead of his drink of choice, and it confirmed your suspicion that he wasn’t as much a heavyweight as he liked to brag. Loser, you thought, equals parts fondness and spite, and your Minlin Sunrise was sweeter to your tongue than it should be.

The fact that he wasn’t already lit up like a stoplight was something he could brag about, you supposed, him being as pale and ginger as he was.

“What?” you asked, suddenly aware of the weight of Ajax’s gaze on you from over the rim of the drink in your hand.

“I,” he started, putting his own drink down on the table and then proceeding to slowly turn himself around in his chair to face you. He set his elbow on the table and leaned his cheek in his upward-facing palm, keeping his eyes on you for the entirety of the two-minute pause he took after saying the one word.

“I just think you’re neat. That’s all.”

You would have spit out your precious Minlin Sunrise if you hadn’t already swallowed the last of it.

“You’re drunk, Ajax,” you said, though there were other words that perched on the tip of your tongue, sitting, waiting. He didn’t think to grace your accusation with a response, sitting with his mouth partially hidden behind his hand and simply staring at you. His gaze was shameless, despite the scant distance between your chair and his, his face and yours.

“You’re drunk,” you said again, your voice smaller this time. You were running out of things to say when he looked at you like that.

The pink tips of his ears peeked out from his hair, messy from when your brother had seen fit to “make your pretty boy less pretty” after you had introduced Ajax to your family as your boyfriend. You were overcome with an unexplainable urge to tuck the section of his hair that looked particularly awry behind his ear, and your hand moved of its own accord before you had the chance to process the thought.

Ajax caught your hand with his free one after the deed was done, and his gaze on you felt heavier still.

He spoke your name in a tone that you hadn’t heard from his lips before, and it took all your half-sober willpower not to scream because you were beginning to realise your mistake. Asking Ajax, of all the friends you had who might be willing, to be your plus one and your pretend significant other was a mistake. You had other friends who could be gently bullied into a suit, and you had other friends who could be smoothly coaxed into a gown. It would’ve been a big deal for you, but for whoever was hanging onto your arm, it was just dinner and some drinks with a strict dress code. Why did you even ask him when you had other options? It didn’t have to be him. Did it?

Before you could place a feeling to the way he said your name, he was loosening his grip on your hand to curl his own around it.

The kiss he set on the back of your hand was a spark, and you easily, almost instantly decided to become kindling for him.

Ajax said your name again, and you were sober enough to recognise the tender reverence in his voice. “Are we going to keep pretending? Are you going to keep pretending?” he asked, and your breath was steel in your lungs. You tried to pull your hand out of his hold, but what little strength you had did nothing.

“You know I was never good at that. I guess I want to know you’re the same way,” he said.

At his sheepish admission, you laughed, more out of practice than his sense of humour. “You act for a living, and you expect me to believe that?” you asked him. Your words were breathless to your hearing, and you hoped against hope that he didn’t notice. Dear Archons–

The music that was previously too loud suddenly became too quiet. You wanted the music spilling out of the speakers to be loud enough to make you feel it reverberate around in your chest, as though you were a hollow thing in this crowded space. It would have been easier to laugh it off under the façade of being a few drinks past tipsy but not quite drunk yet.

“Ajax, I think you’ve had too much to drink. Let me go so I can get you some coffee?”

He continued staring as if you hadn’t spoken at all, so you try again, maybe more than a little desperate for some respite from his gaze. “Ajax, please–”

“Your whole family is convinced. Even your noodle arms ex from high school who randomly decided to show up here is convinced. When will it be your turn?” he asked.

It was your turn to stare. You closed your mouth and sank back into your chair, replaying his words in your mind. If you were sober, the underlying message in his words might’ve been clear as streaks of daylight against the still-waking sky. The more you pretended not to understand, the more you realised that you were merely making excuses.

Ajax leaned in again, and you thought he might leave a kiss on the back of your hand again. Instead of the sensation of burning without reason and without flame, you felt a tickle on your skin. His eyes were fixed on the curve of the bone of your wrist, his mouth moving as he whispered a mantra into your knuckles.

“Ajax?”

The kiss on the back of the hand that you had anticipated finally landed, and it burned in all the best ways. He locked his eyes on yours with that brazen gaze of his that made your breath hitch in your throat for reasons that your heart had but you stubbornly refused to listen to.

“How can I convince you to let me be yours?” he asked.

Part I. Matchup with Genshin Characters

This will just be a simple match-up event that most of you should be familiar with! You just have to send in your name, preferred gender of the character I'm going to match you up with, relationship (platonic, romantic, familial), things about yourself (hobbies, personality, dislikes, interesting facts etc). The more information you give me, the more I can work with! All matchups will be under riptide.200 tag!

Do note that I will do all the released characters (including the children, but I will delete romantic matchups sent in for them) except the unreleased characters.

In addition to the character, I'll do my best to include headcanons of the characters interacting with you as well.

For this, I'll be opening up 10 slots. If all slots are filled, I may open more slots if I can handle them.

Slots remaining: 4/10

Part II. Series voting

I've been working on two series for a while and I'd like an interest check on them! I actually already have an idea on which one I might want to work on first, but depending on your votes, I'm likely to change my mind. The title and summary are subject to minor changes but I've roughly set the stories in stone.

Here are the series I've been working on:

Spring of Goodbyes - Childe

You've been seeing ghosts all your life and getting involved in their business, as much as you avoid them. You help them with their regrets, helping them unlock their door to the afterlife. This spring, you attract a grim reaper who's hunting for the very demon that you've been searching for all these years. Both of you agree to help each other. You remain wary of him throughout, for anyone so fleeting should never be entangled with someone so lasting. But the archons (if they still exist), have other plans for you. [fluff, angst, hurt/comfort]

Double Take - Thoma

Modern!AU - As a descendent of the Kujou Clan, you were not allowed to communicate with your childhood friends Ayaka and Thoma due to the tensions that arose between the tri-commission when you were children. After many years, the three commissions sorted out their differences and they set out working together again. The two transfer to your school and things settle back into normalcy with them. That’s until gears start to shift on the underside and lines begin to blur with the retainer you once had feelings for. [fluff, angst]