ELVES' BULLETIN BOARD, SECRET SANTA HAS STARTED! - CLOSED
"It has started! Everyone, the event has started! Go to your stands, we need to make sure it goes perfect this year! Don't panic, take it easy, if you have questions you know where to go! I'm so excited so excited!!"– Signed, Santa's Christmas Elf, no. 16.
"yes yes any complaints go to me. please focus on working" – Signed, Santa's right hand.
Welcome to Genshin Impact x reader Secret Santa 2024! It’s a christmas based event where you gift each other gifs. You get a randomly assigned participant and you have a create a gift for them! And vice-versa, someone gets you! Like last year's edition, the event is open to writers, artists and editors. For rules, FAQ and how to join please read under the cut.
"Please remember to read the workplace rules, so that way we can avoid any unpleasantries. Thank you." – Signed, Santa's right hand.
— RULES
This is a SFW Genshin Impact x Reader event, so it would be nice to avoid NSFW blogs in the event. That way everyone, no matter, what can take part. You can join if your blog is multifandom, as long as Genshin Impact is one of the fandoms you create for. If you are a MDNI blog but not NSFW one, you're also allowed to join and it will be ensured that you are going to be paired with another adult.
The applications will close on 29th of November, 11:59 PM GMT+1. During 30th of November to 2nd of December I will be sending messages (or asks) to the participants with the person they got. Remember to keep it a secret! After receiving the person, you are free to start creating.
Please apply only if you are sure you can do it. That way we will avoid any unpleasant situations. If it happens that, for whatever reason, you can’t take part in it anymore (after applying) please contact me as fast as you can!
Please remember to communicate. If you haven't received any message, are unable to finish your gift, need extensions, and so on, please contact me as fast as possible. That way we can ensure everything goes smoothly for both parties, and it will save additional stress for everyone.
The posting period is 24th of December to 28th of December. During this period of time all you have to do is post your work, tag the person it is for and tag the post with #gixrsecretsanta2024
To take part, just fill out the Google Forms! If you have any problems with it, feel free to DM or send an ask.
You are free to follow the blog for more updates and announcements.
"will we be getting cookies later" – Signed, Santa's Christmas Elf, no. 14.
"focus on the work and stop asking unrelated questions" – Signed, Santa's right hand.
— FAQ
“Can I take part if my fandom blog is a side one?” — Yes! Just give us username of your blog and we are all fine.
“It’s already past 28th of december and I got nothing, what do I do?” — Please send an ask or DM if this happens. I'll will ask the person that got you what is happening. In worst case scenario (as in, if we get no reply from the said person), someone else will create a gift for you.
“What’s the word minimum for fanfics? Limit? Or general theme?” — There is no word limit or minimum amount! And so there’s no certain theme people are expected to. You can create your gift with a winter theme, christmas theme, maybe something totally different, anything that you think may fit the person you got.
“I need some more details from the person I got, what do I do?” — You can reach out to them in an anonymous inbox ask, or if they don't allow anon asks, you can reach out to this blog and I will pass on your question, and their answer to you. Remember to not accidentally reveal yourself!
“I have a question that isn’t on the list” — Just ask! In DMS or blog's inbox, whichever you prefer.
ELVES' BULLETIN BOARD, IMPORTANT NOTE
"My health isn't in the best shape, so some kind of delay in the event might happen... but it doesn't have to. If it does, however, I will be sure to inform about it. Please don't get nervous if it takes a bit longer to reply to any messages, because they will be replied to, it just might take a little more time." – Signed, Santa's right hand.
"Either way... I hope everyone will have fun with this event. Please consider joining or telling your friends about it. It's very important. Thanks! Have a nice christmas or winter or day" – Signed, Santa's right hand.
byr: fluff , reader is gn , somewhat ooc xiao (?) i don't know
>> @1eaf-me-alone , i was your secret santa for the event hosted by @2024gisecretsanta , hope you'll enjoy !! (it's literally 3 am, and i need to go to sleep i sincerely apologize for any and all mistakes)
in truth, it seemed an unlikely pairing— he, a tattoo artist, immersed in the world of ink and skin; and you, a humble florist, surrounded by the delicate fragrances of petals and stems. yet despite the vast chasm between their trades, he found himself drawn, time and time again, to your flower shop. not for the blooms themselves, but for the simple, bright smile your face carried whenever he walked through the door.
with christmas fast approaching, your little shop was transformed, dressed in festive splendor. a tree stood in the corner, its branches twinkling with lights, while the soft glow of candles reflected in the delicate petals of flowers. he, on the other hand, was indifferent to such adornments— mere trinkets meant to be discarded once the season had passed. “a waste of money,” he would convince himself, though the truth of the matter lay in a deeper appreciation of beauty he would never admit.
the door’s bell jingled merrily as he entered, his presence as silent as the winter's chill. “merry christmas,” he greeted, his voice carrying little warmth, but still, it was a greeting.
you looked up, eyes alight with a warmth that could melt even the iciest of souls— and his was no exception. “merry christmas!” you replied joyfully, your voice as sweet as the song of a sparrow. “what can i do for you today?”
he glanced around, as if seeking something beyond the blooms, before his gaze fell upon the simple flower tucked in your hair. his eyes lingered, though he said nothing. meanwhile, you busied yourself with arranging a few things on the counter.
"what would you recommend?" he asked, his tone soft yet inquisitive, though his eyes never quite left you.
as you spoke, detailing the different flowers with a passionate enthusiasm, he was entranced not by the flora, but by you— the way your eyes sparkled with joy, the way your voice carried such a love for the florets. his heart, so often cold and distant, stirred in ways he could not quite name.
“these poinsettias,” you offered, presenting a vibrant bouquet. “they represent good will— perfect for the festive season.”
a quiet flutter stirred within him, a warmth he could not ignore. “perfect,” he murmured, his voice betraying a gentleness that few had ever heard.
as you wrapped the roses, your excitement bubbled forth. “christmas eve is tomorrow! i’m hosting a small gathering at my place. a few friends, a little music, maybe a dance or two. it’s going to be lovely.”
xiao, who was more accustomed to the solitude of his tattoo parlor than the clamor of celebration, found himself intrigued by the vision you painted. He could almost visualize you— laughter in your eyes, your friends gathered around, partying away as the flicker of firelight casted shadows in your home.
"sounds... lively," he admitted, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, rare and fleeting.
in a moment of spontaneity, you spoke before thinking. “you should come! it would be nice to have someone new there.” it was only then you realized what you had said, your cheeks dusted a bright pink. then, as if to retract your words, you added, “of course, only if you'd want to.”
he arched an eyebrow, an amused glint in his eyes. “me?”
“yes!” you said with a laugh. “you could join us—if you'd like..”
for a long moment, xiao was silent, his gaze thoughtful. then, his lips parted as he mustered the courage to speak up. “i might just consider it,” he said with a soft smile that seemed to promise more than mere words.
—
and so it was, on christmas eve, xiao stood in your home, an outsider amidst the warmth of your circle. your friends were lively, filled with the spirit of the season, while you, ever the gracious host, moved about with a charm that left him speechless. he watched you, admiring the effortless way you engaged with others, your laughter rich and genuine, your clumsy attempts at dancing endearing.
as the evening wore on, the music softened, and the fire crackled merrily in the hearth. there, beneath the mistletoe, you caught his eye— a glint of mischief dancing in yours.
“merry christmas,” you whispered, the chill of the air mingling with the warmth between you.
in that quiet, suspended moment, xiao allowed his stoic facade to slip. slowly, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss— gentle at first, but one that stirred something deep within him. a spark. a fire. it was a kiss that, like the rarest of flowers, bloomed in the coldest of seasons.
it was only after what felt like an eternity that you reluctantly parted your lips, your eyes meeting his in a shared gaze filled with unspoken affection. his fingers brushed against yours, tentative yet warm, until they gently intertwined, and you held his hand with a shy but heartfelt grip.
for a moment, the world around you seemed to fade, leaving only the rhythm of your breaths and the unyielding pull of your connection. he smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting with a mix of tenderness and mischief, as if he’d been waiting for this moment as long as you had.
“you’re not what i expected,” you whispered, your voice soft but steady, the honesty of your words filling the space between you.
“neither are you,” he admitted, his thumb tracing lazy circles on the back of your hand. “but i think that’s what makes this feel so.. right.”
though your lives and personalities couldn’t have been more different, something about the difference made every touch, every look, every word shared feel extraordinary.
as his laugh mingled with your smile, the thought settled in your heart like the ending of a story you’d always wanted to live:
SUMMARY ! as a concubine, you know where your loyalty and duties lie. as a general of teyvat, he knows where his loyalty and his duties lie. yet, you are both willing to break a few rules. so long as no one knows except the two of you.
NOTES ! hi hi 🫶🤓 @mafuyuslover, i got you for the @2024gisecretsanta event !! it took me a while to figure out what i should write for you and i finally got it 🤗 have not written for genshin in so long omg but i hope you like it <3 using a new format too i’ll see if it works 🫡 word count: 2.3k words
TAGS ! royal + secret lovers au ; general cyno x concubine reader, brief mentioning of emperor rex lapis x concubine reader ; ningguang is the empress, but that does not mean i ship them ; teyvat is the entire empire, regions are divided ; not proofread, bear with me y’all 💔 ; yes i based it off another romeo santos song 🗣️‼️
You always think about the first time you met him whenever you see him. Even now, when his gaze is fixated on you from across the ballroom as you sit on a large cushion by the Emperor’s side.
Today is the Emperor's birthday and this year, he decided to host a ball to celebrate. He sits on his throne. His wife, the Empress, is sitting beside him on her own throne.
Your left hand is being held by the Emperor. His thumb is pressed against the ring you’re wearing on your middle finger. It isn’t any common ring. It is a gold band with cor lapis as the setting stone. The jewel had the Geo elemental symbol carved into it. That same ring is given to all of the concubines as their first gift and it is required to be worn by them at all times.
Around your wrist is a corsage. A glaze lily to be exact. It’s the same color as your dress which has a lot of resemblance to the flower itself. It matched beautifully, at least that’s what anyone else would assume you’re wearing it for.
You were selected to be the newest concubine of the Emperor by his retainers nearly a year and a half ago. Every so often, he takes on a new concubine from a different region.
There were obviously many rules before coming into this life. But the most important one is that no concubine was allowed to have their own lover. That was the most crucial rule every concubine knew not to break. The Emperor was a possessive man who refused to share any of his lovers.
It was the turn of the Land of Natlan to present a fine selection of women when you were chosen. They all decided you were the best option and the Emperor would be pleased at their selection.
They were right. Shortly after, you became his favorite and Emperor Rex Lapis was infatuated with you. He lavished you with riches. Expensive jewelry, dresses, shoes. Majority of the other concubines were very jealous. Some held onto the false promises he made to them.
It bothers you a lot to receive this type of treatment. It’s hard to deal with not only the concubines taking a disliking towards you, but the Empress too. Where he used to only have the Empress at his side, he now brings you along as well.
For example, he made accommodations prior to the ball so you could be sitting next to him.
Rex Lapis let go of your hand. He stood up from his throne, tilting his head to look down at you. He gave you a curt nod which was his way of giving you permission to join the guests of the ball and socialize amongst them. He turned to The Empress and she quickly understood without him having to say a single word.
The Empress stood up from her chair, linking her arm with her husband. She held her head up high, refusing to spare you a second glance. The action only made you sigh as you watched the two of them maneuver through the guests. Of course she didn’t like any of the concubines. She had no reason to. But she disliked you the most. She saw you as competition for her husband’s attention and desire.
There were so many times you simply wanted to tell Empress Ningguang you had no interest in her husband besides what your duties in the palace were.
Your gaze wandered back to a certain someone in the crowd. His distinct headpiece made it easier to find him. His attention isn't on you at the moment, rather the men he’s currently speaking to. The last thing you two wanted was to make things obvious.
You wished you could proclaim to the entire empire who your lover was.
General Cyno of Sumeru.
He was part of the The Seven Generals of Teyvat. One came from each region and were chosen by the Emperor himself. They were meant to act as not only leaders, but representatives of the Emperor in their respective regions. They held more power in their homelands in comparison to when they were in Liyue.
The other six were General Xiao of Liyue, often considered the favorite of the Emperor, General Diluc of Mondstadt, General Ayato of Inazuma, General Wriothesley of Fontaine, General Ororon of Natlan, and General Ajax of Snezhnaya.
They were ordered to reside in the Palace of Liyue and rarely ever returned to their homelands unless given permission. You had seen them walking around the palace. At the time of your arrival, the only ones you had never met before were General Cyno and General Ororon.
Cyno had his own reasons. Sumeru had been in a civil war for nearly two years and the Emperor had him handling those matters on his behalf. When everything had been settled, the General was allowed to return to the Palace of Liyue. He was gone for nearly the same amount of time you had been a concubine. Interesting how life works. The very first day he came back to Liyue after the civil war of his home region is when you met him.
You stood up from the cushion, patting down your dress. Rex Lapis and Lady Ningguang were entertained with a few royal guests. It was enough time for you to slip away from the Emperor’s mind. He wouldn’t be thinking about you for the next hour or so.
You held both of your hands together in front of you and began to approach the lively crowd. A hand raised up in the air, waving to get your attention. The bright lights reflected off a gold ring, a carbon copy of the one you’re wearing. Your eyes lit up once you saw the two other recognizable faces you were searching for.
Nilou and Yoimiya, concubines of the Emperor. They’re part of the very few who weren’t, and still aren’t, jealous of the Emperor favoring you. You lean more into gathering with them because of their kind and outgoing personalities. And as much as you wanted to approach the General of Sumeru, you knew you needed to wait.
“Oh, you look so beautiful!” Nilou exclaimed once you were close enough.
“Thank you,” You flashed her a smile, eagerly greeting them both with a hug. “You two look really beautiful too.”
“Not compared to you!” Yoimiya said as you both pulled away from the embrace. “Your dress even feels like it’s made out of real glaze lilies.” She gasped when she noticed the corsage on your wrist, immediately reaching for your hand.
They continued to admire your dress for tonight’s occasion, gushing about how the color suited you and how only you could pull this look off amongst the concubines. You glanced out of the corner of your eye as Nilou and Yoimiya continued to chat about your dress to each other.
A few groups away, Cyno was with Ayato, Diluc, and Wriothesley. You could barely hear what they were talking about. Just the faint sound of General Ayato’s voice overlapping with the many other guests in the ballroom. He was listening intently like the other two with a drink in his hand. All four Generals were rather relaxed given the occasion.
He must have sensed you staring at him, because Cyno’s visible eye flicked away from his companions. Your gaze met his. It made your heart pound in your chest. Both of your hearts at that. He wanted to go over to you at that very moment but he knew the consequences. It was too early and could possibly gather unwanted attention.
It’s why it became easier to communicate with him at a distance and not have to say any words at all.
You adjusted the necklace you were wearing with your left hand. Although it was an innocent action, Cyno’s lips formed a small smile when he saw the corsage. Glaze lilies held a different meaning for the both of you. Not a single soul, besides you two, would know the significance. It was a symbol of your love, hidden in plain sight.
An unfortunate love so strong, that could never be revealed.
“Pardon me,”
You turn around, breath hitching in your chest. You forced yourself to keep the smile that wanted to appear on your face hidden.
Cyno stood behind you. He held out one hand while the other was behind his back. He was bowing in your presence. He tilted his head up slightly to look up at you. He still had that faint smile from earlier before when he first saw the corsage on your wrist.
“May I have this dance?” He asked. You couldn’t help but laugh softly. You did tell him you liked it whenever he acted chivalrous.
“You may.” Despite trying to remain serious, since it was very risky to approach you while the Emperor was around, the smile on his face widened at your answer. Cyno tenderly took your left hand in his, standing up straight. He’d like to forget about the ring on your middle finger and focus completely on the glaze lily corsage you have on.
He guided you towards the center of the ballroom where many other couples were already dancing. He never once let go of your left hand and he gently pulled you to stand in front of him. He placed his other hand on your waist. Your hand was on his shoulder and he took the lead.
It felt surreal to be this close to him in public. The only times you could be like this were during the late meetings in the palace gardens. Cyno wanted to bring you closer, but he knew better than to push his luck. Emperor Rex Lapis might be entertaining himself with his guests, that didn’t mean he wasn’t fully unaware of what his favorite concubine was doing.
Nothing was said as you continued dancing to the live orchestra. You watched as his eye wandered around, taking in your appearance again. All the concubines were elegantly dressed to appeal to the Emperor. Except that corsage and what your dress resembled was a dead giveaway to Cyno who you were trying to appeal to tonight.
Him.
“You’re divine, my lady.” He whispered. He’d made you flustered with his compliment. Ten months into this forbidden romance and you continued to shy away. Cyno glanced over briefly to locate where the Emperor was at. Rex Lapis still had Lady Ningguang at his side. He was speaking with Lord Neuvillette, mending an old friendship that had been broken decades ago. “After this dance is over, let’s go into the hallway.”
“Alright,” You agreed, keeping your voice low. You didn’t want anyone else hearing your plans to get away from the crowd.
For now, you just enjoyed being able to dance with him for the time being. It was rare you two ever got these moments out in public. To everyone else, it seemed very normal. The concubines weren’t technically forbidden from speaking to men.
When the orchestra finished, the couples stepping from each other briefly to clap. Cyno took this opportunity to slip out of the ballroom with you. He intertwined his fingers with yours, discreetly weaving through the royals and nobles. You two had made it to one of the several sets of large doors leading into the ballroom. People were preoccupied with their conversations or dancing, that no one saw you two exit.
The hallways were empty. Everyone was inside of the ballroom, including the guards that patrolled the inside of the palace. They were making quite the commotion being for the Emperor’s birthday. But he wasn’t dumb enough to expose the two of you right outside. Instead, he continued to delve deeper into the intricate hallways of Liyue's palace.
Once he believed you were at a safer location, the first thing he did was wrap his arms tightly around your shoulders. His hand was on the back of your head, pressing you closer to him and he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his torso.
He sighed against your skin. He was content being able to hold you in his arms. But if it were up to him, he would prefer to be able to hold you whenever he’d like and whenever he’d like. He lifted his head up to look at you.
“I don’t know how much longer of this I’ll be able to take.” Cyno muttered. He brought one of his hands to your face. His thumb caressed your cheek tenderly as he held onto it. You leaned into his touch, the palm of his hand pressed against your cheek.
“I don’t either.” You whispered. The warmth of your hands on his bare back was comforting to him. “Do you think we might ever be able to tell the Emperor of our love?”
“No. Not right now, at least… He treats you more like his wife than the Empress herself.” Cyno shook his head. In his honest opinion, he didn’t see it happening anytime soon. His expression became more serious and he moved a little closer towards you. “But that doesn’t mean I’m giving up hope on us.”
You exhaled at his answer. He wasn’t wrong. It was getting increasingly harder to sneak around without Emperor Rex Lapis finding out. You had been his favorite concubine for far too long now and he was showing no signs of getting bored of you. Many of the concubines said you’d only last a few months in this position.
Cyno saw the way you reacted to his words and the last thing he wanted was to ruin the mood. He cradled your face with both of his hands. He lifted your head up slightly. You immediately knew what he was asking for and you nodded. He leaned down, meeting your lips in a gentle kiss.
“I promise.” He said softly, “One day, we’ll be able to tell the entire Seven Regions of our love. And when that happens, we’ll leave for Sumeru to start our life. Together.”
…𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: In which you celebrate a festive season in the company of loved ones, regardless of what the future may hold.
…𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: Bittersweet ending.
…𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: Descriptions of blood and injury.
…𝙻𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑: 2,033 words.
….𝙰𝚍𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗: Gender-neutral reader; a spin on a hanahaki AU. This is a Secret Santa gift (run by @2024gisecretsanta) for @soleillunne /@amalythea — I hope you enjoy the fic, and Merry Christmas!
Reblogs and comments are appreciated.
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …
𝚆𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚏𝚕𝚒𝚎𝚜.
You sit in silence by the fire, half-watching as Albedo shifts components around his workbench, absorbed in thought. The embers float lazily among the logs; you focus on them, partly out of impersonal interest, partly as a distraction.
For a while, you feel perfectly normal. There is no discomfort beyond the usual fluttering rasp in your lungs. Your throat still feels a touch raw, but that is only to be expected. You take a sip of the honeyed tea which rests in a mug on your knees. In between Albedo’s quiet focus and the warmth of the fire, you begin to think that if there is any moment you would label as ‘comfortable’, it would be this.
Yet, moments later, it comes again. It begins as a sharp pinch in your chest. You seize up. So soon? Pressure builds inside you, slowly at first, then swelling painfully. You know the sensation well, and try to suppress it; but like always, the growth forces itself out of you. Spiked leaves propel themselves up your windpipe and scrape your throat, constricting your airways and sending tears to your eyes. You double over, coughing flecks of blood and a glistening red berry onto the back of your hand. A holly leaf remains wedged in your throat; you feel it digging into the softer skin like a thorn. Distastefully you pluck it out between two fingers and wipe yourself off with a handkerchief from your pocket. You raise the berry to the firelight, turn it this way and that, watch amber flicker across its waxed red coat like the veins of some evil eye.
It’s only been an hour since the last attack. It takes you a moment to slow your breathing and for your heartbeat to return to normal. You take another sip of tea; the liquid stings the open cut in your throat. At his workbench, Albedo closes his notebook with a soft sigh.
“Still nothing?” you ask hoarsely.
“I’m afraid not.” Albedo removes his gloves, places them down at the workbench, and returns to your side by the fire. You turn your palms over thoughtfully on your lap. He leans over and presses his lips to your forehead, lingering in the moment before drawing back. “I’m sorry, my love.”
You manage to produce a smile. “It’s okay. I’m hardly expecting much these days, anyway.”
He offers a similarly solemn smile in return. You rest your head on his shoulder, letting your limbs loosen and settle against him. For a few minutes, you are both silent.
“How long do I have left?” you ask in a small voice, above the hisses and pops of the fire pit. “Be honest with me.”
“You have as long as everyone does,” he replies. “A lifetime.”
“What kind of a lifetime?”
“That would depend on your frame of reference,” Albedo admits. “To a mayfly, you practically have an eternity.”
You sigh at his answer, equally fond and disappointed. Albedo is open to almost all kinds of conversation—it’s one of the things you appreciate most about him—but it always takes some pushing when you come to graze this particular topic. You appreciate the attempt at comfort; it’s sweet, knowing that he’s trying not to dishearten you, yet sometimes you wish he was not so tactful. It would make these inevitable moments easier. “Albedo…”
“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “You have survived thus far, and there has neither been a steep decline nor any sign of improvement in your condition. It is as likely that you will live to old age as it is that, by this time next year, the disease will have already overtaken you.”
“And there’s no way of knowing which one it is.”
He lowers his eyes and shakes his head, smiling with rueful affection. “No,” he says softly, drawing circles into your knuckles.
You inhale slowly. The leaves in your lungs rattle and rasp against your ribs like a rustle of paper, barely audible, which accompanies your every breath. You must breathe carefully, never too deeply, lest the spines of holly growing inside you rake your insides and cause internal bleeding. Yet the worst part of it, most of the time, isn’t the pain, or even the constant reminder of your fragile mortality. It’s the fact that nobody—not you, not Albedo, not anyone—knows the first thing about the affliction.
For months, Albedo has been studying the growths inside you, running tests on your coughed-up sprigs in vain while you search for other sources which may provide some insight. Forget about finding any treatments; you don't even know what the disease is, or where it comes from. The closest equivalent you’ve found was in a storybook of Inazuman folklore, but even there such symptoms only appeared as a result of unrequited love, whereas your relationship with Albedo has been warm, loving, comfortable. You have had the disease for longer than you have known him, anyway.
You still remember what Albedo told you, at the end of the first week of experiments. After replicating the conditions under which the holly germinates inside of you, not so much as one branch survived. He said that the only condition he was unable to reproduce was love; that you were sick because you cared so deeply for so many things. It sounded ludicrous—he was the first to admit it—but even now, no better alternative has emerged. He speculated that, perhaps, if he were to engineer a medication which numbed certain chemical receptors in your brain, he could stop you from feeling so much; that the plants might die as a result. You said you would rather die of love than live without it, because a life like that would hardly be worth anything at all.
So that is your diagnosis: love.
Can it really be so, you have been wondering since, that creatures can feed on love like a parasite? Survive on it? And why does it feel like a punishment, loving? What did you do to deserve it?
You expel the sigh. The hooked leaves tap-tap-tap against your ribs.
Your condition is what it is; there is no changing it. But there are still a few things you can take control of. The time you have left—be that a day, a year, or a decade—is in your hands. You do not want to waste it mourning a death yet to come. After all, there is no more a reason for you to do so than for anyone else to: because everybody knows that it happens to everyone, eventually.
“To the mayflies, then,” you say, stretching your legs out by the fire.
Albedo gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “To the mayflies.”
“Hey!”
Your moment of solitude is shattered by a frustrated cry, which is soon accompanied by an indignant Klee bursting into the campsite, bearing a deep pout on her face. “You said you were coming in twenty minutes! I counted and counted, and it’s been twenty one whole minutes!” She points an accusatory finger in your and Albedo’s direction. “If we’re late, it’s gonna be all your fault.”
The two of you exchange a certain look. There is an unspoken agreement between you not to raise the topic of your health in front of Klee, at least not for the time being; thus you put aside thoughts of the previous conversation in favour of entertaining the present. It ought to be a festive season, after all, not a solemn one.
“Sorry, Klee. We’re coming now,” Albedo calls, offering you a hand to help you to your feet. You thank him and accept it.
Klee stomps her boot on the floor. “Hmph. There’s no point in saying sorry. Just hurry up!”
You hastily swipe your gloves and throat drops from Albedo’s workbench and join the others by the cave entrance, from where you begin your descent down the mountainside. Klee bounces along in front while Albedo and yourself trail a few steps behind her, discussing matters such as winter shopping and activities. The sun bows its head below the snow-capped spires and soon vanishes from view. The dusk leaves you to navigate solely by lanterns and your own memory.
It is dark by the time you reach the Mondstadt gate, though no colder than it was up on Dragonspine. The knights greet you warmly and welcome you inside.
The city is alive with the hustle and bustle of seasonal festivities. Stepping through the barbican, the scents hit you immediately; a warming blend of cloves, cinnamon, pine, nutmeg and alcohol. Decorated trees have been set up in doorways, and strings of gold lights line shop fronts and rooftops, winking as you pass by streams of tightly-wrapped civilians milling around temporary market stalls. A thin, slushed layer of snow forms a slippery crust on the pavement which crunches beneath your heavy boots.
You navigate past the crowds into Angel’s Share, where a large table has been reserved for this evening’s gathering. By the looks of things, your party is the last to arrive; Klee glowers in your direction, but her bitterness is soon quelled by the excitement of the reunion.
“Jean!” she gasps. “Kaeya! Lisa!”—and so do the exclamations continue. In the meanwhile, you take a seat between Albedo and Amber, and exchange greetings around the table. It’s nice, catching up with everyone like this; despite it only being a month or two since you last came down to the city, it feels like you haven’t seen everybody in a lifetime.
“How are you, then, sweetie?” asks Lisa, pressing her hand to your cheek.
“So-so,” you say. “I’m getting by, which is what’s important. How about you?”
“Mm. I’m quite well; thank you for asking, dear. If anything, I miss your company in the library; there’s only so much interesting conversation one can have with the knights at the door.” She sighs heavily and forlornly. You roll your eyes in good humour. “Is the Dragonspine air doing you any good?”
“If anything, the air’s a bit too fresh sometimes,” you reply with a careful laugh. “It’s freezing up there. But I think it’s been helping a little, yes.”
She smiles. “I’m glad to hear it. Do you have anything planned for the rest of the season?”
“We’re going to take Klee skating on the lakes tomorrow. It was Albedo’s idea to get her active with something so that she’s, ah, less destructive with her gifts. We don’t want a repeat of last year.”
As conversation continues into the evening, a festive feast is slowly brought out, course by course; braised red cabbage, roasted goose, potato dumplings, stuffed sausage and more pass around the table, filling plates (and stomachs) with hearty warmth which is flushed down with mulled wine—and for the younger of the company, apple juice. Kaeya and Rosaria perhaps have a touch too much to drink (this becomes suspected when the former bursts into passionate carols, and confirmed when the latter uncharacteristically joins him). Diluc swiftly removes the remaining bottles from the table, much to their disappointment, and, sensing that the time remaining for sane conversation is thinning, Jean stands up, tapping her fork against her glass. The sound rings out; the tavern falls silent.
“While we’re all here together, I’d like to take the opportunity to make a toast,” she announces. “To the staff who made this gathering possible, to the knights who work to keep our people safe, to the citizens who make this city what it is—thank you. All your contributions, however small, have played a part in ensuring this last year of peace and stability. Let us hope today that our good fortune carries forwards into the future. To another prosperous year!”
The tavern raises its glasses, the drunk and sober alike murmuring assent under the unification of festive camaraderie. You, too, raise your glass and chink it against the others, meeting Albedo’s eyes with a shared sense of acceptance, love, and warmth. The stalks wrapped around your lungs seem to squeeze, to sigh and loosen all at once, performing a strange embrace around your heart. But for one tap of a glass, you do not worry about them. You smile.
Neuvillette wishes he could preserve this moment forever: the aquarium; the blue light; you.
(Everyone knows that Neuvillette adores you. Except for you, of course.)
(additional, more helpful description: u & neuvillette go on an aquarium date and he pines after you like a fool)
modern, college!au
NEUVILLETTE ♡ GN!READER
@2024gisecretsanta gift for @aquatik !! ♡ i hope you enjoy this piece, and happy holidays!!!
it was so fun to participate in this event ^^ thank u to the hosts and everyone involved for making this so special!!
Neuvillette has always noticed you.
But he notices a lot of things; like the musk of the earth after it rains, like the light that dapples the campus sidewalk, seeping in between the gaps of the leaves. Neuvillette notices a lot of things, some more than others—he muses, nearly tripping over an uneven slab of the concrete floor, periwinkle eyes fixated on nothing but—
You, similarly to him, are stumbling through the crowd. You, unlike him, are entranced in your own world, eyes darting to and fro, searching amongst the sea of people while he has only ever searched for you. There are too many people in this world, Neuvillette thinks, for him to notice every one. So he notices only one. He notices—
You return his gaze (and Neuvillette feels something shiver in his chest), your lips tugging into a smile (and Neuvillette thinks the sun has shifted, that the sun has reworked itself, tunnelling all its light towards you), your figure suddenly coming closer (and Neuvillette thinks that there is nothing left; he is complete; he is yours absolutely and that is enough).
You return his gaze. You look at him! Oh, you see him! Neuvillette thinks, This is it, this must be it. This—this…
(What is it? Neuvillette is no longer capable of thought. He is no longer sentient. He looks at you, and something slams against his ribs: this-is this-is this-is…)
“Neuvillette! I was looking for you!” you exclaim, your voice occupying his mind for much longer than it does the air. Your voice—its unfathomable timbre, its incomparable and fantastical sound! It’s enough, it’s enough!
Neuvillette opens his mouth to respond. There’s a word. He feels himself about to vomit. He feels it: the rush, the suffocation, the gag and the swallow and before he can utter it into existence he clamps his lips shut. There’s a word—or maybe three, or maybe there is no word, nothing in verbal language that is enough to liken your unutterable radiance.
(What is it? The three words? The rush, the suffocation, the gag and the breathlessness? Neuvillette feels it sinking down his throat, ebbing, reduced from a violent blare to nothing more than a whisper, it goes…)
“[Name],” Neuvillette acknowledges. Maybe, that is enough. “May I ask why?”
Why are you looking for him? Why are you searching for him? Neuvillette wants to hear you say it for himself, to hear the words—which are, after all, nothing more than words—in your fantastical and wonderful timbre. He wants to hear you speak his name—which is just a word, which is just his surname—to feel the revelation, the awakening, the surge!
“Just because,”—you say, and maybe that’s enough—”I was wondering if you had any plans over the weekend?”
Neuvillette blinks, astonished. Your smile is unwavering, your eyes—your eyes! Neuvillette briefly looks away. The image remains with him still; the color, the glint, the fraction of the sun that is vested within your soul. Neuvillette looks at you, your image devoured by periwinkle.
“I don’t,” he replies. (He had promised Furina that he’d help her with her case study.) Momentarily, his gaze averts from yours. (He had told one of his professors that he’d volunteer during office hours—who was it, again?) The lie is bitter on his tongue; but Neuvillette isn’t lying. (He’s going to send an email to the professor later, once he remembers who he promised.) Your expression glows. (Maybe this is enough.) Your gentle smile evolves into an excited grin. (He’s going to have to draft a text to Furina, too.) This is enough.
“That’s great!” You reach for your bag, sifting through the various pockets, your hand emerging with two humble, paper tickets. “I won a raffle for aquarium tickets! Do you want to come with?”
He’s whole. He’s complete. This—this is it! This is the surge, the rush, the incomparable and unutterable word! Neuvillette feels it now; the spasm of his heart, the stutter of his throat, the shrink of his figure when you do so much as perceive him!
Your gaze sinks into his skin. Neuvillette lets it. Your smile sears his brain. Neuvillette replays it. You blink. Neuvillette’s heart follows.
(Do you ever realize the way he lives? The way he finds meaning only ever because it dances within you?)
This-is-this-is-this-is…
“I would love to,” he replies, unable to contain the smile that tugs at his lips, the smolder in his chest, the primal constriction of his lungs, heaving, desperate to breathe the air you exist in. A breath! A tinge! A fraction of your incomparable existence! This-is-this-is-this-is…
(Neuvillette wonders if you caught it: the word. The word, although pale in comparison, assigns meaning to the enormity that swells within him, the colossal creature, the colossal completion, the vitality; you! Oh, you! When he cannot say your name, he must say this word; this—this fraction, this tiny, insignificant thing: love, love, love! You, you, you!)
“Really?” you say, eyes growing wide. Your lips hang slightly agape, your expression wild and fantastical and bright (Neuvillette thinks this is it); but the shock dissipates into that of utter joy (Neuvillette thinks this is it), and you grin that grin of yours. That grin, (Neuvillette wipes his sweaty palms against the fabric of his dress pants), a simple little something that amounts into an enormous everything.
“Of course.” Neuvillette knows that this is it. What else, if not this?
You look at him. His heart surges, his veins beginning to flare, his arteries spasming, flowing without an ebb, overwhelmed and incomparable (Neuvillette doesn’t need to return your gaze; he was already looking at you), insignificant and worldly.
All you have to do is look at him! All you have to do is perceive him!
“Does noon work for you?”
Any time works, Neuvillette thinks, any time at all. You could ask for him at four in the morning and Neuvillette would respond; you could stir him from his sleep, from his stupor, from his life. (Take him! Take him from his life! Take him, already!)
“Yes,” Neuvillette says, unable to contain the waver of his voice, the way his fingers instinctively reach to fiddle with his sleeves, “that’s perfect.”
You look away. His heart surges, his veins beginning to flare, his arteries spasming, ebbing without flow, overwhelmed and incomparable (Neuvillette wishes you would look at him; he wishes you would perceive him, for just a moment will do), insignificant and worldly.
“Alright,” you say, grinning. “Noon it is.”
This-is-this-is-this-is…
It is, Neuvillette thinks. This is it.
Neuvillette has an unspoken routine.
Every day, he wakes up at six, even if he has no morning classes. Every day, he takes a morning walk around the city, admiring the most mundane of sights, like the glow of the lamplights, reflecting off puddles that congregate along sidewalks, like the airplane that soars by, smoke trailing in its wake.
Every day, he returns to his apartment and drinks a warm cup of water. Every day, he opens his laptop, and he sifts through his inbox, responding to different emails and updating his calendar accordingly.
Every day, he saves a slot for you. Today, he fills it in officially; the weekend; the aquarium; noon.
Every day, Neuvillette shuts his laptop, and he takes a sip of his warm water, and he thinks. Sometimes, he thinks about legal cases. Sometimes, he thinks about assignments that are due. Sometimes, he doesn’t have any thoughts at all.
But every time, he thinks of you. You weave yourself into his daily routine, the legal cases and the assignments. You appear! Even when you’re not there; even when he hasn’t seen you in a couple days, you’re terribly real and terribly vivid.
And somehow, despite everything, you’re unfathomable. (But Neuvillette fathoms you so often, so poignantly, it’s as if you’re tangible. As if you’re worldly when all you have ever been, to him, was esoteric. Unable to be comprehended. Unable to be conjured within thought, in any comparable magnitude to the colossal vitality that is, so undoubtedly, real. So, undoubtedly, you.)
Today, Neuvillette dons his finest coat. He fits the warmest scarf around his neck. He pats his pockets, and he adjusts his wristwatch—what time is it, again? He looks down—ten o’clock, he should start leaving now.
The door to his apartment swings open. Neuvillette glances up.
“Neuvillette?” Wriothesley remarks, shrugging off his work uniform haphazardly, strands of his obsidian hair sticking to his skin. “You’re still here?”
“Wriothesley,” Neuvillette acknowledges, “indeed, I am.”
“That’s a surprise,” Wriothesley says, pale blue eyes drifting over Neuvillette’s outfit. “What’s the occasion?”
Neuvillette has never considered himself to be transparent, but at the same time, he has never made it an effort to be enigmatic. But the knowing look that Wriothesley gives him is enough to make Neuvillette wonder: has he always been so plainly obvious?
Then, he thinks of you. Have you noticed how plainly obvious Neuvillette is? Have you known all along, yet never brought it up in an effort to spare his feelings?
(Have you ever wanted—for just a fraction, for just a moment—him to be so obvious? Have you ever looked at him—and held his image within your irises—when he hasn’t been looking at you (Which Neuvillette thinks, frankly, that’s impossible; he’s always looking at you)? Have you—have…)
Wriothesley chuckles. “Don’t think too hard about it. Who knows,”—he shrugs, his expression unreadable—“maybe you’ll be in for a surprise.”
Wriothesley has always known more than what he lets on; it’s just in his nature, as a part-time security guard and a student of criminal justice.
He has never been wrong, Neuvillette thinks—his mind shifts. His mind forms an image, vivid and bright and fantastical; it’s you.
This time, however, he might be. Neuvillette thinks Wriothesley’s implications are outlandish. How could he expect a surprise from you, when you already do so much as exist?
Still, Neuvillette replies, “Maybe.”
There’s a magic that follows after your existence. It’s like the petrichor that swarms the earth after it rains; like the inevitable belief that night follows after day; like the certainty that vests within time; the fact that tomorrow will come, the fact that you are, despite everything, real. It’s unfathomable, really. Your existence.
And Neuvillette has wondered when everything began, when the world started to shift, when the sun became more than the sun: when it became you. Maybe, it started when he was your partner in a group project back in physics class (which he barely managed to pass with your late-night tutoring and guidance). Maybe, it started when he realized that you were there throughout everything—through the years of his worst, when he loathed everyone, when he had no love in his heart, when the most mundane of things remained as they were: mundane.
Maybe, it doesn’t matter when things begin. All that matters is that they exist now.
“I should get going,” Neuvillette says, taking another peek at his watch.
Wriothesley nods. “Have fun. Let me know if there are any breakthroughs.”
Neuvillette blinks, echoing, “Breakthroughs?”
Wriothesley flashes another one of those knowing expressions. This time, all he offers is a hum. And this time, Neuvillette doesn’t pry; he gives in. Neuvillette does a lot of that—he thinks of you—giving in, and pressing onwards, and living in the unknown despite the answer being right—he thinks of you—in front of him.
He arrives at the subway station an hour and a half before noon. Neuvillette sneaks another glance at his wristwatch, thinking, I’m right on time. After taking a seat on a nearby bench, Neuvillette begins to observe, periwinkle gaze drifting across the sea of people, anchorless and free, his senses reborn as the world reincarnates anew. The air is crisp, the cold stinging the tip of his nose, puffs of condensation escaping his parted lips—Neuvillette feels everything. The fabric against his skin; the surge of life; the rush of the passerby; the frantic and erratic breath that life exhales with each gust of wind.
“Neuvillette!” a voice pierces the crowd, passing through the canal of his ear and stabbing cleanly through his heart. Although it’s just a sound, Neuvillette hears it wholly: the timbre, the tone, the familiarity of his name (which is, after all, not even his first name), the way the syllables sound sacred (and Neuvillette must attribute the fragility to the owner of the voice, not the name) despite it being uttered many times before.
This-is-this-is-this-is… You. You!
At your call, Neuvillette stands. His hands, unsure of what to do, reach for the sleeves of his coat, fiddling with the hem while his gaze fixates on you. Once more, periwinkle drowns in your figure. Once more, the world is right.
“[Name],” Neuvillette replies, unable to contain the gentle smile that possesses his lips. “You’re early.”
You laugh. “You’re earlier!”
“Yes,” he admits—this-is-this-is-this-is—“you’re right.”
The subway ride to the aquarium is peaceful. Neuvillette couldn’t have asked for anything else, because there you were, and there was the world, and there was the sun, and there you were, and—oh, did he mention that already?
Neuvillette thinks you were the most wonderful of them all. You; your eyes, focused on the scenery outside. You; your voice, dipped into a whisper as you speak of precious little nothings which, to Neuvillette, seem to be worth everything.
You’re radiant. Fantastically so. Neuvillette has this realization time and time again. Every time periwinkle swallows your image, and every time his heart shivers at the proximity of your presence, Neuvillette is made aware of how colossally significant you are. You’re like the world. Sublime. Wondrous.
“Neuvillette,” you suddenly say, and Neuvillette feels his ribs shudder. “Thank you for coming with me today.”
He swallows thickly—the way you say his name; oh, the way you, the way you—somehow, he finds his voice, breathing out, “It is my pleasure.”
“Neuvillette!”—and there you go again, calling his name, unaware of the spasm of his heart, the binding of his lungs—“come over here! Look, these are whale sharks!”
Oh, that’s right, Neuvillette thinks, this is your domain. Before he can open his mouth to respond, you usher him in the direction of the spotted creature, its wide mouth stretched agape while it drifts throughout the blue waters, followed by a squad of smaller fish.
“Those are remoras,” you explain, “they attach themselves to sharks and feed off of parasites that grow on the shark’s skin.”
Oh, Neuvillette thinks, noticing the glimmer of your eyes under the aquatic light, noticing the way your words begin to slur together out of sheer excitement, unable to keep up with the tempo of your thoughts.
You’re beautiful.
“What are those?” Neuvillette asks, pointing towards the manta rays.
“Those are manta rays!” you exclaim. “Like the whale shark, they’re filter feeders!”
“What does that mean?” Neuvillette queries. “To be a filter feeder?”
“It means both whale sharks and manta rays filter out the free-floating plankton drift in the water!” you say, and oh, Neuvillette thinks you look ethereal. This is your domain; the great ocean; the blue light; the knowledge; the passion. You own the sea. The world. Oh, the world!
“Did you know manta rays don’t have skeletons? They’re made of cartilage.”
“No, I didn’t,” Neuvillette replies, despite knowing that fact from the plethora of articles he read about marine life a couple days back. Neuvillette didn’t want to seem ignorant in front of you, a marine biology major, but at the same time, he thinks this is a much better alternative.
This-is-this-is-this-is…
You smile at him. “It’s all good! I go to this aquarium pretty often, so I know a thing or two.”
You’re lying, Neuvillette thinks. You know more than just a “thing or two.” You know—you know everything, it seems!
(Still, Neuvillette doesn’t pry. He does a lot of that, he supposes—he thinks of you—in your presence, and with the realization—he thinks of you—that you are, unbelievably, here. Tangible. With him. With him!)
Neuvillette wishes he could bottle this moment and keep it forever.
He observes this aquarium through your gaze, measuring all the creatures with the same joy that you hold them to, learning all there is about different fin types and different species groups. Orcas are not fish, they are marine mammals—Neuvillette knew that too, from an article titled “What Are Orcas Truly?”—sharks breathe by swimming and passing oxygenated water through their gills—Neuvillette learned that fact last night from a video titled “Sharks Sleep While Moving!”
If he weren’t a law major, Neuvillette thinks he would’ve gone into marine biology, too. (And he wonders what it’d be like, to have the same classes as you, to be able to share this knowledge with you, to be able to discuss marine life on a higher level than the rudimentary facts you’re forced to share with him, who is unfamiliar with this world.)
Neuvillette wishes that he knew more than what he knew. He wishes he could crawl into your brain and adore the ocean with the same passion that you have. He wishes he could share your struggles with strict lab professors, and discuss answers after difficult quizzes—but the boundary between your major and his is too large. He knows nothing. He can say nothing. He is nothing. So he opts to remain silent and stare.
Can he ever return to this moment again? You; the blue light; the whale sharks; the manta rays; the world! Can he ever revisit this aquarium? Will you ever want to go with him again? Will you speak to him in the same, lovely voice? Will you call his name with the same, lovely timbre?
Oh, Neuvillette wants! He wants! He wants this moment! This aquarium! You!
His heart shudders.
This-is-this-is-this-is…
And the moment is ending. Everything returns to where it started. Neuvillette finds himself on the subway once more, sitting by your side, watching you watch the window, the sun setting in the horizon, the day slipping away.
He wants to bottle this: the pink hues, the orange glimmer, the blue memory, the aquarium, you. He wants to grasp this scene and slip it into his wallet, like a charm, like a reminder of the world and all that has meaning. He looks at you. He wants—and he stops there, because he’s overstepping his boundaries and that’s too much to ask for.
A yawn escapes your lips, you apologize, muttering, “Sorry, I’m a little tired right now.”
Neuvillette notices the lull of your head, the flutter of your lashes as you struggle to stay awake.
“It’s alright.” His leg begins to bounce, his fingers reaching to fiddle with the hems of his sleeves once more. “If I may offer my shoulder, if you would, um… In case you would like to rest.”
Although you don’t seem to mind, or notice, the filler word that slips into his speech, Neuvillette is already questioning himself, berating his sudden inability to speak, reduced to nothing in your colossal presence. For how could he ever amount to anything if you are already everything?
“Thank you, Neuvillette.”
His heart lurches. His lungs heave. His brain falters, unable to form any coherent thought that isn’t composed, in its entirety, you.
Your eyes flutter shut, and your head comes to rest against his shoulder, and Neuvillette thinks—while his leg bounces up and down, mad—that, if he could, he would bottle this moment, and—while his breath shutters, coming to a stop—and, and he would preserve it. And he would love it. This light; this subway; this world; you. Forever.
Neuvillette has always noticed you. From the moment his periwinkle eyes first beheld your existence, from the moment the world incarnated anew, from the moment—which he wishes he could bottle—your gaze dawned upon him, when dusk dawned upon the two of you, when everything dissipated into darkness, he noticed you then. Even without sight. Even without speech. Even without his senses.
He notices you now, too. He notices the way your brow furrows when the sun’s light slips across your face, the world illuminating and perceiving your irrevocable beauty. He notices the way you turn away slightly, burying your face into the fabric of his coat, trying to escape the radiance which pales in comparison to your own.
His hand comes up to block the sun. Your expression eases. Your breathing evens out and the world is right again.
This-is-this-is-this-is…
Neuvillette rests his head against yours, his touch featherlight—the bounce of his leg comes to a stop—his lungs pausing, capturing the breath which holds the essence of your existence—and the moment is preserved—and the final incarnation is complete.
This is…
The sun’s final light disappears. The moment is over.
Neuvillette feels your head against his. A new moment starts.
And he supposes—without much deliberation—and he thinks—and he has thought this, for the longest of times—that this is love.
synopsis from the marine lover -> when spending the holiday season with someone like your lover, you never know what to expect; but it just makes it that much better.
phylum echinodermata -> genshin impact - inazuma
characters -> itto x reader, the arataki gang appear throughout the story, super secret guest star appearances (kat will know).
word count -> 2.1k
content -> one shot; fluff - female reader
water levels -> all safe, no warnings
heyyyyy kat fancy seeing you here ahahaha....on my secret santa post...haha...@yyuangss, this was the biggest secret I had to keep from you EVER you have no idea. this is our third year participating in this secret Santa (to which, thank you @2024gisecretsanta for hosting this amazing event ever year.) and we always joked how fun it would be if we got each other one year, and I was lucky enough to have gotten you. I seriously could never ask for a better best friend than you, and being able to give you a piece of writing considering you were the first writer I ever looked up to is such a big circle moment. I love you stink stink <3
inazuman winters tend to cover the towns in thick veils of pristine white snow, the sky up above a deeper gray; one could say it was a similar shade to months back when the archon issued the sakoku decree. winter time was just another cold reminder of how it used to be. keyword: it.
the naku weed glowed that much brighter - the leaves of the sakura trees seemed more vibrant - even the amakumo fruit tastes sweeter. ever since the decree lifted, everything seemed to fall back into place.
most of all; winter in inazuma was a stark contrast to its warm, sunny counterpart. at least this year, the streets are filled with decorative lights, the laughter of children, and the remembrance of old holiday traditions. some elders even whispered throughout the streets that there might be a chance of snowfall.
“old wives tale,” you muttered. but you couldn’t deny it was a chiller morning than usual. your blinds were pulled in, so you couldn’t exactly see the outdoors. but it couldn’t be, no?
taking yourself away from the warm spot by the heated stove, reluctant of course, you made your way to your front door, your warm beverage in hand. stepping even a foot away, you missed the warmth, but you couldn’t deny the increased coldness as you walked through your home, especially the freezing sensation when you laid your hand on the doorknob.
cracking the door open, you couldn’t believe it, was it really—
well, not like you could see. considering a sudden ball struck your face, cold, cold, very cold. as it slowly slid off your face, covering your lashes in a thick sheet of ice— ah yes, snow. landing straight into your delectably warm drink with a loud plop.
a vibrant, exuberant laugh filled your surrounding area, maybe it was the fact your eyelids were shut that your ears picked up on the sound louder and quicker. but you knew, you didn’t need to open your eyes to know who it was.
“WOO!” followed soon after, continued with more laughter, “babe, babe! it really is snowfall! look, look. see? i even made a snowball!” your boyfriend - the self-proclaimed one-and-oni arataki itto; head of the arataki gang was at your front door.
who threw a snowball in your face.
“itto.” you muttered, your eyes still closed shut as you heard him walking towards you, his shoes squeaking against the apparent snow you have yet to see.
“yeeeesss?” he responded in a higher-pitched voice. it was louder, so you could only assume - granted with the footsteps - he was now standing in front of you.
you sighed, taking your free hand to wipe the remaining snow that had yet to melt off your eyelids. “did you just throw a snowball at me?” you muttered, opening your eyes. at least you opened them at a good time to see itto’s expression fall from excitement to realization, seemingly needed for you to verbally communicate what he did.
“i-i. well. you see,” he laughed, starting to shake his hands in front of you. “it wasn’t meant for your face, i swear! it was meant for the…the door!” he pointed, then quickly got to dusting off the snow that had fallen on your shoulders, coincidentally falling into your mug.
“it’s not scalding hot, it should’ve cooled down. it should be cool by now, should be cool by now—“ you contemplated, looking down at the snow covering your previous warm beverage, wondering if you should throw it at itto.
“oh, hey! now it looks like it has whipped cream in there—“
yeah. you threw the drink at him.
“itto, why are you cold!” you hissed as he put his hand over yours that was warmly tucked into your jacket’s pocket. not like you’d tell him to move it though
“because you banished me outside!” he argued back. “you left me out in the cold. how could you be so heartless,” he sighed dramatically.
if your hands weren’t so cold, you’d rub your nose. instead, you compromise with a sigh, “because you threw a snowball at me.” you mumbled, but moved the hand in your pocket to hold his, the former immediately grinning at you, squeezing your hand.
“pfft, forgive and forget,” he laughed off pulling your now intertwined hands out of your jacket pocket to drag you towards the town.
“you really shouldn’t run,” you tried to argue, but when did he ever listen. it wasn’t like your place was far from town - it could have been a nice simple walk instead of a marathon run.
but oh no, karma had other plans.
as itto graciously proceeds to drag you, ignoring all protests especially the ones that involved the words ‘stop!’ or ‘slow down!’
of course he wouldn’t notice he was running straight through a sheet of ice he would inevitably slip on. and of course he’s going to slip, and fall, and take you down with him. and of course he is going to take that fall undoubtedly yelling for all of inazuma to hear.
at least your fall wasn’t too bad, but when you turned to see him, of course his tongue got conveniently stuck onto a poll.
you tried to warn him. you really did.
“ah vittle healp hear?” he tried to speak his best, but it wasn’t like he could properly pronounce his words when his tongue was getting frozen onto a pole. he tried to pull it back, but that was a no go.
“let me go get some hot water,” you sighed, starting to walk back towards your place.
sure you were going to get some hot water, but there was no way you weren’t going to also grab your kamera.
one thing about the winter time in inazuma, it gets dark very quickly, and even colder than when the sun was out. you know what excuse that made for though? a good-old-fashioned fire pit.
itto led you through the streets of the town - making sure not to slip on more ice and risk yet another picture - but uncharacteristically stopped his quick-paced movements when you both reached the lit-up portions of town.
it was beautiful to say the least. houses decorated with colorful lights, the children running around playing with each other, neighbors conversing between each other - it was like your small town was brought back to life.
your favorite had to be itto running around with the children though, playing along with them. if you didn’t know any better, or if he wasn’t so tall, you’d think he’s one of them. of course he made sure everyone was included: that’s just the man he is.
eventually when he had his fill, he comes back around to you, his nose and cheeks dusted in a rosy color, definitely from the cold. he grinned at you as you redid his scarf. would he usually protest against such frivolous manners? yes, but not when it came from you.
“you’re cold.” you stated the obvious.
“i feel warmer already, ‘cause i’m with you.” he said so simply, with no need to think.
maybe you were the one that got warmer, because you couldn’t deny the warmth filling your cheeks, and he sure wasn’t going to let you live that down.
eventually you’ll make it to the campfire in the middle of the town. eventually. but hey, you made it! sure, it took a few detours, like itto finding his ‘new champion’, but you also got a pretty sakura bloom out of it, gently resting in your hair where itto placed it.
you sighed, taking in the nice, toasty warmth from the fire. surely you’d smell like the smoke, but you wouldn’t, no, couldn’t trade this moment. especially not when you can see your boyfriend running over with two sticks, a marshmallow on each end.
itto was a lot of things, a good companion, a goofball sole would say, an amazing lover to you, but you did not expect him to be that good at roasting marshmallows. perfectly golden, soft, and warm. you on the other hand? not so good at it. well, clearly. could you even call that a marshmallow when it resembles a lump of coal?
if you knew any better, you’d think the two girls over on the other side of the fire were laughing at your attempt of roasting a marshmallow, but something told you it had less to do with you and more to do with the woman in the long, brown skirt trying to knock the ball away from the woman in glasses.
but like you said, itto was a lot of things. of course he would give you his perfectly roasted marshmallow and take your…marshmallow. all with his perfect grin as he assembled the s’more. never once complaining, giving you a toothy smile.
“this is soo good…!” he exclaimed. you had to wipe the corner of his lip that was filled with chocolate, and he takes the opportunity to snag a kiss to your hand.
that was just the type of man he was.
but sadly, you had your responsibilities
of course you complained on the walk back to your place - you’d much rather stay with him. but you had to do what you had to do. so you both - reluctantly - parted ways one he dropped you off. and while yes, itto could’ve spent some time with you, you knew you’d get quickly distracted. it was impossible not to!
time passed, and you couldn’t help but hear a sudden thud against your door. and again. and again. you walked over to your door, cautiously opening it. seemed like you weren’t the only cautious one, as itto had his hand winded back, hesitantly with a snowball.
“you better not—“ you started, looking at the pile of snow by your door. you heard the soft thud of the snowball falling behind him. now this gave you the chance to see him and his gang, minus shinobu, decked out in holiday attire, with crumbled papers in their hands.
“ahem. the one and oni arataki gang shall now bless you with these carols!” he announced, turning to act like a conductor with no sense of direction, just waving his hands.
“ah, one; ah, two; ah, one, two, three—“ he counted, before you heard the most off key rendition of ‘deck the halls,’ you've ever heard. i mean, half of them weren’t even on beat.
still made you smile though. especially when itto hit an operatic finally, reciting, “fa la la la la, la la la la,” shoving his members away to not take away from his big moment. he walked over to hug you, well, more like try to carry you to join them in caroling, much to your protest.
maybe you could just try conducting, just this once. you know, some supervision. the thing you were doing could wait.
you two hung back as you all walked to the next house. you looked up at him as he grinned, and you knew that expression - he was up to something.
he grinned as he pulled a smushed mistletoe out from his pocket. the berries matching the red in his hair, honestly, it was kinda romantic. “m’lady,” he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.
you sighed, sarcastically rolling yours eyes. but you did lean up to kiss his cheek, “nice try, lover boy.” you teased with a grin as he whined, claiming ‘that’s not how it’s done.’ and how his ‘great onikabuto queen has betrayed him.’
yeah, that one got him a snowball to the back of his head. to which eventually, you both didn’t make it to the next house, instead throwing snow at each other, enjoying the laughter filling the air.
this may have been the first year in which inazuma finally seemed lively for the holidays in a long time, but it was also your first holiday season with your boyfriend. and something tells you, regardless of the things around you, itto would’ve made this time the most memorable of all.
glass bottle message -> this had to be the hardest thing to pull off ever guys omg, kat always reads my stuff beforehand and I couldn't ask her for ANYTHING. anyways stink I have a documentary of me trying to pull this heist off. I hope you all enjoyed, happy holidays! <3
This is my Secret Santa for @perpetualcynicism (event run by @2025gisecretsanta) I hope you enjoy the fic, and I wish you a merry Christmas!
Summary: it’s Christmas Eve, whilst some couples may decide to make out under the mistletoe or ice skate under the moonlight, you and Xiao chose to cook a meal together- although a simple domestic task, you both find pleasure in the art of cooking and were excited to do so. Verr Goldet and Smiley Yanxiao were able to facilitate this plan by giving you two the opportunity to cook in the kitchen of Wangshu Inn. They were both more than happy to help out Xiao and his partner (for it is not often that he finds romance.)
Genre: Fluff
Warnings: None.
length: 2k words~
Other: gender-neutral reader, reader is in an established relationship with Xiao.
A/n: I apologise if the fic seems a little rushed or unfinished, there were extraneous circumstances which I had to deal with, but I wanted to get the fic out in time to the best of my ability!
Reblogs and comments are appreciated
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
It was snowing this Christmas Eve. The snowflakes fell gracefully down, as if in a delicate dance. A blanket of snow covered the harbour and everything in sight- the water had been frozen solid, and people were ice skating upon it. The stone spires which peaked in the city, were frosted in glistening snow, and the trees upon Yujing Terrace were glazed in ice. The icicles hung upon the houses and huts of Liyue like baubles on a tree and the windows of Wanghsuu Inn itself were, tinted with frost. Inside the Inn, customers had started to gather- their colourful cloaks creating stark contrast against the colourless surroundings, the sunlight, which beamed on the wooden roof of the inn made the snow twinkle in the daylight.
The wind howled through the windows and out the doors, and the people chattered, laughing, and giggling from the tables of the inn. The brightly lit fire illuminated the darkness of the dull sky. The footsteps of the waiters scattering about, their shoes creaking upon the old, wooden boards. Huai’a was busy shovelling the snow from the entrance of the inn, asking customers to brush their snow-ridden shoes and boots on the carpets before entering.
The thick scent of fresh, clean snow filled the customer’s lungs. Wood smoke from food being cooked curled somnambulantly up the chimneys, and the earthy aroma of damp wool and gloves mixed with the pleasant smell of fresh food ingredients- the spices especially, cinnamon, cloves, anise, ginger, cardamom vanilla all blended together, creating a delightful wave of appetising fragrances.
Both you and Xiao had been quickly ushered by YanXiao and Verr Goldet into the kitchen of the inn. A brief pat on the back, and a smile was all the communication required between them, and you were sent on your way.
Upon entering the kitchen, you immediately lock eyes with Xiao, grabbing your huge *Christmas* List of Potential Things To Cook from your pocket as it unravelled onto your lap, spilling onto the floor. You glanced at your scrawled handwriting.
“Right, what should we cook? There’s..” (you skimmed the list)
Your mouth began to water, imagining the delicacies of each dish- the cooked and cured meats, the steaming fish, the careful balance of spices and aromas~
“Almond tofu.”
The image of the idyllic meal you had imagined shattered instantaneously.
“Almond tofu?”
Xiao nodded, you looked longingly at the lengthy list of Christmas recipe ideas you had compiled, filled with the ink of your scribbled handwriting on each side of the paper.
“Are you certain?”
He nodded again.
You glimpsed back at Xiao, then back at the list, and eventually let out an exasperated sigh, scrunching the piece of paper in your hands into a ball and chucking it into the bin.
“Almond tofu it is.”
He smiled.
You glanced at the kitchen. Smiley YanXiao had very kindly laid out all the pots and pans for you in neat piles. The sink was shiny, the cutting boards were set, and the knives and cutlery had been placed in organised rows, where it was easier to access and find.
There was no need for a recipe, for you had both cooked this dish many times before.
You pointed towards the cabinet. “Could you pass me the agar agar powder?”
Xiao nodded, grabbing a wooden ladder which had been left on the side of the room, and dragging it to the other side of the kitchen. He pulled himself up the ladder, opening the cabinet, and grunting as he realised the agar agar had been placed on the top shelf. He tiptoed in an attempt to reach for the ingredient but failed to do so. You heard a dissatisfied huff escape his lips.
Commotion, the scraping of the ladder, movement. You watched in silent amusement as Xiao grabbed a long spoon from one of the drawers in the kitchen, and positioned the ladder closer to the cabinet. This time, he managed to reach the ingredient, and carefully moved it towards him. He couldn’t see. The spoon moved too quickly, the agar agar fell on the floor. Smiley YanXiao snorted from outside the room and you followed suit, but seeing a glare come your way, quickly and decidedly disguised it with a cough.
Climbing down the ladder, Xiao handed you the agar agar. You thanked him, kissed him on both sides of the cheek, and then spun around to grab a pan. You filled it with water, temporarily mesmerised by the swooshing sound it made as it hit the metallic base.
You brought the pan to the flame, turned on the gas, and watched as the flame set alight, forming a circle of fire, growing larger, encircling the stove. After a few minutes, the water began to boil. You added the agar agar and started to mix them slowly together. You grinned back at Xiao, he blushed back.
“Could you pass me the almond milk? It should be on the left side of the fridge.”
Xiao nodded, and walked up to the fridge, grabbing the milk, and passing it to you. You smiled. He smiled back. It had been a while since the both of you had cooked, it was nice to have this opportunity.
The mixture was thick now, a wordless glance and Xiao began to help you mix, slowly adding the almond milk to the pan. After the ingredients had been carefully and thoroughly incorporated, you both stood back.
“We need to let it boil for 10 minutes”
You nodded. Glancing out the window, your eyes widened in surprise at the speed of the day. The sun had begun to set. The clouds were tinted deep reds and pinks.
The blink of a moment.
The pan began to simmer. Letting go of Xiao’s hand, you walked towards the stove and turned off the heat. Watching as the flames fell and then vanished from sight.
You nodded towards Xiao, who, holding the milk and vanilla and almond extracts in hand, poured them in whilst you stirred the pot gently.
You glanced back at Xiao, a furrowed expression on his face, concentrated at the task in hand.
You strained the mixture using the tofu mould. Xiao held it, helping you in the process, a hand on your shoulder.
You placed the tofu in the fridge, for it had to be set.
“Well… we have an hour to spare…”
You took Xiao’s hand, guiding him to the top of Wangshu Inn. You reached the open area and sat on the rooftop next to him.
The sun was in the midst of setting. Its gilded rays touch the outskirts of Liyue. The shadows of the surrounding environment swooped upon the inn, enveloping it in comfortable darkness. The stars had started to become visible, small spots in the red and yellow sky. The snow was starting to pile on the ground, and a blanket of white glittered around you. The snowflakes danced gently down the sky~
Xiao’s voice interrupted your thoughts.
“Once the snow is thick enough, we can eat it.”
You opened your mouth to laugh, but a chatter escaped your lips. You were shivering. Xiao glanced back at you, and wordlessly, grabbed a blanket (which was stored in his sleeve) wrapping it carefully around you. You lay your head on his shoulder and close your eyes. Your fingertips began to tingle, you could feel the warmth of his breath on your neck.
“I’m cold.”
“…I can see that.”
“Maybe a little kiss might warm me?”
He groaned, but you could see a small blush flush his face.
“If that’s what you want, then that’s what you shall receive.”
And he kissed you. Once. Gently on the lips.
“Are you warmer now?” his eyebrows tugged in mild concern.
“Yes.”
The crunching of snow behind you, footsteps on cracked ice.
“Your tofu’s ready”
You heard Smiley YanXiao’s voice from below. You glanced back at Xiao and picked yourself up from the ground, linking your arms with his and walking back down to the kitchen.
“Thank you, Yanxiao.” you stole him a glance, and he winked.
“We should get back to work.”
With immediacy, Xiao walked to the stove and sprinkled the almonds onto the pan, watching as they sizzled and turned amongst each other, you stirred them, whilst he tossed the almonds. One hand in his, the other on the wooden spoon.
The almonds had now become a sun-kissed golden hue, glazed and toasted. The nutty waft rose from the pan into your nose. You both collectively smiled in satisfaction as the aroma floated gracefully in the air.
“I should start on the sauce” you murmured, he agreed.
You proceeded to add water to the pan, watching as it spashed, hitting the rim and sides, and swirling in the centre. You grabbed the packeted sugar on the shelf (with no need of a ladder) and stirred it into the heating water. You poured in the liquor, and let the mixture boil.
You tapped Xiao lightly on the nose with the wooden spoon, kissing him gently on the lips.
Quickly, you turned your attention back onto the pan- you had to stop getting distracted, but it was hard when Archons he, was gorgeous.
You turned the knobs on the stove, and the fire came to a stop. You poured in the blossom water whilst Xiao added in the toasted almonds.
It’s late now. The sky is dark- almost black. The only thing illuminating it are the stars twinkling in the sky. The air was crisp and cold, it flowed through your lungs like ice. You watched as puffed clouds of freezing water exited your mouth. The moonlight shone through the cracks and slithers of the wooden panels, bathing in the shadows of the inn.
The Inn was quieter than before, excited shouts and loud celebrations had been replaced with fevered whispers. The icicles on the tree at the top of the inn swayed to and fro whilst branches bristled in the frigid weather. The lanterns flooded the darkness with light and the man you loved sat beside you.
Footsteps next to you, you heard Smiley Yanxiao's voice, his head peeping from the doorway, holding two plates in his hand.
“Your food is served.”
He smiled, of course, he did, and bowed in an overdramatic fashion, then stepped back and left.
You picked up the fork from the plate which Smiley YanXiao had very kindly given you and lifted a slice of the almond tofu into your mouth. It was sweet, and creamy and nutty, the texture melting and dissolving in your mouth. The flavours were mild but well done.
You grinned, popping a slice of almond tofu into Xiao’s mouth to let him taste it.
He grinned back.
“I think we did a good job.”
He nodded.
You rested your head upon his shoulders, watching as the snowflakes fell gracefully from the midnight sky above you. You turned towards Xiao and smiled.
⤷ info: diluc, wanderer x gn! reader (separate) || fluff and hurt/comfort || wc: 1564 (total)
⤷ warnings: oblivious reader (and diluc himself tbh), wanderer is,,, himself? brief mentions of reader being hurt but not too many details. half the time i write for genshin i dont care to match flower names into canon ones, this is one of those times and you guys just need to deal with it/lh wanderer's part is shorter bc i didn't know how to continue it.
⤷ extra: This is my gift to @daosies for @2024gisecretsanta 's secret santa event! Hope these are okay, haha i was gonna post this on christmas morning but i got impatient.
diluc.
The warm hues of the Mondstadt sunset cast a golden glow over the familiar stretch of rolling vineyards. You sat cross-legged under the towering oak tree by the edge of the Dawn Winery estate, twirling a small daisy between your fingers. Diluc sat a little distance away, leaning back against the bark of the tree. The setting sun framed his fiery red hair like an ember glowing in the dusk, and his sharp, focused eyes stared out at the horizon.
“You’re quiet today,” you said, breaking the silence.
He hummed in acknowledgment, tilting his head slightly to look at you. “Just thinking.”
“You always say that,” you teased, tossing the daisy at him. It landed on his lap, and he looked down at it with the faintest smile.
“Because it’s true,” he replied, lifting the flower and twirling it between his fingers the way you had been moments ago.
You shifted to lie back on the grass, staring up at the sky now painted in shades of pink and orange. “What’s got you so deep in thought?”
There was a pause, long enough that you almost thought he wouldn’t answer.
“...You,” he admitted softly.
You turned your head sharply to look at him, heart skipping a beat. “What about me?”
Diluc avoided your gaze, looking at the daisy instead as if it held all the answers. His usually confident demeanor faltered, replaced with an unfamiliar shyness.
“Just… how long we’ve been friends,” he said after a moment, his voice measured. “How much you’ve always been there.”
“Of course,” you said, trying to sound casual despite the sudden flutter in your chest. “That’s what friends are for.”
Friends. The word hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meanings. You wanted to say more, to ask if he ever thought about you the way you thought about him. But instead, you sat up and plucked another flower from the ground, holding it out to him with a playful smile.
“Here, another daisy for your collection,” you said, trying to lighten the mood.
He took it, his fingers brushing against yours for a fleeting moment that made your pulse quicken. “You’re strange sometimes, you know that?”
“You’re the one keeping them,” you shot back, grinning.
“I only keep what’s worth keeping,” he replied, his voice soft but steady, his crimson eyes locking onto yours.
The weight of his gaze made your teasing smile falter. For a moment, it felt like the world had gone still—no rustling leaves, no distant chirping of birds, just the two of you under the fading light.
“Diluc…” you began, but you didn’t know how to finish.
He looked away first, his ears tinged red. “It’s getting late. I should walk you home.”
Your heart sank at the abrupt shift, but you nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”
As the two of you walked back toward Mondstadt, the silence was comfortable, yet filled with the words neither of you dared to say. You stole glances at him, wondering if he could hear the rapid thrum of your heart.
And as Diluc walked beside you, his hand brushing against yours ever so slightly, he wondered the same thing.
Days turned into weeks, and the memory of that sunset evening lingered like a half-forgotten dream. Every shared glance with Diluc made your heart race, every accidental brush of his hand left you aching for more, but neither of you said anything.
You told yourself it was for the best. What if he didn’t feel the same? What if confessing ruined the years of friendship you cherished so much?
But your heart had other plans.
It was another quiet evening at the Dawn Winery, this time in the cozy warmth of the study. The crackling of the fireplace filled the room, casting dancing shadows on the walls. You sat in the armchair across from Diluc, clutching a cup of tea he had prepared.
“I’m surprised you had time for this,” you said, trying to keep your voice light. “Doesn’t Master Diluc always have work to do?”
He glanced at you over the rim of his cup, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I can make time for important things.”
You nearly choked on your tea, heart skipping a beat. Was that a compliment? Did he mean you? Shaking your head, you forced yourself to focus on the fire instead of his piercing crimson eyes.
But the moment wouldn’t let you go.
“Diluc,” you said softly, almost without thinking.
He hummed in response, setting his cup down. “What is it?”
Your grip tightened on the porcelain, and the words tumbled out before you could stop them. “I think I love you.”
The weight of your confession crashed into you like a thunderclap. Your eyes widened in panic, your breath catching in your throat as you realized what you’d just said.
“I-I mean—forget I said that!” you stammered, setting the cup down hastily and waving your hands as though you could physically take the words back. “I didn’t mean it, or—no, I did, but not like that, or maybe I did—Oh Archons, just forget it! Please, forget it!”
Diluc blinked, stunned for a moment. Then, to your utter shock, a soft chuckle escaped his lips.
“Why are you laughing?!” you exclaimed, burying your face in your hands.
“I’m laughing,” he said, his voice warm and full of something you couldn’t quite place, “because you’ve just made this much easier for me.”
You peeked at him through your fingers, confused. “What… what do you mean?”
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze soft but unwavering. “I’ve felt the same way about you for a long time.”
You froze, the world tilting on its axis. “You’re joking,” you said flatly, shaking your head. “You’re not serious.”
“Do I look like someone who would joke about this?” he asked, raising a brow.
You hesitated, searching his face for any hint of insincerity, but all you saw was quiet certainty. “You… really mean it?”
Instead of answering with words, Diluc closed the distance between you. His hand cupped your cheek gently, giving you plenty of time to pull away, but you didn’t. His lips pressed against yours, soft and sure, like a promise made in silence.
The kiss stole the breath from your lungs, and when he finally pulled back, your heart was pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it.
“Does that convince you?” he asked, his voice a low murmur.
You could only nod, too overwhelmed to form words.
He smiled—a rare, genuine smile that made your chest feel impossibly warm. “Good,” he said, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “Because I don’t plan on letting you forget it.”
wanderer.
The sharp scent of antiseptic stings your nose as Wanderer kneels in front of you, his deft hands busy cleaning the gash on your arm. His touch is precise and gentle, yet his words sting more than the wound ever could.
"Do you have any idea how reckless you are? You’re a complete idiot, you know that?" His indigo eyes bore into yours, sharp as a blade, but there's something softer hidden behind his glare. "What were you thinking, throwing yourself into danger like that?"
"I was trying to help," you mutter weakly, unable to meet his gaze.
"Help?" His voice rises, then falls into a low, simmering growl. "You call this helping? Getting yourself hurt like this? You could have—" He cuts himself off, a rare flicker of vulnerability breaking through his irritation.
He sighs, exasperated, and reaches for the bandages. "Hold still," he orders.
The bandage feels cool against your skin as he carefully wraps it around your arm, his hands so steady and gentle that you almost forget the scolding. His fingers brush over your skin with deliberate tenderness, and the contrast between his harsh tone and his delicate touch is almost dizzying.
"You’re so infuriating," he mutters, shaking his head. "Why do you always make me worry like this? It’s like you’re trying to give me a heart attack—if I even had one." His lips twitch into a smirk at his own sarcasm, but the worry behind his words is unmistakable.
"I'm sorry," you say softly, daring to glance up at him.
He pauses, his hands stilling as his eyes meet yours. For a moment, the air is thick with unspoken emotions. Then, with a sigh, he leans in, his forehead briefly pressing against yours. "You really are an idiot," he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost affectionate.
Before you can respond, he tilts your chin up and presses a kiss to your lips. It's firm, lingering, and filled with a quiet desperation that he’d never put into words.
When he pulls away, his glare returns, but it’s less convincing now. "Don’t think this means I’ve forgiven you. Next time, stay out of trouble—or I’ll tie you to a tree until the danger’s gone. Got it?"
You can't help but laugh, even though it earns you a half-hearted scowl. "Got it."
"Good," he says, wrapping the final bandage with a precise knot. Then, to your surprise, he brushes a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering just a moment too long. "Because if you pull something like this again, I won’t just scold you—I’ll haunt you. Permanently."
Despite his words, the way he cups your cheek and presses a featherlight kiss to your temple tells you all you need to know about how deeply he cares.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
@amalythea 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.
"Sinceriest apologies for the delay, but please do remember to reach out if you still didn't receive your gift! Additionally, soon all works posted should be rebloged on this account. Once again, apologies for the delay!" – Signed, Santa's right hand.
do i have to post my gift officially or can i send it to their inbox directly?
hello!! it's preferred that you post it, but if for whatever reason you're unable to do that, you're free to send the gift directly to them! as long as they receive their gift, it doesn't matter much.
"Hey, hey, hey! It's this time of the year again!! I am so excited to be inviting you all to another edition of Genshinblr Secret Santa, starting next week! I can't wait to see you all joining! Merry Christmas!" – Signed, Santa's Christmas Elf, no. 16.
"It's always a very busy time here, but we all have a lot of fun anyway. And it's such a joy seeing people's happiness after they receive their gifts. Don't forget, save the date in your calendars, 25.11.2024!" – Signed, Santa's Christmas Elf, no. 11.
"The applications are opening so soon, oh, I'm a little worried... It's nice to see my co-workers so excited, but, man, I just can't help but worry if everything goes well. Well, I hope everything goes well this year... please join if you'd like to! It's a very cool event. Thank you. " – Signed, Santa's Christmas Elf, no. 28.
"I am not being paid enough." – Signed, Santa's right hand, organizator of this event themselves.
Under Santa's right hand's review, you see a bunch of scribbles, some crossed out. You take a look.
"but you're the one paying us"
"and i'm saying i don't get compensated enough for all the things i deal with"
"you're so dramatic christmas is a time of happiness and not complaining. you do that every year"
"i'm going to fire you i swear to SANTA HIMSELF"
"THATS WORKPLAKHARRSJKCJE"
It seems the last person was interrupted mid writing... and here you though Christmas Elves were all nice and sweet, working all days with Santa and singing christmas songs. Seems you were wrong. You look at the reviews again. "Genshin impact x Reader Secret Santa event, starting Monday, 25th November"...
Summary: If you asked Scaramouche if he ever felt jealous, he'd say that he doesn't waste his time on human emotions. Although if that's the case, then what is it he's feeling when he sees you with Tartaglia?
Pairing: Scaramouche x female reader
Tags: Scaramouche being bad at feelings, hurt/comfort, possibly ooc Scara, not proofread so sorry for any mistakes,
A/n: Hi @yureismellslikefanfic I got you for the @2023gisecretsanta event! Sorry about it being a bit late, I had to go through like eight trials just to start writing it but I eventually did it! I hope you enjoy it!
Scaramouche was absolutely, in no way shape or form, jealous.
That's what he'd tell himself, anyways. Denying that he'd ever care for a lowly human in any capacity; much less seek their attention.
So why did he feel an irresistible urge to suddenly dispose of the eleventh fatui harbinger whenever he was around you?
He saw how you smiled at the ginger more than him, and it wasn't your teasing smiles you'd give when he was around, it was a genuine one that he rarely saw on you.
Childe was chatting away with you by his side, unaware, or perhaps simply ignoring Scaramouche's glare.
Scaramouche debated going over there and simply dragging you away, but then what? And why did he even have the urge to do so in the first place?
As Scaramouche was internally seething and questioning why he was doing so in the first place, he noticed the ginger lean down into your ear to whisper something, and whatever it was he could only imagine was flirtatious in nature since you blushed.
Oh that did it.
Disregarding any previous notion to ignore it he made his way over to you and Childe, speaking before he could even really process it.
“What are you doing? Don’t you have anything more important to be done then converse with others?” Scaramouche asked, glaring at you.
“What’s wrong with her talking to me? Are you opposed to friendly conversation?” Childe replied, which only turned Scaramouche’s glare towards him.
Scaramouche scoffed, “It’s hardly ‘friendly’ from what I’ve heard. You’re both getting too personal for a work environment.” And oh no, that came out more bitter than intended. He could already see a smirk start to cover your face.
“Oho? My lord, are you, mayhaps, jealous in any way?” You ask with an annoyingly satisfied grin.
His next words don't come as easily as they should have, “You're so full of yourself. Of course I'm not.”
Before either you or Childe can respond, Scaramouche turns away from the both of you, walking away as he tells you both, “Do as you please, it's not as if I care.”
Despite the ugly feelings bubbling up that Scaramouche would never admit even existed, he left you and Childe alone.
He all but stormed into his office, but he hardly got a moment before you stepped in.
“Wait, Scaramouche. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you.” You told him, and he scoffed.
“As if a lowly human such as yourself could evoke such feelings from me.” He replied.
“Right… So if you weren't upset, what was all that about?” You ask, clearly not buying his story.
“It's none of your business.” Scaramouche very much avoided answering your question.
You cross your arms, “I just want to help, is all.” You say.
“I don't need help from a being such as you.” Scaramouche said, and he knew he was pushing your buttons.
It seems, however, you had quite enough of him today so you turned around and walked towards the door. “Fine, be that way, then. At least I know Childe actually likes me.” You say and it's such a childish remark and yet it still spurred him into action.
He grabbed your arm before you could leave, “What do you mean, ‘he actually likes you’?” Scaramouche basically demands.
You turn back to him with a glare, “Exactly what I said. At least Childe pretends to care about me, unlike you.”
“Do you think I don't care about you?” Scaramouche asks, speaking before thinking.
It seems you both realize what he said and Scaramouche quickly let's go of your arm.
“Forget I said anything, just go back to-”
“You care about me?” You interrupted him, and you looked so full of hope as you said that, like you'd fully believed Scaramouche to hate you as he does everyone.
For once, Scaramouche didn't have a response. It was an odd feeling.
“Scaramouche?” You ask again after his prolonged silence, “Do you care for me?”
And isn't that the question of the hour? Scaramouche had been fully convinced he'd scrubbed away all human emotions, but then you had to enter the picture. Making him feel things he thought he never could again.
Despite his lingering silence, you simply smiled. “It's okay,” You said, “You don't have to answer now.”
Scaramouche only scoffed, “Whatever, just go. I'm sure you're forgetting something by prolonging your visit here.”
By the way you immediately startled and hurried out the door, Scaramouche can only guess that he was correct.
“Shoot, right!” You exclaimed, “I gotta go, see you later, bye!” You said in quick succession before leaving and closing the door behind you.
Scaramouche stood still after you left, simply staring at the spot you were in moments prior.
Maybe, against all odds, that wasn't just a slip of the tongue. Perhaps, somewhere deep down, Scaramouche did truly care for you. Maybe he even loved you.
But that was a tough pill to swallow. Scaramouche didn't even know if he was capable of feeling love.
Although, if it was with you, maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
☆ - how much longer must you wait for him? | hurt/comfort ♡ - neuvillette only | wc: 654 ♪ - no warnings | gn reader ★ - note: this is my @2023gisecretsanta secret santa for @euniveve !! sorry about the slight delay, i was fighting with tumblr to get this out in time >< i hope you like it !!
being the beloved of fontaine’s iudex has its ups and downs. not only do you have a loving partner who’s eyes are only ever on you, but you get to teach and introduce said partner to new feelings and help him articulate and put those emotions into words. right now, you were basking in the loneliness that you often found yourself swimming in. your hydro dragon was of course a very important figure of fontaine; he worked almost everyday of the year and rarely did he takes breaks. winter was one of the times where he was most busy, petty crimes increasing as the days got colder.
you were curled up in a warm blanket, fire blazing near you. your body was warm, but your heart… you felt so lonely. you understood how important his job was, how he was needed by fontaine. it was times like these that you questioned how much he loved you. times when he was too busy to have dinner with you, leftovers going cold waiting for him. times when you’d fall asleep to an empty bed, waking up to sheets long gone cold. the only proof of his stay being the wrinkles in the covers.
you let out a sigh, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. it was late, you figured you should just turn in for the night. there was no point waiting for a man who was too busy for you.
as you entered your shared bedroom, you heard the familiar sound of the front door creaking open. you debated going to greet him: your brain screamed no but your heart begged you to finally see him again after so long alone. ultimately, your brain won, your heart being left to drown in despair.
you made yourself as comfortable as can be in a cold, empty bed and closed your eyes. it seems sleep wouldn’t come easy that night.
a while passed, your tossing and turning only serving as a reminder for that which was missing. that was until you heard quiet footsteps approaching the room, and then the sound of the door hinges trying and failing to silently move the door.
“mon chéri?” he whispered, assuming you were already asleep.
“neuvi…” you uttered. your forlorn heart won this time. he rushed to your side, dread etched into his features.
“what’s wrong? are you hurt? who did this to you?” hearing the concern in his voice made you tear up. you were hurt, but it was inadvertently his vault.
“i missed you so much,” you sniffled, closing your eyes as a tiny tear slipped down your cheek.
“oh, love…” he scooped you up into his arms, cradling your head to his chest. the sheer affection shown through that action alone made you sob, more tears flowing freely and soaking into his shirt. you clung desperately to him, afraid to be left alone once more.
“i’m so sorry. i love you more than you could ever believe,” he tilted your head up to face him, gloved thumb swiping away at your tears, “please, give me a chance to make it up to you. i swear i won’t make the same mistakes again.”
there was no battle needed this time, you knew you’d give him another chance.
“okay,” you whispered, unable to meet his eye, “i’ll give you another chance.”
pressing a kiss to your forehead, he replied,
“thank you, my dear. i promise never to hurt you again. i’ll take tomorrow off, we can spend it together, just the two of us.”
you were a bit shocked at how quickly it was happening; you couldn’t wait for tomorrow though. you two spent the rest of the night in each others arms, neuvillette rocking you gently to help you sleep. his presence was the fire that kept your heart burning. your presence was the current that kept him afloat. you knew now that being his beloved meant moments of loneliness; you also knew that he’d always be there to wipe your tears, even if he was the cause.
thank you for reading ! please reblog with tags if you enjoyed
SYNOPSIS: i’m gonna make you mine (or in other words, a game of chess with ayato.) | word count: 0.7k
characters: ayato x gn!reader
categories: fluff, ig slight angst, scenario
warnings: the banter could be considered slightly suggestive?? chess terminology that may be inaccurate, threats of violence as a joke, one swear, ayato is a little bit of an ass (read my notes!)
notes: title is from a song, not someone’s elemental burst btw. forever a hater of the fact that hoyo boiled down ayato’s personality to liking boba, being ayaka’s brother + head commissioner, and politeness. we’re giving him banter and snark bc i said so /hj
surprise @aquatik !! i’m your secret santa >:DD im a little rusty when it comes to writing TwT and this fic style is kind of different from my usual so!! i hope you enjoy this fic & my interpretation of him heh. and have a happy holiday!!
You wanted to strangle him.
Tension was laced through the air, a fine weaving of intricate ribbon that wrapped around your shoulders and settled softly, but not unnoticeably. A featherlight weight that demanded acknowledgement. The white knight in front of you was mocking, horse head positioned carefully to swipe your bishop with no way of getting out of it.
Ayato watched on in glee. A delicate smirk laid out on his refined face.
With a sigh, you continued to mull over your painstaking next move. His pieces had begun to dominate your side of the board with a few of yours off to the side by his arm. Ayato laced his fingers together, rested his chin on the back of his hands, and huffed in amusement.
“If you keep staring at me like that, I’m just not going to take my turn,” you remarked with a scowl, glaring at him from across the table. He cocked his head, expression not wavering.
“Like what?”
“Like you’ve already won,” you stated, looking back down at the pieces still on the board, “like you’ve already beat me before this is even over.”
“But,” a gloved finger came to rest on his chin as he cheerfully quipped back, “haven't I?”
“This game is not over until one of us officially knocks down the opponent’s king.” You moved a pawn. D5.
“Are you sure?” White pawn C4.
“Positive.” Your pawn to C4. Queen’s Gambit accepted. His piece sat off the board to your right.
“You know.” His knight took your bishop; your queen took his knight. “I have told you that I was a master at this, darling.”
“Master at what?” You opened up your last bishop. “Running your mouth?” A flimsy checkmate was secured.
Ayato laughed, a hearty sound that came from deep in his chest and frothed in his throat when it reached the top.
“It’s wonderful playing with you, my love, you know that?”
“No,” you felt the beginnings of a smile appear as you spoke, “I don’t. Please tell me more.”
His queen was gone but so were both of your knights. Yet he still grinned.
“Oops.” Rooks cornered your king despite the placement of your queen, effectively pushing the useless royal to the corner. Ayato smiled, eyes closed as he folded his hands neatly in his lap.
“Checkmate.”
You scoured the board, looking for a brief slip up on his end, for any open area, before sighing, “Good game, love.”
“An excellent one indeed.” His eyes alight with mirth and tease foretold what he was about to say next. “Although, maybe practicing with someone more of your caliber may do you some good.”
The small kingdom shook and chess pieces fell, rooks and queens rolling off the table as both kings toppled.
Slammed in the centre, a crater in the checkered pattern, was your hand. Chair shoved back, you had abruptly stood and scraped the furniture against dark wood. Ayato raised his sight up a slight amount, cheekiness in his giggles while you glowered back. He stood, gaze locked with yours as he leaned in.
Before a single new word could fall from his lips, you had pulled him by the soft material of his robe, fabric melting under your touch.
“I was trying to be nice,” you grumbled. From outer eyes, anyone could have mistaken it for utter hatred. Between the two of you, the venom was neutral; Ayato wouldn’t find real malice behind the things you said.
“As was I.”
“I fear for the officials you meet on a daily basis if this is your ‘nice’.”
His smile fell, not from his face or in the way those games that laid about on the floor, but into something softer; warm and homey. He placed a hand over the one clutched to his clothing.
“It’s a good thing it’s the holiday season then, isn’t it?” He bumped his forehead against yours over the table, position awkward yet he made do. “Means I’m all yours.”
You faked annoyance, a roll of the eyes followed by a scoff, but the smile that threatened to split your face said it all.
“Oh poor me. However will I manage?” You replied before tugging and locking your lips with his.
✧˚ · . xiao wasn't going to work this christmas! make sure of that!
- character/s: xiao x reader
- notes: modern au, fluff, 1552 words
- message: @perpetualcynicism!! howdy! its an honor to be your secret santa! ive read some of your work and the way you portray xiao had me so intimidated huhu, your writing is wonderful! even if i wrote him in a different way from you see him, i hope i don't disappoint you! take care of yourself!
Even as the world bustles about with colorful lights, Xiao stays unmoving.
Last year, the year before that, and the year before the year before, he'd spend Christmas huddled in his office, doing all the work that no one wanted to do on the 'special day.'
Unfortunately, as the sun set on Christmas Eve, Xiao wasn't doing his work for the week. Though he was in his office as usual, his computer and the countless files he had to look over sat untouched. His hand was itching to get it done, to run away from the warmth of the candles because frankly he didn't deserve it.
What did he do to deserve the happiness that flickered in his heart? The softest of touches that held him? The sound of your voice and the jingle of bells? He hated it. He hated it because he was happy, he enjoyed this when he did little to deserve it.
Just earlier, at the end of the work day, everyone filed out to go spend Christmas Eve with their families. With a cup of coffee, he went to his office to spend the night working before you came in.
"Merry Christmas! Put your work away, we're having Christmas dinner!"
A blanket was put on the ground, artificial candles littering the floor along with a picnic basket. You had listened to none of his requests to let him work in peace, insisting that he should relax.
"You always work overtime, even Mr. Zhongli thinks you should take it easy. I'll help you with your work, don't worry– But just enjoy the night!"
What did he do to deserve everyone worrying over him?
You stood on his office chair, trying to hang a mistletoe on his ceiling, and Xiao stood and panicked from the ground, doing his best to keep the chair steady so you wouldn't fall.
"This is unnecessary," Xiao frowned. "Go spend the night with your loved ones, I'll be alright."
"Hm?" You said. "But you are one of my loved ones, aren't you?"
Xiao felt a rush of happiness at that.
As he helped you set up the picnic you set up in his office, he took a moment to focus his attention on you and you alone.
What was it... Right. Like two ends of a magnet, perhaps. Two people who were opposites, yet fit together and stuck next to each other. As one end of the magnet, Xiao had promised himself he would never detach himself from you. Even if it pained him with doubts, insecurities, he would let you in his heart.
He didn't deserve it, he didn't deserve you.
Despite that fact, you held out the spoonful of tofu and brought it to his lips, treating him like some sort of princess. Xiao thought that it was incredibly far from the truth. If anything, you were royalty to him. Just a word directed from you to him felt like the greatest honor of all.
"Hey," you said hesitantly, "If you don't mind me asking... Why don't you celebrate Christmas? Or at least take the day off..."
Xiao took a moment to think. Should he really burden you with his meaningless worries? He's been living life mostly alone for years, it wasn't like his problems were too important, it was just some thoughts–
"... I feel like I'm in debt," Xiao muttered, pushing his tofu on the plate. "Everyone doing all these nice things... I feel like no matter how much I give, I can't pay them back."
He sighed, looking out the window. It felt like a privilege, he was incredibly grateful to even see the bright lights and the pure snow falling onto the ground. Not to mention what you did for him– Keeping him company for as long as you've known him and celebrating like this? He'd dedicate his life to you at this point.
Xiao looked down, running a hand through his hair. "Like now... I don't know how to pay you back. I could pay you, if you tell me the cost for everything–"
You smiled, gently pushing his arm. You looked so unbothered, it was obvious that this matter didn't bother you as much as it bothered him. He couldn't imagine it. How could you not care at all? Wouldn't be easier if everything could be transactional?
"You don't have to pay me back," you responded. "Your company is enough, don't worry."
His company? Could his company pay back all the time you took to make him happy?
'Then I'll spend my life with you,' Xiao wanted to say. 'You can have my company for as long as you want, until you grow tired of me.'
The meal was soon over, and the two of you ended up laying down on the fluffy carpet, under the mistletoe and right in front of the large window behind his desk. Snow fell slowly, and he could hear the occasional firework in the distance. It felt something of a painting, perhaps. A quiet scene that contradicted the usual business of his mind.
"You know what happens under a mistletoe?" You asked– he could hear the smile in your voice.
"... Do you want me to kiss you?" He asked, looking over to you.
"Do you want to?"
Xiao stayed silent, and undoubtedly having a pink color on his cheeks. He held your hand instead, running a thumb over the back of it. He couldn't tell if you were kidding or not, so he kept to himself, hoping that his touch could tell you everything.
His thanks, his love, his happiness.
Like anyone, he dreamed of a day where he could be happy and free, where he could exist without worry. Ever since he first dreamed of it, he only fell into another spiral of problems. Was something wrong with him? If he could dream of such as carefree life, surely he could live it out.
It was best not to think of it, so he buried himself in work.
When he first befriended you, it felt like one of his dreams.
Though the two of you met at work, your relationship with him didn't feel like the work he did. If you did something good for him, you didn't expect anything back. He could mess up, and you'd still smile at him. You could still dream with him.
He could so easily take everything he'd ever dreamed of from you, but you trusted him.
It felt just like a dream.
What did he do to deserve it?
But Xiao was happy, undoubtedly.
He hoped you were as happy as him.
"Oh! I have gift for you!" You said, digging in your bag. Pulling out a wooden box, you placed it in front of him, an expectant look in your eyes. It looked like a music box, quite well crafted and a little detailing on the sides. (Though, even if it was falling apart, Xiao would love it all the same.)
He opened it slowly, seeing a little figurine pop up. When he hovered his hand over the handle, you nodded your head a bit, and he cranked in the handle.
The little figurine spun, and the song played. Xiao couldn't help but stare, entranced in it. It sounded so familiar, something from a distant memory, but...
"Ah," he whispered. "Venti's song..."
"I had a little help making it," you said. "I hope you like it..."
"I do," Xiao said immediately, looking up at you. This wasn't fair now, was it? You even had a gift for him, and all he did was stay in the same room as you and help you decorate his office. Now he had to think of something really nice to give you. "... I do, I really do. Thank you."
You smiled, giving his hand a small squeeze. "Merry Christmas, Xiao."
You stayed together for a little bit more, enjoying each other's presence. Expressing feelings, taking slow and soft breaths, enjoying the warmth from each other's bodies, enjoying the Christmas Eve. Even if Xiao's past Christmas Eves were filled with the sound of typing and the smell of coffee, he didn't mind having the chance to change.
Especially if it was with you.
Since you didn't particularly want to sleep in the cramped space of Xiao's office, you decided to leave for the night with a promise to spend Christmas day together.
Xiao shifted his weight, looking over towards the box of decorations you were cleaning up. The mistletoe lay just on top of them all. He did have something he could give you, to express his thanks.
"I want to give you everything I have," he mumbled, not quite looking into your eyes. His hand tugged gently at your clothing, as if he didn't wish to startle you in any way. "I love you... I want you to take anything you want from me. All of my being is yours."
Awkwardly holding the mistletoe beside your heads, he sighed softly, hoping to whatever was out there that you didn't want to push him away.
"I'll give you whatever you want, just ask for it," he said. "But... For now, if... If you wish me to, I can give you a kiss. Under the mistletoe."
And so, that gift was the first of many more to come.
Summary: Now that things have quieted down after the winter festival, you feel it’s time to celebrate with a hot pot party. Ayaka has insisted that you invite Ayato personally.
A/N: My gift for @laurequenta
I had a lot of fun writing this! Ayaka and Thoma are such shippers in their own subtle and sometimes less subtle ways.
Happy Holidays!
~*~
After the winter festival concluded, work around the Kamisato estate and your own family’s estate calmed down, and the weather became even colder, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to play another hot pot game. You had gone to the Komore Teahouse to ask Thoma what he thought (as well as play with Taroumaru), and he had happily agreed to participate. You’d just taken off your haori and scarf and hung them when Ayaka arrived as well. After hearing your idea, Ayaka grew excited about having a hot pot party too. Then, she insisted that you need to be the one to let the Head of the Kamisato Clan know about the plan and invite him as well.
You don’t mind. Your families had worked together for generations, your mothers had been close, and you considered him a dear friend. You’d known each other since childhood after all. You had fond memories of walks in the gardens, studying and comparing notes after lessons, of playing together with Ayaka, and of him showing you what he’d learned about sword fighting. You remember going to the Narukami Shrine together for New Years, warming your hands with cups of amazake and checking fortunes. When you think back on those times, you realize that you actually spent a fair amount of time together. A good chunk of your youth was spent at the Kamisato Estate and with the eldest Kamisato sibling. At least that was the case until Ayato took over the position of clan head. He became significantly busier after that.
As the years passed you maintained a good friendship with Ayaka and Thoma, however, you still felt fondest of the eldest Kamisato despite your differing paths.
Even now that you are adults, because you know of his fondness for odd snacks, whenever you see something you think he would enjoy you would get it for him. When you were able to give him the unique treats in person, his gaze would soften and the small smile that appeared on his face felt more… genuine. But when you weren’t able to give them to him yourself, he would send a letter describing the goods almost like a review column belonging in something from the Yae Publishing House. It never fails to make you smile. And when the two of you do get to spend time together, it’s like nothing has changed… provided that the two of you aren’t in public or are alone. When you do see him at events, there’s an air of formality around him that makes him feel more distant.
You much prefer being around him when he doesn’t need to put up a front.
“Master Ayato said he would be taking a walk around Hanamizaka, ___,” Thoma informs with a smile. “He didn’t leave too long ago.”
“Oh, you should go over now and invite him! I don’t believe he has any plans for tonight, so we could meet back here with ingredients in a few hours to have the hot pot party,” Ayaka claps her hands together with a warm expression on her face. “And if he is busy, then we could have one with just the three of us. Would that work for you?”
You look up thoughtfully before giving the younger Kamisato a nod. “I’ll need to send word to my family, but I don’t have any other commitments today.”
“Would you like me to send the message to your estate while you check in with my lord?” Thoma tilts his head to the side cutely.
“That would be much appreciated, Thoma,” you smile politely and wave goodbye before making your way towards Hanamizaka. “I’ll see you two soon. Jya ne!”
As you make your way through the city, you can see your breath come out in puffs. It’s cold— and you can feel the chill through your kimono even though you’re wearing one of your thicker ones. Ayato certainly was bold— most Inazumans avoided being out in this temperature. But perhaps that was why he felt comfortable to walk about— he’d never been fond of crowds, especially after he’d become clan head. It was important to keep up public appearances when part of a noble household, and since Ayaka was well-loved by the people, Ayato could get away with being in the shadows so long as his few appearances were viewed positively.
The street vendors are still manning their stalls even though business is slow, but they were more prepared for the weather than you. They wear scarves and hats as well proper outer layers. Drat— you should have grabbed your scarf at least before leaving the teahouse. You mentally kick yourself and bring your fingertips up to your mouth, attempting to use your breath to warm them. When you next glance up, you see Ayato making his way towards you, an easy smile playing on his lips.
“Ayato!” You beam at him when he stops in front of you, one hand on his hip as he furrows his brows.
“Aren’t you cold, ___?” The man asks, you nod your head sheepishly.
“Ayaka and Thoma told me you were around here, and I forgot to put my layers back on before I went looking for you.”
“When you say it like that, it makes it sound like it’s my fault you’re cold,” Ayato chuckles, taking off his scarf and looping it around your neck. “Honestly… what could be so important that you’d forget? Surely seeing me isn’t worth catching a cold over.”
“We’re going to have a hot pot party tonight,” you explain, subconsciously nuzzling into the warm fabric and laughing with a hint of embarrassment, “since things have quieted down, I thought it’d be nice for all of us to get together again.”
“Ayaka must have insisted you invite me personally. Am I correct?”
“She did. But I would have invited you regardless.”
Ayato’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he leaned in a bit closer. “Truly?”
You roll your eyes. “Have you so little trust in me, Ayato? We’ve been friends since we were kids.”
The Yashiro Commissioner gave you a noncommittal shrug. “It seems like these days I only see you when you’re with Ayaka and Thoma. I suppose I’ve been feeling a bit… neglected.”
“A hot pot party with just the two of us wouldn’t have nearly as much variety,” you shrug in response. “So, would you like to join us? We could get ingredients together.”
Ayato takes a moment to consider his response before letting out a sigh and securing his scarf around your neck. “Let’s find something interesting at least. Where did you find those sea urchin chocolates last time, ___?”
He already knows, of course. He’s the Yashiro Commissioner after all. But still, Ayato asks.
“If I tell you my source, then how will I be able to surprise you anymore?” You joke lightly.
“I’d never refuse a gift from you, even if it was uninteresting.”
“That doesn’t mean you’d like a boring gift.”
“I’d like any gift from you. We’re… childhood friends, after all.”
You place your hands on your hips. “Even so, the fun of finding weird things to put in hotpot comes from using perfectly normal things that don’t belong in hotpot. Ayaka still wins for using cake that one time… I need to think of something incredibly normal but just as upsetting for us to discover.”
The two of you begin to walk towards various stalls together, chatting as you go. “Perhaps… sunsettia?” Ayato offers as an idea.
“In Liyue there is a soup dish that uses sunsettia as the main ingredient,” You reply with a shake of your head. “So… adding sunsettias feels as though I’d be playing off that dish. Oranges, though… that might be fun…”
“Depending on what other ingredients are added, I imagine that the inclusion of orange slices would be quite novel.”
“But see, now that you know I’m considering it, that makes it less fun.”
You don’t notice how Ayato’s expression softens as the two of you continue, still shooting ideas back and forth. Being together feels so natural that you don’t even realize when you’ve taken his arm, purchasing a variety of normal and unique ingredients to bring to the hot pot party. Or maybe you choose not to notice, happy to bask in your closeness. Normally you aren’t this close while in public, but the lack of people on the streets make both of you more comfortable.
You’re childhood friends, after all. Of course it’s natural for the two of you to be close, despite everything. It’s something that both of you remember and remind yourselves whenever you end up standing closer than most would comfortably be. Whenever you find yourselves staring or thinking of the other for a moment too long.
There is no shortage of people vying for Kamisato Ayato’s attention these days. But you were there before. Back when the clan was struggling and the future was uncertain— be it because of foolish, childish innocence or loyalty, you had been and continue to be there for him even if only in the most miniscule of ways.
It begins to snow and Ayato adjusts his scarf on you. It’s cold, you really should have brought your own scarf and haori. But you want to enjoy being like this a little longer— together, chatting and carrying ingredients as you walk down the quiet streets back to the Komore Teahouse. Normally, you wouldn’t get to do this. Ayato had an image to uphold, after all. People would talk, seeing you two acting so familiar… but would either of you really mind, if they did?
He laughs at something sassy that you mutter under your breath, a fond look in his eyes, and you think you’ll be able to handle the cold for a bit longer.
