syd :3

life is not that bad

[euhla]

▀▄▀▄▀▄ ▀▄▀▄ LOADING 𝚝𝚑𝚎 DATA . . . .

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

❯❯❯❯ ㅤㅤ 『𝘿𝘼𝙏𝘼 𝙋𝙍𝙊𝘾𝙀𝙀𝘿𝙀𝘿 』 📁 𝑠𝑢𝑏𝑗𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 ➜ ꒰ sydney ꒱ ۪ ݁ 𝚜𝚑𝚎/𝚑𝚎𝚛 ݁ ۪ ୧ req closed. also known as, itadori yuuji's (虎杖悠仁) wifey ‹𝟹

♬⋆.˚ sdp interlude - travis scott.

ⓘ do not take everything seriously. every fics i write belong to me, inspo are always welcomed! do not feed my works to ai, or re-upload it on another platform.

—☆♻️ “𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏’𝒕 𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕— 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔, 𝘦͟𝘲͟𝘶͟𝘪͟𝘷͟𝘢͟𝘭͟𝘦͟𝘯͟𝘵͟ 𝘦͟𝘹͟𝘤͟𝘩͟𝘢͟𝘯͟𝘨͟𝘦.”

masterlist latest

[joy99x]

✧SALVATION I

sagau | gn! reader | divine horror

Pierro prays. Dottore dissects. Scaramouche laughs until the date on the page makes him flinch.

— Focus: You, Dottore, Pantalone, Pierro, Scaramouche

— Chorus: Columbina

Part I (you are here) | Part II | Part III | Part IV

You don’t remember the fall.

Not in the way one doesn’t remember sleep, or dreams, or such. It is simply not a memory. Perhaps that was something that happened before your existence was truly completed.

There are small visions of it you get sometimes. Broken like shards of glass, in small pieces, not in sync, but painful nonetheless.

The taste of ozone, sharp and bitter on your tongue. The light—not warmth, but rupture, blinding and alive, as if the sky had torn itself open just to cast you down.

And the sound—oh, the sound—a silence so profound it could only be called divine. The hush of the world holding its breath as you pierced the heavens and shattered through the atmosphere, waiting to see if you would rise or shatter.

Mondstadt made poems and songs about it, Fontaine fawned, scholars in Sumeru almost went insane trying to make sense.

You don’t remember the impact.

Only the way the air bent around you. The way the stars flickered, then blinked out.

And then—nothing.

—

When you awaken, you are cradled in marble and silence.

Cold fingers brush your cheek.

“Is it conscious?” a voice murmurs, smooth and distant. Layered with a cool so thin it could barely conceal the excitement beneath.

Your eyes slowly find clarity, shapes resolve, then, you see blurry silhouettes of two men. One with black hair, one with blue.

Your vision focuses on the closest. White gloves. Blue braid. A smile that was stitched together with such surgical precision, it almost looked like a painting.

“I will take responsibility for the specimen,” says Dottore. Voice low and measured. “Its form is… delicate. And so very, very divine.”

You don’t respond, not trusting your voice to come out whole or your questions to get answers at all.

You close your eyes

—

Pierro visits very often.

He speaks like a priest, but watches like a soldier. He stands at your window with his hands behind his back, watching snow drift past the stained glass image of your face. For someone called “The Jester”, he is not a man of many words. He doesn’t ask you many questions. Just simple pleasantries, a few moments in your presence, then he takes his leave. He is a busy man after all.

“You fell for a reason” he tells you once. “The stars do not bend for the ordinary.”

He looks over his shoulder. “The Tsaritsa once said: ‘All who fall from grace still carry light.’”

You don’t blink. “That wasn’t what she meant.”

His breath doesn’t hitch but you can tell he visibly falters—just for a breath.

“Do you remember her?”

You don’t answer.

But in the dark of your mind, something shifts. A throne in frost. A woman wrapped in grief. A crown made not of gold, but of unbearable burden.

—

Dottore is the worst of them.

He doesn’t ask for miracles. He extracts them. Peels them meticulously from bone and breath. Manufactures meaning in glass and steel and subjects that scream beneath precise scalpels. You’re not the first he’s tried to shape into something greater. But you’re the only one who survived the fall with your divinity intact—and untouched by him.

His laboratory is filled with fragments of failed divinity: twisted shapes encased in glass, mechanical birds with wings of brass that sing your name in perfect, eerie chorus. In the center of his lab, lined with things that are wrong and living, stands your statue carved from luminous quartz, eyes forever shut.

He visits again. Of course he does. He always comes when the questions begin to rot in his skull like fruit left too long. Today, he kneels.

Not from reverence, but from something colder, sharper—curiosity slicing through restraint. His posture is carefully measured, each angle precise, as though he’s studying how proximity and position influence your subtle reactions. Studying how you respond when he places himself below your eye level.

You do not flinch. You do not move. You only watch.

That’s what he fears most.

He has cut gods open, torn secrets from the divine and lifeless tongues. But you—you—sit there in your silence like it’s a throne, and give him absolutely nothing.

And so, inevitably, he fills the void himself.

“Older than Celestia itself…” he murmurs, voice shivering on the thin line between worship and madness. His gloved hand hovers close, almost brushing your knee but never quite daring to. “Or perhaps you came after—something unprecedented. A possibility they could neither predict nor prevent.”

You do not blink. You do not smile. You do not answer.

And that is what makes him tremble.

He continues, voice turning fervent, raw at the edges. “You don’t speak because you know my understanding isn’t yet worthy. You’re waiting until I’ve ascended enough to comprehend.”

“You’re waiting for me to catch up.”

You tilt your head, just slightly. It’s the first movement you’ve made in hours.

It breaks him.

He laughs softly, almost bitterly, how his composure slips through his fingers like sand.

“Speak.” he whispers, voice strained with need, fingers flexing as if gripping invisible threads of your silence. “I said speak. Haven’t I earned at least this?”

You lower your gaze, brushing your fingertips lightly against your sleeve.

You still look at him with the same expression you’ve worn since you woke in his silver room. And still, he’s kneeling.

—

You walk slowly between the rows—pale hydrangeas, frost-thick roses, trees that bow instead of bloom. The air smells faintly of smoke and snow. You don’t look back, but you hear footsteps before they finish.

He doesn’t announce himself. Scaramouche never does.

“Finally away from your worshippers?” Scaramouche sneers, but his voice wavers slightly—an uncertainty buried beneath his bravado. He steps into the brittle sunlight. You pause and glance back at him, briefly, then look away. As if bashful. You keep walking.

That’s all the invitation he needs.

He falls into a step behind you, a pace behind, arms crossed, gaze flickering to the pale roses and the skeletal trees that do not bend, but bow before you. There’s a swagger in the way he walks, like he’s above it all. Like he’s untouched by the frost curling around the marble path. And he is, but you’ve watched him before. You know what’s performance and what’s not.

Still, you say nothing.

You pause beside a marble bench, lightly running fingers along vines of frost-laden roses. He watches your movements closely, lips twisting into something bitterly amused. You sit with slow, deliberate ease

“You know they’re obsessed with you, right?” His voice is casual, but the sharpness cuts through it like a crack in porcelain. “Even the old man. Pierro talks about you like you’re prophecy in skin. Dottore's practically redesigning the definition of 'divine intervention’. Even her.” He doesn’t say Colombina but you hear it. “They follow you like moths circling a flame”

“It’s not because of what you do,” he continues, narrowing his eyes. “It’s because you don’t do anything. You just… exist. And they bend for you.” A pause.

“It’s pathetic,” he’s looking down at you, trying to provoke a reaction. “You’re not divine, you’re just silent. And they mistake that silence for wisdom.”

He’s expecting you to respond now. A glance, a sigh, something. Yet, you give him nothing.

He huffs, looking away, jaw clenched. “You don’t even…”

You tilt your head, studying him like how he is studying you, letting the silence stretch, bend. Before you lower your gaze, you give a faint smile and it reaches your eyes.

Then, finally—soft, barely audible:

“And yet here you stand”

It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him. The words are silk—smooth, unbothered, dangerous. He freezes. For a breath, he forgets how to scowl. Then, without looking at you, he laughs once—short and dry. “So you do talk.”

You hum—just low enough to acknowledge the irony.

He hesitates. Then, from inside his coat, he pulls something small, leather-bound, worn soft at the edges— leather softened by nervous fingertips. It’s been carried too long. He holds it out, not as a gesture of peace, but something more brittle. Resentful. Curious.

A journal.

“Here,” he says. “Since you’re not saying anything. Might as well write something. Something real.”

You accept it silently, fingertips brushing against the warm leather. The leather is weathered, the clasp slightly bent. You open it with care.

The first page is empty except for a single, challenging line:

Write what they don’t want you to say.

You read it. Once. Twice.

You pick up the pen between the pages and tap the paper a few times. Thinking about what to write. Then you start.

Your fingers move with grace, tracing delicate letters— slow and deliberate. As if nervous to make any mistakes.

Scaramouche takes a step toward you.

His voice, laced with impatience breaks the fragile silence.

“I had no idea you had so much in that divine mind of yours. What are you writing now?”

Your hand pauses and you look up once again. Lazily, you turn the journal towards him. There, written neatly on the paper. Three simple words shimmer against the pale yellow paper.

03/1/████

Happy birthday, Balladeer

He flinches. His mouth opens to say something but closes again. Suddenly his eyes snap up, disbelief flashing beneath the surface of his cool facade. The mask slips.

“What?!” His voice rises, shrill. “What the hell is this supposed to be?” His voice cracks, panic threading through his usual arrogance.

You say nothing. Your silence is like snowfall: soft, white and smothering. Your knowing eyes, answers him without a sound.

Scaramouche’s eyes flicker wildly, torn between envy, confusion, and a flicker of genuine fear. His lips curl like he’s trying to laugh but there is nothing afterwards.

He suddenly spins on his heel sharply and storms away, little footsteps quick and brittle in the frozen silence.

[logicaltips]

To be protected

You know how most Imposter AUs have the Creator being recognized and assisted by the loner characters (Kaeya, Xiao, Diluc, Kazuha, etc) while the leader characters (Jean, Sara, Ningguang, etc) order their subordinates to hunt you down, thinking that the Creator is an Imposter?

What if the reverse happens?

Once the Creator lands in Teyvat, they are immediately scooped up by (for example) the Knights. Jean publicly welcomes the Creator to Mondstadt. In the shadows, Kaeya, Diluc, and Rosaria are furious that an Imposter has somehow managed to bewitch their Acting Grand Master, and decides to assassinate you to “open Jean’s eyes.”

Later, you walk into Dawn Winery, courtesy of an invitation for dinner from Diluc. It doesn’t take long for you to realize that none of the house staff are present, but by then, the three have already taken action.

Whether it’s poison or they decide to run you through with their weapons, whether you live because of your Creator powers or die, Jean will be absolutely livid that such an act was committed on the Creator. She’ll publicly denounce the assassination and order a manhunt to bring the traitors of the Creator to justice. Meanwhile, the three are stunned that the Imposter’s trickery is still being upheld, and resolve to work even harder from the shadows to break Jean free from the curse.

I can imagine that, if you somehow survive the assassination attempt, Jean will order the Knights and those loyal to you to protect you with all their might. Imagine Kaeya trying to sneak back into Mondstadt to stab you in the back, sees you walking around the city with like, every Mondstadt shield skill on you at once, and nopes out.

If this was Liyue, Ningguang will literally box you in with her Jade Screens, with Zhongli just leaving behind a trial of pillars wherever you walk, so that even the mightiest of plunge attacks from Xiao and the swiftest arrows from Childe just bounces off of the shields. Keqing always walks behind you with her skill ready to activate at any time to teleport in and protect you, although it is quite tiring to hold her arms up like that all the time.

In Inazuma, Sara Kujou becomes an attack helicopter, flying in the sky, ready to shoot down anyone who slightly resembles Kazuha that approaches you. The army that once oppressed Vision users now serve to protect; constantly monitoring the whereabouts of those who tried to kill you.

Eventually, things get cleared up, and the Creator gladly thanks their protectors for their efforts, while being silently relieved that they won’t have to be shadowed all the time anymore.

[hina----------yn]

Lohen is the kind of guy to share his gum with you. And if you could blow bubbles? Well...

“Heyyy.. can't you share a bit with me?”

“Aren't you the one who even gave me the gum? Won't you have more on you?”

“... Well yeaaahhh, but the gum you chew is still mine, y'know. I gave it to you.”

“Hm. Yeah, and the gum you just gave me is in my mouth right now, so too late, it's mine now!” you blow a bubble. But without warning,

pop!

The bubble of gum you made has popped! Lohen popped it! But it wasn't with a dagger, or the head of an arrow...

he popped the bubble.. by biting onto it.

Now your faces are at close proximity. Who knows if he'd kiss you like this (๑/////๑ " )

[chai-writes-stuff]

pet names — lohen x reader, SFW, drabble

summary — you only ever call him lohen. it's not a big deal...but it's starting to bother him.

themes — established relationship, librarian!reader, jealous!lohen, flustered!lohen, kisses on the clock, reader teases lohen a bit, fluff, minor reference to lohen can't communicate but you don't have to read that to read this, couple banter as always

WC: 800

Lohen was not a jealous man.

“Here’s the book you asked for, Theo,” you said as you passed him a thick medical textbook from behind the counter. “Please return it by the fifth of next month.”

From his perch against the southern bookcases, Lohen watched you with his arms crossed over his chest. In his right hand, he held his favorite blade, twirling it around his finger until the hilt pressed into his palm, then twirling it around again. The soft sound of his knife hitting the fabric of his glove was quick to fill the space around him, which had returned to near silence yet again after Theodore’s departure.

You walked past him with a stack of books in your hands, giving him a glance. “Can you put that away, please?”

He sighed through his nose. Slotting his dagger back into its sheath, he pouted dejectedly at your back. You didn’t pay him a shred of attention, instead focusing on your duties of restocking the bookshelves and rearranging any misplaced codices.

Lohen sighed aloud. When you still didn’t turn around, he sighed yet again. Sighing so hard and so repetitively that he was nearly going dizzy from it, you eventually turned around with a smile that didn’t match the glare in your eyes.

“What is it, Lohen?”

Lohen. It was always ‘Lohen’ with you. But with Theodore, it was ‘Theo’.

“Nothing,” he said, his shoulders rising in a shrug. “Nothing at all.”

You stared at him for a moment, then eventually frowned. Your voice was gentle. “You look upset.”

“Upset? I’m not upset.” Lohen shrugged again, glaring down at the wood floor. “What would make you think I’m upset?”

Your hands directed his face to yours. He ignored the flush of warmth that it sent through his cheeks, and tried further to ignore the sudden thrill in his chest. When you smiled, he swallowed his nerves.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly.

“N-nothing,” he answered, his hands rising to your wrists. “It’s nothing, really. I’m fine.”

“If you were fine you would have been using your cryo-infused hand to scare me when my back was turned,” you laughed. Softening your voice, you said, “Please, just talk to me. I don’t want you to be upset, Lohen.”

The way your thumbs brushed over his cheeks felt all too tender. Smiling rather awkwardly, he squeezed your wrists between his fingers.

“We started at ‘Vice Captain’,” he said, “and then we got to ‘Lohen’. But we never got much farther past that.”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“Theodore. Theodore is ‘Theo’. But me? I’m ‘Lohen’.”

“Well, that’s your—...oh,” you said inquisitively, your eyes widening. “I see what you mean. You want me to give you a nickname?”

“It doesn’t…have to be a nickname,” he babbled, feeling oddly out of his element as he did. “I mean, I call you Bun and Princess. But you only ever call me ‘Lohen’, even though I know you call other people shorter names and stuff.”

“I’ll call you whatever you want me to, Lohen. How does handsome sound?”

Your arms looped around his neck, and as you smiled with those half-lidded eyes of yours, Lohen’s nervous laughter burst from his lips. Staring at you with wide eyes and a face so hot, he was convinced his vision had flipped to pyro, he quickly said, “That’s a lot more embarrassing than I thought it would be.”

“Hm?” You tilted your head, staring down at his mouth as you grinned. “What, you don’t like that, sweetheart?”

“Fuck,” Lohen stammered, his eyes shifting around the library. “Bun, quit.”

“But honey,” you purred, the heat of your breath tickling his upper lip. “You’re the one who wanted me to call you something different. You mean you don’t like it?”

“I’m gonna kill you,” he answered, his grin hurting his face. “Stop it.”

“Oh, but, baby. You look like you like it.”

“Let’s just…let’s just go back to Lohen.”

You laughed, and with a chaste press of your mouth to his, he laughed back. He glanced around once more, ensuring the library was as empty as ever before throwing his arms around your hips. Backing you into the bookshelf, his grinning lips pressed against yours before he gave you a playful little nibble.

“I’m working,” you laughed.

“Take a five minute break,” he crooned.

“Vice Captain,” you murmured. “You’re going to get me in trouble.”

“Oh, yeah? That so, Library Girl?”

The way you giggled tickled his ears. He pressed his lips to your cheek, peppering kisses against the corner of your mouth as you laughed and laughed and laughed.

“Lohen,” you said, ever so dearly. “You know I just like the sound of your name, right?”

He cracked a smile.

“You know, whenever you say it, Bun…I like the sound of it too.”

a/n: i've seen lots of cute nicknames for lohen out there, and thought to myself, why don't I ever write him one? like, i usually do for some of my other genshin dudes... so i wrote this as a self-indulgent theory xD anyway, if you liked this drabble, please consider leaving a heart! (˶>⩊<˶) ♡ if you would like to be tagged whenever i post lohen x reader, please check my rules here! thank you! i was tagged! what post did i miss? a familiar scent, lohen quickie, 18+ only (it was also SHADOWBANNED so people not on my taglist probably missed it too T_T) masterlist | ask | ao3 | more of this pair

[ogttore]

og zandik and omega threesome

more threesomes with the segments

Under normal circumstances, these two would never willingly initiate anything of the sort. Omega was far too brutal for Zandik's liking, and the segment found the original's lack of stamina and strength rather embarrassing to witness. Not to mention the lingering resentment between the two. But life is unpredictable, and saying never to any possibility in this household was simply not going to happen.

After a long day's work, all you wanted to do was enjoy Zandik's company under the soft sheets. Talking and touching each other in the safety of your bedroom, as you slowly started to climb on top of him. He had nothing to complain about, seeing you so eager for his touch only made it all the more satisfying. The two of you got lost in each other, his cock filling you up as you slowly rocked up and down against his length.

Neither of you heard the door opening, or the footsteps that approached the bed. A mocking chuckle startled you both, causing you to stop moving. Omega took in the sight with a sharp grin on his face. He didn't understand why you still sought out Zandik to take care of you, especially now that he was withered and useless.

"What a sorry sight this is. To see you coupling with this corpse of a man. Have you no shame?" Omega sneered, looking down to see the original's cock still inside you, as if you were nothing but a disgrace to his very existence. "I understand being desperate and delusional, but this is most disappointing."

Omega grabbed you by the hair, ignoring Zandik's words of protest. If you wanted the old man's cock that bad, he'd make you take it the way you deserved. His hands moved down to grab you by the hips, his gloves cold against your skin.

The segment pulled you up and down with reckless abandon, trying not to laugh at the strained look on Zandik's face, or how you were louder than before. "Look at this, Zandik. It seems you can't even get your wife to orgasm without assistance." Your hand blindly reached for the segment, but it didn't matter much, as ignored your pitiful attempts of resistance.

Zandik squirmed underneath you, the harsh pace was too much for his frail body. "Omega, you wretched rat! You... you're so..." You felt his cock twitching inside you as he came, his head thrown back as a few pained groans escaped him. Omega grabbed you off of him, shoving you face first on the mattress. "Tsk, tsk. Do not worry Zandik, I shall take over. Might as well show our dear wife how much fun she'll be having with me while you rot in the ground."

The sounds of your shared grunts and moans did bring in some uninvited visitors. Omega forgot to close the door properly, or perhaps he did it on purpose? He wanted the original to feel humiliated, fucking you in front of an audience, with the old bastard not being able to do anything but watch as he took you in ways he could only dream of.

"Dude, he's pounding her while the geezer is watching! And they didn't invite me! How is this fair??" Webttore stomped his foot on the ground like a child, and if it wasn't for 18 dragging him away, he would've marched in there and demanded to join in.

Omega had you right where he wanted to. He made eye contact with Zandik, before grabbing your face with his hand and spitting in your mouth. "Swallow it all up. There we go. Show your husband how much you love it."

The feeling of the original's hateful gaze only made each thrust feel better than the last. Seeing that look on his wrinkled face almost made him cum inside you prematurely. But he wasn't going to end the fun just yet, not until he had you screaming and begging so loud that every servant and segment in the estate knew who fucked you the best.

[yayamrata]

a brain clouded by love

"Oi."

You stiffly turned your head to face the direction of the voice, flinching abruptly when intense vermillion hues scrutinised your hunched form. Gulping down the fear that silenced your voice, you racked every crevice in your brain for what possible business the Ishigami Senku may have with you. Did you accidentally contaminate one of his experimental samples or something?! Is that why he looked a breath away from submerging you into a bath of concentrated sulphuric acid?! Why else would he be staring down at you like that! "Uh— yes?!"

Paying no mind to your startled response, his expression hardened with sharpness as his following words— blunt in true Senku fashion— cut to the chase. "I'm going to confess to you on Valentine's day, so wait for me after school."

Your mind reeled with disbelief, eyes widening with pure horror as his words dawned upon you. "Eh—?!"

"After school is okay, right?" His brow briefly arched in concern, misreading your fluster for something else entirely. Were you busy with something afterschool? What were you busy with? Another guy? The unpleasant thought immediately pulled a frown out of him, filling him with more distaste than he’d like to admit. That, was a variable he didn’t account for… No, it could be something else. Maybe it was the weather? The forecast did say it would rain today, but he had his umbrella, and he was more than willing to let you use it. Sharing an umbrella with your beloved under the rain was commonly known to be romantic, was it not?

Senku cupped his chin in deep ponder as he considered every case scenario. Or was it because the sun set rather early this season? No issue there, he was planning to walk you home from the very beginning anyway, well, if you would let him…. Or was it something else? Dammit, what the hell am I missing? Should he have waited to say something on White Day instead like common customs? But then that was an extra month he had to wait. It was inefficient. Ah, but couldn’t he just confess today, on Valentine's, and then do it again on White day? Matter of fact, he could just say he's fond of you everyday after today's confession onward, no?

"Um- sure?" You answered unsurely, still dazed from what you heard come out of his mouth.

He snapped out of his train of thoughts the moment your meek response reached his ears. "Be prepared then."

"Okay…" Cheeks flushing with embarrassment, you complied pathetically under his relentlessness. How could you possibly put up a fight against the persistence that was him?

"Why is your face so flushed?" He pointed out shamelessly, abruptly pressing his rough hand on your forehead to check your temperature as if his oblivious nature wasn't the very cause of your malfunction. "Do you have a fever or something? Why come to school if you're unwell? Dumbass."

"No! It's just… this is— well, you basically already confessed…" Shoulders sagging with defeat at his denseness, you finally addressed the elephant in the room.

"…."

A deafening silence ensued between the two of you, so deafening you debated whether you could really hear the beat of the man's heart before you or if it was imagination's cruel delusion playing tricks on you.

The realisation of his stupidity finally dawned upon him. His ears flushed a comical red, you watched with enamour as he rubbed the back of his neck with once-in-a-blue-moon kind of fluster. Senku’s attempt to hide behind his face framing strands was undeniably pathetic, so much so you couldn’t help the titter that left you.

"Damn it... A brain clouded by love really is the most irrational kind..."

a/n: first dcst fic! it’s lowkey a slightly altered version of a rin/sae fic that i wrote but i thought it fit Senku sm so i just had to 😭 comment below if u have any dcst fic requests! most of all, i hope you enjoyed!

dcst! masterlist

main! masterlist

[handwrittenscripts]

Senku likes that look on your face

If you had any form of parental bond with Suika, and since you knew her several years before Senku arrived in the village, she started referring to you as mama. Senku is definitely the type to refer to you in third person as mommy when talking to Suika just to see you flush because he's bored at the moment and wants to be the cause of your grey hairs coming in earlier.

"Suika, could you tell mommy she cannot be prescribing antibiotics to everyone because we are low on stock?" "asshole I'm- I'm not gonna play doctor for your stupid team if I'm not gettin paid from now"

"Such strong language. Suika, I think mommy doesn't know children are present here."

Suika, being the sweet summer child always in your support

"Senku, mama doesn't like you. stop"

"I know"

A/n: JUST TO BE CLEAR, READER AND SENKU WERE CLOSE PRE-PETRIF, AND READER JUST SO HAPPENED TO WAKE UP WAY EARLIER THAN SENKU

[handwrittenscripts]

Senku likes that look on your face

If you had any form of parental bond with Suika, and since you knew her several years before Senku arrived in the village, she started referring to you as mama. Senku is definitely the type to refer to you in third person as mommy when talking to Suika just to see you flush because he's bored at the moment and wants to be the cause of your grey hairs coming in earlier.

"Suika, could you tell mommy she cannot be prescribing antibiotics to everyone because we are low on stock?" "asshole I'm- I'm not gonna play doctor for your stupid team if I'm not gettin paid from now"

"Such strong language. Suika, I think mommy doesn't know children are present here."

Suika, being the sweet summer child always in your support

"Senku, mama doesn't like you. stop"

"I know"

A/n: JUST TO BE CLEAR, READER AND SENKU WERE CLOSE PRE-PETRIF, AND READER JUST SO HAPPENED TO WAKE UP WAY EARLIER THAN SENKU

[foxxynoiia]

synopsis: in which the kingdom of science was not prepared to meet someone as crazy — scratch that, even crazier than senku himself. 2.4k words

pairing: senku x maomao!reader (can be read as platonic, but written with romantic interests in mind)

tags: canon-divergent, fluff, crack, reader is inspired by maomao from apothecary diaries, soft!senku, gn reader, tw: self-poisoning, suicide jokes

(prequel is out now!)

When Senku said that he would be reviving someone crucial to their plan of bringing back all humans from stone, everyone from the Kingdom of Science developed their own image in their head.

Chrome imagined another genius like Senku, someone who can help create things that seemed like magic.

Kohaku expected an athlete, meant to do the heavy lifting that she normally found herself doing for Senku and his experiments.

Ginro shook at the thought of a leader, commanding and terrifying and ready to rule over the Kingdom of Science with an iron fist.

Obviously, Senku thought it was unnecessary to explain who he was actually planning on reviving and what they were like, because no one expected him to emerge from the thickness of the forest with someone like... you.

You, who looked as normal as could be, save for the cracks etched upon your skin from the de-petrification process.

"Senku... who is this?" Kohaku asked. Typical of her, one of the only ones who had the guts to openly question the scientist's judgement.

Senku grinned like he had just uncovered diamonds (and to him, maybe he did). "This, ladies and gentlemen of the stone world, is the capable apothecary back from the modern world."

You had smiled and nodded at them, introducing yourself. "Nice to meet you all. I look forward to working with you."

Gen was the only one who was actually wary of you — you, who did not seem fazed at all when you came out of the petrification to find yourself in a world that has descended into over three thousand years without a single human soul from the modern world.

From his experience, the only ones who had that kind of reaction to this new age were the ones that had a couple of screws loose in their brains, much like Senku.

If only he had followed his gut.

After you had explained to the rest of the Kingdom of Science what an apothecary was, little Suika was eager to learn form you as you wandered through the forest together in search for herbs. Senku had your own clinic constructed beside his lab, where you kept various leaves and plants that you thought would be useful.

It took a few weeks for you to properly settle in and get used to the difficult simplicity of things, but once you did, Senku knew that he had to keep a tighter leash on you.

"Kinro, Ginro," he had told them one day when you were holed up in your clinic. "While you're guarding the village, make sure that the apothecary doesn't leave the area."

Ginro had tilted his head, confused. You kept to yourself most of the time, sure, but you seemed harmless to him. "Why?"

Senku shook his head. "Trust me, you do not want to see what would happen if they're left unsupervised."

Nonetheless, Kinro and Ginro nodded. It was part of the rules to be wary of outsiders anyway, so Kinro had no problem keeping an eye on you.

But of course, even the strict Kinro could sometimes slip, especially with someone as sneaky as you under their watch.

They didn't even notice you were gone until Gen went into the clinic one day to bother you, only to find it empty.

He thought that bringing it up with Senku would be no big deal, and that he would probably know where you were.

Until his news of your sudden disappearance caused Senku to look up from his messy science-y notes so fast Gen knew that man had to have gotten whiplash.

"Get Suika, Kohaku, and Chrome and tell them to search the forest," he barked, storming out of his lab like a man on a mission.

Gen stumbled to keep up with him, eyebrows pinching together. Why was Senku, the normally logical, overall detached scientist, act like you not being here was a war crime?

Gen began to question how much you really meant to the scientist. Obviously you were something to him, seeing as you didn't have extraordinary skills, and yet you were still one of the very few people that Senku decided to revive.

Either way, this level of overprotectiveness is crazy! Gen thought.

"Wha — What are you gonna do?!" The mentalist sputtered.

"I'm gonna have a word with the bodyguards," Senku grumbled, and he didn't wait to see if Gen left to do what he was told (he did leave — no way did he want to deal with an angry Senku) before he approached Kinro and Ginro at the end of the bridge.

"I thought I told you to watch the apothecary!" He said, his voice shaky and maniacal, the way it always sounded when he was stressed about something. "They're gone!"

Kinro was the first to speak up this time. "I apologize for losing sight of them, but guarding the village is our number one priority. If they leave the Kingdom of Science, which is not technically part of the village, then it is not really our concern."

"They could be anywhere doing gods know what!" Senku threw his hands up, one raking through his hair.

"They — They couldn't have gone that far," Ginro reassured, but his hands were shaking the spear that he held. "They're probably still around the area, gathering their herbs or something!"

The statement was meant to reassure Senku.

It did not.

"Shit, what if they come across...?" Senku began mumbling to himself, walking away as he dived deep into his thoughts.

In the end, it was Kohaku that found you.

In a not so good condition.

"They're unconscious!" Kohaku called out as she came out into the clearing of the Kingdom of Science with you in her arms. "There are weird, soapy things coming out of their mouth."

Senku almost tripped over himself to get a better look at you. There was foam on the corners of your purple lips. Your skin was deathly pale, and your chest was barely rising.

But you were alive, that was the good thing. Keeping you alive would be a different challenge.

"You stupid apothecary," Senku laughed, but there was no humor in his voice.

Despite his... less superior strength, he took you out of Kohaku's arms and brought you to your clinic, laying you on the stretcher on the ground as he rummaged through your shelves of remedies and herbs.

"This is why you can never leave my sight," he said, more to himself than you. "Who knows what you find in this forest? The plants are different from how they were three thousand years ago, of course you'd be curious of its properties. Of course you'd test it on yourself."

He found a bottle you had labeled "generic antidote" and snatched that one.

He pulled the cork out with his teeth and brought the lid of the bottle to your lips.

"No."

He paused his movements when he heard you. Your words were more air than voice, but he had heard you nonetheless due to your proximity.

"Your lips are purple, you're foaming at the mouth, you're deathly pale, and you're barely breathing," Senku listed down. "That's the generic effects of poison. What's wrong with the generic antidote?"

Your eyes cracked open, and Senku almost recoiled in shock.

"Your eyes are black."

Sure enough, even the part of your eyes that were supposed to be white were almost fully coated in black, like you had put on contacts.

"Different... poison..." you muttered, like speaking was the hardest thing you ever did in your life. "White petals, salt... the green paste in the small bottle. Grind 'n boil 'em 'until 'til they bubble."

"Is there enough time for that?" Senku asked, but he was already reaching for the ingredients. His hands moved with lightning speed, determined to give you the antidote.

"Yeah... got lots of time..." you had started to fade into unconsciousness, but Senku was quick to lightly slap your cheek.

"Oi, stay awake, stupid apothecary," he commanded.

"Yessir," you slurred slightly, a weak grin on your face.

The preparation took forever, when in reality it only took around twenty minutes until he had a strange concoction in a bowl, ready for consumption.

He knelt beside you, pushing you up into a sitting position so the antidote would travel around your body faster.

With one hand behind your back and the other holding the bowl, he brought the antidote to your lips. "Open up."

You drank obediently, your face faintly scrunching up at the expectedly awful taste, but you had finished everything in the bowl.

"Good." Senku laid you back down. "Now you can rest."

He didn't even need to tell you that; you were already knocked out the moment you had drank the last of the antidote.

—————

Throughout the rest of the day, various people came to check in on you, asking Senku how you were doing and if you were alive.

He was quick to snap at all of them, telling them that you would recover faster if it was quiet. Obviously that wouldn't really change anything, but they don't need to know that.

You woke up late at night, your head feeling like a balloon and your body feeling like lead.

Senku perked up from his seat on the side of the clinic when he heard you groan, immediately standing up and kneeling by your side.

"You good, apothecary?" He hated how worried his voice sounded; a scientist like him shouldn't be chained down by emotions.

But you literally just poisoned yourself, so could you really blame him?

"I..." It took you so long to finish your answer that Senku was convinced that you had fallen asleep again, until you bolted upright with the widest grin on your mouth. The contrast of your bright smile with your pale face and bloodshot eyes made you look like a character straight out of a horror game. "I feel great!"

Senku blinked. "Huh?"

"Did you get the flower that I ate?" You started rambling, pulling at your sleeves to examine your skin, as if looking for residual poison. "I knew that there would be new kinds of natural poison around here since it's been a couple hundred years, but wow! That flower was unlike anything I've ever tested —"

Your eyes suddenly snapped to Senku's. "Did you record how long it took for me to pass out? How long it took for the antidote to take effect? My symptoms? How close I was to death?"

Senku was in disbelief, to put it lightly. He knew from the moment that he met you that you were as passionate about poisons as he was about science, but he forgot how actually insane you were.

"It took you eight hours to recover, but that doesn't include the time from when the poison started to take effect to the time that Kohaku found you," Senku replied, not to answer your question, but to scold you. "What have I told you about trying poisons out without telling anyone?! What would have happened if I didn't tell the Kingdom of Science to look for you?!"

You waved his concern away like it was unnecessary (it was very much necessary). "My heartbeat would have been slow enough to not even be detected by a machine, my chest would barely rise, but I was confident that I wouldn't die. I'm immune to most poisons."

"Well, obviously not this one!" Senku groaned. He felt like pulling his hair out. "You could have died!"

You put your hand to your chin, suddenly deep in thought. "What if the flower gives you the effects of death, but in reality, it doesn't actually kill you? Or what if it does kill you, but giving an antidote can basically revive you?" You muttered.

It was like Senku wasn't even there!

He slapped the back of your head, hard enough to pull you out of your brain but not hard enough to actually hurt you. "Stop that! Stop plotting ways to commit suicide! You're grounded until further notice!"

"But Senku!" You whined, clutching the front of his shirt like you were begging for your life rather than freedom to roam through the forest and find more lethal poisons. "This is the pinnacle of poison discovery! I'm the only one alive that has true experience with poison, and I could find new ones that'll be named after me and carry my legacy for generations!"

"I understand that discovery comes with risk, but this is neither necessary nor calculated risk on your part!" Senku retorted, flicking your hand away. "Kohaku was already caught off guard when you were surrounded by strange, purple flowers!"

The silence made Senku sweat. He should not have said that.

Before he could react, you were already out of the cot, dashing out of the clinic. The fire in front of Chrome's storage facility was still alive, which meant that there were still people awake in the Kingdom of Science.

You spotted a familiar head of blonde hair. "Kohaku!" You called, dragging her name out as you ran towards her, your smile as maniacal as your laugh as you evaded Senku, who was shouting at you to get back to bed.

You slid on the ground, stopping right beside Kohaku. You grabbed her shoulders and made you face her. "Do you remember where you found me? Did you get any of the flowers that you found me with? Do you —"

"Do not answer any of their questions!" Senku interrupted, wrapping his arms around your waist and hauling you up. "It'll only encourage them to test stuff on themself!"

The rest of the people surrounding the campfire — old man Kaseki, Chrome, and Gen — stared at you in horror. You thrashed around in Senku's arms, but ultimately gave up when his hold on you never faltered. For a scientist who normally lacked physical strength, he sure was good at keeping you in place.

"I knew there was something wrong with you," Gen muttered, a scared smile spreading on his lips.

"This is bad," Chrome moaned, clutching the sides of his head like he just found a live bomb. "I thought the apothecary was tamer and more mature than Senku. Turns out they're just as bad!"

"No," Kohaku shook her head, watching Senku drag you back to the clinic where he would undoubtedly imprison you until you were fully recovered and properly confined within the Kingdom grounds. "They're worse."

Kaseki sighed, tending to the fire. "At least young Senku is there to keep them in line. It seems he cares about them very much."

Gen nodded. He may have missed you being a complete suicidal maniac, but that's one thing he was sure of: despite your tendencies, Senku was always there to make sure you never actually "step into the light", so to speak.

And he's pretty certain that will not change any time soon, not even in the stone world.

notes: i finished apothecary diaries before i started dr stone, which is where i got the idea to combine the two, in a way. hope you enjoyed reading! <33

[pearlywritings]

Sometimes the name doesn't matter

synopsis: sometimes it matters that you are his wife.

pairings: Dainsleif, Dottore, Kinich, Xiao x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, angst (or is it?), established relationship (married), immortal reader (different kinds) for everyone except Kinich, Dottore might be his own warning, spoilers for Luna IV in Dottore's part (version 6.3)

word count: 10k words

a/n: wow, that took me a minute to write! I apologize for the delay (again), and hope these drabbles will find their readers. Enjoy! <3 part 1, part 2 and part 3 can be read here!

Dainsleif

Dainsleif is not a fan of mingling with people. Sure, he does it if he needs to - either it be to gather intel, or take commissions to gain mora, or spend this very mora on food, an occasional drink, and accommodation. But the less interaction - the slimmer is the chance his face or the very existence will be imprinted in someone’s memory. He needs not to be the subject of someone’s conversation.

You, however, have a completely opposite view on that. Ever since your paths crossed and merged into one, he more often finds himself involved with others, ‘abandoning his life of a hermit’, as you once said, elbowing his side playfully. You called him many ‘flattering’ things actually: brooding, ascetic, ‘a guy who tries too hard to look mysterious’ (it was never his intention, okay?), stubborn, dramatic– the list can go on and on.

You took it upon yourself to sit him down and hammer it into his ‘pretty blond head’ (your words, not his) that if he wanted to keep hunting down the Abyss order, then sure, he could go ahead, you’d even gladly assist him, but you two would be taking breaks from time to time.

The word 'vacation' wasn't in his vocabulary? Now it was, and you’d make sure to spell it out to him. 

You had too little time to deal with the enemy? Dear, you both were literally cursed to keep living for eternity, and Teyvat was too big and you were just two people, cut yourself some slack.

Mora? More commissions!

He had no desire to converse with strangers for too long and spend more than one day among them? Alright, you’d do the talking, he’d do the scary dog privileges. And you could change inns every night, when money allowed.

People could recognize your heritage by the clothes and the shape of your irises and ask too many questions? …well, he was an idiot for not thinking about using different clothes for disguise in the past (how was his uniform even still intact??). As for the eyes… You’d figure it out along the way!

Any complaints? Pff, should’ve thought about it before he married you.

Dainsleif glances at the ring on his finger - a simple silver band wrapped around the base of his digit has long left an indent on his skin. In your homeland it was customary for spouses to wear the silver bracelets with all kinds of meaningful ornaments, but Khaenri’ah is gone, and the vast majority of Teyvat population use rings to demonstrate the bond; you opted to adjust.

And adjust you did, too well actually, as the man doesn’t find you in the small cozy house you rented for your stay in the Masters’ of the Night-Wind tribe. Knowing you, - and over the course of at least two centuries staying inseparable he came to know you too well, - you took another invitation to feast with the locals, to ‘shape your image of a regular couple through conversation’, as you called it.

Your husband sighs, adjusting the long glove on his arm that is hiding the darkened flesh and unnaturally bluish veins, getting ready to go and search for you. He trusts you, of course, but the residents of this tribe can be– how should he put it… well, weird (like it wasn’t the main reason why you chose the very tribe in the first place - you’d stand out even less). Their ‘shamans’ sometimes could see what’s concealed and even look into the foggy future, and it gave him an inexplicable ick.

He feels he’d be less agitated if he was close to where you are.

A burst of laughter catches his attention just as Dainsleif leaves the house. Looks like you didn’t go far (yes, he is certain that you are the cause of this unseen merit), just to one of your neighbours. Good, easier for him. Checking on his glove again, tugging the short sleeve of a local tunic lower and brushing some locks over his mask, the blond takes off in the sound’s direction.

The first thing he sees is the gleam of metal - the sunray that gets caught on your own wedding band, as you are using your hands expressively to gesticulate along the words you say. Four–no, five women are seated at the table together with you, some still giggling, some taking sips from their drinks, but all are listening attentively. He too stops in the shadow of the house to listen to you, leaning his shoulder on the wall with crossed arms.

“Soooo,” you lock your fingers together with a grin and mischief swirling in your eyes (Dainsleif can’t help but tilt his head with a ghost of a smile at the sight), “funny story, we actually agreed to get married at some point in the future if none of us would be settled by that time! Guess who’d been waiting for me~”

Another fit of giggles and coos erupts; someone whistles even, raising her glass to cheer, and everyone follows suit - you included. And your husband - the one you were undoubtedly telling these women about - closes his eyes for a moment, mulling over your ‘image-shaping’ words.

You aren’t even lying - for the first part of your claim, that is. Such a promise was indeed made half a millennium ago between two Khaenri’ahns, who couldn’t have known that they wouldn’t be reaching a point in age above their twenties. Not in a normal sense, at least.

A promise that he was reminded of a couple decades into your shared journey. It was the evening and the sun was setting at the horizon, as Dainsleif was gazing at the vast water surface surrounding the city of Fontaine. From the top of a cliff on Beryl Island, where you set your camp for the last night of that trip to the Hydro region, the view was truly breathtaking, and you didn’t even complain about not staying at the inn.

Soon he understood why.

“What is it?”

“Open and find out.”

The man stared up at the small velvet box resting on your open palm. It was square-shaped and looked new, so he quickly abandoned thoughts of some kind of treasure you’d found in the ruins nearby. Had you bought some kind of trinket for yourself? No, you wouldn’t have kept it closed then. In that case, a present?

He was still skeptical about gifts - be it giving or receiving, and yet he reached for the mysterious object. Cradling the box in his big palm, he, subconsciously, waited a few heartbeats until you lowered onto the grass and settled next to him. He noted that you were acting weird: your eyes either watched him intensely or averted with an almost shy purse of your lips; your hands were twitching, no matter how hard you were trying to press them against your thighs, and your overall posture was quite tense. If he hadn’t known better, hadn’t known you better, he would’ve found that whole situation quite concerning and suspicious.

Nevertheless, he trusted you to know that whatever was in that box - it was harmless. So he opened it.

“A…ring?”

Confused, Dainslef stared at the simple silver band with several dark blue stones. Just like his eyes.

“Well…” You cleared your throat, squaring your shoulders a little in attempts to put on a brave face. “Remember how we agreed to get married, if by the time we turned thirty we were still single? I know it’s very much overdue, but since we’ve never gotten to do that…and we are both still single…”

After that you started rambling. About rings being more common than bracelets up there and how you thought it was more proper to propose with one. About the commission you’d placed at the blacksmith’s the first time you visited the main city, and how worried you’d been about its timely completion. About the perks of getting married and stuff alike.

Somewhere halfway through your speech, Dainsleif finally tore his eyes from the ring and looked at you - truly looked at you. At the way the gentle wind played with your hair, at the gleam of vividness in your eyes he always admired, at your smile he caught himself staring at these days (and, admittedly, back then too), at the hands that always moved with familiar animosity.

He could not believe this was really happening. For a moment his brain shut down.

“...old people love young married couples! Imagine how many benefits we could–”

“But we can always pretend to be married?”

Yes, his stupid brain chose the worst time to stop functioning the way he needed it to.

“…” He saw your smile falter. Slowly, starting with the corners of your mouth lowering, it crumbled. The spark in your eyes faded, and you blinked, holding his gaze for just a moment longer and then averting yours altogether. Dainsleif immediately wanted to punch himself.

“Okay, I get it. You don’t want to. It’s fine. It’s fine!” How could it be fine when you said it twice? “It really is overdue, it’s been many lifetimes ago. We were what, fifteen?”

“I was seventeen,” he suddenly corrected you, startling and effectively crashing another of your incipient ramblings, “and you were fifteen. We actually argued immediately on whose 30th birthday we should consider the point of this promise’s implementation.”

“Oh…yes, I do remember that,” your words were careful, but he managed to hear the slight astonishment in your tone. You were definitely surprised he had any recollection of that. But how could he not? You were always very dear to him.

Yes, maybe he did not think you’d ever breach the ‘friendship’ line, but at that very moment, with a velvet box still held firmly in his hand, Dainsleif came to realize - he did not mind putting a more definite label to your relationship.

“If you truly mean it,” his voice was softer when he spoke to you again, “then I’d be honored to accept this ring.”

Your eyes brightened up immediately and your shoulders relaxed with an exhale of relief. And suddenly you were on your back on the grass, pressing your palms to your face and smiling stupidly, overwhelmed with emotions.

“Oh, whoever is listening, thank you.”

The continuation of that evening was a little bit chaotic. Eventually you calmed down, asked him again (and again, and again) if he was really sure, and after the tenth answered ‘yes’, you finally reached for the box, and he let you take a hold of his free hand and slide the cool metal band around his finger (it was surprisingly fitting, he noted with fondness). You talked: about the past, the present and the future. 

You admitted you’d liked him for a long time, but he had been so busy as a royal guard and had no time for any kind of romantic relationship… Waiting till your 30s had seemed like your safest option, though maybe kind of a potentially futile one.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and brought you closer, murmuring into your hair how grateful he was for your patience. And swore to never betray it.

Plans on the wedding - where? when? how? - brought you back to the tent, and you fell asleep with a sweet giggle and another life-changing suggestion.

“Since you are unable to come up with a fake name instead of your own to save your life… Once we get married…we can call each other ‘husband’ and ‘wife’ in front of strangers… Hehe, I like the sound of it…” 

He quickly grew to like it too.

“...band! Husband!”

He’s shaken from his thoughts by your voice, nearly scraping his shoulder on the house’s outer wall in attempts to steady his slackened body. Did he doze off?

Blinking owlishly a few times, Dainsleif turns his head and finds six pairs of eyes staring at him: some curiously, some creased from a giggle, and only yours are gazing at him with adoration. Looks like you noticed him ‘watching’ you from the shadow of the trees and tried to call him over albeit in vain. No wonder that upon finally getting a reaction from him, you slide on a mask of pretense indignation at his previous lack of attention.

“Oh, look at that, my dear husband finally heard me,” you huff, leaning your cheek on a fisted hand, but the smile that fights its way to your face betrays you. “Don’t just stand there, come here, join us!”

And you were telling these women that he used to be the one waiting?

The engagement ring is warm against the skin of his chest, hung there snugly on a chain, as Dainsleif removes himself from the wall and steps out of the shadows with a serene smile.

“Of course, my dear wife.”

Dottore

Despite your unique predicament, you find amusement in being the Doctor’s wife. 

Sure, you are not human, rather an engineering marvel, running on self-learning programs which teach you the way of life and emotion. You are the creation of the Seventh Harbinger - a project to test her own ability to implement the things that should be foreign to her artificial being into the ‘machine’ of her making. And for her, you turned out to be perfect - her magnum opus.

Which was stolen by the colleague of hers in the most ridiculous way possible - claimed by the right of ownership through the marriage.

You still remember the rage Sandrone overcame with, her face twisted in pure hatred and mouth shooting out a seemingly never-ending flow of curses directed at your now husband, as she was working on the last update of your inner structures before everything would’ve been handed to Dottore on the plate with a silver lining. And though you didn’t quite understand the emotion, you still catalogued the visual of it carefully in that part of your processor that was dedicated to your creator.

Because you ‘loved’ her. As much as an artificial creation could love her artificial creator, who granted her the permission to study the world around without being in her presence 24/7.

Sadly, though the decision was beautiful and gracious - it was a mistake.

Sandrone gave you the freedom that was almost immediately stripped from you.

And so one manually created presence was replaced by the several synthetic entities, excluding your husband of flesh.

His clones are…all different. 

The younger segments are more huffy than the ones who came after, and seem to entirely consist of glares and snarly curls of their mouths, as if the entirety of the world humiliated them. But still, the excitement with which each of them would tell you about their research, should you express your interest, varies with their assigned age.

You enjoy the conversations with the young ones, they are interesting and productive - learning through them about trauma and searching for the way to comfort them so it would be paying off instead of sending one of them into further spiral. And they flush so adorably when they hear other segments call you ‘wife’ and mutter quietly this word when they want you to pay attention to them.

Then come the clones from the Doctor’s time when he first joined the ranks of the Fatui and was working there for quite a number of years. These seem more composed, but…in reality they are sharp-tongued, and the most irritated when distracted. At first, they acted like you were dirt under their shoes: their lack of desire to see the purpose of your existence in their world went so far that they were the only ones who addressed you by your model’s number, assigned by Sandrone a long time ago, while you were still in development.

Luckily, with their constant need to seek approval from the people above them, these clones are usually away on missions, and you rarely interact with them. You don’t think you lose a lot - being demeaned isn't something you fancy.

Moving forward on the age scale, there are the…crazy ones. They distinctly show the exact moment the original tasted the real power entrusted to him and was overjoyed with impunity and ability to bend the rules that came before that. Their facial expressions are the richest and the eyes are the wildest - you can spend hours watching one of them go off on a tangent, gesticulating with his whole body, eyes practically rotating in their sockets, while you’re memorising the expressive ways in which he operates.

You find pushing several of those into an argument entertaining. Especially when multiple pairs of ruby red eyes stare at you and each of them tries to outshout the other with the ‘I’m the one in the right, right?? Right, wife??’, which quickly transforms into the ‘She is not your wife, she is my wife, you, imbeciles! Mine! Mine! Mine!’

Later segments are calmer. Collected. All sharp toothy polished smiles and words that they seem to dig from the depths of the interlocutor’s own brain and feed right back to them. These ones’ minds are the closest to the original, so you have the most fun learning from them.

The most important thing is, however, that they are granted permission to fix you. Your physical form needs proper maintenance and they are quite nice at handling you. Sometimes though they offer you to participate in their experiments where you - are the test subject. And, being the curious dear one, you let them unscrew your limbs, or take all your senses but one away, or blow the whole room of dynamite with you inside, or…many other things you don’t really keep count of at this point.

But they are always careful and particular in bringing you back to the original state, making you giggle when many hands run all over your body, rearranging, screwing, soldering, polishing, wiping. Plus, their fingers stuck in your wires with content murmurs of ‘good wife, you’ve done wonderfully’ is probably the closest you’ve ever felt to the pleasure humans get through the raw connection of coitus.

It’s important to note, that in your day to day life, you’ve always been by the side of at least one of Dottore’s clones. Doing research, running tests, traveling to other regions for missions, even going to the Fatui functions together, especially with Omega. You know he loves driving Sandrone mad, bringing you closer to his body by grabbing at your waist and sweetly telling another of his colleagues how lucky he is that you are here too.

“I just can’t get enough of my wife.”

You never forget to wave at your creator with a small smile, wanting to apologize for the way he acts, but she always gives you a strange look - a long look, paired with her elegant eyebrows pinching together and teeth sinking into her lower lip, before she casts her eyes to the side and turns away entirely, ordering Pulonia to move somewhere else.

Pulonia… Maybe you too should’ve agreed to accept a name from Sandrone when she offered it to you?

Even though Dottore deemed it unnecessary.

Ah, Dottore… 

As much as you find your time with the segments quite enjoyable, the original to you…it’s complicated. At first, you were curious, seeking him out on your own, and being extremely pleased if you were paired with him for whatever. But something strange has been going on for a while. 

Despite your growing understanding of human emotions and ability to utilize them, your system is running on the rules of logic, on a prewritten algorithm which is supposed to collect, process and store away the information, and yet you are unable to find the piece of data in your memory that would describe why you sometimes find your husband…unsettling. It's as if the truth was locked out somewhere in your processor, like you don’t remember the occasion, but the reaction it sparked - remained.

So, you never told him. Nor the segments. During the check-ups on your internal systems - the procedure only the Prime had the rights to do - you always said that you assessed their work acceptable.

There shouldn't be anything wrong.

[ERROR: ’ZandikNoNegative’ is suspended]

[Initiate system reboot]

[Failed to start reboot: permission denied]

Nothing is wrong with you.

[ERROR: ’OrdersZandikOnly’ is suspended]

[Initiate system reboot]

[Failed to start reboot: permission denied]

And you didn’t find him tinkering with anything that made you - you, necessary. Neither with the data of your life experience, nor your feelings, nor your mind– 

[ERROR: ’DatabaseControlZandik’ is suspended]

[Initiate system reboot]

[Failed to start reboot: permission denied]

[ERROR]

[REBOOT]

[FAIL]

[ERROR]

[REBOOT]

[FAIL]

[ERROR]

[REBOOT]

[FAIL]

[ERROR]

[REBOOT]

[FAIL]

…then why is your head practically splitting?

[ERROR]

[REBOOT]

[FAIL]

The surface of the table you had to lean onto, on the verge of a processor meltdown, is cold under your palms, but you feel like it’s seconds away from heating up to your body’s temperature. You’ve gone into overload: all you see is red, all you hear is error-reboot-fail, all you can think of is the fact it’s getting harder with every passing second not to match the notifications in their screaming.

Should’ve left him there.

You almost wince when ‘OrdersZandikOnly’ tries to restart again, but will yourself to shut it down prematurely. 

It hurts, it hurts so much. These are not my programs.

‘DatabaseControlZandik’ is shut down before the reboot command could even pass through, along with several other ones. Damn it, since when there’s been so much trash in your head???

Trash…

You have to manually remove the ’ZandikNoNegative’ as it springs in your line of vision once more. Holy crap, it's so bad - you can hardly make out the surroundings of the barely lit base–lab? no one knows about, where you brought Dottore according to his instructions after he’d failed.

Right… you brought him here after he lost the battle that should've established his divine authority. The battle he’d been preparing for for so long, and you were the prime witness of it. After all, where else would you be if not by his side, since Omega removed the majority of the segments from existence?

To this day you've been mad at Zandik for letting him do it.

Now, as the crushing realization of the prior events finally overpowers the flashing lines of warning texts running through your mind, you can no longer ignore the foreign but such a correct feeling rising in your chest. Something you once saw on your creator’s face and, not quite understanding the full meaning behind it, catalogued the visual of it carefully in that part of your processor that was dedicated to her.

Rage.

And, overtaken by it, you are not sure what you are capable of.

“...and that harridan Sandrone,” the deep voice that usually sends chills down his subordinate’s backs and brings the test subjects to panic reaches you as if through the thick fog. Ah, right, here is your survivor of a husband. “I studied her, I know all about her self-centered, haughty character. I made sure to minimize the chance of her interference with my plans, yet there she was! Sacrificing herself for the sake of distracting me from her pile of junk. I should’ve gotten rid of her long–”

“Shut up.”

The silence is immediate. It takes you five seconds to understand that the strained voice that practically spat the two words out is yours.

“What. Did you. Just say.”

Slowly, curling your fingers into fists (and accidentally scraping the table in the process), you turn to look at the man over your shoulder. He is standing ten feet away from you, clearly having been abruptly stopped in his tracks. You can see the sharp teeth peeking, since his mouth has frozen in a scowl from his previous ranting. The striking blue of his disheveled hair is not a welcome change of color in your line of vision, but at the moment it is the least of your concerns.

His mask is off; back at you are peering two unblinking ruby eyes. And despite the dark circles under them that usually make the person look tired and weakened, the all-devouring fire blazing in the vibrant orbs alone empowers him tenfold.

“You better choose your next words very carefully, dear wife.”

Your systems block another attempt of ‘OrdersZandikOnly’ to restart, and this time it came easier.

You feel your lips stretch in a smile (what kind of it? you wonder).

“Oh? Is this an order? Zandik.”

Must be quite a sight, because for a moment he looks surprised, blinking at you. Then his eyes squint and mouth presses into a tight line, as he begins to observe you. Assessing, calculating, comparing to something in his head, probably trying to predict the turns the following conversation can take.

You stay quiet, glaring at him pointedly. You summon all your knowledge, modeling simulations of similar scenes in your head to run through all possible scenarios of your next actions and their outcomes. A quick analysis shows that it’s better to try and cool down first - or else you risk running headfirst into a huge mess.

Hah, like you aren’t in one already.

Finally, the Doctor comes to some sort of a conclusion, and he doesn't delay in letting you in on it. 

“So you managed to oppose my settings somehow. How rude - those were my honeymoon presents to you. But…” he grins widely, “no less fascinating - must’ve been a strong shock. I wonder what could’ve triggered you– Ah, of course! Must be her death.”

…*beep* the cooling down. You are so much angrier now.

And it must’ve shown on your face, because Zandik lets out a raspy menacing laugh .

“There it is!” He says in triumph. “And here I thought I’ve already looked into every possible corner of you, and nothing would ever amaze me. Yet, you manage to prove me wrong - haven’t felt that in a while,” he sighs with a shake of his head. Then, pushing his fingers through the messy locks and brushing the bangs back, Dottore peers at you with those red eyes again. As if he wants to pin you down like a poor bug and take you apart limb by limb.

“I admit, I never conjectured that a machine like you could’ve established such a strong connection with my now-’deceased’ colleague and maintain it even after all those restrictions I made sure to perfect you with. Hm, Sandrone’s claims of her genius weren’t unfounded; such a pity we didn’t share views on many things. Alas, what a loss for the ranks of the Fatui–”

You lost it the moment he showed air quotes around ‘deceased’. Like he wasn’t the one to blame for her demise, like he cared so little - better would’ve been said that not at all. You can’t bear to hear it, somehow it’s so much worse than the wails of the warnings that bothered you greatly just minutes ago. Rage, betrayal and an understanding that everything happening around isn’t just a glitch in your cognitive module - all twist into a terrible knot, making your body vibrate with a heat so raw, that when you grab the front of his tattered coat and slam his back into the table, keeping him down with your weight, you wickedly hope it’ll scald him badly.

But he doesn’t give you the reaction you wanted, needed. He barely winces from the impact, but the slight discomfort is quickly replaced by annoyance on his face.

And then he rolls his eyes.

“Oh, Tsaritsa…how disappointing. I need to upload stronger protocols once I lay my hands on proper equipment.”

Ignoring multiple windows of ’ZandikNoNegative’ trying to slam into action, your hand reaches for his throat.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh,” he muses and croaks out a chuckle, not avoiding your gaze and catching your hand before it can shut off oxygen access,” but I will. Don’t forget, dear wife,” his gloved fingers slide between your, locking onto your palm, “I own you. ”

You try to pull it away, but his grip is terrifyingly strong. Fine, you have some things to tell him!

“My creator owned me first!”

“Hm? The one you did nothing to save?”

You halt. What is he– It’s because of him you could do nothing! It was his order! How dares he even–

“The one you didn’t even get a name from? Specifically refusing it to her face?”

What!? It was him who forbade you to do so!

“You are being a hypocrite here, love. You are no better than I am.”

Liar. Liar, liar, liar, liar!

He doesn’t have a right to compare you two! Or call you ‘love’, when it means nothing to him! He knows nothing about the feeling, and you are so much better than him because you, for one, actually cared for his segments.

Right. Another fit of rage. You cared for his segments.

“You let the clones be erased!” 

One more attempt to free your hand is met with a yank of his own, so powerful, that you tumble forward, hovering directly over him. And he gives you the most condescending smile you’ve ever seen on someone’s face.

“Oh, you miss them? How adorable. And a pity that you don’t have a slither of this softness towards your actual husband. Now, tell me this, the wife of mine,” his other hand snakes around your waist, pressing you closer, and now you begin to doubt that it’s still you pinning him down and not the other way around,” has it ever occurred to you that every single one of them simply played their assigned roles, so they could chain you to them? To me?”

…impossible. No human can fake a blush so accurately - and you remember vividly the redness of the younger segments’ cheeks. The crazy ones… Yeah, they sought you out for attention constantly, but what if… what if their fights over said attention were carefully set up akin to a performance? And…and the older ones…the closest to him…

No, you don’t want to believe it.

Clearly entertained by your silence, Dottore taps his fingers against the small of your back, and then slowly drags the pads up the spine.

“I admit, it certainly pleases me to know that you’ve grown to care for many versions of myself, despite the clear fact that I’ve never been a good person in the eyes of others. You truly are a special one, dear wife.” 

Wife. Dear wife. The wife of mine. You are so sick of this term.

“You have no right to call me that,” you hiss through the clenched jaws, cursing him for knowing perfectly the placements of all of your sensors. “A man who considers himself a husband wouldn’t sink so low to flirt with another.”

You realize too late how pathetic you sound. Grown sparse of arguments and so quickly that you have to resort to something that sounds like jealousy?

You probably deserve the violent laughter that boomed across the room the very moment the words left your mouth.

And that’s the last thought that manages to run through your head, because the next second his hand reaches the back of your neck. A soft click drowns in the sound of his cruel merit, and your body, grown slack, slumps onto him like a motionless pile.

“Ha-ha, don’t worry, my dearest, I’ll save you the embarrassment,” carefully Dottore shifts your switched-off body to the side, which allows him to sit up. “I intend to delete this whole conversation from your memory - the less you know, the less you oppose me, after all. I plan to keep you by my side for much longer, and to achieve that you have to be a good wife.”

That’s all that should matter to you.

Kinich

“Y/n, pass me that bag, please. Yeah, the one on the bench over there.”

“Ajaw, stop bothering Y/n with your nonsensical questions about your greatness, or I’ll put you into a timeout for a week.”

“*sigh* Yes, Mualani, Y/n and I will attend your party. She’d be ecstatic.”

“Gotcha. Not that I mind you stumbling into my arms, but I don’t want you to get hurt. You gotta be more careful, Y/n.”

“...I’ve gotten a commission that’ll take up to two weeks. Plan to begin in a couple of days, so don’t wait up on me, Y/n–”

“Can you please not?”

Kinich freezes, with the hem of his jet-black shirt gripped tightly in his hands, having dragged it almost to his chin. Paired with the lifted eyebrows, his half-green half-amber eyes peer inquiringly at you, settled on the bed cross-legged.

“Er, do you not want me to take the commission that’ll bring in a sufficient amount of mora, or keep undressing so I could prepare for bed?”

This question seems to confuse you in turn. You bat your lashes at him once, skim your gaze over his form, and, realizing that your strange unspecified request is in the way of his nightly routine, hurry to wave both your arms.

“No, no, it’s neither! Please go ahead and keep undressing– don’t give me that smirk, you know what I mean!”

“Do I?” He snorts, dragging the shirt over the head. Accidentally, his signature bandana gets caught in the process, but he doesn’t look bothered when his bangs fall back down to frame his face messily.

Unbelievable, you are trying to be righteously mad at him here (though it’s more like you’re just pouting), and he manages to effortlessly make your thoughts stray and resolve crumble by just being so damn handsome and playful, and homely cozy within the walls of your bedroom.

How did you even manage to bag all that, unwrap the emotionally tangled knot, and eventually have him as your husband?

Right, husband, marriage. Back on the track! Focus!

“What I meant was: could you please stop, or at least tone down a notch addressing me as ‘Y/n’?”

Okay, maybe you should stop dropping one gobsmacking sentence after another on your beloved. This time he halts with his thumbs hooked into the sides of his jumpsuit pants, giving you a look. A very long and eyes-not-blinking look.

“...explain.”

“Um, well… It’s just– you just call me that often…” you trail off. It occurs to you only in this moment, as the words are out and hanging in the air between you, that the notion behind them is…not as solid as it seemed to be in your head.

Well, no coming back now.

“But it’s your name..?” He squints, letting go of his pants and putting both hands on his hips instead. His whole face seems to be saying: ‘girl, what in the abyss are you talking about? Isn’t it too late for whatever personality crisis you’re having?’

To that you cast your gaze to the ceiling in a half-roll of your eyes, and then back at him with a more prominent pout. ‘The crisis, my arse, you caused it!’

“Yes, trust me, I know it’s my name. Just like probably half of the Natlan’s population does.”

“Okaaay, clearly there’s some problem, and you are not communicating it clearly. You know, that thing you used to tell me is important in a healthy relationship,” mentally reconciling to the fact that his undressing and shower have to be postponed, Kinich walks closer to you. Squatting down, he waits for you to turn to him fully, lowering your feet onto the floor, so he can rest his forearms onto your thighs and look up at you more comfortably. 

“Alright, let’s unroll it. Do you have beef with the name your parents gave you all of a sudden? Or me specifically saying it? Or, for some reason, it’s now a secret and you haven’t told me about it?”

“What?? No!” Eyes wide, you shake your head. “I definitely don’t ‘have beef’ with my name. And I like when you say it, your voice is very soothing to me,” your hand reaches out to pat his hair, but he catches it, murmuring ‘no, later, it’s dirty’. “And don’t be silly, why would I want you to keep me a secret?”

“I never said anything about keeping you a secret.”

Oops.

“Do you feel like that?” He leans back, but doesn’t release your hand, giving you a firm squeeze. You sigh, hanging your head low.

“Well, it’s not that…” you focus on the back of his palm, on the many times beaten and healed knuckles and the veins, bulging whenever his strong arm flexes. Anything but to meet his eyes.

You know he is not going to judge you. Yes, he can, and to anyone else he’d be quite blunt if not sometimes brutal, but he’d never tell you a single mean word fully intending to pass through the meaning it contains. No, he’d be playful about it, sometimes annoyed, definitely deadpanned, but never with an ill purpose.

Because you are his wife, and he cherishes you greatly.

“I don’t want it to sound like an accusation, okay? I’m aware you are not a big fan of petnames, and I don’t want to force you to alter a thing about yourself, but always being simply a ‘Y/n’...seems like nothing really changed after we got married, y’know?”

That’s it, you’ve laid it out to him - the thing that’s been bothering you for a while. Elders and scrolls always told you that marriage is a huge step, and the bond that is established by taking it is the deepest between the people who are not related by blood. You agree, because you feel it, and your husband doesn’t give you a chance to doubt it.

But outside of the life you share together, your husband is a man wearing mostly a neutral face, having few words to offer (sometimes even when dealing with business or in the tight circle of friends), still learning how to properly show PDA and receive it from you and, regrettably, not using any cute petname when talking about you.

And who wouldn't want to be perceived as special in the eyes of others through the words of their partner?

“As much as I want to believe nothing changed much, at least for the worst, after we secured our bond officially - nor our feelings for each other, nor our view on the future, nor, basically, us - that’s not what you are trying to say. It’s the way we are viewed by others, yeah?”

Oh, he’s also very attentive and insightful - must’ve come from his work as a saurian hunter.

“Yeah, that too… But I also just think it’d be nice to hear something else that is not my name.”

He hums in thought, running his thumb over your knuckles. The silence that temporarily settles isn’t uncomfortable, which makes you exhale in relief. Wayob is your witness - ruining the evening, especially one before his two-week-long absence, is the last thing you’d like to do.

“Alright,” Kinich says after several heartbeats of yours, “I’ll think of something that’ll please both of us. Because I know you - if I just start producing one term of endearment after another, you’ll feel guilty for, allegedly, ‘forcing me’ to do so and will start worrying that fellow tribesmen won’t believe in my sincerity, because ‘it’s not like me at all’.”

With that he presses his palms onto his knees and straightens up to his full height, barely escaping the light halfhearted swat you wanted to land on his forehead for being so cocky and calling you out like this.

“Fine, but it better be a great solution, because you charge twenty whole kisses whenever I need something beyond my abilities!”

“I meant to fulfill this commission for free, but if you are offering…”

“You–! Go take your shower, ‘nich!”

And just like that, half an hour later, on such a peaceful evening, in the warmth of the bedroom with your hands busy drying his hair with a towel, ten kisses (you compromised!) seal the deal.

And your fate, full of happiness walking hand in hand with second-hand embarrassment.

It all begins on the third day of his commission’s trip.

“I am here to drop off something from Kinich for, and I quote, ‘my lovely wife’. Is that you?”

Stunned, you stop brushing your yumkasaurus’ fur, much to the cutie’s chagrin, and turn to glance at an energetic friend of yours. 

“Oh, hi, Mualani.”

“Hey, giiiirl!” She sing-songs, animatedly waving her free arm. The other is occupied with a pretty big basket with all sorts of carefully wrapped snacks and drinks in corked ceramic bottles - the wonderful cuisine her tribe has to offer. Plus you can see your favorite flowers be carefully tucked in-between.

“Woah, what is all of this?” You put the brush aside, grabbing the wet cloth to get rid of the stray green and yellow furs stuck to your hands.

“As I said! Ahem, ‘the delivery for my lovely wife’ from Malipo Kinich!” she repeats, albeit this time taking a serious pose and adding some pathos to her speech. It makes you giggle. “So, is that you?”

“You ask like you weren’t at the wedding ceremony,” you scoff playfully, walking up to her and reaching out for the basket. “Of course it’s me, I am Kinich’s wife.”

To your surprise, Mualani is quick to dash to the side, making you miss both the basket and her.

“Hmmmmm, no, that won’t do. I was specifically told to pass it to his ‘lovely wife’, so try again!”

You feel your cheeks heat up. From the corner of your eye you start noticing that others, who just like you came here to tend to their saurians, start paying attention to your conversation, obviously drawn by Mualani’s distinctive, loud, cheerful voice and the commotion as a whole. Two girls, not so far, make a sound of joy and emotion, immediately jumping to discussing how tooth-rottingly adorable it is that you are so cared for.

And Kinich! The ‘I don’t usually show my soft side’ Kinich!! Phrasing his request in such a way!!!

Wow, that’s all the ego boost you really needed.

“Yes, it’s me, Kinich’s lovely wife,” you finally confirm, and Mualani, grinning from ear to ear, gleefully hands you the basket. Then she leans closer, switching to whispering conspiratorially.

“I don’t know the details, but I’m still telling you this, just so you are mentally prepared: your husband placed several orders for you for the time he’d be away, and, from what I heard from Kachina, who heard it from Xilonen, who was told by– agh, doesn’t matter! All you need to know is that there is a high chance it’s far from the last time you’ll hear the ‘wife’ part!”

And oh, she wasn’t exaggerating.

Apparently, those ‘couple of days’ Kinich reserved for preparations were not only for the upcoming commission; as the week progresses, once every two-three days there is some sort of delivery for you from every single tribe.

The first is the snack a.k.a picnic a.k.a for-every-possible-event basket Mualani brought you from the People of the Springs. Which, among being cute and thoughtful, was special, because later you noticed several coupons for the hot spring self-care days tucked among the goods.

Then there was the meaningful engraving on your and his weapons, which were delivered to your doorstep by a blacksmith’s apprentice from the Children of Echoes. You remember Kinich saying he’d leave your spare ones there for a maintenance check and care - and he didn’t lie. He just strategically left unsaid the part about adding matching sets of oaths. ‘So me and my wife always have something on us to remind us of each other’.

To your joy he also took care of all the necessary meds and Ifa’s personal visit from the Flower-Feather Clan to check on your saurian friend, because the hunter made note of ‘his wife’s worry for the health of her saurian baby’ (Cacucu was not shutting up with the ‘wife worries, wife worries!’ the whole time, which, most likely, was heard by everyone nearby).

Next there were the best-quality fabrics from the Masters of the Night-Wind. Sadly you can hardly recall what your beloved's reasoning was this time, because the deliverer was Ororon, and he spooked you in the middle of the night. However he immediately apologized to you with a crate of vegetables from his own garden and showed you the magical glow of several fabrics’ patterns in the dark.

Along with the vegetables you barely managed to store away all the provisions from the Collective of Plenty, which Kinich ordered to ‘keep his wife well-fed and healthy’ and because ‘he can’t wait to taste her wonderful cooking’.

And… Apparently, the Scions of the Canopy’s surprise was supposed to be presented to you by him himself.

Awaiting his return, you can’t help but reflect on the last two weeks. They were…eventful, to say the least! Admittedly, you were considerably shocked - not by this whole campaign your husband deployed or that he even did something like this, but by how right it sounded. 

“Hi, I’m Y/n–”

“Oh! You must be Kinich’s wife! You know, the last time he came here, he was telling me all about your favorite–”

You feel like a teenage girl, smiling silly and giggling inwardly. Embarrassment was short-lived, and you quickly started to enjoy such a new form of recognition. Just how did he manage to do it in a couple of days!?

The answer is actually quite simple: Malipo Kinich really is among the best who provides all kinds of services - for the right payment he fulfills the tasks correspondingly. Well…with the exception of you - only you get to utilize huge discounts and receive more than what you agreed on.

But this is beyond your expectations.

“WHAT IS THIS???”

Yeah, you squeal. And what? What would anyone else do, if their husband came home, promised to kiss and hug them after cleaning up, went to the bathroom…

…and emerged cleaned up, fresh and wearing this.

“A shirt that says ‘I love my wife’, can’t you read?”

“No, no, I obviously can read, it’s just– you– I’m– where did you– Oh Wayob.”

And, watching your growing shyness with softness in his summer-colored eyes, he indeed hugs and kisses you (paying thorough attention to your flaming cheeks), and instead of telling you about his commission, sits on your bed, facing you and listening all about the things that occurred in his absence.

The portion of which was of his doing.

Easing!?

“It makes me glad you’ve enjoyed the presents I ordered for you, though my main goal was through them easing others into the future instances when I’m going to be calling you ‘wife’.”

“Well, we have different definitions of ‘easing’...” you murmur under your breath, still eyeing one of his signature tight black shirts. You can’t help it, when the words are literally staring at you!

“Maybe,” he shrugs. You miss the small smile that appears when he notices your gaze and where it’s directed. “But I meant it when I said I plan to call you ‘wife’ in public more often. I like the sound of it - not cheesy, but sincere and truthful.”

Aaaaand there goes your heart - speeding its rate and slamming against your ribcage.

“...do they also make shirts that say ‘I love my husband’? No, even better: ‘My husband is the best and I love him to the sun and back’?”

“Heh, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Then…” you scoot closer, settling against his side, and smile, when his arm readily wraps around you, pressing you into him, “...can I call you ‘husband’ too when we are out?”

Kinich chuckles quietly, leaning back to flop onto the mattress horizontally, tugging you to follow suit. Turning onto his side, he secures an arm around your middle, burying his face into your neck, and gently murmurs: 

“Never minded it, wife.”

Xiao

You never liked seclusion. Although you couldn’t call yourself the most sociable specimen ever, among the other illuminated beasts you were one of the few who didn’t see themselves above the mortals and even chose to wear the form resembling them. It was not a secret you dwelled among the humans and even gifted them your humble craft of stitching.

Embroidery is an art; it takes shapes and runs in marvellous patterns, laid by a thread and a needle with an addition of precious stones. However, you never thought that when Celestia plunged the world into the despair of the Archon War, the Lord of Geo would be summoning you as one of his adepti, offering the people you took care for the protection of his alliance.

The tales of your craftsmanship had reached Morax before, and he had an opportunity to appreciate it; but what he was more interested in was your other ability. To weave threads from any material and utilize them to lay out a path for luck, protection, recovery and many more with your patterns. He saw use in it, and though you had your doubts, before long your embroidery decorated the clothes of many: the Milleliths, the fellow adepti and others who fought tirelessly.

You, on the other hand, were no warrior, and you would’ve liked to wish your only purpose was to save: to make embroidered charms for soldiers, to stitch together broken bridges for mortals to flee, to create obstacles to delay the woe, to spread out your threads like a net for communication… But with time your skill started to grow, and threads were strengthening as well, with new materials at your disposal.

Soon you learnt to make them so sharp they could cut enemies’ armor and flesh.

The war was cruel. At least your fellow adepti were always there to shoulder the burden of witnessing and bringing death.

They were also there, when the horrors of it were at last over. When your sleeves and the hem of the robe were long drenched in blood beyond saving, fingers punctured and scarred, the eyesight worsened from sleepless nights and intense staring at the patterns to make them right, because you then knew your craft served a greater purpose, and you couldn’t allow yourself to let anyone down.

You were exhausted, your form grew weak, you needed rest like nobody else. And after another strategic meeting Rex-Lapis held, where several of your companions expressed their concern about your condition, not wishing to lose another of them, it was decided that Streetward Rambler would lull you into slumber with one of her melodies.

It was a long, dreamless slumber - a blessing, really.

Decades later you were awoken to the changed world: adepti settled down in the mountains of the vast land, many established their own domains (Cloud Retainer immediately urged you to do the same, and helped you quite a lot, surprisingly); battle-planning meetings transformed into friendly gatherings, slowly but surely filling with laughter, music, heated arguments, the smell of tea or wine and mouth-watering steam from lavish dishes one of your companions came up with this time. The Liyue Harbor was thriving, mortals safe and happy, glorifying Rex-Lapis and adepti in their tales, your title, the Fortune Weaver, along with everything you’d done for the people, were proudly presented in their folklore among the others…

…and then Alatus was brought to you.

Physical injuries treated, but mind and soul burdened with the karmic debt, the frowning Yaksha was trying his best not to show the state he was in. If not for the fact he was visibly torn between denying he needed any help and defying his god’s order to stay with you and get better, you bet you’d have missed out the signs (you really needed to do something with your eyesight).

Morax asked for your assistance once more: your stitched charms and embroidered clothes did wonders during the war, maybe they could help his disciple heal.

And after you learned what had happened to the other Yakshas? How could you possibly say ‘no’?

Helping him, however, was easier as a concept than an actual action. Yes, Alatus promised to stay in your domain and attempt to heal. He also swore not to cause you any harm, which brought you to a problem: he was avoiding you, not letting you get quite close. You understood it was caused by his fear to attack you accidentally under the influence of his mind’s corruption, so you let him be for the time being, busying your hands with adding extra protective patterns to your robes (for the peace of his mind more than yours), and, since above everything you’ve been determined to help, weaving him a huge blanket.

…Xiao always recalls it in embarrassment, but you did have to chase him with it like a wild cat all over your domain eventually. Was he hissing and glaring his huge golden eyes with slitted pupils at you at some point? 

…yes.

Did you, once fed up (and you were oh so patient for the longest time, he admits it himself), actually use your threads to capture and tie him up?

…is he allowed not to answer this one?

So the more flabbergasted your fellow adepti were when decades later, during one of the friendly meetings everyone grew fond of, you and the vigilant Yaksha brought exciting news: you were going to tie the knot!

Metaphorically and literally.

Xiao glances at the bow tied on his ring finger. The red string of fate - a tale of true love and a firm belief of the people of Liyue in soulmates. A concept he never gave thought to, couldn’t dare to dream of, yet one you turned into reality with your own two hands. To make your union special. To give him a reminder that he is no longer alone, that he is loved, that there is a person who sincerely worries for him and cares enough to drop everything and appear next to him the moment he needs you. This was what you promised him when you tied the knot on his finger, and, by wrapping the other end around yours, he swore to repay you in kind (even though in his heart he knew he would’ve paid it tenfold for everything you’ve ever done for him).

Through this bond - invisible to anyone but you and him - he could easily sense you wherever you are, no matter how far. For example, for the past couple of months you’ve been away, in another nation, visiting your dear disciple and her partner, and the Yaksha could still lightly tug on the thread, and receive a gentle tug in response. And, as you began your journey back, the distance to which the string had stretched started to shorten.

Come to think of it… You are on your way home. That’s a fact, he considered it a simple fact. But after that training a week ago when Ganyu caught him staring at his finger and sweetly asked if he was excited for his wife’s return… He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

You’ve been away for two months. That’s not long for immortal beings such as yourselves. Yet here he is, wrapped in a realization that he misses his wife, her caring smile, her slight squint, the quiet evenings together filled with walks across the vast rocky land or staying inside her domain doing whatever, and so much more things that makes his life whole. And that he has been staring at the cute bow tied with her own hands every spare moment he had, like it could tell him the exact day and time he’d see her.

Just like now, sitting at the table on the top balcony at the Wangshu Inn with the adepti and their disciples, - something about Ganyu treating everyone, he was too caught up in his thoughts when Shenhe came to retrieve him, that he didn’t listen attentively, - Xiao keeps glancing at the thread every couple of minutes. He knows you are close to the Liyue harbour, the connection is growing stronger and steadier, and he finds himself restless, despite the neutral expression plastered on his face as usual.

Which he doesn’t realize until Rex-Lapis– No, Zhongli takes notice.

“Is everything alright, Xiao? I don’t mean to shame you, but you are fidgeting, and it worries me. Is the chair uncomfortable? Should we ask to replace it?”

The Yaksha whips his head up, tearing his gaze from his hand, and finds everyone at the table staring at him: some with curiosity, some with concern, and the elders - hiding their knowing smiles behind the cups of tea or food.

Blood rushes to his pale cheeks.

“N-no, I am fine. Thank you for your concern–and I deeply apologize.”

“Someone can’t wait to see his beloved wife and is tormented by the yearning,” the Cloud Retainer declares bluntly and fixes her glasses giving Xiao a look - not of disapproval, but of hardly veiled merit. “One means to say it’s admirable - loving your partner so resolutely and wholeheartedly.”

“Now, now, let’s not tease our friend, Xianyun,” Madame Ping says softly, turning to the said friend, whose blush has spread all the way to his ears. “Is she close?”

Fighting the inner demons that urge him to flee the scene (Xiao, these are just your thoughts, your inner demons are gnawing at the stitched protective patterns on your clothes), he glances at his hand again and then gives a small nod.

“Must disembark soon…”

Huh, now leaving and rushing to meet you half way doesn’t sound so bad anymore.

Suddenly Ganyu perks up.

“Do you think she’ll hear you if you call for her? It’ll be nice if she joins us!”

“She will,” this time he nods firmly, “if you don’t mind."

Words of reassurance immediately pour in from all sides, full of ‘can’t wait to hear the stories from her travel’ and ‘how can we deny two loving souls their reunion’, chairs scrape against the floor to make some space next to him, dishes clink quietly, being rearranged too. Shenhe stands up to go and grab an extra chair, Ganyu runs off to warn the inn’s staff of a possible incoming order, and Yao Yao turns to her mentor with questions.

Amidst this little chaotic scene Xiao exhales - with attention redirected from him he can gather his so easily shattered resolve and force the heat and flush off his face - he doubts he’ll survive if you join in with the teasing, and he is not passing up an opportunity to see you now.

Bringing his hand to his lips, he exhales again and kisses the bow.

“I need you, wife.”

In a moment he hears the familiar swish of teleportation, and then two arms enter his field of view, wrapping around his shoulders. Something lightly hits his chest (he’ll later realize it’s your enchanted bead-embroidered handbag), and familiar weight presses to his back. Warm breath fans against his cheek, and a gentle, adoring murmur caresses his ear, making his heart languish.

“I am here, husband.”

Oh.

…oh no, he is not going to survive this after all.

Just in time Shenhe is back with the chair and Ganyu on her tail, serving as a distraction, and Morax knows how much Xiao needs that (oh, he indeed does, watching the interaction and savoring his tea). You lean back, letting him out of your loving embrace, and the man is immediately torn between the prior need to compose himself and missing your arms and wanting them to return. 

But before he can make any decision for his next action, you sit down and reach for his hand under the table.

The mental tossing halts. Right, you are here, you are back - that’s what is important.

And when you smile at him warmly and mouth a quiet ‘I missed you’ and ‘can’t wait to go home with you later’, he lets his lips stretch into a small smile too and links your pinkies together.

‘Yeah, me too.’

taglist: @geolover, @uwuyuzuru, @zomberi, @shio225, @who-is-ralx, @krisamu, @yekaterina4848, @yrsssaaaaaa, @def-not-daria, @miszki

[velvetsbakery]

The travelers stronger than me if that man treated me like that and sweet talked me and praised me like that and got all close and personal with me YES I would’ve gone to his lab and sucked him dry

[bonzirella]

𐔌 . . . 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒 ꒱

✧ living forever was supposed to make you untouchable, not perpetually ill. all you wanted was a nap and some herbal tea. instead, you got adopted, scolded, doted on, and occasionally kidnapped by teyvat’s most eccentric (and hottest) personalities. honestly, at this point, you’re the real archon of healthcare. ― albedo + alhaitham + ayato + cyno + dottore + diluc + kaeya + kaveh + kazuha + lyney + neuvillette + scaramouche + tartaglia + thoma + tighnari + wriothesley + xiao + zhongli x reader ⋆ incl. mentions of ilness, passing out, death  𝜗ৎ reader is ill and sickly, however they're immortal, so they won't ever die. in other words, they're perpetually sick. there are a few death jokes (iirc, they're in Diluc's part) anyways . . . i had fun writing this ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ 

𐔌 . . . 𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐎꒱

You collapse in his lab again. Albedo doesn’t even flinch, just sighs, grabs a blanket, and notes down, “Patient continues to overestimate stamina. Adorable...scientifically. Of course, scientifically.”

You once tried to “help” him by organizing his reagents. You accidentally created a puff of toxic smoke and passed out. Albedo calmly opened the windows. “Ah. So this is why I don’t have assistants.”

When you get too sick to speak, he draws for you. He insists it’s for observational purposes, but his sketchbook has more drawings of your sleepy face than experimental diagrams.

Klee once saw you faint and yelled, “Albedo! They’re melting!” He never moved faster in his life.

Sometimes you apologize for being such a burden. Albedo just tilts his head. “If caring for you hindered my research, I would have stopped. I haven’t. Therefore, you are part of my work—and my peace.”

𐔌 . . . 𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌꒱

You once argued with him mid-fever about Kantian ethics, passed out halfway through, and woke up tucked into his bed with your notes neatly annotated.

“Why were you climbing the tower?” “To see if gravity feels different up high.” He stares at you for ten seconds straight. “It doesn’t. Please stop.”

He lectures you on self-preservation daily, but every time you start coughing, his entire rational front collapses. “You need rest.” “You need to admit you care about me.” “…Shut it. I don’t care about weaklings.”

When you fall asleep at your desk, he wordlessly sweeps you into his arms, tucks you into bed, places a glass of water beside you, and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like “cute.”

Your illness worsens during exams. He volunteers to carry your notes and escort you around campus, then glares at anyone who dares whisper “simp” (ahem, Kaveh). 

𐔌 . . . 𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐎꒱

He catches you fainting over paperwork again. “You know,” he says dryly, “our budget for the couches that you lay on when you pass out is starting to look a little suspicious.”

You try to hide your coughing fits. He pretends not to notice, but quietly rearranges your workload so your desk is near the garden’s open window.

Sometimes you stay late to finish his reports. When he finds you asleep on your desk, he covers you with his cloak, signs the last pages himself, and murmurs, “You’re too efficient.”

You once tripped during a meeting and nearly brought down a whole tea tray. Ayato caught the tray midair, set it down, and just smiled, “You’re as graceful as ever.”

When the sickness gets bad, he distracts you with light gossip about the other Commissioners. “Don’t worry,” he assures you with a chuckle, “I only weaponize secrets, not health conditions.”

𐔌 . . . 𝐁𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐇𝐔꒱

You once tried to help him grind herbs while feverish and accidentally mixed in sugar. He sighs, “Sweet of you—literally—but please, go lie down.”

Every time you say, “I feel fine”, he and Changsheng chorus, “No, you don’t.”

You’ve fallen asleep mid-treatment more times than you can count. Baizhu tucks you in with a sigh, whispering, “If you were any other patient, I’d charge triple.”

When you insist on helping around the pharmacy, he makes up safe tasks like counting the bamboo leaves. “If you finish before fainting, I’ll consider you cured,” he teases.

Despite his jokes, he checks your pulse more often than necessary. When you call him out, he smiles faintly. “Forgive me. I’ve lost too many patients to let one slip away because of pride.”

𐔌 . . . 𝐂𝐘𝐍𝐎꒱

He returns from missions expecting peace. Instead, he finds you stuck halfway inside a kitchen cabinet. “I dropped a spoon,” you try to scramble out and end up kicking him in the face. He deadpans. “Let’s not stir up trouble now.”

You worry about his dangerous job, meanwhile he worries about your ability to trip over flat ground.

When you get dizzy, he lifts you bridal-style without hesitation. You joke that he’s smoother than his puns. He freezes. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about my puns..”

He tries to teach you TCG so you’ll rest in bed more. You fall asleep mid-match. He still finishes your hand for you. “I win,” he mutters fondly, “but only because you let me.”

Sometimes you wake to find him sitting beside you, head bowed, fingers loosely holding yours. “You break every rule of common sense,” he murmurs, “but I’d kill anyone for making you cry.”

𐔌 . . . 𝐃𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄꒱

You cough blood mid-sentence. He doesn’t even blink. “Good,” he murmurs, “that means the serum is working.” “Normal people call that dying, you maniac.”

He finds your defiance entertaining. “You’re trembling, but you still argue. Fascinating. Perhaps fear strengthens human stubbornness?”

You once slapped his hand away when he tried to inject you. There was a full five seconds of silence before he smiled an awful, slow smile. “Ah. The survival instinct in action. Precious.”

He gives you “treatments” that look like they weren’t made for human use. If you ask what they do, he’ll hold up a scapula. “I’ll tell you if you live.”

Sometimes, late at night, you catch him adjusting your blanket. “The experiment must stay alive,” he mutters. But when you whisper “thanks, Doctor,” he freezes and doesn’t answer.

You’re certain he’s using you for research. You’re equally certain that when his experiments go wrong, his hands shake just a little as he fixes you up.

𐔌 . . . 𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂꒱

You once stomped your foot, demanding to go out and touch grass. Diluc sighed, picked you up bridal-style, and carried you outside to touch exactly one blade of grass. “Happy now?”

You get cold easily, so he lights the fireplace before every nap. When you complain it’s too hot, he just gives you that look.

The first time you tried to sneak out at night, he caught you mid-step and deadpanned. “You’re grounded. Permanently.”

You love teasing him. “Diluc, if I die, can you cry handsomely at my funeral?” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You’re not dying. And I wouldn't cry.” (He absolutely would.)

He grows and dries herbs himself for your tea. You make faces at the bitterness. “You’ll drink it,” he warns, “or I’ll force you to drink it myself.” You nearly choke laughing at the idea of him dressed in an apron, making you drink…until he actually does it. Never again.

Every time you call him “my knight in shining armor,” he blushes and mutters, “I’m not a knight anymore,” but still holds you tenderly like one. 

𐔌 . . . 𝐈𝐅𝐀꒱

You once tripped while holding a small Saurian and cried, thinking you hurt it. Ifa checked both of you, sighed, and crossed his arms. “The Saurian’s fine. My floor, however, may not survive another of your episodes.”

You’re technically his assistant, but he never lets you lift anything heavier than a feather. “You can help by existing peacefully. Please.”

Every Saurian in the clinic adores you. They follow you around like little guardians. Ifa jokes, “If you ever leave, I’ll have to deal with a revolt.”

You love cooking for him when he’s busy. Half the time you burn something, and he still eats it with a smile. “If my stomach can survive toxins, it can survive your soup.”

When your illness acts up, he hums lullabies from his childhood while changing your bandages. You call him the kindest man alive. He replies, “Don’t say that. I’ll get a reputation.”

𐔌 . . . 𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀꒱

You fainted in the middle of the Knights’ office once. He caught you instantly. “Don’t worry, everyone, they’re just swooning from my looks.”

You once fell asleep at your desk mid-meeting. Kaeya quietly finished your portion of the paperwork and told Jean, “Teamwork, right?”

When you look too pale, he brings flowers to your desk with a smirk. “For decoration,” he says. But the bouquet always matches your favorite colors.

He teases you endlessly…until you cough. Then he turns serious, adjusts your scarf, and mutters something like, “You know, I hate it when you go quiet.”

He once challenged you to a race just to make you laugh. You tripped on the second step, and he carried you the rest of the way, grinning. “Victory by default.”

Beneath the jokes, you’ve caught him glancing at you when he thinks you’re not looking with a look softer than he’d like to admit.

𐔌 . . . 𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇꒱

You and Kaveh once decided to “fix” a loose balcony railing together. Alhaitham came home to find you both dangling over the edge, arguing about aesthetic symmetry.

Kaveh panics every time you sneeze. “They’re DYING!” he yells. “It’s a cold,” you mumble. 

When you faint, he fanatically fans you with blueprints. “Breathe, my love, breathe!” Alhaitham: “If they die, I’m not cleaning it up.”

You both cry over sad books and spill tea on each other. Alhaitham keeps a mop specifically labeled ‘For Kaveh & His Sickly Love’.

Kaveh spoils you rotten. Handmade pillows, curtains, tea sets—your room looks like a fever dream of affection. When you tell him it’s too much, he gasps dramatically, “Too much love? Impossible!”

One night when you had a fever, he stayed up talking until you fell asleep. In the morning, Alhaitham found him drooling on your shoulder and muttered, “Both of you are incurable.”

𐔌 . . . 𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀꒱

Every time he sails somewhere new, he sends back a pressed flower and a note. “For when you miss the breeze.” You have a whole wall of them now.

Once, when he returned home and saw you struggling to stand, he quietly lifted you and whispered, “I’ll carry you until your strength returns.” You pretended to complain. He smiled against your hair.

You keep jokingly asking him to bring back souvenirs. He takes it too seriously. You once woke up to find a basket of seashells, a rock, and a live crab beside your bed.

He buys a Kamera, saying, “Now you can see the world through my eyes.” He fills your room with photos of sunsets, forests, and landscapes all with you in mind.

When you get sick, he reads poetry aloud until you fall asleep. He never finishes the last line out loud—he always saves it for when you wake.

He’s seen countless sunsets, but he swears your sleepy smile outshines all of them.

𐔌 . . . 𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐄𝐘꒱

He performs full magic shows in your room with cards, doves, and all and insists on a ticket fee of “one smile per act.”

You once asked him to make your fever disappear. He kissed your forehead. “Sorry, my love. Even magic has its limits.”

When you try to get out of bed too early, he blocks the door with a dramatic bow. “For my next trick, I’ll make my assistant rest.”

You told him you don’t like pity. He never gives it, only warmth. When you’re bedridden, he tells you stories of the Melusines’ mischief and Fontaine’s chaos until your laughter drowns out the pain.

He sometimes hides small gifts under your pillows like ribbons, cards, or candies shaped like hearts. “A magician never reveals his secrets,” he elusively smiles when you confront him, but the blush gives him away.

When your cough keeps you up, he lies beside you, holds your hand, and whispers, “The show must go on, but not without you. Never without you, mon amour.”

𐔌 . . . 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄꒱

The first time you got sick under his care, he brought you water instead of soup. “This… doesn’t work?”

You once demanded apple slices cut into stars. He actually tried. It ended with both of you staring at a mangled fruit and him looking devastated.

You call him “Papa Neuvi” as a joke. He gets visibly flustered and mutters, “That is… not an appropriate form of address for the Chief Justice.” You keep doing it anyway.

When you cry from pain, it rains every time.

He consults Melusines for care tips. They’ve essentially adopted you. One even knitted you a scarf that says “Get well soon, weak immortal.”

Despite his confusion, he’s surprisingly gentle, his hand cool on your feverish forehead, his voice soft. “You are… precious, though I cannot explain why.”

𐔌 . . . 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄꒱

You cough once and he’s instantly hovering. “You’re so fragile, it’s ridiculous.” You smile, teasing. “You love it.” He goes scarlet and mutters, “Delusional.”

He complains nonstop. “You’re heavy. Stop leaning on me.” Meanwhile, he hasn’t moved from holding you for an hour.

Once, you told him to smile more. He said, “I’ll smile when you stop tripping over your own feet.” Then you tripped. He caught you mid-fall and sighed. “Unbelievable. You manage to defy the laws of what’s natural every second you breathe.”

He pretends not to care, but he keeps meticulous notes of your symptoms. You found one labeled ‘Days They Didn’t Cough’ and of course, he denied it.

When you thank him for looking after you, he scoffs, “Don’t misunderstand. I just don’t want you dying in my vicinity.” Still, his hand lingers on your hair.

You once fell asleep against him mid-argument. He went silent, then whispered. “Fine. You win this one.”

𐔌 . . . 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐀꒱

He cleans his hands thoroughly before touching you. You tease. “What, afraid I’ll catch your inclination to violence?” He smiles. “No. I just don’t want you seeing blood and remembering pain.” 

Once, he took you ice skating to build stamina. You fell 17 times. He caught you 16 of those times. On the 17th, he dove after you and both ended up in a snowbank laughing.

When you collapse from overexertion, he panics. The infamous Harbinger who fears nothing will beg you to wake up.

You once scolded him for coming home injured. He scolded you right back for walking up stairs too fast. “We’re both idiots,” he concluded, kissing your forehead, “perfect match.”

He spoils you with gifts from every nation: weapons, plush toys, rare sweets. You asked for something simple once, “Just you home safe and sound.” He grinned. “Dangerous choice, but I’m yours.”

If someone so much as looks at you wrong, they mysteriously forget how to use their legs for a week. Coincidence? You think not. He denies it every time, though. 

𐔌 . . . 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐀꒱

He once found you hanging upside down from a balcony trying to reach a wind chime. You waved, and he almost had a stroke.

He’s learning nursing just to care for you, but every time he tries to practice bandaging, you “help” and somehow end up wrapped like a mummy.

You keep trying to cook for him to return the favor, and he keeps finding new ways to politely compliment charcoal.

He takes notes from Baizhu, Kuki Shinobu, and even Kokomi. Still, your unpredictability keeps defeating medical science.

When he scolds you for overexerting yourself, you give him puppy eyes. He folds instantly. “You’re impossible,” he mutters, spoon-feeding you soup anyway.

If you so much as sneeze, he cancels plans, grabs medicine, a blanket, tea, and enough snacks for an apocalypse. He swears it’s “just in case.”

He secretly loves caring for you, but every time you do something reckless, he adds another gray hair and whispers. “Why did I fall for you again?”

𐔌 . . . 𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈꒱

You once pretended to faint so he’d cancel patrol. He crouched down and poked your cheek. “Convincing. Ten out of ten acting. Get up.”

Every time you get a fever, you demand cuddles. Every time he gives in, he mutters, “If you transmit pathogens to me again, I’ll put you in quarantine.”

When he leaves for work, you immediately get into trouble, climbing trees, stealing snacks, or pestering Collei. He always knows. “How?” you ask. “Because the forest rangers report you,” he tries to hide a smile at your baffled expression.

He keeps an entire shelf of herbal teas labeled For When the Brat Inevitably Overdoes It Again.

You once tried to help him identify mushrooms and nearly ate one. He’s never looked so horrified in his life. 

Despite all the scolding, he checks on you every few hours. Sometimes he just stands in your doorway, ears twitching, watching your breathing even out. “At least you’re still alive,” he whispers, sounding relieved, “I must be doing something right” 

𐔌 . . . 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘꒱

You were sentenced by the Iudex to work under him for stealing medicine you desperately needed. You expected chains, instead you got warm blankets and hot cocoa. “This is… prison?” “Meropide’s hospitality division,” he says nonchalantly.

You feel guilty for not working much, but he waves you off. “Your job is to get better. Don’t make me file a complaint with myself.”

You once threw a mild tantrum about your medicine tasting bad. He crossed his arms. “Would you prefer injections?” You drank it immediately.

When you insist you’re fine and try to help around, he gently herds you back to bed like a wayward kitten. “Nice try, inmate.”

He keeps track of your health so closely it’s borderline overbearing. You joke that you’re his favorite prisoner. He just chuckles. “You’d get a lighter sentence if you stopped sneaking sweets.”

Beneath the teasing, he checks your pulse with genuine care, his big hand enveloping your wrist, voice low. “No more stealing medicine, understand? You’ll get it from me now. You won’t ever have to suffer like that again” Those words are always enough to ease your worries and soothe you to sleep. 

𐔌 . . . 𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎꒱

You once scolded him for not eating. He sighed. “You’re dying, and you’re scolding me?” You replied. “Exactly”, and he’s been finishing his meals ever since.

When you’re sick, he appears wordlessly at your side, silent as mist with those unreadable eyes. If you ask how long he’s been there, he says, “Long enough.”

You’ve fainted on the balcony during one of his visits. He caught you before you even hit the floor. “You can’t keep doing this,” he whispers, his voice breaking in a way he won’t ever show you.

Sometimes he hums a tune from long ago when he thinks you’re asleep. You hum it back once. He almost vanishes from sheer embarrassment.

You once said, “I’m not scared of dying, but I’d hate for you to be alone again.” He didn’t answer, just brushed your hair back with trembling fingers. 

He never says it aloud, but he’s terrified of losing you. So he watches, guards, stays. Always.

𐔌 . . . 𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈꒱

You whine when he brews bitter medicine. “Zhongli, it tastes like rock dust!” He calmly replies, “That’s because it is rock dust, refined through a thousand years of alchemy.”

You love clinging to him when you’re dizzy. He carries you effortlessly, murmuring, “Careful, my dear. You might chip my heart.”

When you can’t sleep, he tells you stories from ancient times—sometimes boring, sometimes tender. You always fall asleep halfway through. He pretends not to notice and finishes the tale anyway.

He spoils you with fine tea, silk blankets, and handmade remedies. You complain that he’s treating you like porcelain. “Porcelain,” he says, smiling, “endures centuries when cared for properly.”

Once, you faked feeling better so he’d stop worrying. He caught you immediately. “You are many things,” he sighed, “but a good liar is not one.”

He sometimes forgets money but never forgets your medicine. Even gods, it seems, have priorities. 

© 2025 bonzirella . . . . . . . . interested? read more here

[fatuismooches]

puer et monstrum.

synopsis: You attempt to help the adult raven reconcile with his younger fledgling self. In other words, four times Dottore ignored his child segment, the first time he didn’t, and the last time he did.

includes: dottore + platonic! zandy w/ gn! reader

notes: You grow to greatly love Zandy, Dottore's child segment, but you can't help but notice how your husband pays no attention to him. Therefore, you will try your best to change this. Fragile reader, lots of fluff, angst, very cute, you know the drill. Part of this fic is also greatly inspired by this ask (thank you to this anon!)

I. creation

At this point, Il Dottore had a good amount of experience creating segments.

Sure, the number of times he had failed was far greater than he liked, and he could count the number of successful segments with his fingers, but he had the general gist of the process and all. So, he decided it was time for him to create another segment of himself. This brought about the obvious question of what phase of his life he should bring back into this world. Dottore pondered this question for a while. He already made them all based on important parts of his life - when he was in the Akademiya, when he first became a Harbinger, and now one based on his current self not too long ago, just to name a few. He desired something new, something that could be vastly different.

In the end, he decided to create a child segment. 

His other segments were not very happy with the decision. A child would cry. A child would whine. A child could not do the tasks they could. A child would do… child things. It was a nuisance. But Dottore dismissed their complaints.

What good would a child’s perspective bring him? He didn’t know, but that was exactly the point. He didn’t know, which was why he sought the answer. And the only way to find this out was to create the child just as he’d done with his other younger selves.

After much time, money, and energy were exhausted, it was done. The child opened his eyes for the first time and saw a tall figure amidst the blinding lights. Once the masked man noticed his awakening, he looked at him, as if waiting for him to fully gain consciousness, and then spoke before the child could say anything.

“I am Dottore. You are a segment of mine that I created. You shall be called Ten.” After that brief statement, the man seemed to have finished all that he was going to say. That was when the child noticed the crowd of similar-looking blue-haired men as well, discussing things that he could not wrap his head around yet.

The child, now called “10”, had so many questions. Where was he? What does he do now? Why was he called a number? He doesn’t remember being called that before. Was he not Zandik anymore? The child wasn’t sure whether or not being ‘Zandik’ anymore was a good or bad thing. Maybe if he wasn’t ‘Zandik’ anymore, people wouldn’t scorn him so much.

Who are all these people, and why do they seem a bit similar to him? Being but a little kid, naturally, he was lost and confused, and he could not help but grasp the leg of the man called Dottore timidly. Immediately, the Harbinger stiffened at the contact, eyes swiftly moving to meet 10’s. The only person who ever touched him unprompted was you, but he had not felt your touch in centuries, so the sudden touch of the child surprised him. 

Though 10 could not see the taller man’s eyes, he didn’t think they were very kind. The child didn’t think the other man’s eyes were like his parents, or like the people from the village, no, but there was a certain feeling expressed toward him that 10 couldn’t explain. Regardless, 10 quickly received the message, and his hand slipped away from his creator’s.

“Tend to him,” was the lone order Prime gave the other segments before he left, leaving the little one all by himself, despite being surrounded by others.

II. curiosity

Being segments of the Harbinger meant they were busy people. Being the Harbinger himself meant that his time was even more sparse. This meant that any attention dedicated to 10 was few and far between, and pretty much always not of their own free will. One would think a child would be quite disheartened by the lack of attention, and well, they would be right, but 10 had long grown accustomed to being by himself ages ago considering his childhood. Did he like it? No, not yet at least. By the behavior of the other segments, he eventually grew to prefer being by himself. 

But 10 was still a child, curious about the world, which meant that he still did seek out the older segments’ company from time to time. Well, most of the time he was shooed away, but on rare occasions, 10 was able to be the recipient of some ranting by the younger segments or perhaps the observer of their intricate work (that was deemed acceptable to be viewed by children.) However, something 10 was able to learn was that there was one person whom the segments and Prime always seemed to offer their attention, willingly too.

[Name].

The kid seemed to be the only segment who didn’t really know you. 10 didn’t pay much attention to his older selves’ “patients”, but being an attentive and curious boy, he realized with due time that your name always seemed to be murmured by them. Not with the detached or annoyed tone the segments took on when regarding others, but it was different. Again, the young one had trouble putting his finger on it exactly, but if he had to put it into words, 10 would say they sounded a lot sweeter. It was an odd thing to say because if anyone else heard it, they certainly would not label the tone as sweet. It would probably sound simply normal to others. But that was truly what the child thought, maybe because he was connected to them in a way.

So of course, 10’s interest was very piqued. Oddly enough, for how nice they sounded, the child never saw a glimpse of you around the lab. 10 wondered what kind of person you were. How did you even know them? Would you talk about them in a sweet tone too? If you met him… would you speak about him that way as well? He wondered what it took for the older men to like you so much, maybe even… love? The child doesn’t know what love exactly looks like, but if love was anything like the stories he’s read, how the segments talk about you could be said to be a bit similar. 

But if 10 were to compare the two some more, maybe they aren’t that alike after all, considering all the things that were different. If segments loved you, wouldn’t you constantly be by their side, as lovers in fairytales do? If you two were apart, wouldn’t his creator be anguished by the loss of your presence, just like in the books? Yet whenever he saw the original, his expression seemed to always be the same - calculating, tired, seemingly more absorbed in his research than worried for another. (For the child does not understand how well Prime wears more masks than one.) 

So needless to say, 10 was confused. And with confusion comes curiosity, the need to seek out the answer, common for any child but especially for one as inquisitive as the blue-haired boy. In his room, 10 pondered for a while on what to do - he could try to sneak around for answers, but he imagined he’d get caught and scolded by the segments long before he found anything out. So, the child decided to simply ask about the matter. After all, the others always say asking questions is an important part of an experiment.

It’s still a gamble though, the child is well aware of the less than hospitable energy toward him by the others. They have a general… lack of patience for him. But still, persistence and the pursuit of knowledge are traits embodied in every version of Dottore. And so the child gathered up all his courage and set his little plan into action.

It was like any other day 10 had witnessed in the far too familiar lab. He had made sure to wake up in the very early morning - it was the best opportunity to catch a few segments together before they split up to do their separate tasks. Well, hopefully, they were there, some of them tended to stay locked up in their respective labs until they figured out the answer to what they were seeking. The child surprisingly had little sleepiness remaining in his system, the anticipation of the answer he would receive keeping him awake.

For once, it looked as though the segments were not bickering. It wasn’t quiet either though, they seemed to be discussing something work-related. But that was beside the point. Upon entering the room, the segments were a bit surprised to see 10, for it was obviously out of the ordinary for the kid to be awake, much less roaming around at this hour.

“What are you doing awake?” The Akademiya segment, 01, didn’t bother to hide his tone, unwilling to be vexed further with all the work he had left to do. But the child had come here with a determination that wouldn’t be swayed.

“I have a question,” 10 stated. The next segment who spoke didn’t spare a glance at him.

“And it could not wait until morning? You felt the need to interrupt us now?” 04’s response was blunt and straight to the point as usual - he was a segment that was perpetually annoyed. 10 couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever seen a smile on this segment. And yet 04 seemed kinder to him than when he interacted with others. 

Meanwhile, 02 watched with an unreadable expression behind his spotted mask. It was hard to predict what response you would get from 02 - would he be annoyed and snappy or perhaps treat you with a dose of excitement and interest? This time, however, it was the latter, as a grin crept its way onto his face.

“No, I want to hear this question. Surely, it must be greatly important for you to go to such lengths, yes?” 02’s red eyes gleamed, intrigued by the child segment’s nod. 10 nervously swallowed before squaring his shoulders resolutely.

“Who is [Name]?” 

And then all the miscellaneous noises in the lab came to an abrupt halt. 24, who usually remained uninterested in the conversations of his other segments, had suddenly tuned into the discussion at the mention of your name. The other present segments, who were absorbed in their work mere moments ago, now had their undivided attention on the child. 

“No one,” 04 said flatly, but the damage was already done. It was obvious that was a lie, and the child’s eyes glittered with enthusiasm as he began bouncing around to each segment.

“Who are they? What are they like? You like them, don’t you?” At the last question, 01 scowled at the declaration, hoping no one would notice the slight color of red at the tips of his ears. 02’s previous demeanor had changed into a blank yet thoughtful one, while 04 looked exasperated at the whole situation.

“How do you know about [Name]?” 24 was the one who finally responded to the child, and 10 awkwardly halted his barrage of questions. If 10 was being honest, 24 was probably the scariest of all the segments. The one closest to Prime and the most selfish.

“Well, all of you have mentioned them at least once… and when you do say their name, it just sounds like you like them. A lot,” 10 stared at the ground as he shared his observation. “You don’t sound like that for anyone else.” The segments were silent once more. The question was, were they that obvious, or was the brat just really attentive? The answer was most likely the latter, but still. This wasn’t a good look for them.

“I suppose this was bound to happen sooner or later,” 01 had recovered from his embarrassment, “Considering how much Two prattles on about them.” 02 frowned at the sudden accusation.

“Excuse me? That is rich coming from you,” the clone quickly snapped back, for the other was no exception to carrying on about you. 24 just grimaced at the start of another bickering session between his other selves.

“A-Anyway!” 10 interrupted the others before he could be ignored. “Can I know who they are? Can I see them?” The child pleaded earnestly as another pause swept through the room.

“You will not stop begging until we say yes, won’t you?” 04 sighed. “However, that decision is up to Prime.” 10’s shoulders drooped. He wasn’t really sure if Prime would listen to him, considering how rarely they ever spoke.

However, miraculously enough, a few days later, his wish was granted. He doesn’t know why Prime decided to do it, but 10 was just happy he’d finally know about the mysterious person! Funnily enough, the news had spread to all the segments, and all of them had decided to gather in the same space to tell their own opinion about you. 10 had never seen them… congregate like this. They seemed to enjoy the common topic - you - but the squabbling about certain matters (again, you) still took place. The child learned more things about you than he even understood. 

But he knew the basics now - you were their lover, meaning you loved them and they loved you, which even though it was not explicitly said, the child knew it anyway. This was obviously something a bit difficult for 10 to wrap his head around, but he found the idea thrilling. He knew his older selves well enough to know that you must be a pretty amazing person to have them so interested. 

Unfortunately, the child couldn’t prove this hypothesis of his, as he later found out the reason why you were nowhere to be seen. 10 remembers the first time he saw you, accompanied by another segment (18, this time.) Hooked up to a machine with countless wires, hands laying limp by your side, along with your chest that unnoticeably rose and fell. You were nothing like what 10 thought you’d look like. And yet he too thought you were beautiful. Sure, the child couldn’t see your eyes or smile or hear your voice, but as he held your hand and compared it to his much smaller one, he just had a feeling you were nothing like the grown-ups that he once knew long ago. But 10 was disappointed.

“Is [Name] going to be okay?” 10 worriedly looked at the segment, wondering about your current state. The others hadn’t disclosed many details about your illness.

“They will,” 18 affirmed. At least this segment was nicer to him than the others, with his softer tone and gentler mannerisms. He was still a Dottore segment, however. “One day they will wake up.” With that as his only answer, 10 went back to tracing the lines on the palm of your cold hand, hoping you would open your eyes again soon just like the other blue-haired men.

Since then, 10 found himself visiting your silent room, save for the beep-beeps from your machines, more and more often. There was just something about this unmoving, sleeping grown-up that drew him in. 10 had so many questions to ask you… but for now, he settled for reading his stories aloud to you. Maybe you could hear them too. Occasionally, some other segments dropped in to check on you, but they didn’t pay much mind to him other than reminding him not to touch anything, as his presence near you had become commonplace.

However, on one particular day, 10 found that your room was already occupied by someone else. 10 had heard a familiar yet muffled voice coming from inside, yet he could not make out the exact words from outside in the hallway. Carefully padding closer to the room, the child strained his ears to make out the words. It sounded like the person was talking to another, like a conversation, only that it seemed one-sided since 10 could only distinguish one voice. Finally, he got the courage to gently push the door open a bit more and peek to see who it was inside.

It wasn’t merely a segment there to check on you, no, this time it was Prime Dottore himself, sitting near your side in the same chair that the child always sat in. The child was surprised - he rarely ever saw Prime outside of his lab or office, and when he did, it was usually when Prime was forced to attend to certain Fatui duties. Of course, he never paid much attention to his child segment. Unfortunately, 10 had stared a bit too much, as the original quickly noticed his presence and immediately got up from the seat. 10 jumped a bit too, instinctively pulling back and hiding against the wall. But it was too late.

“Come in.” 10 had no option other than to comply, as he shyly stepped into your room, still clinging to the wall. The child nervously swallowed as he scrambled for an excuse as to why he was intruding.

“Um… I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were in here,” 10 apologized meekly, hands behind his back as his eyes flicked from Dottore’s face to the floor. The older man’s expression was unreadable, and it was silent for a good few moments before he spoke.

“I see,” was all Dottore said before he started walking toward 10, or rather, the door. The child looked up at the figure that had now gone past him, words leaving his mouth before he could think.

“Were you talking to [Name]? Do you miss them too?” Now that 10 thought about it, he had heard all about what the other segments had to say about you, but he still didn’t know the original’s feelings. Still, the child was surprised at himself for being able to ask Prime that. At the question, Dottore stopped in his tracks, seemingly contemplating whether he should respond or dismiss him before he turned around and faced his child segment, who then stiffened at the direct look.

“I hear that you’re with them quite often.” 10’s eyes widened at the response and nodded, although it wasn’t really an answer to his questions. “[Name] enjoys your company.” This only served to confuse the child even more, as he then glanced at your body. (For only Dottore knows about the time he found you asleep with a smile after the little boy left your room.)

“They… do? How do you know?” But when 10 looked back, Dottore was already gone. Well, he knew not to expect much conversation from him anyway, but still, he was greatly curious at his words. Regardless, 10 then walked up to you and made himself comfy near your bedside.

“Why do you like him so much, [Name]?” 10 inquired, playing with your fingers as he rested his cheek on your body. But of course, he received no answer from the person he was closest with yet farthest away from in this lab.

Even at the end of all of this, 10 still wasn’t exactly sure of what to think of you, having not had a real conversation with you yet, but he thought you seemed really cool, even while hooked up to a machine.

III. close

Change was not something 10 was familiar with. He was stuck as a kid forever, he was stuck in the lab, unable to leave like the other segments, he was stuck with the same toys and stories and other various pastimes that had long grown boring. So, the excitement of the unpredictable was something sorely lacking in the child’s life. Not to mention, the lab was a pretty dark place, both figuratively and literally. Although the boy was used to it, he wished it would be a bit more lively.

And after countless years of wishing, his wish finally came true. You, the mysterious sleeping grown-up that he only heard stories about, [Name], had finally woken up from centuries-long slumber. 10 was, to put it in a child’s simple words, “super happy”, but anyone else could see that his feelings went beyond that. However, despite 10’s great desire to meet you, he had decided to wait a bit, just to observe you.

The child followed you around, looking at you from afar, always slipping away before you could notice his presence. Seeing you up and walking around was so different from the once unmoving body he was so accustomed to. He listened to your voice. He watched you relearn so many things. He saw how sweetly you interacted with the other segments, and how keen they were for your touch, how they would tend to you on your weaker days. The child had never seen anything like it. 10 would have never believed the amount of change one mere person could bring. Meanwhile, the segments remained indifferent to the boy.

The more 10 watched you, the more he finally wanted to bask in your attention too. But the boy was scared. He remembered all the other adults in his life, from the village, and how they all looked and treated him with contempt. Could you be like that too? He wanted to think the answer was no, from how kind you seemed, but all the adults were so nice to the others except for him.

But maybe, maybe this time, it could be different. Everyone else approved of you after all. 10 wanted to trust you.

For once, his trust was not betrayed. After 10 finally introduced himself to you, you had given him so much attention it made his head spin. Your gentle and loving yet not overbearing demeanor. The way you listened to him seriously and reciprocated the energy, taking part in his childish activities. He was enthralled, to say the least.

You, on the other hand, were initially mystified by the appearance of the child. Not just any child, Dottore’s child self. Just to let that sink in, you had to keep repeating it to yourself. 10 was Dottore’s child self. He was him as a kid. What you were looking at was the embodiment of Zandik as a little boy. You couldn’t really believe your eyes at first. But he was real. Very real, from his higher-pitched voice (that was a really sharp contrast to Omega, for example) to his childlike demeanor and innocence.

The whole deal with the segments already took a bit for you to get accustomed to, but this was sort of new territory for you. After all, even though you’d known Dottore for so long, his childhood was something that came up rather infrequently. You chose not to pry further when you learned of how poorly he was treated as a child and instead offered him comfort in other ways. It had always made your heart ache and you wished you could do something more about it, to soothe his pain even just a bit. But now you quite literally had him in front of you, in a way. Quickly, your mind began working and formulating something.

Maybe… maybe you could help him by helping 10.

Sure, it sounded a bit stupid and probably useless at first, but there was no harm in trying. If anything else, you would be making 10 smile. From what you could infer, his life within this lab was far too dour for your liking.

Regardless, all those hours flew by in the blink of an eye, so much so that it felt like a dream. Was it, 10 wondered. But then the next day he found you eagerly waiting for him so you could spend more time with him. And the next. And the following day. And next week. Next month. And by then, he and the other were no longer merely numbers, but rather, they had names bestowed upon them, to truly identify them as individuals. 

And so, 10 had become Zandy. The difference between his past and present self was just as stark as the name change. It wasn’t just him, either. The other segments seemed different too with you around, in a good way. In all honesty, the young boy thought you were magical because he thought this kind of reality would only be possible in fairy tales. Needless to say, Zandy admired you greatly and sought you out quite frequently. 

He was happy to have you help him with his various assignments - to which your eyes nearly popped out when you saw the length and difficulty of some of the questions. You did help him, despite your shaky hands, but most of the time you stole him away to do much more fun things, that were “more important” according to you. The segments kept their thoughts to themselves unless they wanted to hear you gently scold them. It was amazing, Zandy thought.

The conversation of love had happened one day when you were putting him to bed after a long day. It had become a sort of routine for the two of you. You liked it because why wouldn’t you, it was the cutest thing ever. Zandy liked it because of how nice you were even when he really didn’t want to sleep yet, always indulging him with a story or a warm glass of milk. The segments liked it because they didn’t need to deal with him. 

“[Name], you love the segments, right?” Zandy had noticed that the word ‘love’ came out of your mouth rather frequently, compared to the other blue-haired men. You blinked at the question.

“Yes, I do. Why?” You asked as you tucked him in for the night alongside his Ruin Guard plushies (that you extorted the segments for.)

“All of them?”

“Of course.”

“Omega and Beta and Alpha and Delta and Zeta and-” His words were stopped by your laughter.

“Yes, dear. And Theta and Psi and Epsilon and- you don’t need me to list out all of their names, right?” Zandy shook his head but he still had another question for you.

“How much love do you have in you, [Name]?” The child couldn’t help but wonder how you did it - loving that many people seemed like a lot of work. You chuckled at the question.

“Very, very, much. You cannot put a quantity to love. It just happens when I’m surrounded by so many lovely people,” you kissed the boy on his forehead. “And that goes for you too. I love you very much, Zandy.” The child’s eyes widened as he fell silent, to which you questioned.

“Zandy? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he mumbled, his words further muffled by how he had now pulled the blanket over his head. You quickly connected the dots. He had probably never been told before that he was loved. You moved your hand under the blankets until you could feel one of his tiny hands, and then intertwined your fingers with the child’s.

“Hey, no need to lie to me, dear. You don’t have to hide around me,” you tried to gently soothe Zandy and coax him out when he spoke again.

“How do you know?”

“How do I know what?”

“That you love me.” His head popped back out of the blanket as he stared at you with big, uncertain eyes, but you only smiled in response.

“Well… for me, it’s simple. It brings me great joy to see you happy and smiling, and I want to make sure you continue to do so. I want to protect you, and I don’t ever want to see you hurt or sad. I want to make sure all of your wishes and dreams come true, and I want to keep you safe.” You said as you stroked Zandy’s hair. (You would have said that you loved him just as any parent would love their son, but you knew that with his experiences… it may not have been the most efficient.) Zandy’s lowered his eyes as he began to chew on his lip in thought.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever loved anyone before, [Name].” Zandy thought back to his parents, people whom he thought he loved, but now that he had you around, he realized that his feelings for them were nothing compared to what you made him feel. Loved. 

“That’s quite alright. Love is a beautiful thing, but it isn’t easy. What matters is that one tries.” That was a lesson all the segments could use. It was a bit confusing for Zandy, but somehow, he felt he understood.

“I see…” The sleepiness had finally fully hit Zandy as his eyes began to droop.

“Now, go to sleep. You don’t want to wake up tired tomorrow.” The child nodded and snuggled more under the cover. “Sweet dreams, dear.” You squeezed his hand before kissing his forehead one last time, and then getting up to turn off the light. As the room turned dark, you heard a small voice from behind you.

“I… love you, [Name].” It was quiet enough that if you weren’t paying attention, you might not have heard it, but you found his shyness endearing.

“I love you too, my child.” You smiled before exiting Zandy’s room, leaving him to have wonderful dreams, and then you were slightly startled by the man waiting outside for you. Dottore, rather, Prime Dottore himself. Zandik.

“Dottore. You’re here. I’ve missed you!” Your surprise quickly morphed into happiness as you saw the person you loved. He looked pleased to see you as well, as you linked your arm around his. “I hope I didn’t keep you too long. I was putting Zandy to bed.”

“I am aware. You do so every day.” You giggled, a little bit embarrassed.

“Well, someone needs to. You know, you should join us! We could always use another playmate.”

“I believe you are far more suited to the task than I am. Moreover, how have you been feeling as of late? It seems you have more energy than usual.” The way he quickly changed the conversation didn’t go unnoticed by you. You had told yourself that you wanted to help Dottore by helping Zandy, but it seemed to you that he rarely ever interacted, or even wanted to interact with the child. Dottore didn’t talk to his segments much in general, but he still had to for experiments and general Fatui business. Zandy, however, was the exception. It did hurt your heart to see it happen.

Back in your room, you had some thinking to do.

Now that you thought about it, you should have seen this coming. It made a lot of sense for Dottore to behave like this. You knew his feelings toward his childhood, towards himself in fact. But was it right? Was it fair? Of course not, at least in your opinion. However, you didn’t know what Zandy thought about this. You had yet to see the two together, and you had never asked him about Prime either. 

You wondered what your lover thought when he heard of you and Zandy together, you hugging and showering him in affection. Did he like it? Was he annoyed? Or did he not care, maybe something else? You always prided yourself on being able to comprehend him but…

This wasn’t going to be easy.

But you would see it to the end.

IV. complex

You often enjoyed taking walks around the lab. It was a good pastime and a way to keep your body active, not to mention the times you’d bump into a segment and end up taking a little break with him. Although you enjoyed the time by yourself, it could be a bit too lonely sometimes, which was precisely why Zandy came along. 

You had found out that he knew every nook and cranny of this place like the back of his hand, having explored it for countless years as he had nothing better to do. Therefore, Zandy often showed you around the lab, more specifically, the unknown and harder-to-reach parts, also known as his favorite hiding spots. You were quite grateful for his assistance, as you were sure you’d never discover some of these places on your own. 

Zandy was a bundle of energy that you could handle, well, most of the time at least. Were it not for your illness, you would have matched it easily. You felt a bit bad about not being able to keep up with him, but the child never minded. Although he tended to run in the halls and drag you around, he always paid attention to whether you seemed to need a break. A real sweetheart, indeed. 

Today was one such day.

You and Zandy had already been in this area before, but it was so big you couldn’t complete it all in one day. The kid was eager to continue exploring with you, scampering in front of you and then jumping in place for you to catch up. You believed he was especially excited because, on one of these journeys, you two had discovered some sort of creature… or rather creatures lurking around. 

The corridors always had some darkness to them, so you had not noticed the black puff balls hiding until one of them popped open its singular red eye at you. You would have yelped if you weren’t in awe of the cuteness of the silly creature. Similarly, once Zandy followed your line of sight, stars appeared in his eyes as more black puff balls came out of nowhere, and began scurrying toward you. The singular blue strand of hair reminded you of someone. Your best guess was that it was one of Dottore’s failed experiments.

Before you could advise the child to be cautious of these pufflings, Zandy had scooped one up already and was petting it. At least they seemed to be friendly - they had even gifted you a couple of shiny things, tiny pieces of minerals. And you swore you caught sight of a fluffy blue thing with a tail peering from afar too that seemed to be too shy to approach. Perhaps Dottore would let you keep them as a pet if you asked?

You giggled to yourself as you finished reminiscing about that. You did hope you ran into those things again. Meanwhile, Zandy had already gone ahead, turning into another hall.

“Now Zandy, don’t run too fast before you trip and fall!” You called after him, increasing the pace of your steps to chase after him.

“Come on, all the Mr. Fluffies are wait-” Zandy’s joyful voice abruptly stopped. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before pushing yourself to jog a little faster. And that’s when you saw the reason why he had stopped - Dottore was standing over the little boy, the height difference so palpable that they both had to crane their neck to view the other. It seemed that Zandy bumped into him, but you were happy to see your two favorite people together. Perhaps this was a good chance to put another plan into action!

“Hello, Dottore. I’m glad to see you out of your office so much,” you greeted your lover with a pleasant smile. The man had no expression, while the boy hid his relief when he saw you. You tried not to bite your lip.

“I did not expect to see you here.”

“You know I like to take my daily walks, so Zandy here was just showing me some more places to go. But it looks like your secret spots aren’t so secret anymore, are they Zandy?” You chuckled light-heartedly, but when you looked down, you saw that the child was fidgeting with his fingers awkwardly, clinging onto your cling.

“Mhm.” Your smile fell.

“I see.” The two did not make eye contact, the tension suffocating. You cleared your throat.

“W-We could use another person to-”

“Unfortunately, I am preoccupied at the moment,” the Harbinger quickly dismissed your request. “However, do remember not to push yourself. Your body is still weak.”

“... Of course.”

“Good.” With a nod to you and without further eye contact to Zandy, he walked away. You held back a sigh before you ruffled the kid’s hair.

“Shall we continue?” Your smile didn’t reach all the way to your eyes, but you hoped Zandy wouldn’t realize. But before you could move, he spoke.

“Why do you like him so much, [Name]?” The child repeated the question he remembered asking you while you were still asleep. This time, however, he would finally get an answer. You crouched down to Zandy’s level, placing your hands on his shoulders as you pondered what to say. 

“I love Dottore because… he makes me feel loved too. For centuries, he’s treated me better than anyone else. His kindness may not be typical, but I still receive it happily. His sweetness is bitter, but the taste is pleasurable. His love isn’t ordinary, but it soothes me either way.”

“That makes sense.” Zandy knew that wasn’t a lie. He had seen how his creator treated you. “Then Prime must feel the opposite toward me.”

“That’s not true.” You frowned as you immediately shot down the thought, stroking Zandy’s cheek gently. “Dottore just-” Before you could finish, Zandy looked up at you with a wide, forced smile as he broke free from your hold.

“It’s okay, [Name]. It doesn’t bother me. Now let’s go, I want to find those puffy things again!” And then the child was off, and you were left with an aching heart.

That same night, you paid Dottore a visit, unwilling to be a bystander in this anymore. At least he was doing paperwork this time. It was easier to gain his attention than when he was doing an experiment.

“Dottore.”

“Hello, [Name].” The scholar didn’t look up from his work, as he was already used to you popping in and hanging around for a bit.

“Are you busy?”

“I-”

“Good. We need to talk.” Dottore paused and looked up at you for a moment, who had now stood in front of him, your hands balled on his desk. He took in the dissatisfied look and thin line in replace of your usual smile, before responding.

“About?”

“Why do you ignore Zandy so much?” You said plainly, not in the mood to beat around the bush. From the way his pen stopped, you think he knew this was coming eventually.

“I simply do not have time to entertain the whims of a child.”

“It has nothing to do with that! I-, this is just basic decency. It feels to me that your lack of consideration is on purpose. It is, isn’t it?” Dottore was silent, not even moving his pen.

“Answer me, Zandik.”

“He has you. It is enough.”

“It is not enough. Zandy is a child. He is hurt by you. You are hurting yourself, Zandik. Do you expect me to be okay with this?” Dottore’s pen had started moving again. Your palms hurt from your fingers digging into them so harshly. In a last-ditch effort, you attempted to speak to him using those terms he liked so much.

“Did you not create him to understand his perspective of everything? So, how do you plan to do that if you do not try to speak to him?” It seemed you were not going to let this go.

“I created my segments to observe their perspectives. To preserve it,” Dottore clarified. 

“Observe?” You laughed at that. “Pray tell, how will you do that if you don’t even try to be around the child for more than five seconds? And besides, merely observing never brings you the most satisfying results. I thought you of all people would understand that,” you quipped back. 

“Please, at least… at least tell me you’re going to try. Just try, even if it doesn’t work out,” you pleaded with your love. Unfortunately, your words could not reach him.

“It is late. You should go to sleep.” You gritted your teeth at his response.

“Fine. Then I will simply treat you the same way as you do with Zandy.” As he opened his mouth to defy your declaration, you quickly spoke again. “If you think I won’t do it, then you forgot the person I was in the Akademiya, and who I still am now. I do this because I love every single version of you, Zandik, more than anything else in this world. If you want to test my love, then by all means go ahead, but I doubt you’ll find even one possibility where you’ll be able to. Good night.” Your tone was hard and biting as you left without letting him get in another word.

Dottore could only watch as you stormed out, leaning back in his chair to rub his forehead as his mask clattered to the ground. Il Dottore was used to getting his way. Zandik, however, not so much, especially when you were in the picture. This perspective of yours was always… always something he struggled to understand.

Of course, the Harbinger learned very quickly that you would make good on your word. Instead of his name being called, he had to deal with his segments being asked for instead.

“Omega, please administer the medicine for me today.”

“Delta, could you come over here? I feel a bit unsteady on my feet.”

“Sigma, would you visit me before bed? I would like someone to chat with.”

“Beta, let’s go to your lab. I’m bored!”

You walked past him without a glance. You did not ask him anything. You did not refer to him. He was practically invisible to you. You knew that you were technically being more harsh to him than he was to Zandy, but you weren’t going to stop. You also hoped that helping Dottore to be kind to Zandy would eventually spread to the other segments too. The segments were initially baffled by the turn of events but quickly adjusted to it, although the look Prime gave them certainly wasn’t something they wanted to endure. It didn’t need to be said that Prime was awfully upset, despite his unbothered expression.

In the past, every time you had pulled a stunt or something after an argument, Dottore would find it amusing. He had a bad habit of being unyielding and refusing to admit he was in the wrong, and that was coupled with his idea that you were just being childish. But every time, you stuck it out until the end and refused to back down too. Eventually, he stopped finding it funny.

The stalemate went on for a while. Dottore’s bed had remained cold for far too long, no longer having the pleasant surprise of finding you on it sometimes. His office was silent, your visits becoming nonexistent. Despite how he chided you sometimes for bothering him, his mind had become preoccupied with thoughts of you and what you were doing. It wasn’t good for someone who had so much work to do, and for someone who hated giving in. This simply wouldn’t do.

At the very least, he could at least still follow you around to see your sweet smile and laughter. You just didn’t know. However, it seemed every time he longed for you, you also happened to be with the kid. For a long time, every time he saw you be so sweet to the child, it felt like seeing an impossibility become a possibility, and yet he tried his best to ignore it. He knew how fond you were of his child segment, well, Zandy as you’ve come to call him, and he… he just didn’t…know how to feel.

Yet now he felt himself somehow drawn to the scene, in a strange way. Was it because he liked seeing you happy, and the child seemed to bring out your brightest smiles? Was it because seeing his child segment like this wasn’t something he’d ever witnessed before? Was it because he himself had never been treated so kindly as a child, and yet now he was watching it happen in front of him? Was it because his deepest wishes that he buried with his childhood self were now becoming reality? Dottore ignored the answers to his own questions, attempting to finish a report that was long overdue for Pantalone, but his mind continued to wander about what he had witnessed.

Dottore remembers when he overheard you and Zandy having dinner.

You and Zandy were sitting across from each other eating. Well, it was more like you trying to convince the child to eat at least a few of his vegetables.

“Zandy, at least eat a few. You don’t need to finish it all,” you gently urged the child. “How else are you going to become big and strong?” 

“But they’re yucky,” he pouted. You chuckled.

“Perhaps I need to experiment more… I will find a way to prepare it in a way you like, my child. But for now, if you eat a bit more, I’ll… give you my dessert!” Zandy perked up at your words while stabbing the dreaded green thing with his fork.

“Deal!” He exclaimed while forcing the vegetable into his mouth (eating with his ‘family’ for once.)

Dottore remembers when he overheard you and Zandy playing a game.

You had recently purchased a game from abroad to pass the time. It had four surfaces and numerous columns that you needed to place small, medium, or large gears on. The objective was to place the right gears at the right locations in order to get them all going. Although you originally bought it for yourself, Zandy was quite excited by the idea, and you were never going to turn down an opportunity to challenge his brain. Within reason, of course.

In the end, you were content with simply watching the child play with the gears and figure out the answer by himself, or with small hints from you.

“Would you look at that! You’ve already finished all of the levels, and we’ve only started today… I didn’t even need to be here since you’ve got such a smart brain up there,” you teased, tapping Zandy’s forehead playfully. He blushed slightly.

“That’s not true. Your advice was really helpful, [Name]!”

“Perhaps, but your own thoughts were already more than enough. I would like to hear them more often.” The child glowed at the idea of you listening to him (instead of shunning him.)

“Okay!”

Dottore remembers when he overheard you reading Zandy a book.

You had a tendency to invite Zandy over to your room often, considering how much Zandy liked it. He marveled at the size and all your decorations, and the collections of your interests (how you had gotten Dottore to fund this was beyond the child’s imagination.) Not to mention, how soft and fluffy your numerous pillows were. Tonight, you were reading him a story, the child lying back against your chest as you held the storybook in front of you two. 

“Alright, I think that’s enough for tonight,” you said as you stifled a yawn, and you also noticed Zandy was doing the same. “We can continue tomorrow.”

“Okay…” Zandy mumbled tiredly enough not to put up a fight. You put the book to the side and turned off the lights (with a remote, courteously created by Dottore for the days you couldn’t get out of bed.) Pulling up the blankets, you were about to wish the boy good night when he spoke.

“[Name]?”

“Yes?”

“I always have lots of fun when I’m with you but… do I bother you too much? I know you’re probably busy and you also have your illness and-”

“Zandy. I love spending time with you. And even if I am busy, I will always make time for you, no matter what,” you promised the boy (unlike that man and woman who left him forever alone.)

“Oh…”

“See? So don’t ever feel bad about it,” you reassured Zandy, which left him with only the sweetest of dreams to dream.

Dottore remembers when he overheard you gently lecturing Zandy.

Children are pure-hearted and innocent, and even Dottore was once a child. It wasn’t hard to see that Zandy and his other older selves were starkly different. The former was kind and sweet, and the latter… well, you didn’t need to say it out loud. But the main point was that you didn’t need to worry too much about Zandy hiding stuff from you. Once you broke down his walls, he was a very open and honest child. Ninety-nine percent of the time, you’d say. But of course, children were children.

You had left the child in the kitchen while you went to retrieve a new cookbook the Eleventh Harbinger had gifted you, wanting to try out some new dishes especially since Zandy was interested. When you got back, however, you noticed that his face seemed a bit flushed and nervous, and his hands were in his pockets.

“Zandy? Everything alright?”

“Um, yeah!” His voice sounded a bit odd, and you squinted at him while he avoided eye contact. You’ve dealt with Dottore who was a smooth, easy talker that could spin lies like nothing. Zandy, on the other hand, was too easy to see through.

“Are you sure?” The boy nodded in response, probably so his voice wouldn’t betray him again. “Show me your hands.” But he only had a child’s level of lying, from the way his eyes gave it away.

“But-”

“Now.” Zandy very reluctantly showed you his hand, and you then saw one of his fingers was dripping blood. Your heart sank.

“You’re bleeding? I- What happened?!” You rushed him over to the sink and began washing it, while your other hand rummaged through the cabinets for some cotton or bandages.

“I wanted to be h-helpful and get the stuff out for you. But I dropped a plate and it broke and I tried to clean it up and I cut myself,” Zandy mumbled, clearly not wanting to admit his mistake. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You were already used to seeing your own blood drawn, but Zandy was a different story. Seeing your child hurt had made you dizzy and uneasy, even if it was just a cut.

“... I thought you would be mad.” Zandy’s voice was but a whisper, and your eyes softened.

“And why would I be mad at you?”

“B-Because I broke something…” You sighed as you placed the bandage around his tiny finger.

“But it was just an accident, right? Accidents happen, and furthermore, we have dozens of plates. I would never be mad at something as simple as that. And I care far more for your well-being rather than a mere plate. So next time, please don’t lie to me. Okay, Zandy?” You said gently but firmly, as you finished treating his finger (a far cry from what his punishment used to be, living in that house.)

“Okay, [Name]...” The boy hugged you afterward, blinking back his tears on your shirt so you wouldn’t see them.

Dottore remembers when he overheard you talking to Zandy about him.

The stand-off between you and Dottore had gone on long enough for even Zandy to realize, even though you tried to keep him out of the loop. You should have guessed that the child was going to ask you eventually.

“[Name], are you and Prime fighting?” The question came out of nowhere, surprising you but you hoped it didn’t show.

“We are just having a… disagreement, dear. Nothing to worry about. And no, it isn’t about you or anyone else. It is just a personal thing between us,” you added before Zandy could inquire. You hoped he didn’t feel guilty.

“Do you miss him?

“Of course.”

“Then why fig- disagree so much?”

“Zandy, some things in life can only be resolved with disagreements. You’re not going to see eye to eye with everyone, even those you love. But they’re necessary so that you can move on and grow stronger together,” you explained. “Neither of us enjoys having spats… even though he treats them like a joke sometimes,” the last part was mumbled under your breath, “but we do get through them every time, and although it’s definitely not easy, it’s worth it.” Zandy blinked thoughtfully at your response, (an unconventional depiction of healthy love, rather than the conventional portrayal of an unhealthy one he once knew.)

“You’re really strong, [Name].” 

“Strong? Not anymore. Patient? Yes,” you laughed, for you are the only one capable of loving a heretic.

Dottore remembers an awful lot, for someone who supposedly doesn’t care. He remembers all the moments you’ve spent with his child self, from when you were sleeping to when you woke up to the ones he heard through his segments. What you’ve introduced into Zandy’s life is the opposite of what Zandik’s life was like. Sheer love, to put it simply, even someone like him can see it, as he is no idiot. Dottore denies wanting to be accepted, and yet he is watching himself be accepted as he longed for. It makes him feel…

Regardless, this sort of mind wandering was no good for the Harbinger, especially the type where you have forced him to dwell about the child he is and isn’t. Before he knew it, the report sat untouched in front of him for a period of time.

Truly no good, and that is why his feet automatically move to find you once more. In truth, he hadn’t decided what he was going to say to you yet - whether to admit that in his heart he has yielded to you but his words will probably be the opposite. 

It wasn’t hard to find you. You were usually in your room or a segment’s, or with a segment himself, minus the times you decided to take walks. At this time though, you’d probably be with the child.

Dottore was right. But it wasn’t quite what he had expected.

You and Zandy had fallen asleep… on the floor, hands barely brushing each other. Dottore sighed at the sight - at least it was rugged and not wooden. The cold wouldn’t have been good for either of you.

(Either of you?)

He made his way over to the two of you, bending down to move you to the bed. He first pulled your body to his chest with ease before his gaze flicked to the child next to you. His breath stills, hand hesitantly hovering over Zandy, fingers twitching with unease. 

(Since when did he, the Second Harbinger, one that could very well be compared to a God, hesitate? This was foolish. It didn’t mean anything.)

And then Zandik slid his arm around the boy, bringing him into his chest too, and then rose to put you two comfortably to bed. He never thought he would ever tuck his child segment in, but here he was anyway.

It made him feel a little sick, the unfamiliar sensation along his fingertips and heart and mind.

But Dottore can’t resist giving you a kiss, having missed your lips for so long, which makes him feel a bit better. He’ll always have you, his beloved.

He should leave you two to rest properly, but he finds himself drawn to the scene in front of him. The ill feeling still remains somewhere, but a warmth that he wouldn’t name had started spreading too.

As he makes his way to leave the room, he dares not to look at the drawings scattered around, for they are persistent in portraying him as what he is not. In the poor scribbles, he is not a Harbinger, not a scholar or a scientist, nor a monster or the Doctor or Dottore in them.

He is just a man, one who can succumb to the side of him he so constantly rejects.

V. clumsy

You wouldn’t have believed last night happened if you weren’t there. But it did - you couldn’t sleep after you felt his warm embrace, but more importantly, after he held Zandy. You hadn’t even expected him to talk to the child so quickly, much less hold him so tenderly (even if that wasn’t his intention.) When it came to this kind of stuff, it was never easy to change his mind.

Needless to say, you were pleased but you knew he was never going to admit to it. However, you were still proud of him, and you were still determined to accomplish your goal.

Walking to Dottore’s office was something you had missed. When Zandy had asked you if you missed Dottore, the answer wasn’t just that you missed him - you longed for him, you yearned for his touch, you craved his presence. Such deep love was the reason why you wanted to help him.

When you get there, he’s preoccupied at his desk again. No matter how strong he may be, you still worry for his back sometimes. You should make some more snacks for him later too.

“Dottore,” you say as you walk in. The place was as boring-looking as it always is, the only decorations are the little trinkets you’ve gifted him that lay on his desk. His mouth opens to respond but he then immediately pauses, as he processes whose voice he’s hearing. He takes a few moments to study you as you continue to walk up to his desk, now standing in front of him just as you were the last time you were here.

“Hello, [Name].” He doesn’t show how nice it is to hear your voice again after so long, even though he has dealt with it for over four hundred years.

“Hello, Dottore. And how have you been?” Dottore watches you carefully with your line of questioning.

“As I’ve always have.” You hum in response as you glance at the papers on his desk, idly clicking and unclicking one of his numerous pens (that had yet to snap in half.) “I’ve heard your report for Pantalone is late. Is something occupying your mind, perhaps?”

“There is no such thing. The information is simply-”

“You know, I saw you last night, Zandik.” Your words cut him off as you watch his shoulders tense, and then relax. “I saw what you did.”

“I… see.” He probably knew it was futile to deny the claim. “And?” He watched as you walked around to his chair, your eyes glancing to his lap and back to his eyes as if asking for permission. He motioned for you to come closer, and you settled down on his lap, legs hooked over to the side. You were silent for a few moments before you reached for his large hand and held it with yours, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

“I won’t ask you to explain anything to me,” you began. “I… I don’t want to sound like I’m pitying you, I know you despise that, Zandik.” He remained silent. “But we,” you stressed on that word, “we can still make things right. It’s not too late to change things, no matter what’s happened before,” you said softly as you cupped Dottore’s cheek, caressing it gently. Your lover remained silent as he continued to look at you, his hand reaching to intertwine with your own.

“I remember every time your perspective clashed with mine,” he replied. You tried to ignore your rapid heartbeat. “And I remember the end result was that you were always right, and I was too stubborn. Yet you always pushed me to see it your way regardless.” Dottore’s hand rested on top of your head, stroking your hair as he considered his next words.

“Maybe this time I shall save myself the time and energy and listen to you instead.” You could have fainted, hearing Dottore admit that to you. Your mouth opened and closed, trying to find something to respond with, but there was nothing else you could do other than smile, ignoring the prick of tears in your eyes, and the way your breathing stuttered.

“... Thank you, Zandik. Thank you,” you whispered, nuzzling your face into his chest.

“However, I must say I may not be up to your-”

“You will,” you quickly interrupted. “You will be. You can do this, with me of course. We’ll take it slow and easy of course, I know this is quite hard and you’re busy and-” you continued to reassure him while squeezing his hand and nodding passionately, while he watched amused.

“I question where your confidence comes from.” You smiled, for that was an easy question.

“Because you are no monster, Zandik. Not to me, at least, the person who knows you better than anyone else. And even if the world views you as one, well… I suppose we would be two monsters together. That’s not too bad, right?” You chuckled, and he couldn’t help but smile a bit too.

“Perhaps you could be right.”

From then on, it was certainly a journey. An exhausting and long one to say the least. But it was also a rewarding one.

Obviously, even though he had given you his word, real life was different from the fantasy you wished for. There were still his overwhelming duties as a Harbinger, there were many days he didn’t even have time for you. And you - there were many days your illness left you far too tired to move around or even speak to anyone. And of course, Il Dottore was not going to change his ways overnight. It was hard dealing with him sometimes. There were still arguments. Clashes. Annoyance. It was never easy to mesh differentiating perspectives into one. 

Still, nothing was enough to deter you or your love for him.

a. the potential attempt

The first step was to get them to be in the same space. Not even closely or with interaction, just to get them comfortable enough with each other. When you proposed the idea to Zandy, the baffled look on his face nearly made you laugh. He initially didn’t want to, which you could understand, but you played it off as wanting to spend time with both of them, considering how Dottore was frequently busy. Getting Zandy to agree wasn’t that hard, considering how much he loved you, but you still felt a bit bad. But this was for a good cause!

You were accustomed to chilling wherever Dottore was without fear. Zandy, on the other hand, was not the same. He spoke quietly and always flickered his eyes to see where and what Dottore was doing.

“Zandy, you don’t need to worry about him. Nothing’s going to happen.” 

“But…” 

“Trust me. I bet he can’t even hear us right now,” you nudged him to look at the older man. “See that look on his face? How hard he’s gripping his pen and how fast he’s writing? That’s how you know he’s so incredibly focused, he tunes out the rest of the world.” Still, the child didn’t look too convinced by your words, so you decided to prove it.

“Dottore, I made you some baklava,” you said rather loudly, yet there was no response. Zandy looked surprised now, you both knew how much Dottore enjoyed Sumerian desserts. “And, I brewed you a new pot of coffee.” His pen continued to scribble across the paper, as you then turned to Zandy.

“See? No need to feel so cautious.” Zandy’s shoulders seemed to relax until you spoke again. “Now you try it.”

“Me?!” Zandy whisper-yelled, looked as if you had asked him to commit a crime.

“Yes, you dear. How else will you get comfortable with him?” The child pouted and nuzzled into your arm, seeing as you weren’t going to give up. He chewed on his lip and he began to speak.

“I… Prime…,” Zandy tried to think of something, anything, “Prime… I ate your sweets!” The child immediately regrets it at record speed, anxiously hiding behind you.

“... My, my, how bold. Even I wouldn’t say that.” Zandy peeked out behind you and saw his creator was still diligently writing, and breathed a sigh of relief. “See, not that bad, right?” The boy nodded, but his mind wandered.

“[Name], I didn’t eat his sweets.” You cocked your head at his statement. “... But I think Beta did.”

“Oh dear. I suppose it’s time to get a lock on that fridge now… and then we need to make some more before-” At that moment, a snapping sound from the side made you two jump.

Ah. Dottore had finally broken his pen. Well, that one lasted longer than usual. You and Zandy watched with held breath as Dottore scowled and cast the broken utensil to the side, before looking at each other and trying to hold in laughter, avoiding the Harbinger’s eye contact and returning to what you two were previously doing. The man looked at your giggling faces with confusion.

“Is something the matter?”

“Not at all, love. Not at all,” you smiled, but by the fact that even his child segment seemed to be giggling, he knew you said something. (He ignores how foreign the laughter of the child sounds to him.)

Regardless, he sends you a look before shaking his head and returning to work (with a new pen.)

b. the awkward attempt

One of the moments that captured your heart was when Zandy walked in on Dottore giving you one of your shots. Needles weren’t unfamiliar to you anymore, and although they scared you (and still did, to be honest), thankfully Dottore and the segments had enough patience to make it as painless as possible. Zandy, however, never really saw the checkups or anything related because you really didn’t want to worry the child about your illness. But you supposed it would happen eventually. 

The atmosphere had suddenly turned a bit awkward with Zandy now standing at the door, eyes on the rather large needle that sat on the tray, that was definitely going into none other than you. From his wide eyes, you could tell it probably wasn’t what he was expecting to see. Of course, needles, especially a big one like Dottore was holding, would scare any child his age.

“O-Oh! Zandy, you can wait outside for a few minutes. You don’t need to watch,” you explained, while Dottore stood silently next to you as he prepped the area of your arm. The child seemed conflicted for a few moments before he decided to walk closer to you and the Harbinger.

“No, it’s okay. I… want to see,” Zandy said. In reality, the boy knew you hid certain things from him and wished to know the truth. He wanted to know how badly you were hurt, maybe he could try and do something for you. (Perhaps this too, is a side effect of teaching him what love is.)

“You do? Well… I guess I won’t stop you then,” you said, a bit confused but you wouldn’t just send him away. Dottore placed a hand on your shoulder and got you to relax again for him. Meanwhile, Zandy had come up to the opposite side and looked at you with slightly worried eyes.

“Is it going to hurt, [Name]?”

“Well, it does prick a bit, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. It’s the same as any other shot,” you tried to reassure him as his gaze became downcast. You bit your lip nervously, about to give him a solution, when out of nowhere Dottore himself spoke.

“Physical and emotional support from another party often makes the procedure less painful for the recipient,” he said in a monotone as if he wasn’t speaking to either of you at all. You and Zandy blinked at him before he continued. “I’m going to start the injection now.” Suddenly, it seemed like Zandy understood the message, as the child then grabbed your hand, and squeezed it with his much tinier one.

“You can do this, [Name]!” His instant enthusiasm distracted you from the prick of the needle, but also the fact that Dottore technically spoke to Zandy, encouraging him even. It was simply adorable.

“Zandy, I-” 

“You know, there was one time I fell while-”

“Oh wow-”

“But I was okay because-”

“I see-” You had decided to continue smiling and nodding at the child’s attempt to distract you from the shot until he abruptly stopped, his eyes flickering to where Dottore had now finished bandaging the area.

“Ah, it’s finished,” you breathed a sigh of relief and deflated on the chair, but Zandy still had a load of energy for you to entertain.

“You didn’t even look a bit scared, [Name]!” You grinned and ruffled his hair.

“Why, I doubt anything in this world could scare me when I have my lovely son and husband with me,” you smiled as you kissed Zandy’s forehead, which he beamed at while Dottore turned away to clean up, an attempt to ignore how the scene made his chest feel.

A family, huh?

What a strange thing.

c. the successful attempt

You were quite proud of the progress Zandy and Dottore had made together, but still, the most important part remained. Now that you had gotten them to be in the same room with each other, you wanted them to at least manage a few short conversations. That was the biggest and most difficult part of this whole thing, but starting small was always the key. And so you decided to somewhat ‘force’ them into such situations. How? By just making the child run errands for you. (Sure, you could have let things run their natural course, but with these two, they definitely needed some kind of push.)

An easy way to make Dottore lighten up was to cook something yummy for him, with bonus points if it was something from his homeland. So that was what you and Zandy did - whipped up a bunch of samosas and even a pita pocket (since you knew he had definitely been skipping meals, much to your dismay.) You had packaged them nicely in a container for him to eat at his leisure and instructed Zandy to deliver them. He seemed less nervous than before but still a bit on edge, nevertheless determined to fulfill your wishes, as he soon found himself in Prime’s office. The man seemed surprised. The child avoided eye contact. The room was silent, without you to act as a middleman.

But Dottore decided to begin.

“Did you need something?” Zandy perked up at the acknowledgment and quickly began walking to his desk, slightly standing up on his tippy-toes to push the container of food in front of his creator.

“[Name] and I made this for you. They said you need to eat more or they’ll get mad again,” the child repeated your words verbatim, trying to gauge Dottore’s reaction. The scholar’s hands glided against the plastic, looking at the tasty treats that lay inside.

“I see. Thank you.” He began to set them to the side before Zandy spoke again.

“Um, they also want you to try one.” Dottore paused. Of course you would say that, he sighed.

“Very well.” He opened the container and picked out a samosa, the snack still warm. He ignored how enticing it was to his stomach and began to lift it to his mouth when he stopped and pushed the box closer to his child segment. Zandy looked at him with curious eyes and he motioned for him to take one. Happily, the boy indulged his request and popped the samosa into his mouth, which Dottore soon followed suit, the two savoring the flavors of your delicious and homey cooking.

“How would you say that was?” He questioned Zandy. The child still had trouble he was being acknowledged so much but responded in kind.

“The most delicious thing ever!”

“I would say the same.” And that was the end of the conversation, as Dottore returned to his work and Zandy scurried away, both content with the conclusion. Dottore’s answers may have been short and swift, but it was progress.

By now Dottore had caught onto your little game, while Zandy was just happy to be helpful to you. There were a lot of other instances where you sent him to Dottore - to fetch some medication, to bring Dottore a letter (that totally didn’t just have three words on it), to bring him some new writing utensils, and much more. The occurrences were all short, but they were beginning to grow a lot less awkward. You were happy.

This time you asked Zandy to fetch a book from Dottore, which was actually a legitimate request this time. He really wanted to learn more about those Ruin Machines, and you figured it would be a lot easier if you had a book as a reference. (Dottore had not yet gotten used to the Zandy’s appearances, still a bit stiff and unsure about the whole thing. But they weren’t unwelcome visits, no, they were starting to become a constant in his life.)

Zandy, on the other hand, had already started to feel much better about interacting with Prime Dottore, thanks to your words and Dottore’s much better actions. The once dreaded path to his office had now become a lot more lighthearted. Sure, he was still a bit tense sometimes, but he thinks most people are that way around Dottore (except you, you’re special), so when he finally makes it to his creator’s office once more he’s not too scared. The older man doesn’t seem to be surprised at his visits anymore.

“And what request do you come to me for today?”

“[Name] and I need a book.” Dottore’s eyes widened. You knew the kind of books he had were… well, inappropriate for some eyes. “A book about Ruin Machines and Guards and Graders and Hunters and their parts and designs and all that cool stuff!”

“I see.” Well, that made more sense. The Harbinger got up from his seat to retrieve a book on that topic, when a sudden and uncharacteristic thought came over him. He did enjoy reading books, as they were a wondrous source of information, but he still far preferred hands-on learning. He wondered if… if perhaps his younger self would prefer that too right now. 

No, he knew Zandy would, he was literally him when he was a kid, but the question was whether Dottore was up to this or not. A while ago, this situation would have been impossible. But now, it was a possibility, an outcome that only Dottore could choose to achieve. He stared at Zandy, who had begun to get a bit nervous at the strange attention.

“If you’re busy-”

“Would you prefer it if I showed you instead, rather than simply viewing pictures?”

“Like the actual machines?” Zandy’s eyes glowed with excitement.

“No, just the parts. But I believe it will be more interesting than only examining them in a book.” He could already hear you in his ear if he decided to let the child near those things, especially without you. Zandy only felt a moment of disappointment before he quickly bounced back.

“Please! I want to see the parts! Can I touch them too? Will you show me what they do?” His barrage of questions was sudden, but the scientist found himself enjoying them. After all, if no one else will indulge his curiosity, then he must do so himself, no matter what age he is.

(Although he’s only a few minutes into the explanation, his younger self’s eyes glimmer with a brightness he’s never seen, or at least never noticed before. Were his eyes always this red? You always compliment the color of his, but he can’t seem to remember his eyes ever having such a radiant gleam. He ignores it, for he’s sure his own eyes were never like that as a child.)

Meanwhile, you were left wondering why the boy had been gone so long. Did something happen? You decided to make your way over to Dottore’s office when you heard the voices spilling out of the ajar door. A young and chirpy one, and an old and tired one, and yet they both seemed equally as excited about whatever the subject matter was.

Peeking in, you were beyond surprised to see your husband and child sitting next to each other, a variety of mechanical parts surrounding the two. Zandy was examining one while Dottore rambled on about it, yet in a logically sound way that even a child could understand. You remember the same thing happening to you back in the Akademiya. 

Your heart beat excitedly at this discovery. The way they seemed comfortable with each other, despite their strained relationship from a while ago… in fact, perhaps you could say it looked like a father and his son. All that was missing was the other parent. But should you ruin the moment? You wanted it to last forever…

Unfortunately, staring for too long had attracted the attention of Zandy, who brightened even more at your presence, and quickly waved you over, which also alerted Dottore. Well, there was no hiding anymore, as you began to walk towards the two you loved the most.

“Well well, lucky you, Zandy. To get a lesson from none other than Dottore in Automatons! But oh, I am a bit hurt. Are my teaching skills not up to par for you two?” You teased them lightheartedly, which Zandy giggled at, and Dottore scoffed.

“Fa- Prime wanted to show me the stuff instead of us going through that huge book together. It’s much more fun this way! Oh, but I should have come and told you though… sorry.” Dottore didn’t say anything, but you didn’t need him to. You went to the opposite side of Zandy and sat down, wrapping your arm around him.

“Perhaps I too could be one of your students, Dottore? Zandy and I are eager to learn more!” Dottore let out a sigh at your antics.

“Then listen carefully, because I will not repeat myself to you.”

“How cruel!”

The laughter of two echoed throughout the room, while the other could only smile.

VI. coldness

You loved your family very much. That was obvious to anyone who saw you with them.

Pantalone who asked about how your son was faring, and if your husband would be able to produce sufficient results soon. Columbina who liked to play dress up with you and Zandy to wear matching outfits, while Dottore obviously refused to entertain her nonsense. Childe who couldn’t help but be fond of Zandy as well, tempted to introduce him to Teucer, but also greatly questioned your choice of husband (and father.) The Fatui agents who watched you squish the young segment’s cheeks and tease your imposing Harbinger husband in broad daylight. It was certainly something to see, and one wouldn’t believe it until they saw it with their own eyes.

Meanwhile, the segments had been onlookers on the whole thing.

You were sure each individual segment felt a bit differently about the situation, but the general feeling was probably jealousy. Jealousy toward Zandy for being able to take up so much of your attention. Well, that had always been the case since you’d met the child, but it increased a lot since your journey to help Dottore reconcile with his past self. You just hoped as the years went by, their attitude would change. If you had gotten Prime to change, then his segments weren’t impossible, right? You did see a few of them start to be a bit more patient with Zandy!

Regardless, you were more than happy with the outcome. Dottore and Zandy were talking to each other like normal human beings now. Sure, there were still moments where they were awkward and silent, which was to be expected considering how many years went by with their relationship nonexistent. 

Physical affection, however… well, it still had some work left. The only person he wanted to touch him was you since he had known you for so long. Even then, sometimes you couldn’t when he wasn’t in a good mood. So coming to terms with Zandy touching him so casually was still something to get used to. Still, he seemed to have gotten used to the hand brushing and even patted the child’s hair when he did well. On good days, perhaps the child would even be in his lap.

Still, now that you had helped create a bond between them, nothing could stop their progress. Nothing at all.

Dottore still never admitted the change in his feelings to you, but you didn’t need a concrete answer when his actions spoke louder. You lived for the new conversations that now occurred as a result of Zandy, like when he tells you about the time they spent together.

“I’ve heard that you’ve started teaching Zandy more now, Dottore.” (Trying to steal your role as a teacher again, huh?)

“Indeed. We have moved on to quantum physics as well as-” He continued to list off topics you definitely did not study as a child.

“How… enriching, I’m sure.” Perhaps you should start crashing the lessons to make sure he doesn’t overload the poor kid’s brain too much…

Or when you hear about how much they both care for you.

“[Name]?”

“Yes, Dottore?”

“How have you been feeling as of late?” His hands crept up around your neck, brushing his fingers along your collarbones.

“Fine. The same as always,” you responded, which was sort of a truth and lie. You were technically fine, but there had been more days lately that had been a slog to get through with your illness and all. You didn’t want to admit that though. Dottore dragged his fingers along your shoulders in response.

“That’s a lie.” Your face heated up a bit from the proximity.

“That’s not-”

“Zandy,” he began, the name still a bit foreign on his tongue, “told me you’ve barely been sleeping as late. And the tiredness makes it difficult for you to move around. Why didn’t you tell me?” You slumped a bit in your seat at the discovery. You didn’t think the child would know that much less tell Dottore.

“How did he know?”

“He can hear you rustling around in the bed all night,” your husband said flatly as you sighed.

“I’m sorry, love…”

“Next time, I would prefer to hear my spouse’s troubles from their lips rather than someone else. Now come here.”

Or the simpler silly conversations.

“Why did you name him that?” He said one day while lounging on your lap. It was one of those days when it was necessary for him to rant to you about everything and anything.

“Name who what?”

“... Zandy.” Hearing Dottore get used to the name was still amusing to you.

“Why not? There’s a reason why all the segments like their names now, you know. It’s cute, it fits him, he likes it, and it’s way better than what you did,” you teased. Dottore grumbled.

“I still believe there were better options.”

“Yes, yes, says the one who names every experiment with a few letters and numbers. Now continue telling me about Pantalone’s audacity.” 

You were happy. Zandy was happy. And you were pretty sure Dottore was happy too. Even through the toughest days, you knew that you had them, and that made things better. You believed nothing in the world would change that or take that away from you.

So when you heard that some of the segments were heading to Sumeru, you weren’t too worried. It was just another mission for them, and although the importance of this one was much higher, you had no doubt the segments would handle it with ease. The lab was emptier than normal, but at least that gave you more time to play with him. 

“[Name], why do we go and collect Gnoses?” Zandy was still unaware of quite a few things, as others were unwilling to explain the details of them.

“So that we can fight Celestia,” you hummed as you turned the page of the book. Currently, you two were reading a rather interesting fantasy story, and the two of you had gotten up to the most crucial part - whether the protagonist would choose to further his ambitions or save the one he cherished.

“Why do we need to fight them?”

“Because they’re bad people,” you said as simply as possible.

“When are we going to fight them?”

“I don’t know, but one day we will.”

“Is it going to be scary?”

“Yes, it will. But I will protect you, from now until the end of time, so there’s no need to worry.”

“Okay,” Zandy said, but he still looked a bit sad, naturally. You softly stroked his fluffy hair.

“Don’t dwell on it. You still have lots and lots of happy memories to make,” you soothed him and kissed his forehead. “Nothing bad will happen to you.”

“Thanks, [Name],” he cuddled more into your side as you continued to read the story aloud to him.

The days passed as they always did. Tests. Checkups. The bickering of segments. Dottore popped up here and there, still busy with the Sumeru mission even though he remained at the lab. As always, Zandy remained a constant in your life when everyone else was too busy for you, so you were happy.

It had happened in the middle of a nap when you were shaken awake furiously. When you regained consciousness, you first registered your body being tossed from side to side, and then the blinding light from above. Ugh. What time was it, you wondered, because your mind next processed the desperate voice next to you.

“[Name]! [Name], please, please wake up. Please, he’s going to-” The sheer fright in his voice was enough to jolt you back to reality. You quickly rubbed your eyes and pulled yourself up to face the boy. You wondered what could have happened for Zandy to be this frantic, but the look on his face made your throat close up.

Bright red eyes on the verge of tears, flushed face, quivering lip, and shaking body. A terrible feeling rested in the pit of your stomach as you were speechless for a moment before Zandy grabbed your hands again, begging you to say something.

“Zandy, s-slow down. Start from the beginning. What’s wrong? Who is going to do what?” You placed your hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer in an attempt to calm him. It didn’t seem to do much.

“Omega, Omega’s going to delete me for-”

“What?!” Your voice came out as a shriek. “Tell him no! Tell him I said to stop! I- come with me!” You had already begun to pull him out of bed and out the door, looking like a mess but that wasn’t a worry at all, not right now. Zandy followed you aimlessly, sniffling and sputtering out words.

“B-But not just me, all the other segments are going to be e-erased too! Alpha, Beta, Delta-” You paused, deep fear instilling in your heart as you too began to breathe heavily. Still, you swooped down to Zandy’s height and hugged him, putting on a brave face.

“I won’t let it happen - you’ll be fine. We’ll just go to Prime, and then he’ll-”

“He approved it, though,” Zandy’s voice was tiny as he stared down at his feet as if he too was unwilling to believe he would be betrayed like this. You felt like you were going to be sick, heat rushing to your face, burning you alive.

“What?” Your voice was just as small as the child’s.

“Well, he’s not happy about it, but-” You gritted your teeth.

“I won’t accept it. You will not suffer such a fate, I pro-” You stopped when you heard footsteps approaching.

It was the person you wanted to see the least and most at the same time.

“Dottore,” your voice initially came out exhausted as you forced your shaky legs to stand up again, “Dottore, you best explain yourself right now,” you hissed, the malice now undeniable. “Tell me that this isn’t true.” Dottore opened his mouth to speak, but he seemed to realize that it would not be the answer you desired. The Harbinger’s eyes landed on his child self, who now clung to your leg in fear. Zandy looked at him in a way he hadn’t seen in a long time. Dottore ignored all emotions and focused on his logic.

“It’s neces-”

“Don’t you dare say that!” You interrupted him, hopefully before the child could hear his own creator (or perhaps, father) say he was dispensable. “That’s not true, you know it’s not-” Your words were interrupted by Zandy clutching his head and squeezing your leg deathly tight, the thoughts of the other segments reaching an all-time loud high.

“It’s happening… O-Omega’s going to do it,” the child had broken into full tears as he listened to the others vehemently deny Omega’s decision. He then frantically clawed at your leg, reaching for your hand for some sort of comfort.

“[Name], I don’t want to go! I don’t want to leave you! I don’t want to…” The one in the beginning of his life, the picture of innocence, dared to take one last look at the one in the prime of his life, who he couldn’t recognize anymore. The last word died on his lips. Your heart wrenched and pounded painfully as you looked away to beg Dottore again.

“Dot- Zandik, do something. Please, please stop Omega. I won’t ask for anything else ever again. Y-You can’t take him away from me…! Please!”

And then you felt your hand become empty, and your leg become cold. Bile began to bubble in your throat. You felt like you were going to throw up, wondering if you should dare look back down. 

You did anyway.

There was just empty space, Zandy nowhere to be found. Not even his clothes, not a single thing left of him. He had disap- no, he was dead.

Zandy was dead.

Your child was dead.

Your mind was very loud, despite not thinking about anything at all. Your hand twitched, trying to grasp the warmth that was there just a few moments ago. You tried to pretend there was the sensation of him holding you again.

Unfortunately, imagination can’t replicate reality.

You don’t even realize how close Dottore had gotten to you, eyes still frozen on the spot where Zandy just was.

“[Name].” His voice brings you back, but not for a good reason. You blink as you mechanically turn your head to face him. You don’t understand why he isn’t bothered. You don’t understand why he did this. You don’t understand anything. And then your face, which was as still as a statue, suddenly became enveloped in grief and tears. Your husband slightly grimaced at your expression.

“[Name],” he tried again, “I-”

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that, in that tone of voice,” you snapped amidst your continuous tears. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done to them? To me? To us?” You weren’t sure which you would prefer - that he wasn’t sure about how much this would pain you, or that he did know but went ahead with it anyway. And it wasn’t just you, now that Zandy was gone… he would never be able to make peace with what he was.

“My last words to Zandy were a lie,” you cried. “A lie! I didn’t even tell him that I cared for him, how much I cherished him, how I loved the time I spent with him, how much I loved him!”

“Did any of the time we three spent together mean anything? Did he mean anything to you, Zandik? Or was it just a lie?” You relentlessly spat at him, refusing to let him get in a word. “You just used him and the other segments as bargaining chips. Pawns. They weren’t tools… my child wasn’t expendable, he was a person too,” you sank to the floor, your whole body trembling and immensely fatigued, but your mouth kept moving, wrapped in your incoherent grief. “I thought we could-, no, we were a family… Was I the only one who cared?”

Dottore could only watch as you broke apart in front of him. What could he have said to extinguish your tears? That he didn’t quite want to do this either, but he had to? Regardless of the newly acquired feelings about his segment, nothing… nothing could come in the way of what he had to do.

“Would you do the same to me, Zandik? Would you trade me for a Gnosis, too…?” Dottore stiffened at the question. It was never something he’d thought you’d say, considering how foolish it was. Him? Give you up? No, he would never. Never. He would sooner let all of Teyvat burn but-

“He was just a kid,” you sobbed. “He was just a little boy. How could you? You… you…!” Dottore could feel your sheer rage and sadness easily, his hands wanting to reach out and offer you some sort of comfort.

But he was a monster, and he knew it.

[fatuismooches]

The eighteen-year-old Segment was a familiar experience.

He was made after the image of the first Zandik you had ever met. The you that was just a scholar studying in the Akademiya and the Zandik that was scorned by all those around him. Despite those times being from so long ago, the memories still remained vivid and close to your heart. That was the Zandik you had first fallen in love with, the one who narrowed his eyes with distrust and spat harsh words in the beginning from being ostracized, but slowly managed to let down all of his walls that revealed a vulnerable and hurt man. So, it was only natural that your heart skipped every so often around Eighteen.

It also didn’t help when he seemed to yearn for your attention and yet try to push you away at the same time. Sometimes Eighteen would appear from behind, with a snide comment directed to whatever other Segment was currently occupying your time. Sometimes he would appear from your side and remark that you could be doing more with him rather than wander around. And sometimes he would be right in front of you when you’d turn the corner and bump into him, telling you to watch where you’re going as he nervously flexed his fingers.

“You seem to pop up wherever I go,” you said one day when you visited his lab. It wasn’t an accusation, more like an amusing observation, but Eighteen seemed to think you were implying something with the way his shoulders raised defensively. 

“It’s more like you appear wherever I’m going. Perhaps you’ve been following me around, just like you did this time.” He fumbled with papers as he shot back, although it was obvious he wasn’t paying attention to them, or more like he couldn’t.

“Hmm, you’re not entirely wrong. I came to you because I missed your company.” While his tone might rile someone else up or cause some sort of negative reaction, you remained as calm and collected as you usually did. He faltered momentarily in the face of your honesty.

“Well,” he sniffed, trying to brush you off, “I am going to be quite busy here, so I won’t be able to entertain you.” A few moments of silence passed.

“Alright, if you want me to go, then I will. I won’t distract you.” You conceded and began to make your way out of the room.

“Wait.” The Segment had put down everything he was tinkering with and stared at you, mouth slightly agape, as if he wasn’t expecting you to listen to him. Eighteen glanced around the area for something to stall you with, to delay your departure. Ah, some documents that needed to be delivered to another Segment. He could just ask you to pass them on and then manage to strike up something research-related, and then you could linger-

But that is when he remembered that you wouldn’t come back anyway, and what’s more, your time for the rest of the day would probably be consumed by that other version of him. He wasn’t very fond of you leaving him to go to someone else.

“Yes?” You cocked your head to the side, awaiting his response. He felt heat crawl up his neck.

“Nothing,” he said dumbly. You let out a hum in response and turned around again, slowly strolling toward the exit, taking the time to look at the ceiling and examine the bits of machinery and reports here and there. It was almost like you were doing this on purpose.

“If there’s nothing else, then I’ll see you-” You were nearly at the door before something collided into you from behind, knocking the words out of your mouth. It only took a few seconds to notice that Eighteen had latched himself onto your back, arms wrapped around your sides.

“H-Hey?” At most, you were expecting the Segment to create an excuse to get you to stay, not tackle you from behind, but you weren’t complaining. “Eighteen?” The call of his name made his breath hitch as he loosened his grip on you a bit.

“I…” The words got stuck in his throat, the short curls of his blue hair tickling your cheek. There wasn’t really a convincing way to bluff his way out of this when he’d practically thrown himself onto you. “I was going to ask you to…” Just being around you was making him lightheaded.

It was then that you wiggled out of his grip to turn around, placing your hands on his shoulders and looking at him with the kindest gaze anyone had ever given him.

“I’ll stay,” you said simply, before sauntering back to your place again at the top of his desk, patting your thigh like it was a motion for him to come closer. Of course, he had his ways, but he was more obedient to you than he’d ever admit.

Eighteen hovered in front of you, arms hanging lanky by his side as if he had forgotten how to use them after embracing you, before you grabbed his hands and placed them on your waist. He swallowed, acting as if the heat that was burning him up was nothing. Your thumb rubbed circles along his jaw before cupping his chin and pulling him in.

The Segment whimpered as your lips connected, and one hand moved to grip the back of your shirt while the other fiercely sank into your softness. Your hand reached to caress his cheek, and the other massaged his scalp, and his knees almost gave out at the sensation.

There are very few things in this world that Eighteen would describe as lovely, if any, but you unquestionably were. And he would probably be indulging in your loveliness until he was out of breath… which would probably be soon, but you’re good at telling him to take breaks, right?

—

Although all of the Segments had their own disputes and feelings about each other, it had become obvious that Eighteen was a bit more… vocal about his displeasure. Perhaps it stemmed from being one of the youngest of the Segments, maybe from the frequent and ever-present feeling of being overlooked and rejected, or maybe something else. And every so often, you had to witness such situations.

In this case, while the thirty-five-year-old Segment found it interesting to read through the Akademiya’s editorials and other publications from time to time, the eighteen-year-old would scoff and roll his eyes whenever the topic was brought up. It wasn’t hard to understand why. The young Segment was stuck reliving the pain of attending and being excluded for his ideas, the trauma of being blamed for the death of someone he didn’t cause. It was no wonder he had stronger feelings about the school while the older ones had mellowed out. 

“Do you really need to spend so much time reading those things? Surely it can’t be that interesting. Nothing from people who allow themselves to be chained to the rules can,” Eighteen huffed as he eyed the paper the older Segment was reading. Thirty-Five seemed unbothered.

“I won’t deny that. However, generalizing would be a mistake. There are a few pieces that manage to hold some substance, although they are exceedingly rare.” The Segment agreed, and yet somewhat did not at the same time. Eighteen clicked his tongue, and that was when he turned to you for support.

“[Name], don’t you agree? You’ve experienced the hypocrisy of the Akademiya firsthand, have you not?” There was something in the younger Segment’s eyes that seemed like he was searching for your approval.

“Me? Well, I-” It was then that you paused, and something quite sad dawned on you. You had been able to change, but he could not. Thirty-Five then glanced at your downcast expression.

“Eighteen, do refrain from asking them intrusive questions.” The older Segment let out a sigh.

“Can’t I be curious about their opinion?” Because you were the only person who would take him seriously and answer him with something thoughtful.

“Not at their expense.” Eighteen chewed his lip at the older Segment’s words before taking a glimpse at your face and seeing your glumness. His mouth opened - to say what, he didn’t even know - before closing it. An awkward silence fell, and he quietly left.

You soon found where he had run off to soon after, and he looked like he was expecting you.

“Did I offend you?” He couldn’t help being blunt. It was just in his nature to ask difficult questions and seek difficult answers. You let out a small laugh. Before, he didn’t seem to care in the moment, but it seemed that, after some reflection, he truly did care about your feelings.

“No… No, you didn’t. I know you just wanted a direct answer from a direct question. I just needed some time to think about it.” Eighteen’s stiff posture relaxed a bit after receiving your reassurance.

“But anyway… Eighteen, I’ve… moved on from those times. From what they did to me at least. It still upsets me, but it was so long ago. I don’t want to waste my energy on it.” You remember all the stares and chatter that popped up when you decided to stay with The Outcast, from your peers and professors and the Sages, effectively making the others push you away. But it wasn’t something you would ever regret. You would choose Zandik again and again, no matter what others told you. However, the Segment didn’t look satisfied with that answer.

“They threw you out of the Akademiya without any attempts at accommodations. They would hardly spare you a glance or listen to when you asked for extensions or tried to explain your condition.” He progressively raised his voice as he recounted your struggles. “And those people, they looked at you like-” He bit his tongue as if uttering it would send him into a deeper fury. “Those doctors too, they just brushed you aside and-”

It was then you truly realized that Eighteen wasn’t just scarred from his own rejection. At how cruelly he was received by everyone around him. He was upset about how they treated you too. At how his only beloved had to suffer so terribly. 

You grabbed Eighteen’s hand, and that seemed to bring him back to you. In all honesty, you weren’t even sure how you could go about this. You could teach him how to love, but it was a different story helping him to shed such deep-seated insecurity and nonacceptance.

“I know. I remember all of that, and I don’t like it either, just as I hate what both of us had to go through.” One of your hands brushed his palm, while the other stroked the top. “But… the Akademiya can’t hurt me again. And… they can’t hurt you. We aren’t there anymore. I know I can’t change your mind, but… we’re here now. Things are different, and I have you with me. And I’m very happy with you right now, in this moment. At the very least, know that.” 

You felt as if that was a flimsy answer, but you didn’t know what else to say. Because in truth, it was only natural he could never forget those experiences, especially at such a tender age. 

“… I guess if that’s really what you think, then I’m inclined to take your opinion into consideration.” There were a few beats of silence before Eighteen quietly replied. You could only wrap your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He slowly reciprocated and held you, and he felt something flutter in his chest when you pressed a small kiss to his skin.

You were so warm. He would not compare it to an all-consuming fire that chased things away from it and made hearts race in fear. You were just… warm.

But you knew that although you said all of that, your poor boy could never move on from the pain of rejection embedded into his very core. 

—

There was a quiet corner of the lab that Eight seemed to like to hang around in besides being in his room, and he soon introduced you to it. The attachment was beginning to grow deep, as he began to show you more of his notebooks and various texts the others had given him - mainly from Forty-Five and the original Zandik. 

“So, this is where you’ve been.” A voice suddenly echoed nearby, the click of Eighteen’s boots sounding as well. The older Segment appeared in front of you, and when he noticed the young boy on your lap, his expression changed.

“Hi, Eighteen. I’m surprised you’ve found us all the way out here. Did you need something?” Eight glanced at him but kept his head down in his books.

“I..” His usual brashness seemed to temporarily dissipate at the sight. The child sat in your lap, with one hand keeping him securely positioned and the other playing with his soft hair, adorning him with soft kisses on his cheek from time to time as he pointed to things and explained them. But after a few moments, his attitude came back. 

“I came for you. Because we have things to do.” You raised your eyebrows, still keeping your gentle smile on your face.

“Like…?” The Segment floundered for an answer.

“Reports. Research. I need your opinion.” He crossed his arms as if you should have already known.

“I’m happy to help you with all of that. But right now, I’m with Eight.” You patted the child’s head to emphasize. “I’m sure I could come visit you when we’re done, though.” He didn’t move from that spot as you turned your attention back to the kid. You praised his younger self and nodded along with his ideas, and Eighteen gritted his teeth. He couldn’t stand to watch something so childish and nonsensical. 

“And Forty-Five is calling for you, Eight.” Eighteen suddenly interrupted once more, drawing your attention to him once again.

“I didn’t hear anything in the hive-mind.” Eight put his book down and quietly replied.

“Well, maybe you weren’t paying attention.” His response was immediate and scowling. You frowned and shot the older Segment a look, but he ignored your gaze. A few seconds later, the child grabbed his notebooks and was heading off.

“Bye, [Name].” Eight lingered near you as you smoothed down his hair from all the ruffling you did before departing.

“Bye-bye, my dear.” You waved him goodbye, and now only you and Eighteen were left in the room. “Alright then, I guess we should-”

“Why do you tolerate him?!” The force of his words had you taken aback, but you had a feeling where this was going.

“Why… Why would I not-”

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, or what he’s doing. He shouldn’t speak about it as if he-”

“Eight has some good ideas-”

“Those are naive fantasies from someone who doesn’t understand how the world works. They are implausible. We have actual work to do, and we shouldn’t be wasting time listening to him. Not me, not you.” He had balled his fists up so tightly, you were sure it was painful.

People may not have wanted to listen to his ideas as a kid, but that little boy still had the ability to dream all the childish ideas he wanted. But for Eighteen, people still did not want to listen to his ideas, and he had gradually lost that ability to think freely as a child would. That was why he could not stand to be around Eight, who was the beginning of the ideas that others scorned him for, but still persisted to dream about them anyway.

“… But even if they are just childish fantasies, don’t they deserve to be appreciated and nurtured anyway? Perhaps so they could even grow into something more?” You took small steps toward him, his back turned to you as he shook. “And there were so many things that others said couldn’t be done, but you accomplished them anyway, didn’t you?” You placed your hand on his back, and the shaking stopped momentarily as you pressed your face against him.

“I love every part of you. The parts of you that make me smile and laugh. And the parts that others may have hated or feared about you… I love those just as much, and they deserve to be loved and seen.” Your arms reached to snake around Eighteen’s sides as he seemed to calm down, or at least stop shaking. “You don’t need to hide away those parts of yourself, because I want to learn about them all the same. So please don’t say that.” 

You could see that he wasn’t going to respond to you. So instead, you continued to hold Eighteen from behind as he blinked back tears and reached to place his hand over yours.

[fatuismooches]

The eight-year-old Segment was unlike any child you had ever met.

When you were in the Akademiya with Zandik, you had gathered bits and pieces from what he told you about his childhood to somewhat imagine what a little Zandik would look like. It was… difficult to envision, not because you couldn’t form a picture, but because the thought of him being hurt so deeply as a child hurt you too. But when you finally saw the slice of his child self in front of you, you quickly realized the reality was far more cruel than you could ever think of on your own.

His eyes were… empty. For someone so young, not even a glimmer of light could be seen within the redness. It would have comforted you more to see even anger or sadness, but there seemed to be nothing of the sort. And yet, it did not deter you from attempting to befriend him, despite Eight’s initial lack of interest.

He was the child, and yet you were the one wandering after him like a lost kid. The Segment would just stare at you before excusing himself. Perhaps he was confused about why you were speaking to him in such an excited tone. Perhaps he did not know how to deal with it. All he knew was that the others had told him to treat you respectfully but not to bother you, and Eighteen specifically gave him a look every time you tried to usher him closer.

But in the end, a child was a child. A child would think and behave like one no matter how much they buried themselves, and that was also true for little Eight. You had noticed Eight frequently spent his spare time writing and doodling in his notebook, although he would always shut it if you got too close, obviously still guarded around you. At least he had gotten comfortable enough to let you stay in his room. Still, it was easy to piece together what he was doing in there. So, one day you slipped him a drawing of an Aranara you had drawn yourself. 

Eight recognized the creature immediately, and you witnessed more emotion than you had seen before, with his eyes widening and mouth parting. He closed his notebook shut and tentatively reached to brush his small fingers against the drawing, and you pushed it closer to him encouragingly. 

“Have you ever seen one like this? You know, there are the round ones and-”

“The ones that are skinny with long hats.” Before you could finish your sentence, Eight interrupted you. It was like a switch had been turned on.

“And then there are some with flowers on their heads-”

“And the ones with leaves on top.” It looked like he really was an expert on Aranara facts.

“You know a lot, don’t you?” You beamed at him with interest, and suddenly the child felt a bit shy. It was rare anyone took interest in him or anything he liked, but at the same time, knowing a lot had once gotten him in trouble a long time ago.

“I didn’t expect you could… be so detailed,” Eight said, changing the topic as he brought your doodle close to his face, examining the detail as his nose almost brushed it, in true childlike wonder that he always kept hidden.

“Well, in the Akademiya, you’re usually asked to sketch out your observations like wildlife or architecture, even potential machines and inventions, so I know a bit.” He only continued gazing at the messy Aranara. “You can keep it, if you like.” Eight glanced at you, slowly nodding as he finally set the paper down. He looked a bit more relaxed now.

“Now… would you mind if I see your drawings?” You pressed the tips of your fingers together, brightening with hope. Eight already guessed you had been itching to ask him that for a while. At first, he would have rejected you, but now he felt a bit more… comfortable.

The child Segment didn’t need to answer, only opening his notebook to the first page and leaving it there for you. You clasped your hands together with a resonant ‘thank you’ as you pulled a chair to sit next to him at his desk. 

“Some Aranara have hats of different shapes and colors. Some of their hats cover their faces. Others have leaves drooping down instead of hats,” you read aloud from the journal. Each description was accompanied by a drawing. “Some also have bowties or carry around weapons. They’ve also picked up habits from humans, such as cooking or living in houses.”

For someone who didn’t seem to feel much, Eight watched you intently as you examined his notes. Maybe he subconsciously looked for approval. At the very least, you looked to be absorbed in his words, allowing him to feel a bit proud of himself.

“This is some really good research. Thank you for trusting me with it,” you said softly, hand reaching out to hold his, until you stopped midway and drew back. Perhaps it was best not to push things so quickly. “Though… I do think some of these sketches could use some color.”

“I would,” the boy nodded in agreement, “but I don’t have anything to color them with.” A spark of sadness flickered in your heart, knowing that he was chained to the mindset of a child and was not even allowed to indulge in it.

“Well, why don’t I get us some colored pencils and we can fill them in together? Adding a bit of color is sure to add some life, hmm?” 

And so a few days later, you were once again sitting near Eight with his notebook open. You had made sure to order the most high-quality coloring supplies for little Eight. Even he could not hold back his excitement, observing them up close one by one and picking out the ones he’d use for the Aranaras. In all honesty, he was more focused on coloring than you, and seemed very intent on making sure everything was accurate… But you didn’t mind. You only gave some pointers here and there and answered his questions on whether the color he chose was good or not.

“Thank you,” Eight said eventually. He couldn’t remember the last time he expressed gratitude for something, because the only thing other people ever did was hurt him.

“Anything for you, sweet one.” He didn’t respond to the pet name, and you quickly worried you had overstepped, before Eight nodded and went back to coloring.

Perhaps if he had just had someone who supported him when he was young and took interest in him, things could have turned out differently.

—

One day, you had called Eight to the kitchen, and he was immediately greeted with a delicious smell.

“Oh, you’re right on time!” You called for him and ushered him closer. He took in the mess of the kitchen before he noticed what was making his mouth water. A tray of baklava sat there, sliced and ready to be served.

“You all still like to eat, don’t you? I thought I’d make something for all of your hard work.” You were busy cleaning with your back turned. “I invited you to have the first bite. Help yourself.”

He and the other Segments would go to the Fatui’s cafeteria, and although it was nice, it didn’t really have food from Sumeru. They would never bring up their dissatisfaction, however. But now, one of his favorite treats from his homeland sat in front of him. The older Segments might have lingered around you some more, but him? The child couldn’t help but want to dig in as soon as possible.

“Thank you.” Those words were starting to become familiar to him again. Eight’s fingers pinched a piece of the dessert and took a small bite before immediately devouring the whole thing. It was probably the best thing he’d ever tasted. He glanced at you before taking another piece, and another…

“Do you like them?” You finished cleaning the area and washing the tools as you made your way to the table. “It’s been a while since I made any so-” You paused when you noticed at least a third of the tray was gone, and the child had stuffed cheeks.

Eight blinked at you. You blinked back. You were at a loss for words before you burst out laughing at the sight.

“Y-You don’t need to eat that fast, you know. I can always make some more.” You grabbed a tissue and began wiping around his mouth. You remembered Zandik being a fast eater back in the Akademiya, but you didn’t know he could gobble stuff down this quick. Eight stiffened as you tenderly wiped off the crumbs and fussed over him, and though it felt weird, it wasn’t weird enough for him to push you away.

“Hmm… I guess I’ll portion the rest for the others. We can give Eighteen the least for being a big meanie. Hehe, don’t tell the others, alright?” Your little accomplice nodded, chewing the dessert slower, not only savoring the flavor but… your kindness too.

Eight had started to open himself up to you, slowly but surely.

—

Little Eight had begun to seek you out on his own, cling to your side, to grab onto your sleeve and look up at you with expectant eyes. With that, the boy had become oddly observant of you.

“You don’t look well,” he pointed out.

“Hm? Oh. I’m… I’m fine. Just a bit tired but-” Before you could finish, Eight grasped your clothes and led you over to sit down. Of course, you couldn’t refuse him. “Really, I don’t-” Eight pressed his small hand against your forehead.

“Your face is warm, and you’re sweating a bit. You should stay here. I’ll get one of the others and the medical record.” It was almost jarring to see a kid assess the situation with such calmness. Perhaps he already had experience with this from Regrator, though. Or maybe he just had to grow up quicker than other children.

“But… you don’t need to do all this. I can take care of myself…” He should just be allowed to be a child, you wanted to say. He shouldn’t have to be in this dreary lab with experiments of this nature.

“I want to.” Eight was surprised those words left his lips as easily as they did. He had thought he had become numb to the suffering of others. He knew something was wrong with him for that. But when he looked at you, it made him upset that you were in pain.

“… You’re very sweet. Thank you.” The others had told you that the child Segment had already lost his compassion, but every day, you learned that clearly wasn’t true. 

—

The eight-year-old carried around his notebook like it was a lifeline, clutching it to his chest. If he had to put it down, he’d always make sure it was within his line of sight. You knew that his notes were important to him, but you couldn’t help but feel that there was something else to this behavior.

You found out the answer one day, when you were in Eight’s room. He was searching for his notebook in front of you when he opened his drawer to reveal a few copies of the same black notebook, before grabbing one of them.

All of the notebooks looked the same, so you had no idea he had multiple. But it didn’t strike you as unusual at first. You just assumed he had filled up that many notebooks with his ideas, and naturally, you wanted to see.

“Do you mind if I read these?” You pawed at the covers.

“You can, if you want. But you probably already read most of them.” That made you pause.

“What do you mean?”

“Those notebooks all contain the same content. I just wrote most of the important stuff in all of them.” So… he was making duplicates of the same thing? 

“But why?”

“Sometimes I misplace them. And then sometimes one of the others throws it out.”

“Throw… throw them out?” You repeated, as if you were in disbelief, but Eight seemed to be unaffected.

“It’s mostly Eighteen that does that. But I don’t want to lose my ideas, so I just write them down in multiple places just in case.” Your jaw was left slack as Eight calmly flipped through his current notebook.

“A-And what does he say?”

“That it’s childish. Or a waste of time. Things like that.” He didn’t think about it when you didn’t respond, but before he knew it, you were up and pacing around the room. “What’s wrong?”

“He can’t do that to you!” You had never spoken to him this loudly, which took him off guard, and you recognized that and took a deep breath. “That… is just wrong. I will not let him do it again. I’m- I’m going to speak to him right now!” Eight realized that this was the first time he saw you truly frustrated, and it was on his behalf, too. You almost burst out the door before he called for you.

“Wait,” the child requested. Never one to ignore Eight, you listened. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Yes, I do. If I’m here, no one is doing that to you. Why, I might as well go and throw out his property and see how he likes it!” Eight felt a bit of warmth prick his face at your outspokenness. But he really didn’t want to start a fight with Eighteen, which would probably escalate to the others, with Thirty-Five telling them not to hinder his work, Forty-Five laughing, Sixty-Five being tired, and the original Zandik… what would he do? 

“I’d prefer it if you stayed with me.” You opened your mouth and closed it again, expression softening.

“Well then… I guess me and Forty-Five will do something to get back at him in secret instead then.” You couldn’t help but give in to Eight, especially when he was learning to be so genuine with you. You sat on the edge of the bed with him and rubbed your hand on his back. However, you still looked troubled.

You thought back to the days you spent with the original Zandik back at the Akademiya. Eighteen was the only Segment you had a concrete understanding of, considering he was a replica of the one you knew so deeply when you were young. You had seen his bitterness firsthand, the desire for himself and his ideas to be acknowledged, only for it to never happen, sending him deeper into his resentment for the world. He would grip you, stubborn tears rolling down his face that he silently asked you to ignore. Perhaps if you had remained in the waking world, you could have done something, but…

“You know, um, Eight,” you began, and the Segment gave you his attention. “About Eighteen… I wouldn’t say he hates you. He just…” The child’s eyes bore into you as he watched you fumble for words. “I guess… He might be a little jealous of you.” That seemed to surprise the little boy.

“I don’t understand. There is nothing I have that he doesn’t.” Eight furrowed his brows, carefully thinking, and a part of you was flattered he was taking your opinion so seriously. “Eighteen has his own lab, office, equipment, proposals, funding, experiments… I don’t really have any of that.” Well, there had been proposals he had been drafting for Pantalone, some with your assistance, but he had yet to present any of them… Most of his duties included assisting the others with their tasks instead.

“Well, all of that is true but… Eighteen doesn’t have your mind.” Perhaps deep down, Eighteen wished he too could be a bit “childish.” Although Eight had clearly gone through something rough, he managed to retain something Eighteen could not. Could Eighteen ever find something and pursue it with pure wonder and excitement as a child could? He couldn’t. Instead, the older Segment was only trapped within the harsh reality of this world’s cruel rules and laws. But how could you explain that to a little boy?

“By which I mean, he doesn’t have the proper mind to appreciate your dear Aranara. And it’s a shame, because he wants to, but… can’t.” You tried to word it as best you could. “Of course, what he did is still wrong, but…” You trailed off, really not knowing what to say, but Eight only leaned into your embrace. He could understand that this was your attempt to make him feel better. Honestly, you had already done more than you knew, because Eighteen always seemed to be in a far better mood whenever you were around. And whether he liked it or not, the older Segment still stayed with him for a lot of things.

The original Zandik, the one who was fascinated with you more than any sort of research, had once told him that your warmth could fill an entire room. Obviously, that didn’t make sense in the literal way, so it was metaphorical. But only now did Eight understand what the older man had meant by that. Actually, now he understood why all the other Segments trailed after you, looking for attention.

You were truly a warm person.

His eyes flickered from you to the floor, and back to you again, as if he was making an important choice. Within the span of a few moments, the tiny Segment turned to fully embrace you, arms wrapping around your body, making you softly gasp. Without hesitation, you gently reciprocated and held his smaller body. Eight always did like when you patted the top of his head.

The child really liked you a lot. Maybe you could convince the others to let him take a trip to Sumeru? Or at least get one of his proposals approved? But for some reason, those things didn’t seem as much of a priority now, when compared to spending time with you.

He hoped you’d stay with him forever…

[flowercanopy]

˚⊱ ۫ ׅ scrambled contacts. ׅ ׅ ۫⊰˚ ᥫ᭡.𓂃 varka / flins / lohen / alhaitham / wriothesley / neuvillette x reader (separate)

ᝰ.tagged .ᐟ SFW · gn!reader · modern!au · mostly simple & linear choices · you’re either in college or is working · reader personality & typing habits varies across all chats · some chats may contain suggestive/darker content/description (come on, there's lohen) · 💡 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝟎

ᝰ.a/n .ᐟ this is an old chatroom concept and i decided to rework the code in react for practice · let me know if you got to see varka’s selfie lol

.𓂃you texted person A (your friend) not knowing it was actually person B (your crush).

character list (in “person A → person B” format): flins → varka / kaveh → alhaitham / lisa → lohen / neuvillette → wriothesley  /  varka → flins / wriothesley → neuvillette

💬 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌: Genshin Impact now You've got a new message!

"ummm... i'm new to this. what do i do? how do i play?"

click/tap on the "You've got a new message!" link above.

if prompted, enter your name.

if you're using a phone, turn your phone sideways to landscape mode to see the page properly.

on the top left, click/tap on the intertwined fates to change your profile picture.

on the top left, click/tap on your name (underlined, soft cream color) to change your name.

click/tap to pick any character from the list on the left panel.

select your reply choice(s) when prompted.

enjoy!

© strictly no repost, plagiarism, translation, or any contact with ai permitted .ᐟ