🌙✨

“Never be cruel and never be cowardly, and if you ever are, always make amends.” || a bit of everything. || 25+ y.o.

[noctivela]

˙⋆✮ Birthday Blues

Pairing: Sylus x Y/N

Genre: Fluff, angst

WC: 0.8k

A/N: This is purely self indulgent since my birthday is tomorrow and I've always hated birthdays :')

“Kitten,” was the first thing Y/N heard rumbling against her temple in a deep whisper as she began to stir in a bed much comfier than her own. “Wake up, pretty girl.”

Eyebrows furrowed, Y/N slowly blinked open her groggy eyes, her briefly blurring gaze landing on a pair of crimson galaxies. She couldn't help but smile sleepily.

“Happy birthday, kitten,” Sylus whispered and pressed his lips against Y/N's forehead.

Her cheeks heating up with both shyness and embarrassment, Y/N scrunched up her nose. “I hate birthdays,” she whispered, though her heart fluttered at the sheer tenderness in his words.

Sylus chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated in a soothing wave against Y/N's cheek. “I know, kitten. But I'll be damned if I don't wish my favourite girl a happy birthday.”

Lips curving up into a smile, Y/N tightened her arms around Sylus's firm torso and buried her face into his chest, the dark t-shirt he was wearing soft and warm against her skin. She took her time and inhaled in his familiar scent - a hint of smokiness and a rich sweetness that always felt like home to her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and she meant it. Truth be told, her perception of birthdays had been ruined from when she was a child; having friends who never quite felt close enough to share the joy with them was one thing, but having a family who didn't understand her and went out of their way to make her miserable was another. She had learned to dread the day every year, longing to skip over it so she could move on and continue with her regular life.

Yet deep down, a part of her always longed to find joy in the day like anyone else would. The idea of someone genuinely taking interest in her and celebrating the day with her because they wanted to, not as a chore, was a bittersweet longing that coiled around inside of her. But at the same time, the idea of an entire day dedicated to her and her wishes made her feel … selfish.

She had her parents to thank for that, she supposed.

Sylus's long fingers carding through her hair brought her out of her pained thoughts and back into the intimate cocoon they were in on his large bed. The tips of his fingers gently caressed Y/N's scalp, and she shivered, her eyes prickling at the affection.

“We don't have to do anything you don't want to,” Sylus said slowly. “I know you have a lot of bad memories relating to your birthday. But I … I'd like to help you make new ones, if you'd let me. And if you're up for it, I know Luke and Kieran probably have dozens of stupid things planned.”

His last words were faintly mocking, yet Y/N didn't need to look at him to know that he was smiling as he said them.

She giggled under her breath. “I couldn't be more terrified.”

Sylus's laughter was smooth and made Y/N's own smile widen against his collarbone. She felt his fingers settle below her chin as he tilted her face up towards him.

“What do you want?” He asked her softly, his fingers smoothing lovingly over her cheekbones. “Name it, and it's yours. Anything you want.”

“I … “ Y/N broke off, embarrassed. She wasn't used to asking others for things she wanted.

Sylus's thumb kept sweeping back and forth over her cheek as he patiently waited for her to speak again. He gently trailed his knuckles over her jaw and neck, sending delicious shivers through her, her eyes fluttering shut.

Her face steaming, Y/N spoke in a tiny voice. “Pancakes?”

Sylus's eyes flickered with something warm. “I can't hear you, kitten,” he teased her. “One more time, hmm?”

Spluttering with a soft giggle, Y/N smiled up at him. “I'd like some pancakes. Please. If it's not a bother.”

Reaching for her hand, Sylus took a hold of her palm and pressed kisses to each one of her fingers. “Kitten, you could ask me for an entire pancake company and it wouldn't be a bother. Of course you can have pancakes.”

Y/N's eyes lit up and she wriggled up the bed so she was face to face with him. She gently kissed his warm cheek, and was rewarded when the bridge of his nose and the tips of his ears glowed a charming scarlet.

Lips spreading into a devastating smile, Sylus scooped his arm around Y/N's waist and tugged her close to him. His hands cradled her face and he planted a slow, sweet kiss on her lips, his warmth flooding into her and making her breath hitch against his mouth.

“I love you,” Sylus said slowly, running his thumb reverently over her lower lip. “Very, very much.”

Y/N's cheeks prickled with more heat at his words. “I love you too, Sy.”

[yellowish-writer]

Personal Treasures

Featuring the Nod-Krai Cast

What special item do they keep on them at all times?

Inside on of Varka's pant pocket is a folded up photo of the people he cherishes back in Mondstadt. Although it has water damage on the corners, and a small piece got burned at the bottom, he refuses to take another one. Or carry around a new photo of the same people.

"It's been more than five years since this photo was taken, haha! There's no way I can replace it! Everyone looks different now, especially Razor and Rosaria. But look your peace sign is still there!"

The day this precious photo was taken was back before Diluc had left the knights, Varka was about to set off on another expedition though this one would only take a few weeks. His partner volunteered to take the picture of everyone, "are you sure you don't want to be in it?" Kaeya asks, "I can always take it or find someone that can."

"Nope I'm already here!" They say with a cheeky grin, "ready everyone?" They throw up a peace sign with their non-dominate hand, which appears in the bottom right corner of the picture. Varka remembers their smile well, and often looks at this photo while writing letters to the people back home.

The Curatorium of Secrets once had an interesting client. A man who made all kinds of weird demands, and always asked for collateral. "How about that jewel you always have wrapped around your leg?" The man smirks, eyes shifting towards the ground even though Nefer was sitting behind her desk.

Her eyes narrowed, "what more do you need?" She asks, "we have given you body guards as a safety measure already and half of your payment. Are you trying to say the information you have is worth more than that?"

Jahoda stood outside her office, wanting to report back from her latest job, but now stood terrified. The 'jewel' the man is referring to is actually pine amber Nefer's partner had made into a pendant for her birthday some time ago. Nefer than attached it to a leather garter to carry it around with her in her day to day life. She knew that asking for this item would leave him either defenseless or without the rest of his payment. "Boss Nef, let him have it!" She silently cheered.

Columbina was out walking late one night, gathering her thoughts about the next Moon-Prayer Night. How she would try to help the people of Nod-Krai, how she would still keep in contact with Arlecchino. All the 'what if's' swirling around in her head until she looks up at her home, the moon. She now finds great comfort in looking up at it, and realizes it is almost like looking at her partner. 

She looks down at the ring they had given her as a surprise gift on cold winter day. Columbina remembers looking at their hand and saw a similar looking ring. "We match!" They exclaimed, "thank you for being in my life." They smiled fondly at her. Since that day she has never taken it off. A ring made out of moonfall sliver has since been a popular trend among the people in Nod-Krai, and the merchant who first started to sell them has made a fortune. 

"I know everything will be alright with you by my side." She whispers, rubbing her thump over the ring.

"Ah, welcome back." Flins greets his partner who has returned to the lighthouse. "How was the trip?" He lays the photo he was admiring onto a table to greet them by the door.

"The usual." They reply, "still looking at that old thing?" They tease, "I know they say 'take a picture it'll last longer' but I didn't think you would take that seriously.

To Flins who has lived many, many years, a picture would not last long enough. To catch a moment in time was precious, magical even, to someone who has watched time pass by more than others. "The way the moonlight caught your eye was magnificent." He teases, "and that smile, I wasn't kidding when I said I could look at it for hours."

"Ms. Lauma!" She turns her head to see two children of the Frostmoon Scions calling out to her. 

"Yes?" She greets them with a smile, "how can I help you two?"

"We want a bracelet just like yours!" They both exclaimed with stars in their eyes.

Lauma chuckles, "this was a very special gift more someone very important to me. They say that the animals helped guide them to find the materials." They children both looked at each other, "I'm sure if you go ask them they would be more than happy to help."

"Y-yeah!" One of them piped up, "thanks!" She waves them off and goes back to her duties. Laughing to herself, she hopes she didn't make too much trouble for them.

"Here, put this on your finger." Arlecchino hands a small box to her long time partner, in every sense of the word. The box held a ring, the jewel in the center has a deep red. The band itself was pure black. It was crafted by the best of the best, right here in her home of Fontaine.

"The color of your eyes." They look up at her with such fondness she never got used to. "Thank you."

She shakes her head, tucking her head behind her ear to reveal an almost matching set. Only these jewels were the exact same color has her beloved's eyes. "I know it's not quite the same as matching but this is much more subtle for me. I hope you like it."

"A bookmark?" He holds the paper closer to his face. The first thing to catch his eyes was the Sumeru rose, then the sakura blooms. "Did you make this?"

Wanderer gets a nod in reply, "I know it's a lot of purple but this is sort of what I think of when I think of you." He scoffs at these words, walking pasted them and shoves them to the side. Not Enough to make his partner fall over though.

"Since you made it for me I guess I'll just have to treasure it then." The bookmark was then asked by multiple of his peers at the academy. Durin and Albedo were the only ones who could figure out why he kept it in such good condition.

Sucrose and Timaeus have often seen Albedo fiddling with something underneath his shirt. At first they thought it might have something to do with his body. The two came up with a few hypotheses before finally asking.

"If there's anything wrong with your body we will definitely help!" Sucrose mustered up the courage to say.

"Oh," Albedo chuckles and reveals a gold chain necklace with scarlet quarts serving as it's centerpiece. "I have formed the habit of messing with this when I'm coming up with a formula or thinking about my next sketch." Timaeus gives him a look, "yes it is a gift from them. I guess feeling it makes me feel closer to them when they're not here."

[kuutardo4e]

w/ albedo, al haitham, aether, kaveh, wanderer, kaeya

modern! Albedo who's obsessed by the way you do your makeup. He observes you like you'll watching an artist creating a piece of art, like he'll learn everything he needs to know from you. 

He doesn't speak much beside asking questions, he just stares at you while you proceed. What strikes him every time is how much you seem to love it. All the techniques you use, the different mix you make ; he knows you've been studying it for years by the way you execute every step. 

"Why do you mix those two products ?" he asks curiously, taking each in hand and comparing them. 

"I like the texture, and it sticks to the skin better when I do," you commented without really looking at him, but there's the shadow of a smile on your lips. "You really like watching me do this, don't you ?" 

"Yes," he answered slowly, "you're truly an artist, I want to know about what you love," he said mindlessly, like what he said didn't mean much more than that.

But it made you stop in your tracks and look at him, your eyes going wide and filled with a mixed emotion he can't really place as he meets your gaze. 

"What ? Did I say something wrong ?"  

You shook your head. "No," but you can feel your heart swollen with the amazement in his eyes. 

"So tell me more then," he settles down for good next to you on your vanity.

The seat is a little too narrow, his thigh is pressed against yours and you can't really move your arm how you want, but does it even matter when your boyfriend looks right into the reflection of your eyes like you hold a knowledge he never had access to before ? 

It doesn't. So you continue, explaining each step carefully and, based on the look in his eyes, if he could take note, he would. But mostly, you can't move one from the profound adoration you see in his clear blue eyes, questioning yourself if you're really worthy of it. 

modern! Aether who lets you try all the trendy hairstyles you find on the internet without a complaint. Who gives you permission every time you ask, even if it's simply to occupy your hands while you're out with friends. 

He lets you sit him down on your bed before spending what feels like hours doing his hair – not even for him to keep it ! 

"You don't even have that much hair," he complains as you pull a little too harshly.

"Not yet," you spat, frowning at him but loosening your hold in the process. 

You love playing with his hair, and he loves having you doing so, but you know you have to be careful to keep this privilege. Instead, you entangled the difficult braid buns you just tried with your fingers, taking a moment to scratch your nails gently against his scalp in a small head massage to ease the tension building in his nap. 

"But that way I'll know how to do it when I do," you added on, taking in how his eyes open a second to side eye your form in the mirror before closing it again.

"Stop cutting your hair every three months, then we'll talk– ouch!"

You pulled again gently, but consciously this time, making him turn around with a small frown. 

"It was damaged," you scolded gently.

"No shit," he said, playfully this time as he turned around to the edge of the bed, pulling you to him so you stay between his legs. "I told you not to dye it the last time you did." 

His fingers gently grabbed the end of your hair, there was still some dye left, but not so much, and your hair was visibly less dry than it has been for months now. 

"I know... I'll listen next time," you murmured as your hands slowly left his hair to hold his cheeks instead, holding back from leaving kisses all over his stupid face.

"I know you won't," he answered, pulling you even closer. "But I still love you." 

With that, he's the one who takes the last step it takes to leave a kiss on your lips.

modern! Al Haitham who helps you study despite the fact that you've already given up on this subject. Who sits with you through it, through and through, stays up late with you and explain again and again, just so you don't feel unworthy. 

"You should go now," you whispered to him, your chin resting in your hand.

Your eyes are heavy, dressed with purple and green eyebags that you just seems to carry all the time. There's no will to fight in them, no fire that he can try to lights up again. There's only resilience in your, you think, coming failure that can't be undone with a night of studying. 

"You still need help, right ?" he was stating it, with gentle eyes that made you feel uneasy and cared for at the same time. You didn't knew how to deal with that. 

It made you scoff. "Yeah, but it's wayyy past your bedtime," you added with sarcasm. 

It was true, he couldn't deny you that. He couldn't deny anything in fact, but you didn't figured that out yet. Even with that tough exterior, he could see how you didn't wanted to be alone. The way you leaned onto his side without realizing it, how your arm keep on touching his while you write but never pull back right away. 

"I can make an exception," he said then, calmly to not disturb the quietness of the library late in the night. 

Your eyes widened at his worlds. You hate the softness in his voice, lingering in his eyes as he careful study you reaction.  

"Why..?" you proceeded to ask, bur not without looking away from him. 

"Because you asked ?" he answered as he leaned in, enough for his shoulder to rest comfortably against yours. 

The silent stretch between you two for a moment, but he doesn't move and neither do you, making his heart beats a little faster without meaning to. Just like that, he started explaining you once again the same thing he just told you another hour earlier, without raising his voice or a condescending tone. Because he knew you were trying your best, and he was there to help you bring the best out of you. Even if you couldn't give him anything in return. 

modern! Wanderer who never stop speaking about how soft you are without everyone and how it bothers him. How he hates the way you never tell a stranger off when someone's bothering you, how you never raise your voice and how delicate you are even with people you barely know. But who also cave under any soft touch you give him, who can't seem to resist the touch of your hands on his cheeks. 

"You need to stop doing that, something is gonna happen to you sometimes," there's a tint of harshness in his voice, but mostly, he's just worried about you and your safety. 

"But nothing happened," you defend gently. 

He sends you an unsure side eye, along with a frown. All this because you helped a stranger with direction while he was, his words, being "weird". The man sure did look disoriented, making him kinda unpredictable, maybe high, but everything was fine. 

"Until it does," he was talking ahead of you now, barely waiting or looking back. 

It didn't changed a thing though, you knew he would never left without you. That if you even squeal under your breathe, he would turn back and check on you immediately. Because he was always like this, harsh but caring. 

So you take the few steps missing and slipped your hand in his without a word, just a smile on your lips like nothing happened. Like he didn't took a small halt in his steps, like he didn't even hesitate to hold it tight and you know it. No-one talk for a moment, enjoying the soft breeze as you walk down the street to your place, before he comes to an halt and pulled you closer. He wasn't much of the pda type, but he couldn't help but lean into you, leaving a small kiss on your temple. 

"Please stop doing this with anyone," he whispered into your hair before pulling away and acted like nothing happened. 

When all you could hear was 'keep it just for me'. 

modern! Kaeya who come pick you up at anytime, anywhere. It can be from an appointment, uni, your job – anywhere. You just have to ask and he'll be there, always a little early, waiting in his car as he search for you outside. If he can, he'll have something for you in the car, but nevertheless, he's always taking you somewhere to eat if you're hungry. 

He made sure to stop right in front of the door of your job, just so you wouldn't have to walk outside in the rain. It was raining cats and dogs, he could barely see a meter away from his car – there was no way he was letting yah coing back home alone. He saw the gasp when you when you meet face to face with his car, and he couldn't help the proud smile that showed on his lips. You didn't asked, but he was still there. 

"Today was horrible !" you groaned as you sat beside him quickly. "I'm so glad you're here." 

"Of course," he said gently, his hand finding yours before giving it a quick squeeze. "Wanna eat something ? I  drive." He added, as if it wasn't obvious, with a silly smile. 

Before you can ever answered, he's already putting the playlist he made based on what he's heard you listening the most, but still named like it had nothing to do with you. He knew you would tease him for it. 

"I'm dying for some fried chicken," you exhaled dreamily, already tasting it on your tongue. 

"So that's decided."

He can't let his hand on your thigh for too long when he drives in town, but he'll put it back there every time. This or holding your hand, because he knows you like it better. He's driving slowly, comforted by the sound of the rain hitting the glass. 

"So, your day ?" 

And just like that, you started to rant about it and how the customers were absolutely insufferable. Your huge raising, you started talking fast and telling unspeakable insults to them and their family line – which only made him laugh. Because never once did you let go first anyway, despite all the movements your free hand was doing. 

modern! Kaveh who cut your hair for you, following a random girl's tutorial on tiktok as if it couldn't go wrong at any time. He watched them several times, different one for each haircut you asked until he was confident enough to tell you yes. 

“You're sure about it ?” he asked one last time as your wet hair lay in his hand, scissors in the other one. 

He already sectioned your hair and watched the tutorial at least twice. Not that it was the first time he did it, and until now, he never truly failed, but he still preferred to check twice before cutting. 

“Yes, oh my god ! Just do it !” you whined, tired of waiting. “You're stressing me out every time.” 

He frowned at your reaction, but still started to cut your hair as you assured him one last time. 

“I want to be sure so you can't blame me if I fail !” he defends, but without hesitating a second longer, he cuts right after he left his voice, like he did multiple times now. 

There's a content smile on your lips when you feel him move his fingers skillfully through your hair, the tutorial playing behind. You can't miss the serious expression on his face reflecting in the mirror in front of you, the way the tip of his tongue brushes his bottom lips, or the knit creating between his brows from time to time. It makes you giggle every time without a fail. It feels like he's working on a piece of art – or like he really doesn't want to mess up his partner's hair. 

"What are you smiling about ?" he asked, shifting his eyes to your reflection a few times in a row. 

"You," you answered gently, shrugging but not without smiling at him. "Thanks again, Kaveh. You're the best." 

Again, you don't miss the way his gaze shook in the mirror before he went back to business, finishing the last few stands, getting busy around a few that don't need anything you're sure, just so you don't notice the obvious pink on his cheeks. 

"Anytime," he mumbled in the end. "I mean it." 

[yourdarlingdevotion]

ᯓ cats and birds in the air!

you were just walking down the street, and then a poor, lonely, stray animal came up to you. while you couldn't just leave it there by itself! so, being the wonderful person you are, you brought it home! time to see how your darling will react...

fluff. crack. venti , wanderer , kazuha , heizou , xiao , lohen , dahlia x fem!reader.

A/N. in venti's he's the one that brings the animal, and i picked somewhat randomly for each so yeah. heizou actually gives me dog vibes but this post just has cats and birds. also implied venlia kinda in dahlia's but nah they're.. just best friends <3

" woof , we want it ! meowww come and get it baby ! "

[h3artsforannee3]

~ I’m the jealous type! — ᨳଓ .

— synopsis: how these genshin men would be when you’re jealous! (,,>﹏<,,)

— warning: fem! reader, maybe slightly ooc characters

— featuring: Flins, Varka, Childe, Diluc, Wanderer, Neuvillette

𑣲⋆ Flins

♡ - would be slightly puzzled as to why you’re jealous. You’re his, he’s yours. He sees no real reason for you to fear that he’ll be taken away by someone else, since you’re all he has eyes for.

♡ - he truly truly truly does not understand if you don’t tell him. It’s in his gentlemanly nature to be polite to people, regardless of gender.

♡ - however, if you tell him why you’re jealous and how you feel, he’ll understand and feel slightly guilty, albeit flattered. You love him so much that you don’t want him to share his affection? He finds it sweet.

♡ - would immediately reassure you that you’re all he wants and needs, considering you’re dearest to his heart and he doesn’t want to make you any sadder than you are.

♡ - He wouldn’t stop his gentleman-like behavior, but he would make it clear to anyone that he isn’t interested in them and that theres only respect in his actions, not affection. You’re the only person he lets in his heart.

♡ - if you wish to stand closer to him to show that he’s taken (by you!) he wouldn’t object. As long as you feel happy again, he dreads seeing a frown on your pretty face.

♡ - “Worry not so much, my dearest. You’re all I have eyes for. Only you bring me the warmth and touch I yearn for. You’re all I need.. You.. wish for a kiss? Alright, just this once.”

𑣲⋆ Varka

♡ - is able to tell pretty fast. He tries his best to turn down the person who made you jealous, but its slightly difficult considering he’s a bit slow at times.

♡ - Would HATE to see you sad. He doesn’t want you feeling anything but happy and secure with him, so knowing you’re jealous? his heart breaks!

♡ - when he finds out he immediately reassures you in whatever way you need. Need a hug? Of course, he’ll wrap you in the biggest bear (wolf?) hug he can. Need some kind words? he’ll reassure you that you’re his dearest and that no one else comes close! This man tries everything to make you feel better.

♡ - makes sure to show YOU off as a “back off” gesture. You’re his partner and people will KNOW it!! don’t even try to hit on him, he’s already happily together with you!

♡ - assuming that he’s somewhat sober, that is. If he’s drunk and you get jealous, he’ll just get a bit confused and annoying, but if he sees your face he’ll immediately feel bad.

♡ - He just doesn’t want you feeling bad. It makes him feel bad just thinking about you feeling sad or upset, especially if he has something to do with it.

♡ - “Oh, sweetheart, why didn’t you say anything? If I had known you felt like this, I would’ve avoided that woman altogether! It’s alright, you’re all I need, baby. That’s my girl! Haha, c’mere.”

𑣲⋆ Childe

♡ - Would definitely be smug about it at first. Would also definitely feel flattered. You’re the jealous one this time? his ego would boost! but after the initial gloating and teasing he would definitely comfort and reassure you.

♡ - he’s annoying, not an asshole. So he tries to make you feel a little bit better.

♡ - will make sure the other person gets the hint, and will not be subtle about it if they don’t. He has a wonderful girlfriend, thank you very much!

♡ - prepare to be spoiled as an apology. He feels bad about making you feel sad and jealous so he tries to mend your sad and broken heart by giving you anything your heart desires.

♡ - however, when he’s realizes you actually need his verbal support and not financial support he screws his head on right and reassures you that you’re his girl, and he’s your guy.

♡ - if youre into pda he’ll do it a lot more after you tell him you’re jealous. even after the jealousy faded. He wants to keep you happy, not just as a temporary fix.

♡ - “I’m sorry, baby, I didn’t know you felt so hurt. you’re right, I was- I am, an idiot. You’re all I want, all I need, all I have. I’d never choose anyone over you, promise.”

𑣲⋆ Diluc

♡ - clocks your jealousy almost immediately. He’s super attentive so it doesn’t pass him how you immediately frown when Donna tries to talk to him.

♡ - it breaks his heart a little ngl

♡ - especially because he himself deals with occasional jealousy, he gets how you feel. And he himself hates the feeling.

♡ - He does not under any circumstance want you feeling a negative emotion such as jealousy, and considering how in his eyes its partially his fault? He immediately feels bad.

♡ - he talks to you about it almost immediately and reassures you so well. He values communication so he needs you to know how much you mean to him, even if he’s not the best with words.

♡ - you’re the only person he has eyes for, and he wants you to know that. So in whatever way you need, he gives. If you let him, he’ll hold you while reassuring you.

♡ - “Oh, my love.. you needn’t trouble yourself so much with these feelings. You’re my entire world, don’t you know? I’ll never need anything and anyone but you, ever.”

𑣲⋆ Wanderer

♡ - oh boy.

♡ - yeahhh he thinks it’s slightly stupid. He barely tolerates anyone, and now you think he would prefer anyone else over you? pfff.

♡ - would be blunt and say its stupid. However, if he notices how it affects you and how its not just something you can brush off, he softens up a bit. He’s not heartless.. ?

♡ - he truly doesn’t get your jealousy. when HE gets jealous, it makes sense (to him) since you’re so amazing. Of course others would want you too. But now that you’re jealous? he just doesn’t get it. He’s not an easy person, no one can possibly be like you, so why worry so much?

♡ - would honestly but slightly grumpily tell you that there’s nothing to worry about. You’re pretty much the only person he truly seeks out, and who he truly feels safe with. So please, please don’t worry so much. please.

♡ - all in all he does his best to sorta comfort you. it might not be the sweetest or most heartfelt reassurance, but its something he only does for you. Goes to show that you’re the only one dear to his heart.

♡ - “Tsk. Don’t worry so much, seriously. It’ll only make you feel worse. You’re the only person I actually seek out, so stop acting so stupid. You’re.. eh.. I like you, okay? So don’t worry your little head about it. Got it?”

𑣲⋆ Neuvillette

♡ - would NOT get it.

♡ - he struggles with feelings, we know this, so when you’re jealous? He just doesn’t get it. Only when you’re so visibly upset that you look like a kicked puppy does he finally notice something is up.

♡ - when you tell him he feels so bad. you’re his love, his dear one, his girlfriend! so now that his actions, or lack of, have made you sad? Ohhh expect the weather to be bad.

♡ - will try his hardest best to understand your feelings. will ask the melusines for help too. he values you so much that he doesnt want to risk this happening again. He truly loves you, even if he struggles expressing it.

♡ - will try to reassure you. he might not be the best at it, but he tries, ohhh he tries.

♡ - you make him feel seen and loved, safe and secure, so it’s only fair he does the same. He tells you you’re the only one for him. And if that’s not enough?

♡ - when he sees that you’re finally less sad and jealous than before? the weather will immediately change to sunshine. Your smile is enough to make him happy again.

♡ - “Mon amour, please, tell me what is troubling you. Whatever it is, I can fix it. You’re so very dear to me, cherie. So please, don’t let your sorrows trouble you so deeply. You’re my everything.”

I hope the guys werent too ooc! I’ve never written for wanderer before nor do i know much about his character (ᵕ—ᴗ—) my requests are always open, so dont hesitate to send one!!

[scaraobsession]

hii !! i wanted to request hcs on how you think wanderer would react if his partner got jealous

i often see people depicting wanderer to be the more jealous one in the relationship and im curious about your take on the inverse

Jealousy, Jealousy｡⋆｡˚☽

Genshin Characters x jealous reader

Includes in this order -> Wanderer, Layla, Chiori, Cyno, Columbina, Lohen

a/n: I'm lowkey gonna add more characters to this

Links: masterlist | nav

Wanderer

He will notice faster than he lets on if you start acting off. He' very perceptive of your emotions because he cares a lot about you

Not the type to tease or make fun of you at all for being jealous

He has a history of abandonment and betrayal, so he understands your feelings a lot

Does secretly find it reassuring that you're afraid of losing him too. It makes him feel weird in a good way

He will bluntly say something like "You're really worried about them?"

His question is genuine, the concept of him even considering someone else when he already chose you is insane to him

Like he doesn't judge (partly because he also gets jealous sometimes even though he trusts you immensely) but he also knows that he's loyal to you

And he knows that you do trust him. He's done nothing to make you doubt him so he'll assume that it was either an outside cause or insecurity that caused you to feel that way

He will directly tell you that you have nothing to worry about because he's not interested in anyone else

If he weren't sure about you, you wouldn't be together in the first place

After that he will opt for non-verbal reassurance

Like he will definitely prioritize you (he already does, but even more-so), look to spend more time together even if it's just coexisting, go out of his way to do sweet things for you, etc.

He's terrible at initiating physical affection but he will do it if he thinks that it would help you

Imagine him hesitatingly asking if you want a hug

Will immediately agree if you ask for cuddles instead though

Don't call him out on being sweet, he will be embarrassed

Will try to subtly gauge your mood after a while, depending on whether you feel better or not he might bring back some of his sarcasm

NOT directed at your jealousy though, will never pick on something vulnerable

Loves you a lot and will try his best to reassure you

Layla

Will probably notice that something is off, even have a feeling of what it is, but doesn't want to jump to conclusions

Her own self-doubt makes her overly aware of other's feelings, but she also struggles to interpret stuff the right way

So she asks you directly. She cares so she wants to get to the bottom of this

If you admit that you were jealous she wouldn't know what to say at first

Someone caring about her this much is very blush inducing to her

Will be a little flustered but at the same time wants to reassure you as quick as possible

She's already the type to be really sweet to her partner and she will absolutely use this as an excuse to be even sweeter

Expect lots of affectionate words, she gets embarrassed saying them but she'll do it anyways

Also uses it as an excuse to nap and cuddle together

Chiori

Very straightforward once she notices that something up

Will ask you about it and will expect you to be honest. Her patience for unnecessary drama is thin

If you do lie she will give you one more chance to be honest by asking "are you sure?" but if you lie again then she'll lowkey just leave you be until you change your mind about lying or until you're over it

She's not one to press when you clearly don't want her to, and she will not blame you for wanting to avoid an emotional conversation, so she will trust you to handle yourself if you do go that route

Wonders if she did anything to make you feel like you can't confide in her and might bring that up in the future when your feelings have passed

Let's say you did open up though

She will take it seriously and will try to find out why you felt jealous

If the issue was a misunderstanding she'll clear it up and quickly move on, avoiding the same kinds of misunderstandings in the future by either reassuring you beforehand or just by communicating stuff better

If the jealousy stems from insecurity she'll definitely reassure you. She's very observant with her partners emotional needs

Has a habit of fixing problems at their source (not just in relationships, this is a general thing for her) so she might look more aloof than she feels

But she can be surprisingly affectionate when she realizes that you're upset so she's overall still pretty sweet. You can definitely tell that she cares

Cyno

It was because he was talking SO enthusiastically with this other person, you swear you've never seen his eyes shine this much (it was about a TCG Card)

Does NOT notice it on his own, he is way too dense

Because he doesn't realize the problem, he will accidentally make it worse

"Yes and not only is this person good at TCG, they also have the super rare card that I wanted to get for a while, they said they got it in a festival in Nod Krai, something about being forced to participate..."

Won't shut up about it

When you first tell him to please stop gushing about this person he looks at you in confusion

Gushing about this person?? In his mind he was gushing about TCG

Will apologize though, he would never make you intentionally sad and he really didn't mean to

Says that not even the best TCG player in the world would win his favor over you

Also he might have looked lively during the conversation about TCG with the other person, but it doesn't come close to how lively he looks with you sometimes (esp when you crack dad jokes like him)

Columbina

She will not notice for a while

If you start throwing hints, she will know that something is wrong, but not exactly what

It will randomly click for her

Imagine her tilting her head, asking "Are you jealous?" even though by then she already knows the answer

If you deny it she will just say "You are" and accept it as a fact. Once she knows, you can't fool her

If you do admit to being jealous she will lowkey be curious about it, asking you if you thought she'd leave you

She's not offended or accusatory or anything like that, just genuinely trying to understand so that she can best help you

Kinda giving therapy with her wordings

"What made you think that?"

Will reassure you by giving more affection, she'll lean on your shoulder and tell you that you worry too much in the calmest voice

Keeps this moment in mind and if you get jealous again in the future she'll point it out, but then also comfort you again

Lohen

Oh he WILL notice

And he thinks you're hot when jealous so he WILL make it worse on purpose

Usually he's the jealous and possessive one so he has to jealousymaxx you to make up for it

Leans in when hes talking with another person, smiles creepily charmingly, low voice, all that

To normal people it looks like he's threatening the other person. You're not normal and neither is he though, he is doing this on purpose.

He WANTS you to get mad at him

Has the most anticipating eyes when you angrily drag him away from the other person by his sleeve

Will absolutely tease

"Aww is my Darling jealous~?

"Stop calling me that and stop talking to that person"

"Stop calling you Darling or jealous?"

His masochistic ahh yearns to be slapped in the face by you, he's practically begging for it with his attitude

[falsetactic]

how it feels to read self insert/xreader fics of any media that follow the canon plot line

[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

[shujichii]

your husband who loved calling you his wife— even outside of moments of necessity.

and the most fascinating part? he wasn't even aware of the fact how often he did it. he knew he did say it, but he wasn't aware of the fact how often he did. those two words, simple yet undeniably laced together with love and reverence, often tumbled out of his mouth before his brain could catch up.

"my wife would like these flowers," he had said to the wholesome elderly florist when he was about to buy a bouquet of your favorite flowers before returning home to you, his wallet— which had a small polaroid of you in it, by the way— already in hand.

"my wife did mention this the other day, now that i think about it." he had said to his friend who was rambling about the latest trending internet gossip.

"for my wife. i trust there isn't an issue?" he had simply said to the cashier upon noticing the way they lifted an eyebrow at the grocery basket filled to the brim with your favorite snacks, to which they gave a solemn, approving nod at his answer. good husband.

"my wife went out to run an errand, but she'll be back soon." he had even said to your best friend when they came to visit you, to which they replied with a very teasing smirk; "you could just say her name, y'know."

"my wife shouldn't pay when I'm around," he had said when you were about to pay for something, holding out his card before you could pull out yours.

"a reservation for my wife and i, please."

"sorry, my wife is waiting for me. i must take my leave now."

"yes, that's my wife— i'm quite proud of her."

"I can take it from here, sweetheart. can't have my beautiful wife overworking herself now, can i?"

and the list went on.

and yet, you didn't mind it. not at all— you had no reason to. your heart always did that funny little flip whenever he'd call you his wife the way he did, the corner of your lips never failing to curl into a smile. he would always say it so naturally— so genuinely, like those words were etched onto his soul for your very existence alone. and you certainly didn't miss the way his tone would sound a touch softer everytime he referred to you, like you needed to be spoken of with the utmost care and gentleness.

so, one day, you decided it was about time you struck.

"you call me that a lot."

his hands— which were reaching for the kitchen towel to dry his hands with after washing the dishes, yes, the dishes because chores are shared in this household— paused midway. he turned his head to look at you, where you had been perched on the counter, your legs swaying ever so slightly.

"call you what?" he inquired with a small tilt of his head, reaching for the towel at last and patting his hands dry.

"you know, your wife."

he immediately caught onto the teasing glint in your eyes, yet; it was unmistakably edged with a hint of affection.

for a moment, he just stood there wordlessly, blinking once, then twice, his brain taking its sweet, sweet time to allow your words to sink in. you, on the other hand, were practically straining your eyes to catch on any shifts in his expression or posture.

and then, you caught it; the faint reddening of the tips of his ears. he subtly cleared his throat, and your smile stretched into a grin.

alas, that dazzling curve of your lips disappeared as soon as it appeared when the man suddenly approached you in a swift few strides, standing between your legs and pressing his palms on either side of the counter which you sat on to cage you in.

you blinked.

"i do, yes."

he didn't even try to deny it. well, he didn't have a reason to. you were his wife, after all. where was the lie in that? and of course, he was absolutely proud of it.

then, he leaned in slightly, his tone lowering. "unless you prefer i stop calling you that?"

oh, now he was the one with that mischievous little twinkle in his eyes. inwardly, you faltered at the sudden boldness of his actions, your fingertips twitching against the surface of the counter. but outwardly? two can play the game.

then, with a deceptively sweet smile, you tilted your head, shot your hand forward and yanked on the collar of his shirt with force— his body jerking towards you.

"not at all," you smirked, inching closer. "i can't say i mind when my sweet husband calls me that."

his confidence faltered for a moment. you were about to internally celebrate your small victory until one of his hands slid up from the counter, now resting on your hips, his fingertips lightly pressing into your skin.

"... let's hear that again."

let's just say, ever since that faithful encounter, "my husband" had also started slipping out.

and every time? it got to him. oh, it definitely did.

(not my second fluff also taking place in the kitchen lol. i promise it's gonna be different next time.)

♡ nanami kento, geto suguru, fushiguro megumi (jjk), zayne, sylus (lads), wriothesley, neuvillette, alhaitham, diluc, ayato (genshin), jiyan, xiangli yao (wuwa), jugram haschwalth (self indulgence because i love him.), kuchiki byakuya, ishida uryuu, ishida ryuken (bleach), hyuga neji, uchiha itachi, hatake kakashi (naruto), anyone else you'd like.

[bonzirella]

𐔌 . . . 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 . . . (𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒, 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘) ꒱

✧ heaven missed its aim, and now an adorably confused angel (aka, you) is wreaking havoc (and maybe stealing hearts) across teyvat ― alhaitham + ayato + dottore + diluc + kazuha + lyney + neuvillette + scaramouche + tartaglia + venti + wriothesley + xiao + zhongli x reader ⋆ incl. mentions of broken wings, you have a little radio-like device that connects to heaven 𝜗ৎ i wanted to do more charas but i was scared it'd be too long . . . part 2 ?

𐔌 . . . 𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌꒱

One second he’s reading under a tree, the next, the sky explodes and something winged crashes straight into his lap.

You, wide-eyed and covered in feathers, “Mortal! Thou shalt not gaze upon my—oh hey, you’re cute.”

Instantly, you switch moods. “Oh, thank the Creator, you broke my fall!” you chirp, wings flapping erratically and causing an Eye of the Storm to fall off a cliff. “...Oops..”

He stares at you for a long, silent second, “You’re thanking me for your lack of flight control?”

“You caught me,” you argue, proudly, “that’s destiny.”

“That is gravity,” he corrects.

Somehow, within the next hour, you’ve installed yourself in his study, sitting cross-legged on his table, sipping his tea, asking questions about “mortal philosophy” while petting his hair and getting your feathers everywhere. 

He insists you’re a “cosmic disturbance.” Yet, when you fall asleep against his shoulder mid-sentence, he quietly turns a page without moving you.

You call him “wise mortal.” He calls you “airborne liability.” It’s… a start.

𐔌 . . . 𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐎꒱

The heavens open above the Kamisato Estate during a perfectly normal tea break. He barely lifts an eyebrow when you descend, glowing and terrifyingly serene.

Guards panic, servants kneel, and Thoma drops a tray. Ayato, on the other hand, just sips his boba tea. “Well. That’s new. It seems we’ve received… heavenly company.”

You step forward, eyes like judgment itself, voice like thunder, “I come seeking the one called Ayato.”

He smiles politely, “Ah, my reputation precedes me. Shall we discuss this matter over tea?”

You end up lecturing him about cosmic law while he tests if angels blush when complimented (Yes, and then his teacup explodes).

For someone supposedly divine, you blush very easily when he bows to kiss your hand.

Later, when you scold him for manipulating nobles, he says, “If Heaven dislikes cunning, perhaps it shouldn’t make mortals so imperfectly interesting.”

You have no rebuttal.

𐔌 . . . 𝐃𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄꒱

He found you when you suddenly appeared in his laboratory, mixing around random chemicals. The first thing you do when you see him is sneeze, and three of his clones combust because of your germs mingling with the unfortunate chemical solution. 

He’s delighted. Not concerned, not shocked—delighted.

“An angel, you say? Fascinating. Tell me, are your wings detachable?”

You tilt your head, halo wobbling, giggling like a wind chime, “Detachable? No, dummy! They tickle if you touch them!”

He short-circuits for half a second. Then grabs a clipboard, “For science, of course.”

You hum happily while accidentally melting one of his lab tables with divine light. You’re the perfect specimen. (He might also be a little fond. Oops.)

He stares, fascinated as you nearly blow up his lab again, “Interesting. Divine sneeze reflex causes spontaneous combustion…can you do it again?”

“Maybe if you tickle me!”

That’s how the Eleventh Segment ends up half-immolated while the Third Segment is taking frantic notes.

You float lazily above his desk, babbling about celestial nonsense and calling him “Doctor Funny Mask.”

He swears you’re the greatest discovery of his career. 

Unfortunately for you, this seemingly sweet doctor (to you, no one else thinks that) is never going to let you go. So, when you tell him your signals to Heaven are working again, he destroys your little messaging device and keeps you locked up in his lab. With love, of course. 

𐔌 . . . 𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂꒱

You fall straight through the Dawn Winery roof right as he’s cleaning up Kaeya’s latest prank. Adelinde almost faints.

Diluc catches you midair, with the reflexes of someone who’s done this way too often with wine crates. He sighs. 

You blink up at him, dazed, “...Are you the keeper of this realm, or are you my destined savior?”

“I’m your unfortunate landing pad.”

“Ah.. so you’re the love of my life.” 

“Absolutely not. I have enough fangirls.” 

You cling to him like he’s a life raft, “You smell like grapes.”

“That would be the wine cellar you nearly destroyed.”

You call him “Sir Flamin’ Hot Sexy,” and he blushes for the first time since 1623.

Later, as you sit wrapped in his coat, wings drooping, you whisper, “You look sad, for someone who saved me.”

He hesitates long enough for you to reach up and brush his cheek. He catches your hand, softly, “Rest. The rest of your questions can wait until I patch the ceiling.”

When you try to thank him with “holy light,” you nearly set the vineyard on fire. He hasn’t decided whether to kick you out or hide you so you never meet Kaeya… or worse, Klee. 

𐔌 . . . 𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀꒱

He feels the presence of something before you fall.

But when the “something” turns out to be you, glowing and weightless, he can’t help but smile.

“You’re not frightened?” you ask, hovering inches above the ground.

“Should I be? You seem gentle enough.”

You look at the leaves swirling around his blade, fascinated, “The wind… listens to you.”

“Sometimes it listens better than people do.”

You talk all night about freedom, about stars, about how heaven feels colder than the breeze on his ship’s deck. When dawn breaks, you gift him a feather, “A reminder that even the sky envies the wind.”

He keeps it tucked in his haori always, though he won’t ever say why. After all, you’ve become his little angel muse. 

𐔌 . . . 𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐄𝐘꒱

It’s mid-performance when the ceiling explodes into a bright light. The audience gasps. Lyney, to his credit, takes a bow.

“And now, for my greatest trick—oh. You’re not supposed to be here.”

You blink from the ceiling wreckage, “…Where am I?”

He grins, “In my spotlight, apparently.”

You’re trembling, wings drooping, voice soft, “I didn’t mean to interrupt your… um, mortal entertainment...I think I took a wrong turn at the Pearly Gates…”

He offers a gloved hand, “Then let’s make this crash landing our special act.”

You spend the evening helping him “vanish” doves…only for the doves to follow you instead.

Backstage, he gives you his hat to hide your halo. You smile, “You’re kind for a trickster.”

“You’re too trusting for a deity,” he replies, but his tone is warm.

Lynette sighs, “You’re flirting with a celestial being…again.”

𐔌 . . . 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄꒱

The courthouse erupts in light. Melusines scatter. He’s halfway through a sentence when you shatter the glass and faceplant in front of the bench like a sanctified meteor.

“Oops,” you mumble, “do I have to pay for that?”

He stares, speechless, “This is… the Palais Mermonia.”

“Oh! A palace. Fancy.”

“No, a court of law.”

“So you’re sort of, like, Heaven’s HR department?”

The courtroom goes dead silent. What the hell is an HR department?

You laugh, “Oops, wrong universe!”

When he finds out your communication is broken, so you’ll be staying here a while, he ends up giving you a “court tour,” partly to keep you from flying into the ceiling lamps again.

When you apologize for “breaking the sky window,” he sighs, just once, “Perhaps… we can find you lodging. Somewhere without glass.”

𐔌 . . . 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄꒱

You literally drop into his personal bubble of solitude. Bad move.

“What in the Archons’ name are you?”

You, dazed, “A… creature of heaven?”

He glares, “Then go back.”

But your wings are all messed up, so he (very reluctantly) takes you back home.

He absolutely does not help you fix your wings, but he also doesn’t leave you alone. He reminds you of a cat you once became friends with.

You become a part of his daily routine and can’t help yourself from saying, “You don’t do anything fun, do you?”

“Fun is a waste of time.”

“Then you’re doing life wrong!!”

He glares at you. You sleep on the couch that night. But the next morning, when he finds you crying because your wing’s condition worsened overnight, he freezes. 

“Don’t—stop crying. That’s annoying.”

He ends up awkwardly bandaging your wing in silence. You smile through tears, “You’re not mean, you just talk like... thunder. Scary, but not harmful. It's comforting when you get used to it.”

He rolls his eyes, muttering, “Then maybe you should go back to Heaven where it’s quiet.”

He doesn’t mean it. Not at all.

𐔌 . . . 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐀꒱

You land mid-fight, radiant and confused, feathers flying everywhere. He nearly trips on a halo.

“Finally! A challenge that fell from the sky itself!”

You’re dazed, “I— wait, are you fighting for sport?”

“Of course. Wanna join?”

You heal him instantly, wings fluttering. “You mortals are insane.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

He challenges you to a spar. You refuse. He grins wider.

“C’mon, angel, show me what Heaven’s got.”

By the end of the day, he’s covered in soot, you’ve broken half a cliff, and both of you are laughing like maniacs under a star-filled canopy.

Later, he tells everyone he “fought Heaven and won.” You’re still trying to explain that you were trying to apologize.

𐔌 . . . 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈꒱

You land on him mid-song. He doesn’t even flinch, just keeps playing.

“Ah, another fallen star~ Are you here to steal my thunder, or just my spotlight?”

You start humming harmony with him. The crowd thinks it’s divine intervention.

3 hours later: “You’re drunk.” “I’m holy, actually.”

He tells everyone you’re his muse. You’re pretty sure he just wants free drinks.

Still, when you tell him Heaven doesn’t allow music like his, he looks genuinely sad.

“Then maybe,” he says softly, stroking your wings, “that’s why you fell, to learn what joy sounds like.”

You forget to correct him.

He calls you “little dove” and teaches you drinking songs. Mondstadt gains a new legend: “The Bard and His Angel.”

𐔌 . . . 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘꒱

You crash into his office like divine retribution. He looks up from his paperwork, sighs, and stands.

He catches you effortlessly, wings first, “You’re not an inmate.”

“Am I under arrest?” you ask hopefully. (Look, this man is hot.)

“Not unless falling from heaven is a crime.” He instantly regrets saying that, because you smile too brightly, like trouble.

He ends up escorting you around like a lost tourist. The entire prison now thinks their Duke has a celestial partner. He does not correct them.

He chuckles when you blink in confusion, “You’re free to stay until we figure this out.”

You try to “help” with fortress duties only to end up blessing the coffee machines and confusing every inmate into repentance.

He finds you asleep on his couch later, halo dim, wings tucked under his coat.

“You really don’t belong here,” he murmurs, but he makes no move to wake you.

𐔌 . . . 𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎꒱

You appear in a burst of light during his night watch, collapsing midair.

He catches you before you hit the ground, heart pounding, “What… are you?”

“Lost,” you whisper, “and tired.”

He hesitates before wrapping his arms around you, “Then rest. I’ll stand guard.”

When you wake, you offer to purify his karmic burden. He recoils, then softens when you only press a gentle hand to his shoulder.

“You carry pain,” you murmur.

“It’s mine to bear.”

“Then let me bear it with you, just for a moment.”

For the first time in centuries, he lets someone touch him without fear.

𐔌 . . . 𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈꒱

He’s drinking Osmanthus Wine when you crash in front of him like a divine comet.

He sighs, “Ah. It’s been a while since Celestia threw one down.”

You pop out of the water, grinning, “You talk like you’ve met angels before.”

“I’ve buried a few.”

You laugh, delighted, “Oh, you’re fun!”

He ends up buying you tea, halfway between amused and nostalgic. When you ask what “money” is, he feels a migraine coming on.

You sit beside him as he tells you tales about the other angels he’s met.

You lean towards, eyes gleaming, eyebrows wiggling, “You sound like you miss them.”

“Perhaps I do.”

You grin, “Then I’ll keep you company until I figure out how to fly back.”

“I suspect,” he murmurs with a knowing smile, “you won’t be in any rush.”

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

[bonnbonvoyage]

Happy birthday to our beloved Master Diluc <3

[tscamver]

yearner

[tragicdruid]

cuteness aggression

Pairing: Wanderer x Reader

Summary: Sometimes Wanderer looks at you and is filled with violent affection.

Word Count: 500+

Contains: Gender-neutral reader, established relationship, Wanderer POV, fluff

You weren't doing anything special when he found you; just eating. The kitchen smelled sweet with freshly baked muffins, a plate sitting neat and organized on the counter with the baked treats. He could smell the dark chocolate in the air and feels a swell of affection at your thoughtfulness. You tended to pick out more bitter flavors just for his sake.

You were leaning against the counter, one cheek puffed up as you chewed away happily without a care. Both hands were occupied holding a split muffin as you squirreled it away into your mouth bit by bit. You look like a hamster. A stupidly adorable hamster. Wanderer feels one of his hands clench at his side with the urge to pinch your cheeks.

His line of thought is temporarily halted when you look up to see him watching you. "Oh, hey! I made some muffins for us." And then you grin at him too wide and lovingly in that specific way you do that reveals how happy you are to just be in his presence. It makes his heart clench so viciously that he nearly stomps over to you. But no, he walks over calmly, stopping at your side as he raises his hands to your face.

You blink in confusion, unsure of what he was doing up until his palms press against both your cheeks and pushes them together. Your lips purse into a bewildered pout as your face gets squished. Wanderer can't help but grit his teeth, a sharp smirk on his lips as he feels that rush of cuteness aggression. "What are you doing?" you mumble in amusement before swallowing down the muffin bits that were stored away in the sides of your mouth.

He doesn't say anything right away. Just stares at you silently, indigo eyes tracing your features slowly. He loves every part of your damn face and it drives him nuts. His jaw clenches ever so slightly, but enough so that you notice and realize what's coming.

"Don't pinch—!"

He pinches your cheeks, pressing down hard enough with his thumb that it nearly hurts. He tugs at the squished skin between his fingers and makes an annoyed sounding huff.

"Stop making that face," he demands, brows furrowing in what looks like irritation, but you know it's just him losing self control.

"I'm not doing anything!" you whine, hands hovering in the air awkwardly with the muffins still occupying them. You have no way to defend yourself against his vicious onslaught.

"You're making that face. Quit looking so cute," he continues, giving your cheeks one last squeeze before finally granting you mercy and loosening his hold. But the relief is short lived as he tilts your face to the side and leans down to chomp on the fat of your cheek.

"Heeeeey!" you squeal through a fit of laughter, squirming in his grasp in an attempt to get free.

Your adorable sounds only fuel the flames of his affection.

He nibbles on your cheek lightly, lips pulled into an amused grin. "It's your fault for being so damn cute. Now quit moving," he mumbles against your cheek, refusing to let go.

"Chew on the muffins, not me!" you cry out dramatically, eyes watering from how hard you're laughing now.

"No thanks. I prefer you," he responds without hesitation.

His hands hold your face firmly as he playfully begins to litter your face with hard kisses. He just wants to squeeze you tight and never let go.

"Oh, now you're smothering me to death!" you wail having given up on escaping anytime soon.

"Yeah, so quit squirming and deal with it."

[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

[lysarion]

╰ ON HIS KNEES ／ VARKA ⟢

SYNOPSIS: in which, varka drunkenly reveals the secret ingredient in getting you to forgive him.

𖥔 WORDCOUNT: 850 ┆ 𖥔 TAGS. @millurie @axolotsofluv @tragedy-of-commons @al97649 -> come join the taglist here!

𖥔 WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol, wine, and drinking, cameo for diluc, and kaeya, varka is highkey drunk and incredibly embarrassing, established relationships, not fully proofread; expect mistakes!

♪ FINAL NOTES .ᐟ i genuinely didn't expect to like writing him this much. SOMEONE RELEASE ME

varka is not above knowing he's done something wrong. arguably, during arguments with the love of his life (re: you), it's always him that notices that he's crossed a line or has done something that will upset you—if not at that moment, then later when it culminates like a sleeping volcano.

it's something you're eternally grateful for. it's not every day a man has enough braincells loitering in his head to actually realize his or your mistakes without undermining the feelings of both parties. on the other hand, you are deeply, unfathomably embarrassed in varka's way of apologizing.

"please my love, i'm really, really sorry," he says with tears threatening to spill from the edges of his eyes, voice slurring, shoulders hiccupping, and cheeks flushed from the alcohol. you push away varka's face before he can nuzzle at your stomach with a chagrined huff. "you're ignoring meee. m'really sorry, 'kay? i promise i didn't mean for it to happen! i swear, love, please believe meeee."

you've made a fatal mistake of getting mad at him before getting home. because for all of varka's bulging muscles and intimidating frame, he knows how to beg. and he begs, quite loudly, for that matter.

you throw a pleading glance at diluc from the counter as varka's fellow knights huddle and holler for you to forgive their grandmaster. when the redhead turns his back on you, you throw a spoon in his direction and watch in satisfaction when it hits him square in the nape.

'this is your fault.' you mouth to him, still trying to prevent varka from swallowing you in a hug that'll suffocate you.

'i plead innocent.' diluc mouths back and returns to wiping down his already shining wine glass.

your brows twitch in annoyance at the lack of assistance, your patience growing thin when kaeya has the nerve to egg on varka's begging by saying he's not saying sorry enough. you kick his leg from under the table as a warning, while varka, ever the idiot that he is when he has too much alcohol running in his system, begins barking out even more apologies that threaten to turn you deaf by the morning.

"yeah, you're right kaeya!" varka slurs, dropping his head on your shoulders and wrapping both arms around your waist in a tight hug. "maybe i should get on my knees. that usually works when you're mad at me."

kaeya nearly spits out his drink at varka's words.

"varka, enough!" you chide, pushing his face away from your ear and watching the way his lips jut out into a pathetic pout, tears collecting at the corner of his eyes once more. your resolve crumbles a little at his expression—if you squint hard enough or maybe down a few more cups of beer, you'd see a pair of flattened ears atop his head and a tail thumping dejectedly between his legs.

you take a deep breath, rising from your seat, and throw a tight smile at kaeya's direction. "we'll be retiring for the night. thank you for the lovely company, kaeya."

"of course. anytime for my favorite couple!"

you want to gauge out kaeya's other eye when he winks at you. you don't, obviously. you'd rather not cause an even bigger scene than your lover, who has now resorted to using you as his walking stick when he stumbles over his own feet or trips over thin air. another facetious sigh escapes you when you sling one of varka's arms over your shoulders and he doesn't miss the opportunity to plant a chaste kiss on your cheek.

"what am i gonna do with you, varka…" you ask absentmindedly. taking measured steps as varka wordlessly allows you to lug him across the dimly lit streets of mondstatd.

"'m really sorry, [name]. please don't go find another man to marry," he begs, voice cracking by the end of his sentence.

"you're such an idiot," you snicker. "but you're my idiot. i'm not gonna go finding a new lover over something so silly, varka."

"but you're mad at me!"

"i'm worried. there's a difference."

"is it because i didn't go home when i told you i'd come back after work?" he asks in earnest.

you nod. "yes, i thought something bad had happened to you. i'd appreciate it if you tell me if you're going out drinking until dawn instead of pacing around the house for hours."

varka leans a little more of his weight on you when you reach your front porch. his nose nuzzles the side of your cheek, his growing stubble poking at your skin as you card your fingers into his already tousled hair.

"'m sorry, my love. i promise to do better next time. i swear it on my honor."

you let out an amused chuckle, shaking your head in disbelief as he swoops in to capture your lips into a kiss. when you part, he chases after you like a parched man in the desert. you boop his nose with a smile and usher him inside. "i know, big guy. i forgive you."

© 𝓵ysarion 2025 — do not plagiarize, repost, or translate works without the knowledge or consent of the creator in other platforms or websites.

[miyaz6ki]

" may i ask for your hand, only if i may? " . . . 𝝑𝝔 knight who loves his prince/ss so much ! ft. rerir, dainsleif, durin, & varka x gn! reader (separately)

cw: monarchy au, knight! character x royalty! gn! reader, non abyss! rerir

synopsis. when the knight falls in love with his prince/ss

wc. 2k ; not proofread, might be ooc!

< main masterlist | genshin masterlist | second masterlist >

rerir was very much so off the scale if you ask about dedication, but when it came to admitting his feelings about anything? ehhh, not so much... a sigh leaving his throat whenever he got to keep a secret eye on you based on the king's orders;

he was very much so sat atop the castle balcony just to make sure your 'escort' or whatever wouldn't hurt you, how dare he touch you without asking. he would've never done that.

was he jealous? nooo.... but was he just 'looking out for you'? definitely. just... just guiding you through the crowd while having a hand over your lower back.

yes, knight! rerir doesn't mean to do it, but his eyes always linger back onto you, even if you weren't there. and god even your father noticed,

but even when he noticed? he simply said he is watching over you forever, making sure you wouldn't be in danger anywhere at all, was he overprotective? maybe, maybe... but come on, he pledged his allegiance to you when you two were just kids, who could blame him for falling so hard and so easily.

rerir first fell before you became who he served, you were just kids when he was getting picked on by other kids at a school for the nobles that he managed to get in for being smarter than your average child. you shooed them off and offered him a hand, and that's when you started to eat lunch with him, studying with him, who wouldn't fall?

when he found out you were a prince/ss, his life's trajectory changed, scholar who? he's always wanted to become your guard and protect you for the rest of your life.

has all your number one hyperfixations, and best interests at heart all the time. his photographic memory? for knowing which foods you like best, and tells the chefs which ones to avoid. those flowers you were in awe over the day before? they're beside your bed now. the scent you were obsessing over for a week straight? well these bottles just arrived!

even now as you stared off into space, smiling and humming the tune you two always sang together—where was he looking? well, he wasn't just looking... he was admiring. dreaming, fantasizing, whatever you want to call it, he was daydreaming about a life where you two were just free; free to do whatever you want, living in an isolated little home far far from the city. he couldn't imagine it with anyone else but you.

"your highness, you cannot just space out the whole evening... you must greet guests." - "but having dinner with you is much more entertaining than they'll ever be."

...

"you wanna get out of here?"

always that courageous smile, always that brave stature, his live easy and chin up life had been totally turned into following you in the stupid little journey you end up getting yourself stuck in. even if it means getting in trouble, it is always to protect you.

he was enchanted by you, he was absolutely hypnotized by you, wrapped around your little finger. he could never leave you alone, nor could he ever not follow you, you are his duty, please love him back, your highness!

dainsleif loves you silently, and with loyalty to both the king and you... somewhat. he'll never admit his feelings, but yearns so badly for you; and it is very much mutual pining right under your nose.

"dain! come on! we have so much to do! just look at the festival!" you smiled, and the moon shone on you like you were a blessing from god himself,

"your- your highness! don't get that— your highness come back here!" he replied in split words, running right after you as you dressed in a commoner's clothes, hair in a mess, and a smile wider than the sun.

you were the sun to him.

the light in the dark.

the path he wishes to follow.

in which he did, he always did. he claims to be strict but the thing is, he always just let you do what you wanted whilst being right behind you to stop from doing something that would actually get you killed. he will scold you every now and then, but he will still trail you like a fox to the moon.

"isn't this delicious, i didn't know street food was so delicious and scrumptious as this!" you hummed in delight, taking a bite of the food on a stick, you hadn't tasted anything as good as this before. dainsleif was about to reply when you offered him a bite too. "you want?"

was it a coincidence he just happened to take a bite from the spot you bit? maybe, maybe not. but he still ate it anyway, staying silent as you proudly walk more along the streets, did you... did you mean to take his hand? "c'mon, they're playing! let's have fun too!"

and god was it bad he felt his heart bump in his chest seeing you interact with children, it's like you were made to care for them and he was obsessed. he was just sat to the side, eating a stick of whatever you two had earlier, watching in awe at the way you play so happily in kids' games.

if only he could just pick you up right here and now, run away to some rinky-dink village in order to live in peace while your father tries to find you. not that he would care too much anyways,

dainsleif wishes he could give you that adventurous little life you wanted so badly, the one where nothing would have to limit you, and no one controlled what you wore, ate, no nothing. just you and him.

"hey dain! did you see that? me and this little girl won! isn't that great?!" "one day..." "what was that?" "n-nothing, your highness."

durin was the cute knight that was assigned to protect you because of how truly strong he had grown during training camp and came out on top when he started out at the bottom. he was not familiar with english, but he learnt more to talk to you.

"and so, i told the noble to simply stop speaking to me, because who truly just asks for a royal's hand in marriage on the first day of meeting... doesn't anyone know about chivalry anymore?!" you continued on and on about a ball your father held in order to find you a partner.

"'rinnie? you listening?" "u-uhuh! yesyesyesyes, yes i am uhh.. your highness!" you giggle hearing his soft voice while he gazes at you confusedly, "is there any.. anything funny, your highness?" those big, adorable red eyes glanced into yours and you couldn't help but smile.

"please, just call me name when it's just us!" your smile was tantalizing, intoxicating even, he couldn't process anything anymore. god was it like puppy love between you two.

he would just call it caring for his 'best friend', is he secretly pining? who knows. it's totally not obvious when he literally melts when you cling onto his arm when he's on duty.

on duty = accompanying you out at any public events, even if people come up to you and ask 'is he even capable of a punch?' and gosh were you so proud of him whenever you talked about how great his skills truly were. "i-i'm not that good, i just got the hang of the basics..."

was he jealous when the prince trying to court you was flexing what he could do with one swift movement? what a joke this 'strong' royal was, he couldn't help but let a sigh out; he could do a hundred times his damage within milliseconds.

"'rinnie, are you jealous?" you question as you were on your way back from the party, holding onto his hand as he faces away. no his face isn't red, and no he wasn't... what are you even talking about!

"w―what? i am simply... keeping guard of you by standing right behind you." he fumbles over his words, sighing as he finally escorts you successfully to your room.

"here you are, your hi- i-i mean name, would you like um... any extra snacks before falling asleep like last time?" sitting you down onto your bed as you think about it; "no, but could you stay?"

"w-while you change?!" "no, silly! while i sleep!"

varka was promoted from the strongest, scariest, and bravest general of the mondstadt kingdom... to your bodyguard. you weren't exactly close beforehand, but gosh was he fun! to him? you were... well, the closest thing he's had to love.

he thought you were some uptight brat at first; yet he happened to find himself growing fond of you the more you two continued to talk, he realized you were just sheltered, way too much.

it was uncommon for varka to fall in love, i mean, he was totally into his work so of course he had no time for that relationship stuff. but god was he close to trying to have one with you; he loved loudly, but not enough for others to notice his affection for you.

"hey, your highness! hope i didn't keep you here so long..." your bodyguard was back from assisting the king, your father, with something, taking a large gift of bouquets, and your favorite snacks in one, "from me and your dad, whaddya think?"

placing them in your arms as you giggle, "i think they're amazing, var'. thank you for coming to the party mrs. and mr. rutherford! let's get going." you bow to the guests, politely rejecting the proposal of marriage with their son, "gosh, thanks varka, i don't think they would've stopped bothering me if you hadn't shown up."

you smile of relief, slowly following behind him as you two start to head to your room.

he didn't reply for a while; why? because he was just hoping, really, really hoping you would get the chance to at the very least get a slim chance of getting married to you because of all his strong feats. was it bad he wished it just the two of you walking back to your small cottage, talking about dinner with your two, maybe three kids?

"uhuh..." "are you even listening?" "nope." "have you realized we already went past my chambers too?" "ah, right, my apologies, your majesty, come along beautiful."

this wasn't the first time he tried his best to prolong your little duo time with him in order to just keep these dreams alive. going back to being a general? what even is a general?

all he knew was that you liked lillies, and wanted to see the outside world a little more beyond than just... crowns, and fancy clothing.

[toasttew]

When the fic is so good that it feels like the continuation of the canon