Warnings- toxic relationship (minor mentions of abuse?), death
A brunette sat on the cement. The tan folds of his coat fluttering out behind him. The wind brushed his hair from his face, it stung his eyes and brushed his skin with bitter cold air. His fingers dripped the brightest shade of crimson. His eyes had dilated and shook with shock and fear. The skin his hands desperately held, already losing its warmth. Lips stained the color, as well as the outfit that resembled his own. Those blood-stained lips coughed final words before letting go. How, how had this happened? Why had he never predicted this? Why would you ever do this?
He knew those answers like he knew his own crimes. After all, how could he forget? He’d been the reason you fell, he’d only denied it for years.
The sun fell softly along the stone. A boy, no older than 15, walked along the stone edge of a bridge. His brown locks flying within the wind whilst he adjusted the bandage over his left eye. He paid no mind to you, even as you walked behind him. Your feet carried you on the safer ground, next to the edge. It was common to find the two of them like this. You were always with him, whenever you could be at least. He never seemed to notice you were there; You didn’t mind it though. The rare moments where he did suddenly ask you questions were enough. Rushing to close the distance between you and him, you caught a glance of his eyes darted to the side. He was looking at you, the single eye that showed seemed puzzled, before he parted his lips to talk to you; His arms opened at the same time. Skipping around steps, he smiled, “Hey, why are you still following me, woman? Don’t you have a better hobby than stalking me?” so he did notice you at times.
Flustered you froze before chuckling with a light hum. “No, not really Dazai-san. I think you're interesting! You're the only one I can't read.” you were referring to your ability. It wasn’t much, so you weren't too high up in the ranks. You could read thoughts, see their feelings in the form of aura, and manipulate that aura. So far, you could make people freeze up and lose themself in an overdose of emotions. Also known as individual illusions created by their auras; things only they could see. It was hard to believe you were even in the mafia. Your bubbly appearance and lack of interest in killing made you look harmless. You never killed, but when you worked with another they sure had an opening to kill.
Dazai leaned down so he leveled with you. “I wonder, have you ever thought of using that ability to induce such outrageous depression, one acts on it?” blushing you took several steps back shaking your head.
“N-no, sir! I d-don’t think I could do that. Well, if Dazai-san really wanted me to, I-I could try it for him!” What were you saying? Knowing this demon prodigy, you’d probably end up not meeting the expectation and ending up punished. Though, would that be so bad?
He puffed his cheeks out, jumping from the edge to land in front of you. With a half-smile, he flicked your forehead. “You keep doing the opposite of what I predict. I really can’t get a read on you.” turning away you covered your face.
“I-is that a compliment?” you mumbled, looking through your fingers. He shrugged, jumping back to the ledge. His eyes lost their glimmer as he looked down. He seemed to be judging the distance; With a heavy sigh, he looked back to the sky.
“If only this was a little higher. I think falling into the water and dying right away, without the pain of falling to the ground, would be okay. I’d drown unconscious, how peaceful that would be.” you didn’t respond as he turned and began walking again.
~
Year after year you walked by his side, growing with him. Slowly that bubbly gaze began to fade ever so slightly. The fun-filled times like the day on the bridge no longer existed.
My head is haunting me and my heart feels like a ghost
Standing next to the demon prodigy you stretched out your hand with a sigh. “Ability: vortex of emotions.” from the shadows you worked alongside him. The enemy's hands reached their head. A perching scream echoing as they turned their gun to themselves. Looking to the side your eyes met the brunettes; They were colder than they were a year ago. Sighing, he raised his pistol and shot. He pushed past you, and you followed numbly.
I need to feel something, 'cause I'm still so far from home
Entering the box he called his home, his hands grabbed your waist pulling you towards him. His fingers lifting your chin. The flutter of your heart pounded against your chest, the closer his face came to yours. “You really should stop following me everywhere. If you won’t at least try to kill.”
Cross your heart and hope to die. Promise me you'll never leave my side
Nodding as he released you, he sat at his desk. “Mori won’t be happy that we clocked out so early.” he leaned back groaning. “Found a new suicide method? I don’t want to deal with his annoying voice tomorrow!” his older persona slipped through. The light in his eyes spread before it disappeared with your silence. Yet despite that, there was a caring hint to his posture. The way his hands moved softly, how he traced your bow. How he exhaled with a sigh when you closed the door
Show me what I can't see when the spark in your eyes is gone
~
Another year went by with a soft ease. You stood in Mori's office, a blank expression on your face. You were sure you were dead. Messing up like this, letting somebody get away. You were shaking, unsure why your breaths still rang. The doors opened to the brunette mafioso. Dressed in all black, a short ginger walked at his side. The way your emotions suddenly changed was unnoticed by everybody but Dazai. His eyes set in glares as you looked away. Your heart raced, why was it you still felt like this? He treated you as a pawn, yet you still ached to kiss him. Mori blamed your failure on Dazai’s lack of discipline with you. “I’ve been more than lenient with how she follows you around. If this happens again, it will be you who pays the price Dazai.'' Why did this have to happen in front of the ginger? His eyes looked at you with sympathy. It was weird to see such a thing. Dazai rolled his eyes stepping closer to the ginger as his eyes darted to you. Puffing your cheeks out you looked away.
Once you were in his office, he practically pulled you by the ear. Pushing you to the floor with his frustration. “I don’t understand why I keep you around! All you seem to do is put me in situations that bore me to death!”
You've got me on my knees I'm your one man cult
You looked up with begging eyes. “Please, I’m sorry Dazai-san! Please forgive me! I’ll do better! Please don’t leave me.” he was the first person to ever make you feel real emotions. Fear, excitement, lust, love, heartache, despair. He gave it all to you.
Cross my heart and hope to die Promise you I'll never leave your side
It was an unexpected look, an unexpected plea. His eyes showed excitement. “There, there’s the reason! You can’t stop doing the opposite of my expectations, every time I think you’ll do something, you manage to shock me, even in this kind of situation! I wonder, would you commit suicide if I died? It would be so unexpected!” his voice was full of wonder as he lifted your chin using the front of his foot.
Looking at him he smirked. He'd known, all along, about your feelings. He teased you all the time, but maybe he could finally get an expected reaction from you. It would be possible to toy with you. Maybe then he’d be satisfied with you. “Would you ever be only mine? Something only for my eyes?” with wide eyes you nodded.
Cause I'm telling you you're all I need I promise you you're all I see
With a smile, you brought your hands to press against your chest. With a desperate smile, your eyes filled with that childish light from when you were 15. “Even if I'm only being used for your satisfaction, it would be all I need! You're the only one for me." Once more he was shocked by the response. Nearly losing the balance he had, his hand reached to his face a soft snicker leaving his lips.
“You’re utterly helpless.” he hummed, removing his foot from under your chin. “Come here darling~” he was certainly stressed today. A little fun wouldn’t hurt, right? “Tell me you’ll never leave.” he hummed holding your chin within his fingers. The blush on your cheeks darkening in your complexion.
'Cause I'm telling you you're all I need I'll never leave
His lips met yours. Shivering you closed your eyes, letting a tear fall. You wished he truly loved you back.
~
Another year passed, you stayed by him no matter what he did. He was crueler than ever. He often left you at night to go hang out in a bar. Those nights were lonely but a ginger often peeped in to see you. “You look like hell.” he would always tell you how messed up you looked. “Why do you stay by him?”
The images passed by your head. The boy you fell in love with. The young 15-year-old. The one with a smile that would show itself here and there. The young boy who jokes around, the carefree one. You picture the feeling of his fingers over yours. Cold yet so warm in those years.
So you can drag me through hell If it meant I could hold your hand
“I love him.” you hummed watching the male drop a bottle of wine in your lap. He walked out leaving the gift. He knew you understood how cruel he was. He had never really pitied anybody before but you… you were something he pitied. A demon prodigy's toy, your relationship was nothing more than toxic.
I will follow you 'cause I'm under your spell And you can throw me to the flames
Sipping on the wine you drank yourself drunk. “I love him… he loves me. I love him. He loves me, I know he does. I’ve seen some softness in those harsh eyes.” you wiped the tears looking up to the ceiling. What had you gotten yourself into? Why did your heart have to play you like this?
I will follow you, I will follow you
~
He stood looking so conflicted, broken, and unsure. It wasn’t the first time you saw him without the bandages but it was the first time your dull lifeless eyes saw him this vulnerable. “Figures, you do follow me everywhere.” his voice was blank of anything; You could no longer read his voice.
Come sink into me and let me breathe you in
It was true, you needed him, so of course you followed him everywhere. “Go, we’re done! I’m not going back! This is all Mori's fault! He’d be alive if it weren't for inviting that damn organization here!” he was upset, yet he seemed so confused. Like a child, he had no grip on what he was feeling. Was he angry, grieving, sad? He couldn’t tell.
You ran to him wrapping arms around him. “I will go with you! I will follow you!”
I'll be your gravity, you be my oxygen.
You'd hold him down during this pain. You’d help him achieve whatever it was that he needed. “Even if it is death, I will not leave.”
So dig two graves 'cause when you die I swear I'll be leaving by your side
With a soft sigh, he pushed you away. “That changes nothing, follow if you have to but I never loved you.” you backed away smiling you curtsied.
“I know Dazai, I know you never did and never could. You are a demon prodigy, one that can’t understand his own feelings. I wish I could help, but your gift cancels mine out.” your voice was sweet as honey, but he shed you no more glances as he walked away. Following him, you sighed.
~
Two years later your empty eyes sat at an agency desk, you'd bought an outfit to match his. Those feelings refused to leave you even after all this time. They surged more than ever. He was like his 15-year-old self again, different but at least there was life in his eyes. He laughed and flirted just as he did those years ago.
So you can drag me through hell If it meant I could hold your hand
You looked to the cafe waitress’s hand, then your own. How you wished to be her. You stood up, walking out and to the office of the agency, sitting in your chair, Kyouka walked up to you. She once had your eyes. Dull, lifeless, broken, but then Atsushi seemed to save her. “Do you love him?” she asked tilting her head as you looked from your phone to her, you sighed.
“Yes, but I'll suffer for life over this. I had my chance and now it’s gone.”
I will follow you 'cause I'm under your spell
She set down a small piece of paper. “I found this.'' She tried to give you a smile that wasn’t pity. They often asked why you always looked so disturbed. Maybe it was the fact you were really all alone now?
And you can throw me to the flames
A tear dropped from your eye. Something, a feeling you hadn’t had in so long. It was worth it, these empty dull years. “A tossed away letter to apologize.” you held it to your chest.
~
I will follow you so you can drag me through hell If it meant I could hold your hand
You found yourself alone on a mission. This was assigned to both you and Dazai, but he had other things he wanted to be doing. Neither of you knew how dangerous this was. He had not batted an eye at this mission. It was simple, a simple recovery mission. A ransom kidnapping, simple in and out. You could handle it without being seen. You ached for the warmth of his hand. A little light lifted your eyes as you stepped into the building.
When his fingers opened his phone accepting the call, he nearly fell over dead. The mission you were attending wasn’t a retrieval; It was a set-up. Despite how careful he'd been, somebody had found out about you. More so his past with you. His mind was too focused on you to think of who let it slip.
I will follow you 'cause I'm under your spell And you can throw me to the flames
Dazai pushed past the doors too late. This was his fault, all of this. The loss of your true self.
I will follow you, I will follow you I will follow you, I will follow you
You'd always said you would follow him. It was always like that. He had taken years to figure out why he never ignored or let you go. He was selfish, he had grown attached. Ango and Oda had even offered the thought. The thought that, maybe in this heart; swallowed by black, he loved you.
It was his turn to feel desperate as he dropped down. The blood flowing from your stomach in spurts.
So you can drag me through hell If it meant I could hold your hand
He held your hand in his while also trying to keep the bleeding down. “I’ll get help! Just hang on, we just need Yosano!” it was the first time your heart slowed like this; The first time you could read him like a book.
I will follow you 'cause I'm under your spell And you can throw me to the flames
Your hand was growing cold, your breathing staggered. You looked to be in so much pain. “No, I won't be that long. You should leave, you don’t love me so…” your voice trailed off as your head tilted to look at his cheeks. Tears… there were tears.
He shook his head pressing your hand to his forehead. “I will follow you.”
Your eyes widened as a light chuckle left your lips, “I will follow you.” you hummed, as the crimson left your lips. He was forced to watch you die in his arms. There was one final look on your face. A giant smile, a real smile on your lips. “I love you Osa…” then, you were gone.
Another, another friend in his arms, dead. No, you are more than a friend. “I… I love you.” he’d never said those words, and it didn’t matter now. There was no going back. He held you to him, cold and motionless.
Somebody from the mafia had done this. Somebody would probably be Mori… he’d dropped this low before, it wouldn’t shock him if he were trying to drive Dazai to murder again; To get him kicked from the light.
For you, for the wish left by Oda, he wouldn’t let himself fall that low. He’d be strong.
The idea of Lohen willingly getting small injures just to have an excuse to go to medic!reader.. GANG YOU'RE NOT SLICK
ANON I LOVE ITT HERES UR REQUESTTT ENJOIIIII🥹🥹 other requesters, have patience im working on it!!!
Vice Captain Lohen, many know him for being a reckless knight who charges into battle without thinking—and surprisingly, it is very effective. Despite being the captain of the 5th company—also known as the ‘ranged company’, he rarely goes into battle with a bow and arrow, preferring to fight enemies head on. Known as the sharpest arrow in the company, he strikes down opponents without a second glance as his fellow members assist him with support from behind. The sharp tip of the spear in his hand crashing through his opponents, crimson drops of blood leaking in his vicnity and and staining the fabric on his skin. Despite the effectiveness of this style, it does have its negatives, and you of all people would know that.
Working so close to the enemy has its negatives, when you’re that close to the enemy, you're bound to be injured, and even the infamoud Vice Caprain Lohen gets grazed and cut with light injuries—and that’s where you come in. Being the head medic of the Knights of Favonius, you were the one who fell victim to Lohen's reckless fighting style. Every week, he would wake you up from your sleep at the most unusual hours of the day. One time, you had been peacefully sleeping in your bed, the quiet warmth of the night filling your room with a calming presence. All of a sudden, an aggressive knock profusely comes from your door.
You get up, stretching your arms and legs—“Who would come here at this hour..?”, you thought, only an insane person could have come at this hour.
You slowly walk towards your front door, the old wooden floorboards creaking as you place light footsteps upon them. Arriving before your door, you slowly place your hand on the rusty doorknob and turn it. Pulling the door open, a sinister yet friendly smile greets you. Vice Captain Lohen, covered in an icky thick crimson liquid—clearly blood.
“Hello, hello, my good friend!” Lohen greeted you, his voice filled with energy. “I was hoping you could help and fix me up? Just a small favor.” He asked, pleading. The smell of blood filled the air, the scent nauseating.
You sighed dramatically, clearly tired. Your doormat was covered in sticky, viscous, crimson blood—but that was a problem for your future-self, now you had to deal with the mess that was Lohen.
“Fine, clean up first and then come in.”
“You’re too kind, my friend.” He exclaimed, a smug smile decorating his face.
But that was only one incident, which was months ago. After this very incident, he’d come by your porch at the same exhausting hours for the same exact reasons almost every single day. “Help me clean up?” “Could ya heal up this scar I got?” “You’re nice, right? Help me out buddy!”
Despite the fact that his constant need for help from you was bothering your already messy sleep schedule, you didn’t really mind that much—His presence at midnight was charming enough that his little rambles on how he ruthlessly murdered a lawachurl didn’t seem as psychotic as it really was.
Though, after a while, his visits became far more absurd. He came by daily, and the reasons for it?
“Oh, here look at my arm—I some hillichurl left a big cut.”, after inspection, said cut seemed to be self-inflicted—but you didn’t tell him you were aware.
“I got this bruise from—uhm—“ He stumbled across his words. “A new recruit..” There was absolutely no way that a new recruit could’ve hit him.
“Patch up these little cuts, please?” They were only light grazes.
Clearly he ran out of ideas, because his self-inflicted injuries became far more frequent. This caused you to worry, why would he do this to himself?
One day, as he stood in front of your door, offering you his injured arm, you held it carefully as you inspected the injury. The cut on his arm almost seemed neat, and upon further inspection could have only been done by the hands of a human—And you recognized that the cut was done by a very well crafted spear, one similar to the likes of his own weapon.
Finally, you finally spoke the words that had been lingering inside of your mouth for months.
“Lohen, I know this cut is self-inflicted.”
“Oh.”
“I always knew.”
An awkward silence filled the air, you waited for his response with a less-than-joyous-expression on your face.
“Okay, fine.” “I’m a vampire and I like drinking my own blood because it’s sexy.”
“Stop.” You said, an amused frown plastering your expression.
“Okay, okay—Relax, I was just joking. I just needed an excuse to see you.”
“Why?”
“Because I secretly think you’re charming and fun to chat with, is all.” “What’s so wrong with that, huh?” He said, you could’ve sworn he pouted for a second or two as he avoided your gaze.
Oh. Well, that surprised you more than it should have. You froze at his admission, a slow realization slipping into your head. Clearly Lohen liked you more than he could admit. A look of utter confusion crawls onto your expression, right before you lightly slap his left uninjured arm.
“You could have just told me!” You yelled, clearly filled with concern. “You don’t need to injure yourself just to see me.”
“Well, whatever—Too late to complain about it now.. It doesn’t really hurt that much anyway..” He said, shrugging. “Soo…” He trails off, gesturing to the injury on his arm.
You sigh, how absurd.
“Come in, I’ll clean you up.” You said, gently tugging on his arm with worry.
A clean yet eerie smile appears on his face, clearly amused by this new revelation—though, you weren’t going to comment on it. Deep down you and Lohen both knew this was the end of the beginning, and things might just never be the same anymore between you two, maybe for the best, or maybe for the worse. Though, you still scolded him for doing what he did, stupid man.
@ghstlyheart do not repost without prior permission, do not steal, do not feed to ai
or: a heavy handed comparison between two of the most complicated mothers in Genshin Impact
Lady Time, one of the four Shades of Phanes. Kairos.
A manifestation of the concept of Time who is only known through the pity that she spared the people of Enkanomiya and kept watch over them before she taught them to replace her worship with the Helios and the Sunchildren.
The Merciless, the Mania, Istaroth who was worshiped in Mondstadt and said to take the stories the Wind gave her to turn into future stories of hope.
… a Mother ? Can she even count as one, considering that she did not create the Wind to be her children?
"I suppose that makes me a mother too."
And Rhinedottir Gold, Gold Rhinedottir, which is the title and which is the name - is there a difference ? is either of a name, either a title ?
The most human of them all; The Great Sinner herself.
Her notable crime is that she loved humanity and that she wanted to do as the gods did and create.
Is this not also what children do ? Do we scorn our toddlers for wearing our shoes ? For repeating our words when we speak to them ?
She creates a son, intentionally. Carefully. Runs her trials and tests, and perfects them.
She is a scientist, and so he is clever. She is an artist, and so he is inspiring.
He is exactly what she had wanted him to be. A synthetic man, except for the most human part of all. His heart. But what does she know of such things ? She sends him away, to go find the truth for himself.
Barbatos leaves Mondstadt. He loves them, he loves them, he loves them. But they must decide for themselves what is next for Mondstadt.
Albedo raises Klee when Alice is away.
Barbatos … was taught to love - not from Time, and not from Song, but from the Boy. The Bard.
Albedo was taught to be human - not from Gold, and not from Alice, but from Klee. His sister.
The thing is that for these two is that they are perfectly inhuman. Both Venti and Albedo were "born" to be Ideal and to prove existence. Let the Wind come and bring Stories for Time to weave. Let Chalk become Man and prove that the heavens are greedy to keep creation to themselves. Yet, the most human thing of all haunts them both.
They yearn for a love that their creators- masters- mothers cannot- do not - will not give them.
Perhaps Istaroth and Rhinedottir are too detached from themselves, from these experiences of humanity to be able to teach their sons, so is it any wonder that - with their history of leaving their responsibilities, running away from the emotional labor of love itself - they leave ?
(Lohen x gn!reader, mentions of injuries, slightly suggestive? Masochist!Lohen, crack, reader is just so done, written before Lohen release, I'm spamming Lohen and you can't stop me)
You may as well have been Lohen's personal escort by this point, with how much you have to follow him around to make sure he doesn't die of his bloodlust.
Grandmaster Varka handed you your position with... A grimace on his face and a pat on your back, bidding you good luck on your job with Lohen. You were hired as a medic, not as a field one that runs along with the rest of the knights, but Lohen's personal assistant. You were the one dragging him out of fights with a well placed shout ("Lohen! I swear to the Anemo archon that if you don't come back here right now I'm gonna shove this scalpel right up your-") and a smack to his face if he was particularly restless that day.
Today, in fact, was one of those days.
You harshly pinched Lohen's cheek, digging your nails into his skin as he whined, his whole body covered in blood. You had to forcefully kick away his polearm and use your surgical scissors to cut open his shirt, pressing a clean rag right into his slash wound on his stomach. Then, when the bleeding relatively eased, you cleaned the wound the best you could with the antiseptics you had on hand, before finally moving on to stitching him up.
The stitches, which he was currently struggling to hell on.
You pressed the skin into your gloved fingers as the needle and thread went in, and then out, but kept watching Lohen's expression in the mean time. His face was flushed, pupils dilated and all and those were normal signs. He kept panting, taking shallow breaths in, and you watched as his chest expanded and deflated at an awfully slow pace.
You sighed. "You know Lohen you don't need to bite your tongue when I'm stitching you up. Let loose, I'm not gonna judge for any embarrassing noises of pain or whatever."
His trance of delirium was quickly broken by your voice, and he stared at you with a questioning look, brow raised and all, but still with a deep, flushed face.
"Ya sure?" His voice was shaky at best and you could only nod. Who knew Lohen was one of those that liked to appear tough, to you he was just a lunatic that didn't care much about other's perception of him.
As you pinched at his skin again, his breath hitched for a second, and you stopped to raise your brow. He only gave you a lopsided grin in return, and you shook your head, returning to your work, passing the needle through his skin-
Before he let out a loud moan.
See, moans and groans and whimpers of pain were fairly common in your field, especially when you perform medical emergencies on patients without any anaesthesia. You were fairly expecting a noise, heck with how quiet Lohen was you wanted something, anything to escape his mouth. However, this little noise was different.
It looked as if his whole body was shuddering from something, his face was relieved in a way, but still had that tangible red tint, and his lips were parted the slightest, as if he was experiencing the best pleasure of his life. He kept leaning into the needle rather than turning away, and he looked so awestruck that you had no idea where he was storing all that wonder for.
"C'mon (Name)..." He drawled out, sounding awfully inebriated and pitiful than usual. "Care to be rougher on dear old me?"
You blinked. Leaning into the needle, dragging out his words with half lidded eyes and unusually flushed cheeks. Your eyes darted down to his lap, where he had his legs crossed and partly shaky-
Before realizing the obvious dent in his pants.
"Oh fuck no. No no no, why does this keep happening?! This is so out of my paycheck!" You groaned into your hands, which you had already brought up to cup your face in frustration. Lohen only tilted his head in slight confusion, and you had to constantly remind your stupid, stupid brain to not dart your eyes to the now obvious bulge that he was wearing on display. Thank the Gods that you were far away from the training grounds. Mortification may as well swallow you whole if that were the case.
"Hm? Weren't you the one who said I could "do whatever I want" my dear Mx (Name)?"
Is this guy being intentionally dense?! "That was before I realized that you're horny from being stitched up! Oh gods does that mean I'm an accomplice? Does that mean I've technically been helping you jerk off to yourself?!" Your shout was borderline horrified, and you half a mind to smack him for his snickering.
"Oh come on I've only been jerking off to-"
You smacked a hand to his mouth. In no way were you going to let him finish that sentence.
"Ughh this is so above my pay grade! The Grandmaster should've told me that I'd been dealing with a masochist. But noooo "Lohen is just a bit crazy in the head" instead of specifying how crazy he really is!" You pinched the bridge of your nose with your other hand, uncaring of how it's covered in his gross gross blood.
All he did was keep looking at you curiously, and you had to force yourself to not shiver when he began to lick your gloved hand covered in blood. Pulling away, you threw his jacket on his lap and forced yourself to be methodical, cleaning up your supplies and shoving them into a briefcase. You were practically dead on your feet when you lifted Lohen up and threw his arm over your shoulder, trying to keep blank and not show the grimace etched into your face.
Perhaps moving to another division wouldn't be so bad huh? At least you wouldn't have to deal with this freak of a man following around monsters to kill anymore.
(The next day you found an envelope in your mail stating your rise in a paycheck and a cheeky smiley face drawn in blood right next to the signature stating "Lohen", and you could only sit down on your staircase, your head in hands and groan in absolute frustration.)
"I just saw the latest leaks that Lohen's constellation is a rabbit. So, what if Alice turned him into a rabbit and asked you to take care of him? You have no idea the rabbit is actually Lohen, and the two of you end up eating, bathing, and sleeping together."
OH DEAR, ANOTHER ONE HERE?
Lohen x apprentice!reader: approximately 1.4k words (I genuinely cannot stop writing unless I’m satisfied with the background of the scenarios). Uhh might be ooc Lohen cuz..well..there’s really not much known about him. Use of “you” only. Not proofread bc I had to stop writing 7 times and continued building my mc house instead.
ALICE has always been one for entertaining almost every idea that pops into her or her daughter’s head. Somehow, as her newly appointed apprentice, you’ve been on the receiving end of the results. In fact, when it came to rather..material things, she’d just shove it to your hands like you had no choice! (Which you didn’t, really.) Hence, every time a guest comes over, you’d always hear about how ‘personalized’ your room was—given that there were things decorated that were contrasting, to say the least.
Looking around your room in a humble home in Mondstadt, you’d just have to agree with them, sighing as you recalled a memory of one of her whims.
“I tried experimenting on turning hilichurls into plushies!” She once excitedly exclaimed, holding up a cotton-made, somewhat creepy miniature of a hilichurl. “Isn’t it cute? My, my, I’d say we can even dress it up!” Giggling, she set it down for a moment as she talked (mostly to herself), while you had to stand there in silence. Because, what? What does she mean, she just turned a hilichurl into a damned toy?! Needless to say, that toy now rests in your nightstand with a few other trinkets. ‘Oh goodness, the poor hilichurl..he even has a frilly dress on now..’
If Alice wasn’t enough of a headache for you with all her weird experiments, the Vice Captain just had to come to the picture as well. He’d approached you with a smile once, on your first encounter outside Mondstadt’s gates, when Alice first sent you to the town. He was sent to welcome you in, and you thought he was a rather strange but easy to talk to guy. He was just to show you around, and it was the case for at least a week. Until after, asking if you knew how to fight. Once you responded no, he’d asked if you can make something to fight.
Obviously not! Was he crazy?! You had to smile at him just to not explode.
Since then, you’d tried avoiding him and Alice (which, really, you can only do so much before you get sentenced to #dropout).
Again, it’s not like you can hide from Alice anyway. Because she just showed up in your room. With a bunny.
“What the—!” Your shock was cut short by your mentor’s hand shutting you up as she tutted. “Now, now. I did tell you not to curse, yes?” You almost scoffed. Still, you nodded and she retracted her hand from your mouth to the.. oh, that’s a rabbit. Bunnies, you’ve seen, are definitely smaller. Oh dear, here’s another one of her experiments…
“This young one was–!” It was your turn to cut her off, “–was another unfortunate experiment? Or a just-to-be?” You sighed, taking the rabbit in your hand. It looks normal, even if it had unusually red and some sort of blue colored eyes. Still, you figured she was just about to use it. Hell, maybe she already started. Poor, unfortunate thing. You hugged it, caressing the fur in an attempt to comfort the animal. “Master, please stop torturing these souls!”
She gasped, hand on her heart like she was offended. “I do none of the sort, I’ll have you know! This is all in the name of advancing magic, dear.” As if. You rolled your eyes, “Okay, and how would this cutie have helped?” The rabbit seemed to jump a bit at that, which made you look pensively. “You’ll see! Buh-bye now, take care of him, ‘kay?” Before you could react properly, she was gone. So this is a male?
Clicking your tongue, you turned your attention back to the rabbit at hand. “You hungry, little guy?” Cooing at its affectionate nature—which seemed off, for some reason— you made your way to your kitchen area. You didn’t have much besides a few staple food items like cabbage, so you figured it would do. Not even bothering to cut it, you tore out a piece as you leveled your head the same as the animal, nudging the piece to its direction. “Here, eat.”
You swear the rabbit looked pissed. Shit, maybe it’s the type to explode? How different is this from the one that Outrider had? Better treat it nicely. Laughing awkwardly to yourself, you spoke in a slower, nicer tone. “Um..uh..bunny, eat this so you don’t die of hunger, ‘kay? Do you not like it? Aww.” Taking it into your arms once again, you tried feeding it to the best of your abilities.
After a while, it seemed to relax in its position in your chest. Yes, chest. Well, maybe it was comfy. “You sleepy, little guy? You know, you’re much better company than I thought.” Sighing, you thought of the people around you. It might be strange to be acquainted with an animal, but at least it doesn’t pose a threat. Yet. “Better than a certain mentor of mine or a crazy, battle maniac of a knight, at least.”
The rabbit didn’t seem to like that because you swear it just attempted to kill you with the way it jumped to your face. “Hey—!” What monster is this?! It almost tackled you into the ground!
After a good 10 minutes of arguing (?) with the animal, you were left laying down on the floor, breathless. You had to admit defeat—fortunately it didn’t kill you, but somehow it now opted to rest on your neck. Scary part is it seems ready to use its claws. You take back your earlier statement, this rabbit was nuts! Another scarier part is that it stinks.
“Okay, you maniac, if you don’t kill me first with your claws I’m gonna be killed by your hygiene.” Huffing, you strutted towards your bathroom. “Guess we’ll have to make sure you’re clean.” You had to bathe yourself, anyway. You set it down on the counter, preparing before undressing yourself and getting in the bath.
Until sudden splashes of water poured down your form as the rabbit jumped in with you. For goodness sake’s, isn’t it supposed to be scared of water?! “Ah come on! I was gonna clean you up after me.” Still, it’s not like you had the skill to battle and argue and nag a crazy rabbit in the bath, so you just suck it up, taking it into your arms once again as you grumpily reach for the soap.
You swear the rabbit looked pleased with himself as you held him in all your naked glory. Archons, even animals are perverted now? This is starting to get real strange, but you chose to ignore it for the sake of your sanity and tried your best to not displease the little animal. (Keyword: best, as it somehow had a goal to knock down everything that could be knocked down. It even got a hold of something sharp for some reason..)
By the time you’re getting into bed, you’ve stopped caring about the details. It’s been a real exhausting day. For some reason, this little maniac reminded you of someone who, for some reason, has yet to show himself at your doorstep with a request to make something for him yet again. In a way, it’s like an animal counterpart..
But you couldn’t think straight enough to care. Opting to put on meager clothes, because you’d rather not suffer through the heat of sleeping beside an animal with fur, and embraced it anyway. Even if it might just pounce and kill during your slumber. “Goodnight, little guy. You should..really thank me for.. getting you off of her hands, you know..?” You smiled as best as you could while your mind was fighting with unconsciousness, which won in the end anyway as you drifted off to sleep.
Unfortunately, you might have thought too much about the Vice Captain before you slept.
Because why else would he be in your bed, sleeping beside you, and basically cuddling you if not for you being in some sort of weird dream?!
That thought quickly evaporated as he shifted in his sleep, seemingly. No, this couldn’t be the knight that bothered you with that teasing smile and eyes. He looked too peaceful and innocent. You refuse to accept it.
Maybe you did something to offend the archons as he suddenly stirs awake, eyes taking in your form. “Oh? What a lovely sight to see in the morning. Dare I say, rivaling the one last night.” His lower morning voice echoed through the room, somehow having more audacity to shift closer and nuzzle into your form, as if he wasn’t already holding you with his hand in your waist and his other underneath your head. “You seem uncomfortable, little mage. I thought you found me cute?”
• Lohen will do.. surprisingly good as a dad. He takes his knight duties seriously when it comes to his kid, if their peer would dare to cause to them any harm? Yeah they get to meet your insane husband first. Of course he will settle things up by conversation, he is not that absurd as he seems to be, but no one really wants to mess with the vice captain of the fifth company.
• Lohen is definitely not the type of parent to read fairytales or bedtime stories to his child. He tells exaggerated tales of his monster hunts and expositions in Nod Krai with complete sound effects and dramatic reenactment, also inspiring your child to be a future knight like their daddy. So have questions for Lohen regards why the little one is already trying his knight uniform at 5.
• If you’re at work or tired, Lohen has no choice to carry on his shoulder your little one, even if he’s heading to the favonius headquarters for settling paperwork or discussing a thing or two with the “grown ups” meanwhile letting the kid play with Klee or get babysit by uncle Varka, which is surprising because he’s the only person besides you who he trusts with his child.
• Deep down, he worries constantly about being too reckless or unhinged for fatherhood. He’ll stay up late polishing his armor, quietly asking you if he’s doing okay as a dad. One reassuring word from you and he melts, dropping his head on your shoulder with a relieved little sigh.
• At night, when the child couldn’t sleep, Lohen would sneak them out onto the balcony under a blanket of stars. He’d sit with his back against the wall, the kid curled against his chest, head resting on his shoulder just like he used to do with you. In those quiet moments the manic energy softened into something deeply cool and comforting. He’d point out constellations and tell exaggerated tales of his hunts in Nod krai, voice low and warm. Slipping occasionally those cute nicknames
“Meine schneeflocken.”
Varka
• He would just love the hell if that child, no other options
• Varka became even softer after your baby’s birth, always carrying your newborn in his strong arms, But the first time he holds his newborn, he freezes. Those massive hands that can swing a claymore through a horde of Wild Hunt suddenly feel too clumsy, too rough.. He sits there for a solid ten minutes barely breathing, whispering, “By Barbatos.” His usual carefree grin is replaced by pure, wide eyed awe mixed with quiet panic that he might accidentally break this mini miracle.
• Varka is surprisingly cuddly. He loves skin to skin contact, letting the newborn rest against his bare chest while he reclines in a chair, one huge hand gently supporting their head. When the little one finally falls asleep on him, he refuses to move for hours, whispering to you with a soft, proud smile,
“They chose me to sleep on… I think I’m doing alright..”
• Of course Varka as a responsible dad took a proper paternity leave. The man who once led expeditions into the nowhere of Nod Krai simply declared that:
“My little knight needs me more than any paperwork in the world!”
• He took every nighttime feeding and changing without complaint, telling you with a proud, tired smile:
“I’ve stayed awake for days dealing with Lohen’s ambushes all night long, a few sleepless nights with our child is an honor, not a burden.”
During the day he would carry the baby in a custom sling made from one of his old cloaks, proudly showing the little one off to anyone who visited.
“Look at this grip!” he’d boast when tiny fingers wrapped around his calloused finger. “Future Knight of Favonius right here.” Yet under that carefree grin, there was a quiet, fierce protectiveness he refused to let any cold draft touch the baby and would instantly wrap them in his own coat the moment the wind shifted.
I saw a post of a toddler cosplaying as venti and oh my god it’s so cute?!!!! Im having so much baby fever GRRRRRR
Anyways this snippet is inspired by this post
word count: 1.1k
“Honey, I’m home~”
Venti caroled as he pushed the door open, carrying his signature lilt despite weary slump of his shoulders. It had been an exhausting day; five full performances in a single afternoon was a grueling schedule, even for a god.
Usually a song or two sufficed to satisfy a crowd, but his reputation as Mondstadt’s finest bard had never went amiss when his popularity only further surged when invites from aristocrats and nobles began pouring in. And when they referred him to neighbouring nations, those foreign dignitaries soon sought him out for private recitals as well.
As much as he loved the rowdy charm of singing and dancing in taverns in exchange for mugs of cider, it was inevitable that such a pace would eventually catch up with him. Those old “daily wages” he had been so used to for so long had been replaced by actual mora and hefty commission fees.
A necessary change once he began a family with you.
But nonetheless, all his exhaustion can be cleared away by spending the rest of the day by being with his dearest family.
And what a wondrous tune his ears were blessed with! Muffled squeals of giggling echoed down the hallway escorted by the frantic pitter-patter of squeaky shoes against the freshly polished floor.
“Papa!”
A small figure lunged straight at his leg and clung to him like a koala. Just as he was about to do his daily uppees and entertain his little angel, the sight of a familiar viridian fabric swallowing them whole caught his attention. The heavy cape was so long it was dragging across the floor.
His little baby looked up at him with their big round eyes that reflected the same vibrant teal hues Venti carried, though the oversized beret on their head threatened to slip down and swallow their tiny nose at any second.
“Sweetie, I still haven’t finished braiding your— Oh, Venti! You’re back already.”
The said man continued gaping down at the toddler then blinked twice before his entire face lit up. Venti squealed and rushed in to scoop them into his arms to pepper their face with a flurry of kisses.
“My oh my, who is this gorgeous little bard standing before me?!!”
Your baby giggled uncontrollably as your husband kissed their cheeks nonstop until they turned as bright and red as sunsettias.
“Very cute isn’t it?” You remarked with an endearing sigh and approached Venti to kiss him on the cheek as a welcome home greeting. “I was just folding your clothes until our dear angel decided to play dress up with all the laundry instead.”
Your husband reciprocated your greeting with a short peck on your lips before shifting his attention back on his child.
He didn't seem to mind the wrinkled state of his cape in the slightest. Instead he adjusted their oversized beret, tilting it to a jaunty professional angle on the child’s head and struck a pose.
"Well, if we have a new lead performer in the house, the old one better start the masterclass!"
Venti began marching around the living room and carried the mini bard like a precious trophy.
A high-pitched shriek of delight emitted from mini-Venti as their tiny hands fisted in his hair while he twirled around the room. The exhaustion that had been sitting on his shoulders just moments ago had vanished and completely forgotten.
You sighed wistfully, placing a hand over your cheek as you admire your family’s laughter beaming in the entire household.
“Who’s the cutest bard in Mondstadt? You are! Yes, you are my little sweet pea!”
Venti cooed, blowing raspberries on their chubby cheek and playfully nipping at the soft marshmallow skin, evidently overwhelmed by an intense adoration he couldn’t resist.
Eventually he came to a halt as his chest heaved from the joyous laughter. He never felt as emotionally high as this. The only time he could recall such a time that came close was when you shared the news to him you were carrying his child.
He would much rather admire in his angel’s absolute cuteness than indulge in dandelion wine at any day of the week. And thank the Seven he hadn’t touched a drop today.
He didn’t want to be a bad influence over them if their father reeks of wine every time he comes home from work. And worst is you wouldn’t let him come near them if you so much as sniffed a single cider on him.
So he had been sobering up and lessening his drinks since the moment he first held this tiny life in his arms. That’s where he realized he never wanted to see their childhood through a drunken haze.
The "Barbatos" known and constantly depicted in the Church of Favonius’s books might have been a creature of divine who loves freedom, music, and wine. But the Venti standing in your living room was more than that.
He lowered himself onto the rug, sitting cross-legged while his little windblume, who was still swimming in the oversized cape, clambered into the crook of his lap.
"You know, I used to think the wind had to keep moving to stay free. But looking at you... I think I’ve finally found a place where I’m happy to just stay still."
Small fingers grabbed a lock of Venti’s glowing hair and firmly tugged it. He didn't wince but merely chuckled. He leaned down and booped their nose with his own.
“Aww, want a similar braid like Papa’s? Mama still hadn’t finished braiding your hair though…”
Venti looked up at you and you didn’t need to ask him any further. You smoothed the skirt of your dress and sat next to them. While your energetic angel was still lost on their own bubble of babbling, he placed them on your lap, and fortunately they didn’t throw a tantrum.
Taking three even strands at the unfinished side, you began to weave them together. To complete the transformation, you took a rubber hair tie and tied off the end of the tiny braid. You tucked it just so, mirroring the way the bard’s own hair framed his face.
When you finally pulled back, a perfect mini-Venti sat in your lap, complete with a heart-melting grin and eyes that sparkled with familiar mischief.
“Oh, my! It’s like staring at my own reflection! I didn’t know the Anemo Archon decided to replace me by a much cuter version of myself!” Venti remarked as he grabbed the end of one of their braids and brushed it against their small nose.
Your child giggled excitedly and reached out to pat his cheeks with chubby hands.
“Look at that,” you mused, brushing a stray hair from their forehead. “So identical that my genes didn’t even try. And I fear this little one might be even more of a troublemaker than the original.”
Venti smirked and wiggled his eyebrows but his face was smothered by your palm instead.
“Don’t even finish that thought.”
Suffice to say, Venti instead succumbed to the cuteness aggression and spent the rest of the evening spoiling and admiring his mini-self.
Somewhere in a quiet corner of the Akademiya's library, a bookworm caught the Wanderer's eye. After an unexpected encounter, she unknowingly begins to unravel five hundred years of solitude. Wanderer is unsure how to feel about that.
previous masterlist next
Have you ever had this one stranger in your life that you always seem to see around?
It wasn't a matter of seeking out their presence, neither was it one of destiny or fate. Maybe it was routine, the wanderer guessed.
Sumeru was not so large that familiar faces were impossible, the Akademiya’s library even less so. People favored certain corners, certain hours, certain habits.
It's only natural that paths will overlap, that seeing the same person in his peripheral vision often enough will make him notice them.
He's unsure of what initially made him aware of you, whether it's the fact that you always take up the same spot by the window or that you never seem to actually be there for studying, or maybe it was the way the afternoon sun hit your hair from behind, also lighting up the pages of whatever fantasy novel you were reading at the time.
Yes, he noticed your preferred genre of books. It was not hard to figure that out with the swirly titles and artistically drawn fable creatures adorning the covers grasped in your hands.
He also noticed a habit you both share, the one of always having a cup of tea sitting somewhere near you.
Whether it be you taking a sip before turning the page, or him tapping the cup while he reads another important paper, tea is more often than not there, seemingly connecting him and the stranger he can't stop noticing.
You were a constant, but always confined within the walls of the Akademiya’s library.
That was, until he one day spotted your familiar figure in his usual tea shop, thoughtfully browsing the shelves.
Seeing you in a different setting caught him off guard. It’s strange and unfamiliar and he’s not a fan of the way he keeps noticing you whenever you cross paths.
Dwelling over a stranger is pointless. So he goes straight for the aisle where his black tea is located, to not waste any more time than he already has. He passes you in doing so.
He notices the sidelong glance you shoot him.
It was brief, but he did not miss the subtle curiosity in your eyes. It’s the same kind of curiosity people looked at him with in his early days, when he was but an eccentric puppet in Tatarasuna.
Tatarasuna was a small village. Not everyone knew each other, but every face was familiar.
Maybe that’s why your glance is so reminiscent of these people, he might be a familiar face to you too from the Akademiya’s library.
The thought made an unconscious frown creep onto his face.
A tap on his shoulder snapped him out of his ruminations. He tenses.
He peeks over his shoulder and is met with your aspect. Great, just what he needed.
“Hey”, you smile politely and then look to the side for a moment, as if you’re considering something, before continuing slowly, “… I’m looking for a tea for the book that I’m reading.”
Wanderer tilts his head, eyeing you carefully. "I don't work here", he says flatly, a little confused as to why you'd ask him and not the shop owner clearly waiting behind the counter.
"Oh." You don't even spare him another glance, instead refocusing on the shelved tea leaves as though the answer would be in them, before half explaining, "I just thought you'd know."
His brows draw together. "Why would I know?"
You blink, and he can practically see you forming the next sentence in your head. "Because you like tea." You say that as if you just concluded that yourself.
So you did notice him, too. How inconvenient.
He has no need to concern himself with pointless interactions, especially not with strangers that seem a bit out of the loop, and that's putting it kindly.
He wanted to call you stupid and tell you to figure it out yourself right then and there. The words were right on his tongue, but for some reason he couldn't bring himself to actually say them.
Instead, he sighs in resignation. "What kind of book are you reading right now?"
"Fantasy", you reply quickly, the word rolling off your tongue in a more lively tone than all the ones before.
He stares at you for a moment, searching your face for further elaboration that does not come. "That narrows it down immensely."
Your face brightens, "Really?"
The way you sounded so surprised almost made him snort. So you did know that your lacking description barely helped. Still, he gives you the obvious answer, "No.”
You hum thoughtfully. “It’s a children’s story about a cloud spirit.”
“You read children’s books in the Akademiya library?” His disbelief is quiet but unmistakable. Most people bury themselves in research and theses within those walls and you've been reading bedtime stories by the window. Why on Teyvat would you even want to find a tea to match that?
Unaware of his exasperation, you shrug and explain, “Sometimes. This one is about the cloud spirit looking for a place to cry on, but the sun always shooed her away. He’s so selfish.”
To emphasize your point, you gesture around a bit, before crossing your arms. A pout appeared on your face.
“Who, the sun?” A hand flies up to hide the small smile that formed on his face. You’re taking that story way too seriously.
“Yeah", you answer like it's the most obvious thing in the world. For some reason you seem a lot more present now, like all the fog that seemingly clouded your head got swept away.
"He takes up all the space everywhere! I hope the poor cloud spirit will end up finding a place.”
He rolls his eyes. You’re too empathetic, childish and absent-minded. This kind of naivety will only end up getting you hurt. Not that he cares. You're just a stranger, your softness has nothing to do with him.
“The story sounds dumb”, is what he decides to say. Maybe to provoke a reaction.
You cross your arms, “Well, it’s not."
Once again, your eyes find the tea shelf, searching it for something. You pick up one of the blends of white tea and show it to him, "I was thinking this one, but it might be too bitter. What do you think?”
“I think there’s no such thing as too bitter”, he replies matter-of-factly. You must be stupid if you seriously think that white tea of all things might be bitter anyways.
You don’t reply yet. It’s like you’re urging him to continue talking with your silence, like you expect him to say more.
He waits another beat, long enough to purposefully make it awkward. You don’t seem to notice that he is done talking.
A long sigh leaves his lips, he can’t believe he’s getting coaxed into saying more. “White tea is the furthest thing from bitter”, he adds begrudgingly, his tone is a bit sharp.
You pause, looking at the pack for a moment, then up at him again like you expect him to either reconsider or to add to his reasoning. He does neither, already having been unusually generous with his advice.
Still, you nod decisively, offering another smile and a polite "Thank you".
Unsure of what to do with that warmth, he just watches you walk to the register and pay for the tea, before you leave the store.
He finally snaps out of it once you do, shaking his head in disapproval at himself for spacing out.
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.
"Do you think we'd still be together in another universe?" You mused aloud, running a hand through Xiao's hair, fingers catching and unthreading small knots. Eyes focused on the ceiling.
He paused for a moment, as if considering it, before shaking his head exasperatedly and pushing it further against your chest. Voice muffled by your warm skin.
"Go to bed."
The night air settled, with a single huff escaping your lips. That wasn't a good enough answer from him, certainly not for your standards—and it wouldn't deter you.
"But like, what if we're already married with 5 kids." He shifted in the sheets, hooking a leg with yours as you spoke. Trying to get closer, but heavily reconsidering after you kept talking. His brows knitted together in a mix of exhaustion and resignation. Clearly, he was too tired for your midnight hypotheticals.
"Let's be real, it'd be cats. Not kids–"
"Go. To. Bed."
Xiao's words were muttered more roughly, faux-frustration slipping through his tone as he squeezed his strong arms around you once for emphasis. His grip slowly went slack again, melting into you with a sigh. A brief moment of silence slipped by, interrupted only by the wind whistling at the window, and the rustling of clothes as he tried to push closer.
✰ SFW ; afab!reader, because pregnancy mentions. fluff.
Warnings: established relationship, the characters are reader's husbands, mentions of pregnancy, babies, ayato always ends up kinda horknee????? slight spoilers about blades past, not beta read THERES NO TIME FOR THAT
A/N: this is my first time writing for hsr and kaveh, but I tried my best </3 also I have work in 2h and I haven't slept yet. this is more important. pog also give me feedback if you like hsr pieces ;q;
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Ayato Kamisato:
he's such a girl AND boy dad you can't convince me otherwise. i just can't get that out of my head: imagine just chilling with your husband, you two enjoying some tea or coffee, while watching your children happily yell and play outside; ayato plays with your palm slightly, switching between rubbing it with his fingers and interlocking it, giving you occasional glances and tiny smiles.
ayato's definitely a strict parent, but wants his children to feel freedom - he does not force them to practice something they don't like, but teaches them necessary stuff they need to know if they are to be the future of the Kamisato clan.
he DEFINITELY had a boy first. and his son DEFINITELY looks like a perfect mixture of you two - he has ayato's eyes and hair type, but your hair color and smile.
your daughter, on the other hand, is exactly like ayato's copy, except with your personality - and he's extremely whipped for her. his little girl wanted to practice a new hairstyle with multiple pink hair clips? oh well, looks like he goes like this to his important meeting.
though, your son is just as mischievous as his father, if not worse - has probably trolled Itto more than once by the shy age of just three. he's also definitely interested in ayato and ayaka's battle styles, like hello??? HOW DO YOU JUST DISAPPEAR LIKE THAT??? AND TURN INTO SNOW??????
even though some fights between his children happen, as it's a thing you can't avoid - the big brother is very protective of his little sister and would do anything to make her happy! even if it means princess tea time. it reminds ayato of his, though not as fortunate, childhood memories with ayaka before she grew up to be the strongest woman and best auntie we know.
ayato probably teases you about wanting a third one, so they look like you this time. "say, darling, how about we get another little one?" feeling his smile, ayato whispers into your ear, "think about it, love," he wraps his arms around your waist from behind, "you just look so perfect I can't resist you."
Arataki Itto:
i do nOT care, his child is just as hyper as him. they're his absolute best buddy, partners in crime, you name it. but there's a plot twist - thank god your child thinks more often than their father AND stops him sometimes.
listen. absolute boy dad. his son is his pride and joy,he bragged so much about his boy to the point that Raiden Shogun herself heard about him.
so, remember itto being severely allergic to beans as an oni? his son absolutely loves beans and could eat them with no side effects. but itto being itto, prepares him meals with beans and takes it as a challenge. he just might cry, or throw up at worst. but hey, everything for his little sunshine.
^^your son absolutely cheers when he's making him dinner and suffering like?? "go dad! you're so awesome!" "yummy!" and itto's screaming back with tears dripping down his cheeks, "yes, YES!! THE BEST COOK OF INAZUMA, ARATAKI ITTO!"
itto prides himself in creating the most perfect small person to ever exist. your son inherited itto's golden heart and your brains (thank god). he's truly a ball of sunshine, and possibly the happiest and polite boy in Inazuma. with a pair of red horns just like his dad, red streaks in his hair and markings, itto's pupils and your eye color.
hear me out: total best pals with ayato's son. they love playing board games and battle onikabuto with each other, and much to itto's delight, his son is usually the winner, but the boys always politely thank each other for the game and move on.
your son is actually such a smooth talker to ayato's daughter to the point that he considers giving them a blessing and suffering being in-laws with itto.
he's also (great)grandma oni's favorite child now... he loves baking, cooking and sewing with her, and showing her his favorite onikabuto that you and itto let him keep as a pet!
itto's actually VERY down to have a few more kiddos if your pregnancy went well. he'd love a little girl to spoil his long hair, or maybe two. and two more sons so he wouldn't be lonely..
that time itto caught ushi sound asleep with his ball of sunshine next to him was the day he'll never forget. with tears in his eyes, he covered them in a warm blanket and let them snooze for a little more before bedtime.
Alhaitham:
literally no one, not even one soul knew that alhaitham has a child until they saw him walking a three-year-old. and the said child is probably the most behaved child that has ever been born.
seriously, your son is probably the smartest child ever. alhaitham, despite some worries, did and still does very well as a father - he began teaching him to talk earlier, he also seemed to have taken a liking to some instruments when he got older. the scribe's little one also enjoys it when his dad reads with him! be it alhaitham's books or fantasy ones, they have a special routine just for reading.
your son absolutely looks up to his father. when he sees him drafting some documents, his eyes shine with curiosity and adoration. alhaitham, can't help but smile slightly when he isn't looking.
nahida promoted alhaitham as the Acting Grand Sage. he promoted her as his babysitter.
^^but in a more serious tone, I genuinely think Nahida would be somewhat interested in your child - not in a negative light in any way, but.. it does make her wonder how a small child could be so smart. though his son has a long way to go and grow up, each year he manages to surprise her.
when his son is too bothered by the attention of other people, alhaitham gives him his noise-canceling headphones; they're a bit too big on him, but he appreciates it anyway.
alhaitham makes sure your son remembers his late grandmother, despite having not met her. even if the scribe does not consider himself a very emotional person, he wants the memory of her to live on.
he encourages his child to make his own decisions, too - just like he had that choice as well; if his son wants to break the ice and become more outgoing - alhaitham will not stand in his way. he wants him to grow up as the person he truly wants to be.
he definitely explained some god-tier science to his toddler son while holding him in his arms, receiving only some confusing "blah blag bwwwug" in return, watching him bite his tiny hand in happiness. he continued.
if there's something that alhaitham shares with his son, it's his love for naps. sometimes you all sleep together, and when it's time to wake up - both of them whine and your son snuggles up to his dad, to which your husband responds by getting his arm over the little one and giving you a small chuckle with one eye open, shortly before falling back asleep.
kaveh is your child's godfather. no, it wasn't his choice.
after a bit of hesitation and a lot of thoughts, he wouldn't mind to have another one; genders don't matter to him by any means, but I see him with yet another son :)
Kaveh:
kaveh and his twins could rival itto and his son's enthusiasm - it's what kaveh wants his kids to always remember - he wants them to enjoy every single bit of life, even if it's something simple.
the famous architect has decided to work hard to provide for you and the baby when you told him about the pregnancy- or, rather, about his future children; some of his work truly shone and got him quite a bit of attention, and therefore - a bunch of well-paid commissions.
kaveh has fought his empathy many times and tried not to overly spend money, which resulted in him being able to create and build your house that you share together; each of the twins has their own room, decorated according to their tastes.
your children have great emotional intelligence, just like your husband; if there's ever any conflict, they rather talk about it, than pout for hours, similar with you two. kaveh teaches them to always be honest, especially to themselves. they're also talented, but in different ways - your daughter seems to be fascinated by the role of the architect as well, but your son, regardless of what he's doing - he always makes sure it's perfect and polished as much as possible.
you cannot tell me this man doesn't do some kind of weekly family time - kaveh loves his family to the bone and would risk his life to protect you and your children with no hesitation. he's very involved in his children's lives and wants to be considered as their friend as well, not just a father; kaveh wants to know what they are interested in the moment, who they had their last beef with and who their crush is. he just really wants to gossip with them lol.
contrary to what a lot of people think, the twins and alhaitham's child(ren?) get along very well, and are aware they're just mirrors of each other. they can't however, understand how they managed to live together under one roof for so long... they never complain if they visit uncle alhaitham though, as he lets them search through his library so they can find out more about their interests.
in revenge, alhaitham is the godfather of the twins, just so you know.
Zhongli:
not only did he fall in love with you, but after hearing the cry of his little girl after she took her first-ever breath - zhongli fell in love once again.
he's so, so overprotective of his baby, regardless of her age. he's swooned by her - how tiny her fingers are compared to his when she finally grips them for the first time, how every month she looks even prettier than last one - he's always by her side, making sure she's the happiest she could possibly be.
since he has to sleep only once for a few days, he's willing to spend every second with her, especially after birth - zhongli also wants you to rest as much as you can, so you can both create memories together.
he most certainly takes her on a lot of walks with you when she gets older; not only around liyue harbor, but places dear to him and her only, if they discover one.
when your daughter grows up and begins to show interest in zhongli's hobbies, he smiles at her gently and sits her in his lap, only to start explaining it and feeding her curiosity; sometimes he has to stop himself for a moment to admire her twinkling eyes.
oh he DEFINITELY does her hair every morning. he's practiced on you before, having learned many new hairstyles to later on perform on your daughter; he carefully strokes her hazel hair with golden tips with a brush, feeling as he's almost watching his own in a mirror. sometimes, he adorns her hair with his own hairpin.
xiao was definitely the first person to know about your daughter. knowing that archon blood runs in her veins, he's less worried about being around her, therefore always more willing to spend time with her. both grow from this interaction - the little one knows how to protect herself (or to call uncle xiao when she's in trouble), and xiao understands small humans just a bit better.
zhongli's thrilled to know what her favorites are - no matter if it's tea, food or fabric, he has to know! perhaps they share the same favorites?
with the help of kamera, he's now able to immortalize the sight of you and your daughter. each birthday, he takes a picture and cherishes the young years of your baby, knowing they won't last long; erosion be damned, as long as he has the pictures - he'll always remember.
Xiao:
xiao was clueless. clueless and frightened. he wasn't supposed to have a child - with a mortal on top; albeit he tries to stay calm for your and baby's sake, he wants both of you to heal well.
it took quite a bit of time for xiao to fully embrace that he's a parent - and he adapted very well, having you by his side; the only worry that hasn't gone away is the thought of harming his daughter with his karmic debt.
but so far, the little one hasn't shown any signs of it, which makes xiao more than happy. she's yet another reason to warm his cold heart up, which he always compares to being engulfed by comfy scarf in the winter.
he automatically turns his head around whenever he hears her tiny little "tap taps" with her feet; not only does he find it adorable, but he knows she once again managed to lose her slippers and socks.
listen. she inherited the same diamond mark on her forehead - and he finally understands why you always insisted you liked kissing it for no reason.
he always. ALWAYS shares his almond tofu with his baby girl.. and she always makes a mess while eating it.. but it's worth it.
your daughter seemed to have taken a liking to watching finches from a distance; they always look for a nice spot in liyue plains, make a small picnic and feed the leftover bread to the birds. she finds them so adorable to the point that xiao was looking for a finch plushie for WEEKS. that made her good friends with qiqi, whom she tries to remember as "the finch friend."
Zhongli never says it out loud, but thinks of Xiao as his son. therefore, he finally earned a title of a grandpa (though unofficial). he's very proud to see Xiao stand up in a role of not only a protector of liyue, but the ones closest to him.
imagine xiao with baby carrier. now you don't have to imagine it anymore.
。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°
Blade:
don't even say he isn't a girl dad. HE IS.
he thinks he's a mere blade whose humanity has been lost hundreds of years ago - it's nothing more but a delusion in his mind. if that was the truth, why would he stay near his daughter's crib and watch her sleep peacefully, flinching when he saw her stir in her sleep?
she's absolutely not afraid of his cold, death stare, in fact - she looks at him back, waiting him to break first. just imagine a tiny baby eating a rice waffle, blade next to her and he just.. stares at her. but she stares at him back and eats the waffle like it's nothing.
your baby girl inherited blade's hair- or rather, yingxing's pearly white hair. he often pats her head gently and goes his hand through her hair, his eyes holding a tinge of bitterness and anger; not at her, however, but at the one he's after.
since blade spends most of his time on various missions with the stellaron hunters, he tries to make it up to your daughter by giving her gifts; hairpins, stickers (ekhem, silver wolf), coloring books, you name it. he slowly warms up to the idea of spending more quality time with her - after so many missions and the thought of his family waiting for him at home, his heart longs to see you again.
sometimes.. you can catch a faint smile on his lips when he plays with her. it's a sad smile - a smile yearning for it to happen back in simpler times, before getting reduced to a weapon, or perhaps in another lifetime.
he never admits it out loud, but he gets used to the new routine a bit too comfortably. before, when it was just you - in contrast to now, when he barely closes the front door and hears his daughter sprinting to him and clinging to his leg; he picks her up and feels her squishing her cheek against his while grinning. "welcome home, daddy!" are the first words he hears - and hopes to hear until it's his time to leave.
at times, blade becomes genuinely terrified - terrified of no longer craving death and wanting to stay. it sends him in so much emotional turmoil he starts to shake; how else do you process this? after so many years of attempting to look for that one thing that finally stops your breath, only to get swarmed by the thoughts of not wanting to leave your daughter behind? what if something happens to her and there's no one to help her?
there's a thing that I can't stop thinking about: I want to leave it up to you how you name your daughter, but I feel like blade would truly like the name Mari.
he lets her decorate him with stickers. it was silver wolf's idea.
Jing Yuan:
he was blessed with a daughter, as well. and then again. and then... again.
he absolutely adores his three little girls, hellO?!?!? but if you think about it, it makes sense - almost all of them took after his personality.
there is a mandatory nap for him and his girls that no one can disturb, unless the planet is on fire or someone got you mad. they all snore quietly while cuddling their dad, one of them on his chest, second on his stomach, and last one has her face somewhere next to his hair. makes you wonder how they got in these places, considering they started sleeping beneath a pink blanket decorated with lions.
speaking of lions, mimi claims your daughters as her cubs and does not let jing yuan take them away. she loves being pet and getting small kisses from them, there's no way she gives him that amount of attention back.
jing yuan loves your daughters to death and spoils them with absolutely EVERYTHING. new plushie? will be here in a few hours. a damned rock that's stupidly expensive, holds no value but one of them liked it? he'll take five. hell, he might even buy them a dog or another lion and hope for easy consequences from you.
he's slightly scared of how fast his oldest got so good at chess.
the girls get very upset when someone mentions they have no older brother - after all, how could they forget about yanqing?
there is a high chance of him losing one of them at home. they're walking, he turns around and.. suddenly the math doesn't add up..
if it's princess tea time, it is princess tea time. fu xuan either becomes a princess or comes back later.
even though they sometimes bring a lot of trouble, jing yuan always tells them to appreciate you - when it's mother's day, they all sit down and prepare a gift for you, same for your birthday; your special days will never go unnoticed.
probably wouldn't mind having another child, but is fully prepared for another girl lol.
Luocha:
he fathered a beautiful boy and girl a few years after. none of them were planned, but very welcome by both of you.
he's.. such a doting father. he always takes care of his children well, shows them affection - especially as small babies, he can't get over their chubby cheeks and peppers them with kisses, so he could hear them giggle.
in general, I think he just. can't get enough of them when they're toddlers or even younger. he loves holding them. he loves seeing his tiny babies get curious when he prepares medicine. he loves when they extend their hand to him for seemingly no reason, so he has an opportunity to give it a kiss. ARGH
he's thrilled to share his medical knowledge with his kids, if one shows interest in it!
luocha's definitely the one to style his babies' hair, I mean have you seen this man's gorgeous locks???? he's also the one to cut it if they don't like it long.
this isn't really about the children themselves, but.. he's just so grateful that you brought them into this world?? and he makes sure you know it every day, be it through actions or words. when you gave birth to your daughter, he held her in her hands and approached you from behind, leaning down and planting a chaste kiss on your cheek. "love, she's so wonderful, thank you for your hard work. I can't stop looking at her, and I wouldn't have that opportunity if I didn't meet you. I've never been more happy to meet such a person like you."
just like kaveh, he wants to be very involved in their lives. he always asks them about their day in school, if they made any friends. luocha also tries to be stern and has only one expectation as a father - he wants them to have a good, comfortable life, in which he'll assist in achieving as long as they need.
your son is very, very talkative with his dad and they could converse for hours. like for real. he's so smart, luocha is more than happy to broad his horizons, even in topics of lesser importance.
genre; a tad bit of fluff and pure angst (i'm sorry)
word count; 2.8k
summary; xiao hated you, but why did he find himself remembering you everyday, even way after you were long gone?
warnings; major character death, mentioning of injuries, blood and yes, angst, angst and angst.
notes; this is my first ever work here on my new sideblog for genshin impact! i'm sorry if i did no justice with this, i am new to genshin and the fandom overall, feedbacks are very much appreciated!
xiao hated you, he'd always been.
hated the very moment you set your foot inside wangshu inn, hated the way you smiled and kindly accepted the requests of people here with no objections, from repairing the wooden stairway of the inn to helping snatching some ingredients for smiley yanxiao, he hated how you were so patient with everything, even up until the moment you first reached out to him.
mortals were always so naïve.
of course he saw you venturing throughout liyue almost everyday, he saw you selfishly doing your daily commissions, and even though you barely survived in many occasions, he could see you were determined to finish whatever you were tasked to do, and he hated that.
the moment you found him at the balcony, you were trying so hard to communicate with him. you willingly went to such length, seeking verr's help to know more about him, and he wondered how you knew there was an adeptus here and why you wanted to talk to him.
he hated seeing your efforts, after all, he despised mortals for years, there was no need for you to waste your time in trying to talking out with him.
upon hearing rex lapis' death, he knew you were nowhere near to an ordinary mortal. a sigil of permission was even in your hold and how could he resist when you brought almond tofu, just to explain all the things that were happening during the rite and how you'd met other adepti before him, which ultimately led him to figure out that you met him to bring those news.
he thought that was it, the interactions between both of you was just a mere, small encounter. he'd mentioned countless times that you shouldn't indulge yourself in his world, and yet again, mortals were so stubborn, and so were you.
every single time you came across the inn, the wide smile on your face appeared as you met his eyes on top of the balcony, saying hello and asking how his days were, and sometimes, if you had more time in your sleeves, you would rant about how your day went by to him. he often shrugged you off, shamelessly hinting that he wasn't enjoying your presence in his lonely life.
but still, you managed to ignore his remarks perfectly, chatting with him like he didn't even call you a stupid mortal in the first place, and he hated that.
hated how you avoided his snarky comments every time you joined him stargazing or watching the moon, hated how you looked so proud when he finally accepted your almond tofu and he hated how you accidentally slept beside him on one night, he woke you up regardless and ignored the warm sensation he felt for the very first time in him.
"xiao," you called out, he was deep in his thoughts that he barely registered your action of ruffling his hair during one of the nights you decided to spend your time with him, and he eyed you with a grumpy frown, "what do you think you're doing?" he asked, smacked your hand off him harshly before you quietly flinched and sighed, used to this side of him whilst ignoring the slight tugging of your heart.
"the lantern rite festival should be around the corner soon enough," you mumbled, and you knew xiao definitely heard the words that he definitely didn't like to hear, "let's go and see the lanterns together?" you faced him, fully aware that indeed, his answer would always be no, no matter how many times you pursued him few days prior.
"no," was all he could say and you continued to add up on reasons why it would be worth it, especially for the adeptus in front of you.
and he hated how you were still stubborn as ever, somehow finding your way to tag him along and ended up in liyue harbor, you made him watched the lantern from afar anyway, and he hated how that night was so beautiful, it also pained him to see you smiling brightly under the light, easily fascinated with the gorgeous view that was laid upon everyone to see.
such a weird and fragile mortal.
he hated you even more, but this time, he hated himself.
hated how that particular night, when you walked him back to the inn together after partaking in the festival, brought himself to an epiphany. hated how he realised that you looked ethereal in his eyes that night as you enjoyed the cold, chilly wind. your cheeks flushed in slight pink, and he swore he never saw you in the same way ever again, how you tucked your dress to engulf yourself in heat, or to cover yourself, with cold breeze against your skin and, truly, he hated himself for allowing something foreign inside him, something he never felt, something akin to always having you by his side.
he'd always thought it was weird how mortals were attached to each other, yet here he was, found himself longing for your presence whenever you were far too caught up with your adventures. sometimes, you would hang out with him once or twice a week, sometimes you would only see him and greeted him from outside while you crossed path with the inn and sometimes, you were totally preoccupied with everything that was happening back in the city of liyue or, even worse for him, mondstat.
he hated how he was looking forward for you to be back, although you practically didn't live here from the start, hated how he desperately longing for you to call out his name. he vividly remembered once you called out his name just for fun before he warmed up to you—which was still the most hated action he'd ever done in his life so far—and ended up being furious at you because calling his name was solely for protection and for urgent matters.
but then why did he want you to call his name whenever you were away?
why did he feel heavy or why did his heart drop, whenever you were back in his sight with injuries? he hated how he cared for you, something he never knew he would feel and that this would affect his life greatly.
"where did you go?" the voice behind startling you from cleaning your wounds, you stopped by at wangshu inn, purely because it was the closest to seek a medical help from where you stumbled upon some ruin hunters, you barely lived yet again, but you did what your mind told you; run away.
xiao crouched in front of where you were seated, as you dealing with your cuts and dried up wounds, or blue bruises scattered across your arms and legs yourself, "this is nothing," you inhaled a sharp breath when the piece of cloth in your hand came in contact with one of your heavier injuries, "i'm fine," you looked up at him intently watching you did the bandaging, and you sent him a gentle smile at his way, noticing how he looked as if he was pondering over something.
"mortals are so weak."
"come again?" you asked with that stupid smile on your face, you didn't want to overthink, but the way he looked at you right now, was with something that made your heart melted. it wasn't that bad to think that he cared for you, even the slightest, right?
"nevermind," he turned away from you, his mask dangling by his side as he held his spear, leaning against the wall as he gazed directly into your orbs, "didn't i say that you should call my name if you ever need me?"
at this point, you might as well knew xiao more than everyone else, minus verr and some people here, and you knew exactly that he actually cared for you.
"it's alright," you couldn't stop from widening your smile, because deep down, you were insanely happy at him asking you that significant question, but of course, you didn't want to burden him with saving your life, a ruin hunter was what you'd always fought, but several ruin hunters were definitely not what you expected when you came across a ruin that evening.
"i don't want to burden you anyway," you trailed off, "you have something more important to take care of than me, xiao. people in liyue need you more than an outlander like me," you spoke the harsh truth out loud, you knew about his life, his karmic debt, what he had to go through as the final yaksha and you definitely didn't want for him to think that you were another burden in his life.
you were so stubborn, xiao knew this.
"yes, but what if your life was taken away?" he let out the one thing he concerned the most without thinking thoroughly, and before he realised what the hell did he say, you were up on your limping legs, went straight to him with calculating gaze and hugged him, "xiao," he was taken aback, what he was supposed to do when he actually enjoyed the warmth and the comfort you mentally provided to him, "i'm fine and alive," you patted his arm as you pulled away, xiao was flustered, he was stiff with your bold actions, "are you perhaps, worried about me, xiao?" you teased, and he hated how he loved the way you looked so proud looking at him in that state.
he hated you as much as he hated himself.
hated how he thought that you were his only source of happiness in this cruel world.
he'd suffering only from existing, and he hated how you made his life felt less lonely, felt as if there was finally a star that brightened up his sky, the sun that lightened up his days, the relaxing wind that comforted his nights, the presence that felt like home and the half that completed his heart.
he never wanted to admit it out loud, how he was so sure that this welcoming feeling was love, but in every way, no matter how many times his mind denied, he knew that he let himself indulging into the feeling more.
he should had stopped you from entering his life a long time ago, he should have been warned that the pain followed after was even more twisted and suffocating than the darkness inside him.
and your stubbornness that he was so familiar with, he ultimately hated that trait of yours.
"xiao!"
he stopped in his track.
"xiao!"
you were screaming, he didn't know why, but you were screaming, and you never screamed his name before.
the uneasy feeling settled in him as he straight up went to you in seconds, wearing his mask and bringing his spear along with him.
he hoped you were okay.
he could hear you chanted his name again and again, but the more you called out his name, the more heavier you sounded, and he hated the sinking feeling inside his stomach.
the moment he saw something red reflected on the grass under the bright moonlight, xiao was enraged, something was hurting you, and they weren't going to get away with this.
the darkness in him multiplied, and it pained him simultaneously, so much to the point that the thoughts of saving you and keeping you alive was eating him alive from the inside, and he hated how despite him losing control onto his strength, you clouded his mind.
he couldn't contain the madness within, the despair that he'd been fighting so hard resurfacing once again, his golden eyes flickering between you and the ruin hunters, you were bleeding, your breath unsteady and you felt cold, you could hear you frantic heartbeat against your ears loud and clear, felt like succumbing into the drowsiness that started to overwhelm, but you didn't, because xiao was right there in front of you, and your eyes met.
the world was slowing down, you didn't know what had gotten into you but you were itching to feel his arms around you, desperate to feel the warmth of his skin against you and you definitely wanted to ruffle and play his hair like you always did, despite him looking at you with such worry, before another ruin guard taking an obvious disliking towards you, charging itself and you turned your whole body away with none to little energy that you managed to grasp onto, and you screamed when something pierced your thigh, your blood kept on dripping, and dripping.
the sinister aura engulfed him when he saw you crying in pain, and he snapped.
before he even barely knew what he'd done, he plunged himself from the air, attacking all the ruin guards in his sight, a voice inside told him to keep attacking, and attacking, because they all deserved to die for hurting you, for hurting the mortal he never knew he would cherish and adore.
"xiao," your voice was barely above a whisper, and he dropped his spear, quickly dashing himself towards you who watched him fighting with such eagerness, you never saw him like this, he looked so broken and you were sobbing when his soft gaze met you, his hands gently taking your face in them, something that you never thought he would do to you as his first move.
even in your state, you still watched him in awe, and he hated that.
"let's go," xiao panicked when he saw you shuddered, your blood seeping through your once white dress. his voice sounded so broken, and he looked vulnerable for the very first time in front of you.
he didn't want to admit it out loud, but the way you looked so pale but still beautiful in his arms, the way you still trying to tug his hair, he couldn't believe that you were in your final moments, because he had seen countless deaths from the past generations, and he knew that you weren't going to last long.
"let's go, please," he murmured, the fear of losing you was too much to bear, and maybe, just maybe, he would bring you to dr. baizhu without any hesitation although he hated crowded places and that city.
he shivered, his arms desperately tightening around your waist, as if his life depended on you.
"i like you, do you know that?" you chuckled lightly, your smile, was still the perfect thing to exist in his eyes, but your eyes, your eyes held different kind of emotions, as if you knew that this would be your last time seeing him, and you were more than glad, heck, you loved the feeling of him holding you dearly.
"don't make a stupid joke, you're bleeding," xiao was still trying to get you up but you were so light-headed that you couldn't feel your legs anymore.
"i'm fine," you lied, "and maybe a little bit sleepy though," you mumbled and grinned, clutched yourself onto his arms and he never knew that the simple sentence could hit him right in his chest, something stung and he was at the edge of keeping his emotions in check, "i just want to shut my eyes, xiao," you trailed off, before xiao carried you in his arms, "stay awake," he said sternly, but his eyes were sad.
you lolled your head backwards when you felt that you were lifted, you had always enjoyed the night, because you found yourself with his company at nights more than during the day, you felt heavy, and the sleepiness was tempting more than ever.
xiao had always been that someone who didn't sway easily, but the way you were slowly shutting your eyes in his arms, made his breath hitched, his words no longer held formality in them, "i'll find dr. baizhu, please, please, stay awake, for my sake," if your focus wasn't on him, you wouldn't notice the single tear that landed onto your cheek.
your line of view was no longer clear, and he hated how your head fell backwards yet again, "i'm sorry," you couldn't croak a word anymore, you felt so heavy that your body started to relax against his, you were crying, crying because you didn't want to leave him, crying because you inevitably knew that your moment had finally came, and xiao would wander off alone again.
he deserved to be loved, but why was the world was so cruel on him?
xiao didn't know why you were apologising, all he knew that you shut your eyes as you said the words, "i love you," before he broke into tears and your hands dropped and you were no longer smiling.
you were no longer ruffling his hair like what you did before, he would never feel your sudden hug anymore, never hear your annoying voice again, never seeing you playing with his mask whenever you were with him, no longer tasting your almond tofu, no longer enjoying your affections and he would no longer see you in his life anymore.
you were gone, away from his life. away from the mortal realm.
even until the last moment, you said that you loved him, and he hated how he didn't say it back to you.
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