🍓Waiting for shop to reset so I decided to rank and evaluate how some genshin men (my favorites, sorry i’m biased) deal with jealousy. Quick answer is: Not well, lol. May do the women next, if there is demand.
Venti: 4/10
Venti has very little reason to be jealous, in fact, he kind of enjoys when others come onto you. Finds it funny. Encourages it at times. Sure he is possessive, but that plays into it a bit. He lets it go for a little while, only to come in when the other party thinks they’ve really got a chance and squash them all at once. You will likely not be privy to his annoyance with the other person, because he plays it off so well. However, you can get him pissed off if you lean into the flirting just a bit. In that case, he’ll make it very known to both you and your companion just how taken you are. Best prepare for a long night, my friend :)
Varka: 1/10
Sorry if this disappoints, guy doesn’t care. Most carefree, hands off man in the world. Someone’s flirting with you? Good! You’re fantastic! Really, why wouldn’t he want to share your wonderful smile with the world. Besides, everyone knows you’re the grandmasters partner. Think of it like him showing off, he doesn’t mind it at all so long as you come home with him. Though, sometimes, you’ll hear him admit that it bothers him just a bit. He knows your loyalties, but it’s hard when he has to share your attention sometimes. Just kiss him, his tail will start wagging and he’ll forget why he was upset in the first place.
Lohen: 5/10
He’s a bit of an odd case. On one hand, he has no doubt in his mind that you could do any better than him (egotistical freak). On the other, what’s up with all the testing his boundaries, don’t these people know who you’re with? Kinda stupid if you ask him. I doubt he gets all that jealous often, just annoyed that people are taking up your time when they don’t need to be. It’s not hard for him to scare them off, of course, so he’d never have any reason to do much about it… but still… you’re not on the market. Does he need to tattoo it on your forehead? Maybe a ring would work instead…
Tartaglia/Childe: 7/10
Chalk it up to his lack of emotional maturity, he gets jealous pretty easy, and he makes it well known to you and your little friend. Walks up behind you and makes it very obvious you are an item. A duo. Two peas in a pod. You get it buddy? Go away?? Still, he’s… nice enough about it. There’s a level of decorum he has… a level. It’s best to just pull him away quickly, or else he’ll get a little mean, and we don’t need this dog (fox?) barking do we?
Zhongli: 4/10
It may surprise you to see him be anything over a 2, but I believe old man’s still got it. Of course, he’s fairly chill, and he’s not the type to worry about anything like that too much. But, he does know what a prize you are. You caught the eye of the lord of geo, that little mark on your wrist proves it, you’re special. Others most certainly will agree, so he has to be wary. When he does have to “confront” an issue… he does so, so smoothly, you and the other party hardly realize he’s moved the conversation to another topic. Gramps still got that smoothness.
Kazuha: 2/10
Are we surprised guys. Kazuha wouldn’t bat an eye to any stranger you’re talking to, only gets concerned if they seem aggressive. He’s a gentle soul, and he knows what your relationship is. You can hold your own, and you’ll say no if you need to. You’re not an object to covet, you’re a person. His person. So no need to worry about anything like that. Still… he’s a little more willing to step in than Varka if he feels someone is being too pushy. Checks on you subtly, and watches the interaction with a careful eye. Just in case.
Tighnari: 7/10
You absolutely have to hear me out on him I’m begging. He’s a fairly laid back person, I don’t think he gets jealous often and he doesn’t mind strangers being a little friendly with you or you back to them. However, why I put him so high, is when he does get jealous? He’s insufferable. Blame it on genetics or whatever, but when he gets that itch in the back of his skull, he has to scratch it. Very much a “I’m part of this conversation now and I’m going to remind you about ten times that this is my partner and they’re not interested oh did i tell you this i my partner yet?” kind of guy. Also a little more touchy than usual. It’s embarrassing as hell, but it’s just how he is. You smile and laugh it off, so it can’t be so bad in the end.
Cyno: 4/10
*Points behind me* This guy, amirite? Cyno is less jealous more naturally protective. He always eyes new people around you with caution until he’s sure they’re not a threat to your wellbeing. That being said, the flirting tends to just be dismissed as harmless in his eyes. So what if they’re interested, so was he. He made the move, they didn’t. …They better not. He’ll keep an eye on them just a little longer, to make sure… Yeah, you might have to get this guy to chill a little. He’s (mostly) harmless, but that endless glare freaks everyone around you out.
Kaveh: 10000000000/10
Hates sharing your attention so much, oh my god he’s pathetic. He doesn’t really have much to call his own, but you are his partner, therefore he gets to be a little jealous about the people who approach you. He’s not subtle, though he thinks he is. Sliding up against you, cuddling you into his side with a huffy little glare. It’s so funny, like an angry little rabbit. Don’t tease him, though, he won’t like that. (Alhaitham points it out every time he does it, and every single time it starts a “fight”)
Wriothesley: 6/10
He’s not outward with it, but he gets jealous pretty easily. As the person he is, he feels there are things he can’t provide you with. Sun, being the main one, but among other things. So, when he sees a relatively normal guy with a normal house and a normal job in the regular old city… he gets a little nervous. Of course, you’d never do that to him. But… well… he wouldn’t blame you for wanting a normal life. Just kind of watches the interacting with a patient stare, smiles at you when you’re done. He won’t mention it unless you notice, but he’s honest too. Figures it’s better you know than not. Give him a hug, won’t you…?
Neuvillette: 9/10
Doesn’t clock that he’s jealous, that bothers him more. Unnamed emotion he doesn’t understand haunting him like a goddamn ghost. He just knows he doesn’t like when the secretary touches your shoulder, or when the cafe owner speaks to you in such a soft affectionate voice. Never asserts himself either, just stands by and watches… wondering why he’s so… irritated by the sight. When he finally asks Wriothesley, it bothers him even more to know he is jealous. Jealous of what? You are already his. But, unfortunately, emotion doesn’t like his logic, so he stews in his jealousy quietly until your attention is back on him.
Ifa: 5/10
True Neutral. Does get jealous, doesn’t like to act on it. He’s got a good head on his shoulders, he’s not gonna cause a scene over a little friendliness. Again, he’s the type to sit on the side and watch with a passive expression. Waits for you to come back to him, then he’ll tell you he didn’t really like that person. If they keep you too long, he’ll make himself part of the conversation, but won’t do much else unless they’re touchy or pushy. Pretty relaxed and mature about it, all things considered.
Kinich: 1/10
I don’t think he thinks about it. I mean like, really. I don’t think he cares enough about the other person to really consider them a “threat” of any kind. He might recognize “Hey that’s a weird thing to say,” but if it doesn’t bother you it doesn’t bother him. Usually him just being there is enough to scare the other person off. His stare is intense when paired with his silence. Still, if they’re being too pushy, he’ll just bluntly ask what exactly they’re doing and why. Pretty effective for scaring the rest off.
Flins: 3/10
I think he would find “jealousy” a funny feeling, if he felt it much at all. Very much the type to stand to the side in bemusement of the offender. His eyes crinkle in this creepy way as he does, simply observing with delight as you give them nothing to work with. Of course, as anyone does, he doesn’t like seeing others flirt with you… but you can handle your own. And if you can’t? Don’t worry, Flins is more than able to spook any strangers from your side. All as long as you turn your pretty, praise filled smile his way.
Dottore: 9/10
Feels the jealousy, doesn’t like to acknowledge it. As I said before, I don’t believe he gets jealous all that often, because he genuinely believes he is the most superior partner for you… But when he does, he’s quite nasty about it. He’s never above underhanded tactics to get your other suitor away from you. He’ll play the long game, just to see how much hope he can give them before it’s squashed without a second thought. Very much will limit your “freedoms” (aka, get in your way when you have plans by distracting or other methods) just enough to feel you and the other party separate. He’s not much for sharing outside of himself and a special someone else.
WORD COUNT. 5.7k total (i got carried away, please stick around)
NOTES. Just fluff through and through. I wanted to write for so many more characters!! Do let me know who else you would like to see :))
Fem!reader !! she/her pronouns are used.
Part 1 (you're here!), Part 2
ALBEDO
You spend a lot of time in Albedo's lab. You're not entirely sure when it started becoming routine, but somewhere between him seeking your presence and you deciding to stay longer than necessary, it just... happened. You'd sit in the corner with a book or just watch him work, the way he moves through his experiments with methodical precision.
Today, though, you're in the Favonius library instead. Albedo needed to research something specific, and you went along with him without question. You're sitting at one of the tables while he browses the shelves, pulling down various tomes with focused precision.
Lisa is at the front desk when Albedo brings his stack of books to check them out. You're waiting nearby, and she glances between the two of you with that knowing smile of hers.
"My, my, someone's been spending a lot of time with our dear Chief Alchemist," she says to you, her voice sweet as honey. She's already flipping through the first book. "Taking quite the interest in his work, are we?"
"Just curious," you say, suddenly very aware of how close Albedo is standing.
"Mm, how thoughtful of you." She continues scanning, her eyes flickering up to Albedo for just a moment. "Your lover must appreciate having someone so interested in what he does."
She says it so casually, so mixed in with the mundane task of checking out books, that it takes a moment for the words to actually register. By the time they do, she's already moving on to the next book, completely unbothered.
Albedo pauses. You notice it immediately—his hand stills on the counter, and there's a moment where he seems to be processing something. His gaze drifts to the side, not quite looking at Lisa, not quite looking at you. He's just... considering. Turning the words over in his mind the way he does with everything else.
Then, just as quietly as the pause came, he seems to release it. He doesn't correct her. Doesn't say anything at all. Just sets down the remaining books on the counter in that careful way of his.
“Oh, uhm,” You begin, looking over at Albedo. “We, uh, aren’t together.”
Lisa glances up, catches something in his expression, and her smile widens slightly. But she says nothing more.
Later, when you're back at the library and Albedo is focused on his research, you find yourself thinking about what Lisa said.
"Do you think I'm a distraction?" you ask casually, not looking up from your book.
Albedo doesn't pause in his work. "No." The answer is immediate. Certain. You turn a page.
"Lisa thinks we're together," you say.
He sets down the vial he held with careful precision. Turns to look at you fully, and for a long moment, he doesn't say anything. His soft, analytical gaze is fixed on you, and the silence stretches out—long enough that you start to feel uncomfortable, long enough that you begin to wonder if you've said something wrong.
And then, as though he had reached a conclusion so simple and obvious, "Would that be so strange?"
You realise you don't have an answer for that. And more importantly, that perhaps, no, it would not be so strange after all.
AYATO
The Kamisato clan commissioner rarely ventured into the markets. Usually, he would have sent either Thoma or one of his other myriad helpers to fetch whatever it was he or Ayaka needed. But, today, perhaps as a change of environment—away from the towering paperwork he had to fill—Ayato decided to accompany you in your shopping. He always had a peculiar habit of trailing behind you, even when it was unnecessary. You had gotten used to his presence in your life. A shadow. An extremely coy and teasing shadow, that is.
Besides, perhaps the presence of the commissioner would snag you a couple of good deals while out and about.
You curled a bolt of silk green fabric around your wrist. Pretty, smooth. Ayato peeked over your shoulder, scrutinising the item in so much more detail than you were at all.
You turned back to look at him and huffed, a sound of amusement, “What, is it not to your liking, Ayato?”
“Well,” he seemed to draw out, catching your eyes. “I hardly think it’s your shade.”
Not your shade? Just as a retort bubbled up in your throat, you were interrupted by the sound of the vendor. “Ah, commissioner!” He said. “Interested in imported silks, are you?”
The man seemed to be pulling out more cloth, shades of different colours—silver, lavender, pink, blue. His hands moved with practiced efficiency as he laid out the fabrics over the counter. He seemed to be going on and on about where each piece was imported from—this one from Liyue, the other a local craftsman from Inazuma, the other cultivated in the meadows of Mondstadt.
But then he picked out a specific piece and looked over to Ayato. “I’m sure your lover would look stunning in the deeper blues,” he said. “Does the lady have a preference, or should we let the commissioner decide?”
You tensed.
Lover? And the man had said it so casually, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. You felt your cheeks warm and suddenly you seemed to become all too aware of the little distance between you and Ayato. As though hypersensory, you could feel the way Ayato’s hands stilled, resting for a moment at your hip. You looked over at him.
And yet, there was no change in his expression. If anything, the small smile he had on his face had stretched a fractional amount. His head tilted to the side.
“I think she would look rather beautiful,” Ayato said. Simple and casual, his eyes snagging on you for half a second. It was like he hadn’t even heard the former part of the sentence. Or, scratch that, like he hadn’t heard anything the vendor had just said.
The vendor was simply ecstatic to have sold something to the commissioner, and—apparently—his “lover,” and had left to wrap the item.
You paused for a second, before turning to the man next to you. “What was that?”
Ayato hummed non-commitally as he looked at you. “What was what?” He feigned ignorance, that smug idiot. He never missed a single thing. Once you had changed the scent of your perfume from Sakura Bloom to Naku Weed, and he had caught it the moment you stepped into his office; there was no way he hadn’t heard that.
“He just called me your lover!” You pressed.
Ayato just tilted his head, his fingers tapping against the wooden counter. “Yes.”
“And you didn’t correct him.”
“No.”
The heat in your face seemed to rise in temperature. Just what exactly was he playing at? Why was he staring at you like this was the most normal thing ever? Was he not bothered? And the way the merchant had said it, too, it was like everyone in the entirety of Inazuma knew about this except for you!
“Why not?” You asked, growing more shifty by the second.
Ayato let out a laugh, a sweet, melodic little sound, “You didn't seem eager to correct him yourself.”
You opened your mouth to argue, and then closed it again. “W-Well, I was just about—but then, I…” Any and all justification that rose in your throat withered away. Especially when Ayato was staring at you like that. Like he was challenging you to question that assumption, daring you to change it.
That day, the two of you walked away having bought an expensive indigo fabric. Matching the Kamisato insignia.
CHILDE
The training grounds were empty except for the two of you. You'd been sparring with Childe for the better part of an hour, and he was still grinning like he was having the time of his life—which, knowing him, he probably was.
"Your footwork's off," he called out, circling you with that predatory grace he had when he was actually engaged. "You're telegraphing your next move."
"Maybe I want you to know what I'm doing," you shot back, lunging. He sidestepped easily, but you'd anticipated that, spinning to catch him off-guard with a follow-up strike. He blocked it, and the impact sent a jolt up your arm. "Or maybe you're just slow today."
"Slow?" He laughed, and there was an edge to it now—the kind that meant he'd stopped holding back. He came at you with a series of quick strikes, testing your reflexes, and you matched him, parry for parry.
Your muscles were already burning from the previous rounds, but you pushed anyway because he'd give you that look of approval when you did, that slight nod like you'd passed some invisible test. "You're the one who's slowing down. Your last five moves have been predictable."
"Only because you're boring me," you said, breathing harder now. You twisted away from his next strike, used his momentum against him, and nearly got him off-balance. Nearly. He recovered with infuriating ease, but you caught the flash of something in his expression—genuine interest now, not just amusement.
The sparring continued, and at one point, you overextended on a strike. His hand came out to steady you, gripping your arm just above the elbow. It was meant to be instructional—a correction of your form—but he held it for a moment, his thumb brushing against your skin before he released you. Neither of you acknowledged it. He just stepped back and said, "Again. Better this time."
You came at him again, and somewhere in the middle of it, there was a moment where he caught your wrist mid-strike. His hand was warm, his grip firm but not painful. He could have thrown you. Instead, he held it for a fraction of a second longer than necessary, and you were close enough to see the slight raise in his eyebrow—a challenge. You twisted your arm, trying to break free, and he let you go with a grin.
"Getting better," he said.
"I've always been good. You're just finally noticing," you replied, and charged at him again.
By the time you both called it, you were both breathing hard. Sweat dripped down your temple, and your arms felt like lead. Childe was still smiling though, that infuriating, easy smile of his that suggested he could do this all day. He grabbed his water bottle, tossed you one, and you caught it easily. The cold water was a relief as you drank, trying to catch your breath.
You were leaning against the nearby pillar, still catching your breath, when you heard voices approaching. Not close yet, but getting closer. You recognized one of them immediately—Paimon's high-pitched chatter, and underneath it, Lumine's quieter responses. You didn't think much of it. They were probably just passing through the training grounds on their way somewhere else.
Childe was standing a few feet away from you, already looking refreshed despite the exertion. He had that energy about him, the kind that didn't seem to deplete no matter how hard he pushed himself. He caught you looking at him and raised an eyebrow.
"What? Do I have something on my face?" he asked, already moving toward you.
"Just wondering how you're not completely dead," you said. "Normal people need recovery time."
"I'm not normal people." He stopped beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. Without any real thought to it, he reached over and fixed a strand of your hair that had come loose during the sparring, tucking it back behind your ear. It was such a casual gesture, the kind of thing he did without thinking. Your breath caught slightly, but he was already pulling his hand back, already grinning at you like he hadn't just done something that made your heart rate pick up for reasons that had nothing to do with the exercise.
"Definitely not normal," you muttered, looking away.
"Hey, Childe! Lumine and I were just—oh!"
You looked up to see Paimon floating toward you both, her expression shifting to something almost knowing as she took in the sight of you two standing close together, both flushed and breathing hard. Lumine followed behind her, her eyes flickering between you and Childe with that quiet observation of hers.
"We were just heading to the Adventurers' Guild," Paimon continued, but there was a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "But wow, looks like you two have been going at it pretty hard. I'm just glad Childe's finally found his special someone! But sheesh, do you have to go that hard on her?"
There was a beat. You opened your mouth to correct her, to clarify whatever assumption she'd just made, but Childe moved first. His arm came around you without hesitation, pulling you against his side in one smooth motion. It was the kind of casual contact you two shared all the time, except it wasn't casual now. Not the way he was looking at Paimon, not the way his hand rested at your hip like it belonged there.
"Yeah, well," he said, his voice easy and warm, "took me long enough to find someone worth the effort."
Lumine's lips curved into the faintest smile. "That's one way to put it," she said, and there was definitely something knowing in her tone.
You felt your face flush. You pushed against his chest, your hand flat against the fabric of his shirt.
"You're insane," you said, but you were already laughing despite yourself, despite the way your heart was doing backflips.
Paimon giggled, seeming satisfied with whatever she thought she'd figured out, and Lumine gave you both a small wave before they continued on their way. You watched them go, still half-pressed against Childe's side, and the moment they were out of earshot, you pushed away from him properly.
"You want to enlighten me on what you were implying there?" you asked, turning to face him.
Childe's grin was still there, but something underneath it had shifted. He wasn't quite looking at you directly, was instead focused on something past your shoulder, his expression caught between amusement and something you couldn't quite read.
"Was I implying something?" he said, but there was no real teasing in it now.
"You just told them we're together."
He finally looked at you then, and his expression was softer than you'd expected. Still smiling, but there was something real behind it—something that made your stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with the sparring.
"And?" he said softly. "I wasn't lying though, was I?"
KAEYA
You'd been coming to the tavern with Kaeya for weeks now. It started innocuously enough—he'd asked if you wanted a drink after a particularly grueling shift, and you'd said yes mostly because you were too tired to say no. Somewhere along the way, it became routine. Every few nights you'd find yourself at the counter with him, and he'd order for you without asking. He always got it right, which was irritating in its own way.
Tonight was like any other night. You were sitting at your usual spot, the one that had somehow become your spot, when someone approached. One of the regulars—a member of the Adventurer’s Guild—someone you'd seen around enough times to recognize but not enough to know by name.
"Kaeya," the man slurred, leaning against the bar. "Your girlfriend's looking particularly radiant tonight."
You felt your spine stiffen slightly. Girlfriend. The word hung there for a moment, waiting to be corrected.
You looked over at Kaeya, waiting for him to say something, to clarify, to do whatever it was he normally did when people made assumptions. But he just smiled. That easy, lazy smile of his.
"Isn't she always?" he said, and the man laughed like it was the most charming thing he'd ever heard, and walked away.
You stared at your drink. The ice was melting slowly, diluting the amber liquid into something weaker.
"You could've corrected him," you said, looking over at him with barely concealed flustered confusion.
"Could have," Kaeya agreed. He wasn't looking at you, was instead focused on something across the bar with that detached amusement he wore like a second skin. "Didn't seem worth the effort."
You let it go. It was small enough, harmless enough. Kaeya was always like this—playing into characters, scenarios, whatever amused him in the moment. And besides, this was the tavern. People were drunk, made assumptions, barely thought twice about anything. Everything Kaeya said carried that thin veneer of humor, that deliberate lightness that suggested nothing he did was ever meant to be taken seriously. This must have been yet another attempt at his particular brand of entertainment, or maybe an effort to fluster you. Which you weren't falling for. Obviously.
But a few days later, he suggested dinner at Good Hunter's. You'd gone, mostly because you were hungry and he was there. Sara smiled when she saw you two sit down underneath the parasol.
“Maybe the both of you would like a seat that’s more private instead?” She had suggested. Your face erupted into flames when she suggested that. And although you tried to correct it, Kaeya had already confirmed, and you found yourself in a shaded area to the side. The kind of area that everyone implicitly agreed was for honeymooning couples.
You sat across from him, irritated, and tried to focus on your food. Kaeya, for his part, seemed entirely unbothered. He ate with deliberate slowness, and at one point he leaned across the table, his eye catching yours with a particular brand of teasing softness.
"You're scowling," he said, like it was an observation about the weather.
"I'm not scowling."
"You are." He reached over and tapped your forehead with one finger. "Right here."
You pulled back, but he'd already retreated, that infuriating smile still in place.
By the time you were walking back through the city, your irritation had crystallized into something sharper. Something that demanded to be addressed.
"What are you doing?" you asked, stopping abruptly in the middle of the street.
"Walking," Kaeya said simply. "Same as you."
"Don't be difficult. Everyone keeps thinking we're together and you're not correcting them. You're actually—" you gestured vaguely at the space between you, "—playing into it."
He was quiet for a moment. Then he laughed, that low, warm sound that always seemed to come from somewhere deeper than his chest. When he looked at you, there was something in his expression you couldn't quite place. Something that felt almost like he'd been waiting for you to notice.
"I think you like it more than you're willing to admit," he said softly. His eye was half-lidded, that familiar amusement still there, but underneath it was something else. Something that made your chest feel tight. "The question is whether I should keep pretending not to notice."
He was already walking ahead, already moving past you with that lazy stride of his, and you were left standing there, flushed and furious and unable to quite articulate why his assumption felt less like teasing and more like he'd read something in you that you weren't ready to show him.
Damn Kaeya.
LOHEN
The training grounds were filled with apprentice knights, all watching intently as you explained the formation they'd be running through. Lohen stood beside you, arms crossed, and you could already feel the restlessness radiating off him like heat.
"This is boring," he said, not bothering to lower his voice. "Just let them fight something real."
"They need to understand positioning first," you replied firmly, not even looking at him. "We're not sending them into the field unprepared."
"Unprepared is half the fun," he said, and you heard the grin in his voice.
You turned to face him. "You know what? Not everyone gets a thrill from almost dying."
"Their loss," he said, and there was something playful in his eyes, something that suggested he enjoyed getting a rise out of you. One of the younger apprentices nudged their friend, both of them watching the exchange with barely concealed amusement.
"This is why we have strategy," you continued, turning back to the group. "Lohen charges in and—"
"And it works," he interjected.
"And you get lucky," you corrected.
He laughed, "Lucky. Right. That's what we're calling it."
The training started smoothly enough. The apprentices moved through the formations you'd drilled into them, and you were positioned to observe and correct. Lohen was supposed to be doing the same, but his attention kept drifting, his foot tapping with barely contained energy. You could see him watching the apprentices with the kind of hunger that meant he was already bored. At one point, you caught him staring at you instead of the recruits, and when you raised an eyebrow in question, he just grinned wider.
After about an hour, one of the younger recruits approached as you and Lohen were standing together reviewing the performance. The recruit was still catching their breath, clearly impressed by how well the formation had held.
"It's lucky that the two of you are paired together," they said, glancing between you both. There was genuine respect in their voice. "Aren't the two of you together?"
The moment those words left the apprentice’s mouth, you could see something wicked shine in Lohen’s eyes. You opened your mouth to clarify, but Lohen moved before you could. He crossed the distance between you in a few strides and pulled you against his side, his arm wrapping around your waist like it had always belonged there. Your face went hot immediately, but he was looking at you with that chaotic grin of his, like he'd just been handed the best entertainment of his day.
"And she's the only person who could ever keep up with me," he said, loud and theatrical, and you could tell he was leaning into it now, performing for the apprentices. You felt your cheeks burn as you realized what he was doing, deliberately making a show of it, spinning this into something bigger just to see you get flustered. The manic energy was at full throttle, and he was clearly enjoying every second of your embarrassment.
Your face went hotter. One of the apprentices bit their lip to keep from smiling, while another looked away, clearly uncomfortable with the display. But most of them were watching with interest, waiting to see what would happen next.
"Lohen—" you started, trying to extract yourself, but he didn't let go. His grip on your waist was firm, not painful, just insistent.
"And she's brilliant," he continued, spinning you slightly so he could look at you properly. His hand was still on your back, and he was looking at you with an intensity that made your breath catch. "Everything I'm not. Everything that keeps me from getting killed in a ditch somewhere." There was something underneath the chaos when he said it, something that suggested he meant it more than he was letting on. A few of the recruits exchanged glances, and one of them smiled knowingly.
"You'd be lost without her," one of the bolder apprentices called out, earning a few quiet laughs from the others.
"Completely lost," Lohen agreed, but there was something in the way he said it that wasn't entirely joking. For just a moment, the manic energy seemed to settle, and he looked at you like you were the only thing in the training grounds that mattered. "Actually, yeah. I would be."
Then he released you, and the chaos returned. He was already moving away, already tossing some comments to the apprentices about formation angles, leaving you standing there flustered and hyperaware of every eye on you.
The rest of the training passed in a blur of corrections and positioning. By the time you finally dismissed the apprentices, your face had only just stopped burning. Lohen was already collecting his things, and you found yourself watching him move with that restless energy of his, wondering what he'd actually meant in that moment when everything had seemed to pause.
THOMA
You were sitting in one of the Kamisato estate's quieter rooms, mending a tear in one of the ceremonial clothes when Thoma appeared with tea. He set it down beside you without asking and settled into the seat across from you.
"That's going to take forever," he said, watching you work the needle through the delicate fabric.
"Only if I rush," you replied, concentrating on your stitching. "You taught me that."
He smiled at that, leaning back and watching you work. It was comfortable, the kind of silence that didn't need filling. You'd been coming to this room more often lately, always finding some reason to be here. Mending. Reading. Just sitting. And somehow Thoma always seemed to find his way in.
After a while, he got up and moved to sit beside you instead. He didn't ask permission. He just shifted closer until his shoulder nearly touched yours. He picked up a different piece that needed mending and started working on it without preamble.
"You're still doing that stitch wrong," he said after a while, no judgment in his voice.
"I know," you said, not bothering to correct yourself. "But you always fix it for me anyway."
He smiled, and you swore you could see the pupils of his green eyes dilate a fractional amount. His hand came over yours, guiding the needle through the proper motion. His fingers were warm, and he moved slowly, making sure you understood. When he pulled back, you found yourself missing the contact.
You worked like that for a long time. Sometimes he'd hum something soft under his breath. Sometimes you'd ask him about his day, and he'd answer while still focused on the mending. At one point, you reached for more thread at the same moment he did, and your hands brushed. Neither of you moved away. You both just continued working, shoulders close, existing together in the quiet of the afternoon.
"You're thinking too hard," he said once, glancing at your face.
"How can you tell?"
"You get this little crease," he said, reaching over and smoothing it away with his thumb. It was such a gentle gesture that you forgot to breathe for a moment.
You were so focused on the mending that you didn't notice when Ayaka appeared in the doorway. She had a few attendants with her, but she stopped when she saw the two of you sitting close together, heads bent over the work, your shoulders nearly touching.
"Oh, there you two are," she said warmly. "I've been meaning to mention something." Thoma looked up, and you followed his gaze.
"There's a couples' festival coming up at the end of the month," Ayaka continued, her tone genuinely kind.
"I thought perhaps you two might enjoy attending together. It would be nice for you to have some time away from the estate."
You felt your face warm. Thoma's reaction was immediate. His entire face flushed a deep red, from his neck all the way to his ears. He set down the cloth quickly, maybe too quickly, like he needed something to do with his hands.
"Oh, we're—" he started, his voice slightly strained. He cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, he was trying for his usual politeness, but the fluster was unmistakable. "We're not actually together, Lady Ayaka. We just spend a lot of time together because of work, that's all."
The correction was gentle, the way everything Thoma did was gentle. But there was something in the way his hands gripped the cloth a little too tightly, the way he wouldn't quite meet Ayaka's eyes, that made your chest tighten. One of the attendants looked faintly disappointed.
Ayaka's expression softened with understanding, and she nodded. "I see. My apologies for the misunderstanding." She excused herself politely, and the moment she left, the room felt smaller somehow.
You picked up your mending again, but your hands felt clumsy. Thoma did the same, but neither of you were really focused on the work anymore. The ease you'd had before was gone, replaced by something tense and uncertain. The afternoon light filtered through the screens, and the silence stretched between you, heavy with things unsaid.
When the sun started to set and you finally set down your work, Thoma was already moving. You said something soft to break the tension, just to ease it.
"That was kind of awkward," you said quietly, not quite looking at him.
He paused, his hand lingering on the cloth. You could see him turn it over in his mind, searching for something.
"I didn't mean to be rude," he said, finally meeting your eyes. "She was just... it caught me off guard."
"I know," you said, offering him a small smile. "It's fine. These things happen."
He looked at you for a long moment, and there was something in his expression that made your breath catch. Something that looked like regret, like he was reconsidering something he'd just said.
"Actually," he said, and his voice was steadier now, "about that festival."
You looked at him, waiting.
"It might not be a bad idea," he continued, and there was a careful consideration to his words, like he was choosing each one deliberately. "For us to attend together, I mean. Not because anyone thinks we should. But because..." He paused, searching for the right words. "Because I'd like to spend that evening with you. If you'd want to."
Your breath caught slightly. There was nothing casual about the way he said it, despite how carefully he was choosing his words. There was intention there, and something that looked a lot like hope.
"Yeah," you said softly. "I'd like that."
VENTI
Venti had dragged you out to yet another performance. You weren't sure why he felt the need to do this—invite you specifically, stand you in a particular spot in the crowd where he could see you, like your presence mattered to the mechanics of him playing. But he'd shown up at your door this morning with his elfish smile and asked if you were busy. A pointless question, really. He would have begged and whined until you relented had you said no.
On the way to the fountain, he'd been insufferable. He kept humming fragments of melodies, stopping abruptly to ask your opinion on them, then laughing at your answers like you'd said something hilarious when you were just trying to be helpful. At one point he'd grabbed your wrist and spun you around on the street for no reason, just to see your expression, probably.
"You're going to make me dizzy," you laugh, pulling your hand back.
"Is that a complaint, windblume?" he asked, and there was something in his tone that suggested he already knew the answer.
"Yes," you lied.
He had just smiled like he could see right through you.
Now, standing near the fountain while he set up, you watched him adjust his lyre with great care; the kind of care reserved for especially special things in one’s life. Which, for Venti, was music and—you were noticing more and more—you.
He kept glancing over at you, making sure you were in the right spot, making sure you could see him properly. You found it funny, it was almost like a nervous tick. A flick of his gaze to you every few seconds to make especially sure that you had your eyes on him. It was unnecessary. Of course you could see him. You were always looking at him anyway.
Another bard approached as Venti was finishing his setup—someone you recognized vaguely from around the city. They exchanged greetings, the kind of easy familiarity that suggested they knew each other from the musician's circles. You turned your attention back to the fountain, not really listening until the other bard said something that made you tune back in.
"Your recent stuff has been different," he was saying to Venti. "All of it sounds like it's about the same person."
You felt something shift in your chest. His recent stuff? You hadn't really paid that much attention, if you were being honest. But now that it was being pointed out, you found yourself wondering if that was true.
You'd been hearing him play new things lately, pieces you hadn't heard before, and now you were suddenly wondering who they were about.
The bard glanced over at you, then back at Venti, and you watched something click into place behind his expression.
"That your muse?" he asked, gesturing vaguely in your direction.
Venti laughed. It was the kind of laugh that made people turn their heads, that seemed to move through the air like something physical. He spun—actually spun, his coat catching the light—and when he looked at you, there was something deliberate in the movement.
"The best one I've ever had," he said, and he was looking directly at you when he said it.
Your face went hot. The other bard laughed too, charmed, and the conversation continued between them, but you weren't really listening anymore. You were stuck on that phrase, on the way Venti had said it, on the realization that apparently his recent compositions had been about you and you'd been too oblivious to notice.
An hour later, after the performance was over and you'd managed to slip away, you found yourself at the tavern. You were nursing a drink when Venti sat down beside you. He waved a hand to the bartender, and Charles just sighed—a routine. And then Venti’s gaze was fixed on you.
"You've been thinking about what I said," he observes.
"I haven't," you say, which is a lie and you both know it.
"Mm." He's amused. You can hear it in his voice. "That's exactly why you’ve been zoning out since my performance?” He had that teasing lilt in his voice. You wanted to puncture his voice box.
"You can't just say something like that and expect me not to—" you start, then stop because you're not actually sure what you're going to say. Expect you not to what? Wonder if he meant it? Wonder what it means? Wonder if you're reading too much into it?
"Not to what?" Venti prompts, and there's that tilt of his head again, that soft amusement in his expression.
"You know what," you snap, trying not to sound flustered.
Venti, all he does is laugh. You really want to puncture his voice box.
they say your spouse's sleeping posture or habits tell what kind of a person they are
and oh boy...
"augh...*hack* damn..."
so what does it mean when your spouse who has either golden retriever energy or black cat energy (up to you), is quite literally enveloping you with his big, muscular body
he was sleeping so soundly too that you were more concerned over him not getting enough sleep instead of you almost suffocating
but hey he's warm
"mmm...soft...warm..."
he was mumbling in his sleep and with the way he was hugging you and caressing your body you pretty much guessed he was dreaming about you. cute as if that didn't melt your heart
for some reason he just slid downwards while he was in very very deep sleep and sluggishly climbed on top of you, with his head on your heart and his body snuggled between your legs
cracking a soft smile you threaded your fingers through his hair and gently scratched his head
"love..." you heard him say before his breathing evened out
"good night to us too"
kaeya, DILUC, zhongli, CHILDE, capitano, neuvillette, WRIOTHESLEY, VARKA, PHAINON, mydei, ASHVEIL, JING YUAN, blade(?), DIAVOLO, BEELZEBUB, malleus, LEONA, JACK, idia (trust i know he hides them pecs under those hoodies), CALEB, RAFAYEL, zayne, YUUJI
premise. sometimes, talking to yourself feels safer than facing the guy you can’t stop thinking about…until he walks in on you mid-spiral. from awkward blushes to unexpected confessions, here’s what happens when your most embarrassing moments become the genshin boys' favorite memories
You're crouched beside a broken cart wheel, half-hidden in tall grass, muttering furiously to yourself as you examine the splintered wood.
“Of course it had to break here, in the middle of nowhere. No signal flare left, and I let the boat crew leave without me. Brilliant. Great job, really stellar planning—”
“You’re being rather harsh on yourself.”
You startle so hard you nearly fall backward. Kazuha stands a few paces behind, hands tucked calmly into his sleeves, his eyes full of quiet amusement and concern.
“You were gone longer than expected,” he explains, seeing your confusion. “Beidou sent me to check if you’d lost your way—or started arguing with local wildlife.”
You flush. “No, I’m just…talking to myself. Thinking through how to fix it.”
He steps closer and knelt beside you, examining the wheel. “Hm. The axle’s intact. A proper wedge might hold long enough to get you back to the road.”
You blink. “Oh. You’re not going to tease me about earlier?”
“I speak to the wind as if it listens,” he says lightly. “Why would I judge you for speaking to yourself?”
You glance at him. “And does the wind ever answer?”
He smiles faintly. “Only when I’m quiet enough to hear it.”
And then, just like that, he gets to work, gathering branches, finding rope in your satchel, never once asking why you chose to be alone in the first place but just staying until the cart moves again. Maybe the wind hadn’t answered, but he had.
diluc
He walks into the tavern early in the morning, expecting silence. Instead, he hears your voice in a low, frantic whisper as you await his arrival: “Okay, you’ve got this. He’s just a man. A tall, brooding, red-haired, intimidatingly handsome man—Archons above, why am I like this?”
He freezes mid-step, but the tap of his boot on the tile is loud enough to betray him. You whirl around, mortified, and lock eyes with him like a deer caught in emotionally compromising headlights.
He blinks once. Slowly.
“…I assume that was about me,” he says, voice neutral, but his ears are visibly pink.
“I—No—I mean—kind of?” you squeak, visibly crumbling under the weight of your own existence.
He clears his throat and looks away, reaching for a mug that absolutely does not need his attention.
“Understood,” he mutters.
For the rest of the day, he’s overly polite, painfully formal, and avoids eye contact like it’s flammable. Later that evening, you find a cup of your favorite tea left out for you—steaming, perfectly steeped, and completely unsupervised. The mug has a folded note under it, consisting of just three words: “You’ve got this.”
childe
He’s passing by your room when he hears your voice, quiet but distinct, and increasingly unhinged: “Okay. Plan A: cry. Plan B: threaten to cry. Plan C: run away and never return.”
He pauses mid-step, then leans against the doorway with a lopsided grin. “Wow, those are some elite-level crisis strategies. You sure you’re not Fatui?”
You shriek in embarrassment. “How long have you been standing there?!”
“Long enough to know you’ve got potential,” he laughs, pushing off the doorframe and stepping inside.
You groan and hide your face. “I was joking. mostly.”
“Nah, I kinda like it,” he teases. “Plan A’s got emotional flair. Plan B? Classic drama. However, Plan C?” his voice softens just a bit. “If you ran, I’d just find you. You know that, right?”
You look up and find his smile stripped of mischief. It’s quiet and gentle in a way that makes your heart trip over itself.
“But…if you do need tissues, I’ve got plenty.”
Somehow, this ends with him dragging you to sit on the couch, arms slung around you, both of you buried under a blanket neither of you remembers pulling over your laps.
“New plan,” he says, voice muffled against your shoulder. “Plan D: stay right here.”
wanderer
He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. He'd simply been on his way when he found you pacing the courtyard, completely unaware of his presence.
“He probably doesn’t even notice when I smile at him. Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s just ignoring me. Ugh. I should just throw a rock at him.”
He replies instantly. “Try it. I’ll throw one back.”
You flinch so hard you nearly drop your bag. He’s already leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, unreadable as ever. His gaze flicks to you, sharp but dissolving into something strangely unguarded. You open your mouth, but he speaks first.
“I notice,” he tells you, quieter now. almost like it costs him something to admit. “More than you think.”
Then he’s gone, vanishing down the corridor before you can speak, like he never meant to say anything at all. But later, you find a small, perfectly smooth stone placed outside your windowsill. No note. No explanation. Just one rock, light enough to throw.
alhaitham
He’s walking past the study when he hears you, your voice sounding low, frantic, and clearly not meant for anyone else.
“Okay, if I just put the books back exactly the way he had them, maybe he won’t know I was here. Unless…he cataloged them by page wear. Oh archons—what if he did? Why does he have to be attractive and terrifying?”
His deadpan voice sounds right behind you. “For the record, I do catalog them by page wear.”
You jump, dropping the book you’re holding, but instead of hitting the floor, it lands effortlessly in his palm.
“Also, you’ve been muttering to yourself for three full minutes. You’re not exactly subtle.”
You open your mouth to explain, apologize, evaporate, anything, but he just walks past and plucks a book from your stack.
“You misaligned this one by 0.6 centimeters,” he remarks, tone neutral. “But I’ll let it slide.”
You’re still frozen, blinking at him.
Without looking at you, he adds almost offhandedly, “Next time you wish to come by, just ask. I’d rather see you here than not.”
And then he starts reorganizing beside you. He’s silent, efficient, and just close enough that your shoulders nearly touch.
xiao
You’re sitting alone on the quiet terrace just outside Wangshu Inn, knees pulled up to your chest as you mutter into the dusk. “Why did I say ‘sweet dreams’? Who says that to Xiao? He’s the vigilant yaksha, not some character from a bedtime story. He probably thinks I’m a sentimental weirdo—”
“I don’t.”
You whip around. He’s suddenly there, silent as ever, standing just behind you in the fading light.
“I don’t think you’re weird,” he repeats, voice soft and steady, though there’s the faintest crease in his brow like he’s wondering if he’s said too much.
You scramble to stand, completely flustered. “Wait, how long were you—?”
“I heard my name,” he says plainly, as if that explains everything.
The air feels charged with embarrassment. Yours. Maybe his, too. After a pause, he glances away toward the treetops. His voice is quieter now.
“No one’s said that to me before.”
You blink. “Said what?”
He doesn’t meet your eyes. “Sweet dreams.”
There’s something almost reverent in the way he says it, like the words feel too fragile in his mouth.
“I didn’t think those were something I could have.”
The breeze carries the scent of silk flowers, and for a long moment, neither of you says anything.
Then, without looking at you, he adds, “But I liked hearing it. From you.”
Your heart flips once, hard.
And before you can spiral all over again, he turns to go, but stops just long enough to murmur, “Goodnight. I hope…yours are sweet, too.”
ayato
He’s strolling through the estate gardens when he catches the faint tones of your voice, muffled but unmistakably dramatic. Curious, he peeks around a hedge and discovers you monologuing to a cluster of blue hydrangeas with passionate gestures.
“Lord Ayato, my dearest nemesis. Why must you smile like that? Why must your tea taste like heartbreak and fine politics?”
His brows lift in faint surprise.
“And why did I tell him it was ‘transcendent’? That’s not normal person behavior. That’s the kind of thing a swooning diplomat says before fainting into their fan.”
Ayato brings a hand to his mouth, stifling the laugh that bubbles up. He knows he should announce himself—knows it's indecent to linger—but curiosity roots him in place. It’s rare to see you so unguarded, and rarer still to be the subject of such poetic vitriol.
You pace a few steps, oblivious. “He probably thinks I was flirting. Which I wasn’t. I think. Ugh.”
He waits just a second longer, watching as you sigh and press your fingertips to your forehead like a tragic heroine from a stage play, before stepping forward, his fan snapping closed with a soft click.
“I didn’t realize I’d been cast as the villain in your private soliloquy.”
You freeze. There is no mistaking his voice, nor the silk-smooth amusement threading through it. Slowly, you turn.
“I must say, your critique was…vivid,” he continues. His expression is polite, but his eyes betray him, bright with barely contained laughter. “And rather unfair to the tea, which I assure you is not culpable for your emotional distress.”
Your mouth opens. Nothing comes out. He tilts his head, as if considering something seriously.
“Though I do wonder what heartbreak tastes like to you.”
You groan and bury your face in your hands.
He inclines his head slightly, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Next time, speak your grievances aloud to me instead. I assure you, I respond far better than flowers.”
cyno
He walks in on you muttering and pacing in circles.
“Okay, okay. Don’t laugh if he tells another joke. But also don’t not laugh, because then he’ll think you hate him. Ugh, why is this so complicated?”
He appears behind you with a perfectly straight face and says, “What do you call a fake noodle? an impasta.”
You shriek and nearly trip over a chair. He waits. You groan.
“That was…better than usual,” you admit.
He pauses as he appraises you. His lips twitch. “So. You’ve been rehearsing responses to my jokes?”
You blink, caught. “No. Definitely not.”
He steps closer, arms folded, head tilting in mock-serious thought. “Interesting. That implies you anticipated more. Which means…you’re expecting me.”
“…to keep telling them?”
He nods solemnly. “Correct. And now that I know you’re preparing, I’ll have to escalate.”
You groan again, this time into your hands, and he finally cracks a smile. Later, he’ll tell you a compliment disguised as a riddle. You’ll pretend not to swoon. He’ll pretend not to notice. Neither of you is very convincing.
itto
You’re standing in front of a mirror, hyping yourself up. “You’re brave. You’re bold. You can flirt with Itto today. Probably. Maybe. Okay, no, don’t flirt, just survive eye contact.”
A voice behind you booms, “Well hey, I think you’re already killin’ it!”
You scream and spin around so fast you almost knock over a stool. Itto’s standing in the doorway, grinning like a kid who just found candy and a beetle.
“Also, flirting’s totally encouraged. Ten outta ten, would recommend.”
You clutch your chest. “How long have you been standing there?!”
“Since the part where you said you were bold and brave or whatever. Sounded super cool, so I figured I’d stay for the ending.”
You groan. He’s still grinning.
“But hey,” he adds, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish laugh, “you don’t gotta overthink it. Just talk to me like normal! Or, y’know, you could flirt if that’s easier.”
You entertain the idea of feigning amnesia, knowing he’d probably fall for it. Instead, you mutter, “...I liked your hair today.”
He lights up like the sun. “See? You’re killin’ it!”
Somehow, this ends with him offering to coach you through flirting with him. The audacity.
kaeya
You were only meant to drop off a report. Nothing more. Just a quick visit to the Knights’ headquarters, a few signatures, and out. And yet here you are, lingering in an empty hallway, your forehead pressed lightly against a stone pillar as you mutter to yourself.
“Genius. Absolutely genius. ‘Nice weather, Kaeya.’ That’s what I went with. Might as well have added, ‘Hi, I’ve been harboring a wildly inconvenient crush on you since Stormterror was still a problem. Want to date and/or be the reason I start writing terrible poetry again?’”
A breath of laughter—not your own—cuts through the silence.
“I’d be open to both,” a familiar voice replies.
You freeze.
He’s there, lounging against the window alcove like he’s been there all along, elbow propped casually on the sill, head tilted with interest. His smile says he heard every word. His eyes say he enjoyed it.
Kaeya pushes off the ledge and strolls toward you, every step perfectly unhurried. “Next time you plan to deliver a monologue about me, perhaps wait until I’ve left the building. Unless,” he adds, voice dropping with playful weight, “you were hoping I’d hear it.”
You can feel the heat rise to your face like a sunrise.
“I was just thinking out loud,” you manage.
“So I gathered. And for the record”—he passes close enough that his cloak brushes your sleeve—“I find it flattering.”
You briefly consider flinging yourself out the nearest window.
At the end of the corridor, he glances back over his shoulder, smile curling just shy of sincere.
“If the weather stays this nice, do let me know if that wildly inconvenient crush turns into something more actionable.”
And then he’s gone.
A junior knight passing by gives you a puzzled look. “You, uh…look like you saw a ghost.”
You exhale, voice thin. “Worse.”
baizhu
You’re by yourself in the back room of Bubu Pharmacy, sorting herbs and muttering under your breath. It’s been a long day, and unfortunately, your brain has chosen to perseverate.
“If I faint in front of him again, I’m just going to say it was low blood sugar. Not the fact that he tucked my hair behind my ear like it was nothing.”
“Hmm. I’ll make a note to check your glucose levels...and perhaps develop a tincture for sudden-onset romantic distress?”
You whip around so fast that a handful of Qingxin spills onto the table. Baizhu stands in the doorway, serene as ever, holding a tray of tea like he didn’t just obliterate your self-esteem.
“It’s a surprisingly common condition,” he adds, eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “Often triggered by gentle gestures and poor coping mechanisms.”
Changsheng pokes her head out from behind his collar and lets out a tiny, delighted laugh. “Lovesick. Very contagious,” she stage-whispers.
You bury your face in your hands.
Baizhu sets the tea down beside you with quiet care. “I could prepare a cure, but I fear the malady is mutual—and, strangely, quite welcome.”
dainsleif
You think you’re alone, sitting quietly in a dim corner of the library and murmuring your frustrations to yourself. Dainsleif, combing the shelves for a particular volume, pauses when he hears the soft thread of your voice carry through the candlelight: “I bet he doesn’t even remember my name. I’m probably just a temporary footnote to him anyway. Someone who fades like shadows at dusk.”
His low voice answers from just beyond the glow of your lantern. “You are not a footnote.”
You nearly jump out of your skin as Dainsleif steps into view. The candlelight flickers across the lines of his face, which remains composed and unreadable but not unfeeling. He doesn’t speak gently, not exactly, but there’s a steadiness to his tone that seems to lessen the musty air.
“Names are more than words,” he says. “They are memory. History. Presence.”
He kneels slightly and locks eyes with you, his gaze piercing.
“I remember your name,” he continues. “Not only the shape of it. I remember the weight it carries when you speak it. I remember the careful way you said goodnight two nights ago, as if you weren’t sure I’d hear it, or hold it.”
You can’t breathe. You can’t look away.
“Don’t assume I forget the things that matter,” he says, rising to his full height again. His expression doesn’t shift, but something in his posture softens. And then, without waiting for a reply, he turns and disappears into the stacks. For a long moment, all you can hear is the echo of his footsteps and the pulse of your own heart—louder now, and somehow less alone.
tighnari
You’re elbow-deep in soil, half-focused on coaxing the withered pardisah into a new pot, when your frustration finally boils over.
“Okay, next time, just say thank you and walk away. Easy. Normal. Not, ‘Wow, your ears are so expressive today,’ like some feral maniac.” You groan and press your forehead to your palm. “He probably thinks I’m studying him like a botanical specimen. What is wrong with me?”
“To be fair,” a dry voice answers behind you, “most people don’t notice ear movement unless they’re watching very closely.”
You nearly send the pot flying as you whip around. Tighnari is leaning beside your bag of soil, arms folded, one brow arched in faint incredulity.
“You were there…the whole time,” you croak.
“Roughly since the ‘feral maniac’ part,” he amends, tail flicking with suspicious amusement. “You were a bit harsh on yourself, but entertaining.”
You cover your face. “I swear I didn’t mean to make it weird.”
“You didn’t,” he says gently, and then—surprisingly—smiles. “I didn’t mind the compliment. It was…oddly specific, but sincere. And clearly the result of long observation.”
He steps past you, crouching to inspect the flower you nearly murdered in your panic.
“Next time,” he adds, not looking up, “less spiraling, more speaking.”
His tone is neutral, but his ears betray him with the smallest, involuntary flick.
And then he mutters to himself, “They’re only expressive when you’re around, anyway.”
You pretend not to hear. For now.
thoma
You’re alone in the kitchen—or so you believe—flipping gyozas with intense concentration and muttering under your breath. “Okay, Thoma likes them crispy. Not burnt. Crispy, like his smile. No, wait, what? Focus!”
“Crispy like my smile, huh?”
You flinch. The spatula slips from your fingers and clatters to the stovetop. Thoma is casually leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and grinning like he definitely heard more than he should have.
“I’m flattered,” he says, stepping closer. “But now I’ve got questions. What, exactly, does a crispy smile look like?”
“I—I meant the gyoza, not your— Wait, no, I meant both—I mean—”
The oil hisses sharply, like even the pan can’t take it anymore. Smoke streams upward.
“No, the gyozas!”
Thoma is already by your side, grabbing the pan with practiced ease and sliding it off the stove.
“You know,” he says, grinning as he surveys the damage, “you didn’t have to set them on fire just to impress me.”
“I didn’t—!”
“Hey, I’m not complaining. Means I get to help.” He tosses you a wink. “Teamwork, right?”
Somehow, you end up shoulder to shoulder, sleeves rolled up, hands floured, trying again as he gives teasing tips on “optimal gyoza symmetry.”
Later, as the final batch sizzles golden and perfect, he leans just close enough to murmur, “Still not sure what a crispy smile is, but if we’re talking about yours…I think I get it now.”
heizou
You march down the corridor, shoulders tense, voice pitched low but laced with despair.
“No, Heizou, I don’t need your help picking up the papers I dropped. I just need a convenient hole to bury the cadaver of my dignity in, thank you very much—”
A hand suddenly lands on your shoulder.
“AAHH—” you scream mid-sentence, spinning on instinct and swinging your bag in self-defense.
Heizou barely ducks in time, a laugh tumbling out as he stumbles back, half-shielding himself. “Whoa, violent thoughts and airborne satchels? I should’ve brought a warrant first.”
You freeze, mortified. He’s already dusting off his sleeves like it’s just another day at the precinct.
“Really now, that’s the welcome I get?” he continues, far too amused for someone who was nearly concussed.
“You snuck up on me mid-spiral,” you retort, torn between embarrassment and residual adrenaline. “That’s reckless behavior, even for you.”
He raises a brow, utterly unbothered. “I prefer to think of it as instinct. I happen to have an uncanny sense for when people are saying my name behind my back. Or in this case, aloud. To themselves.”
Your eyes widen just enough to give you away. Heizou smiles like he’s just cracked another case.
“You know,” he adds, stepping just close enough for his voice to drop a tone, “talking to oneself is a perfectly natural response to emotional distress. Especially when that distress has, say…a face and a name?”
You groan and press a hand to your forehead. “You’re insufferable.”
He tilts his head. “And yet, I’m the one you keep muttering about.”
You try to come up with a retort. You fail.
“Don’t worry,” he continues smoothly, already turning on his heel, “your secrets are safe with me.”
“You are the secret,” you call after him.
“And still,” he says without looking back, “you can’t seem to stop confessing to it.”
bennett
“Okay, just be normal. If I trip, I’ll just play dead. He won’t even notice. He’s used to disasters,” you tell yourself as you pace in tight little circles outside the Adventurers’ Guild.
“Wait, was that about me?”
You nearly leap into the decorative flower box beside the stairs.
Bennett stands behind you, blinking wide-eyed, equal parts confused and concerned.
“No—I mean—kind of?” you stammer.
He scratches the back of his neck, flustered. “I mean, yeah, stuff does kinda explode around me sometimes, but…hey, you’re not gonna trip.”
He pauses, then adds quickly, “But if you do, I’ll totally catch you! Probably! I mean, I’ve got decent reflexes! Usually!”
He’s turning red now, voice rising an octave as he tries to dig himself out.
“Not that you’ll fall, or need catching! It’s just—If you did fall, hypothetically, I’d be there. Probably. Hopefully. Unless something explodes first.”
You both stare at each other in silence for a beat and then burst out laughing.
“So,” you say, grinning, “wanna grab lunch before something does explode?”
“Yes! Wait, are you asking me out?”
You hesitate. “…Would it make you trip if I said yes?”
“Most likely.”
“Then, I’ll give you ‘probably’ as my answer.”
“Perfect.”
kaveh
He hears your muffled voice through the wall.
“If I see his ridiculously pretty face one more time, I’m going to cry. Or combust. Or both. There is no middle ground anymore.”
A suspicious creak of the floorboard makes your soul exit your body. The door swings open slowly. Kaveh stands there with a tea tray and the most theatrical expression known to man.
“Well,” he says, in full dramatic cadence, “had I known my face was wreaking such havoc on your emotional equilibrium, I would’ve brewed peppermint for the nerves.”
You groan and throw a pillow at him.
“Ah! betrayed by the very person moved to tears by my beauty. So you’ve chosen emotional combustion. Noted.”
You peek between your fingers. “Kaveh, please go.”
He places the tea tray down very deliberately. “I’ll leave,” he says, moving toward the door, “but only after I point out that I’m flattered, deeply and profoundly.”
He stops in the doorway, looks back with a grin just slightly too genuine.
“By the way,” he adds, not quite looking at you, “it’s mutual. The whole…emotional-overload-in-each-other’s-presence thing.”
And with that, he leaves. The tea cools quickly. You do not.
zhongli
You’re standing outside Wánmín Restaurant, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts and muttered self-advice as you wait for a certain funeral consultant to join you for lunch.
“You can’t just stare at him every time he talks. He’s not poetry. He’s a man. A terrifyingly wise, elegant man made of tea and regret.”
You pause, frowning at the phrase.
“Tea and regret?”
You jolt and whirl around. Zhongli is standing just behind you, his expression unreadable, as if weighing your words with the patience of centuries.
After a moment’s pause, a faint smile graces his lips. “I believe that’s a new metaphor.”
Then, with a quiet elegance, he gestures in the space between you.
“You may continue your soliloquy. I find it…endearing.”
You feel your composure unravel, cheeks flushing crimson as you try to meet his calm, knowing gaze. For a moment, the world narrows to the soft sound of your breathing and the quiet dignity of a man who understands more than he lets on, and you silently wonder if maybe, just maybe, he is poetry after all.
fatui male harbingers smut headcanons w f!reader , ranked from highest to lowest stamina (headcanon) | includes all male harbingers except pulcinella
a/n: requests are open for headcanons, mostly for fatui and nod krai cast ! send me an ask don't be shy :3 request rules are here !
minors dni | likes , reblogs , and follows are appreciated ! <3
TARTAGLIA — HIGHEST STAMINA
as the youngest harbinger, there's no doubt he has the highest stamina out of the fatui men. he's very proud about it, too. he loves to fuck, and it's a surprise to no one. there'll be some days where all he wants to do is ravish you after a long day of combat and fatui affairs, while on other days he wants to take his time to fuck your brains out. sometimes it's hard to keep up with him in bed, with the way he seems to never tire. he loves every single bed activity there is: fucking, eating your pussy, fingering, playing with sex toys, having you suck his dick if you wanted it, and even anal. there is never a time he isn't in the mood to fuck; he'll take every chance he gets to spread that pussy of yours open. this man can't keep his hands to himself at all either; all he wants to do is touch you and please you. tartaglia doesn't have any shame either, he'll take you anywhere and everywhere. quickies by the training grounds, in one of the hallways of the zapolyarny palace, in a secluded spot in the northland bank, and even short makeout sessions during work. this man's hunger is never a joke, because he'll never get tired of you. either way, you'll always be in for a ride with tartaglia, as he probably won't stop until the sun comes up.
SCARAMOUCHE —
technically... he's a puppet... so do puppets really get tired? but seriously, he's definitely a freak—a bratty and cocky freak at that. he loves to degrade you while his hand is wrapped around your throat as he thrusts his cock sharply into you. he gets off to the sound of your moans and pleas, the way your pussy flutters around him with desperation and need from every thrust. scara definitely loves to tie you up too, hands bound together with your legs spread wide and your ankles shackled down so you can't move. he'll tease you, edge you, and overstimulate you until you can't take it anymore. sometimes he even uses a vibrator on you while you're tied up in that position, pressing the toy in a torturous motion against your pussy. and he's not nice about it either. he'll continue to overstimulate your clit till you're shaking and sobbing, begging for him to stop the vibrator. if he's nice enough, he'll lower the intensity, but otherwise... he'll only ramp up the speed. and when you come for the nth time that night, he'll do the honour of cleaning you up by eating your pussy, licking all your juices. and just when you think he's done with you, he comes back for another round, ready to hear your pretty moans.
DOTTORE —
having dottore as a sex partner means having a tons of other guys as your sex partners too. what i mean by that is his segments. each segment has their own level of freak, and by extension, their own level of stamina. omega definitely has the highest stamina out of the rest of the segments, followed by moonttore and primettore. prime definitely has a thing for watching his segments fuck you in front of him, it's like a guilty pleasure. he loves to watch as a segment thrusts himself balls deep inside of you while another has his cock in your mouth, and maybe another to touch and tease you while the other two work on you. moonttore is especially cruel; he'll fuck your pretty little cunt till you're full of his cum and you can't walk. sometimes dottore takes turns with his other segments to fuck you, milking your poor pussy out for the night. he fucks like a man deprived and starved, burying his cock deep inside of you until you beg for him. he's definitely the type to use a drug or aphrodisiac on you if it means you'll be extra sensitive for his cock and touch. anything to help you keep up with his desires. stamina is never a problem for dottore, because there'll always be a segment that's ready to keep your pussy full and warm.
PIERRO —
don't ever assume that his age affects his stamina in the bedroom. while yes, his stamina has definitely worn down over time, pierro knows how to fuck and satisfy their partner properly. he knows your weaknesses and your sensitive spots, and he uses them to his advantage. his knowledge definitely comes from his years of experience, and he'll use them to the fullest to satisfy you. as the director of the fatui harbingers, he's always stressed and has a lot of pent up frustration. so what better way to relieve himself than to fuck his partner? he's the type to fuck you anywhere: bent over his desk, hidden by a pillar in the halls of the zapolyarny palace, or even in the tsaritsa's throne room—as long as she isn't there, of course. pierro will give his all to satisfy you, regardless of how quick he is or where you two are. he's usually very rough with you, but can be quite gentle surprisingly. by the time he's tired, you're shaking and trembling with pleasure, down to your fourth orgasm. even though he gets worn out faster than the rest, he knows how to leave a lasting impression on your pussy.
CAPITANO —
capitano is only this low on the list purely because of how crazy the rest are. most of the time, capitano likes to take his time with you, with slow and deep thrusts and a lot of groaning. he drags out each thrust of his hips and each flick of his fingers against your clit, drawing out soft moans from your lips. he takes his time to please you, conserving his energy while satisfying you. but on days where he feels more stressed than usual, he's rough, fervent. he'll bend you over against the nearest surface, rutting himself deep inside of you till you're arching your back and seeing stars. he'll have his large hands everywhere on you—your hips, your thighs, your waist, your breasts, even your throat to choke you when he's incredibly horny. he loves to watch your expressions as he pounds into you, watching the way your chest heaves and rises sharply with each thrust. and when his body finally gives up and spills his seed inside you, you're ruined beyond comprehension. he'll carry you effortlessly to somewhere more comfortable once you two are done, and he'll make sure to ease any pain he may have caused you during his fervour.
PANTALONE — LOWEST STAMINA
pantalone is a loser. the end. jokes aside, i think pantalone definitely has a lower stamina compared to the rest of the fatui men, but not to be disappointed. he's absolutely kinky in the bedroom, often spicing up your activities with toys and gadgets. he loves to tease your pussy with a vibrator, playing with the setting while shoving a dildo in and out of your pussy. but that doesn't mean he's lazy, because he loves to touch you everywhere and anywhere his hands can reach while using the vibrator on you. fondling your breasts and ass, rubbing your thighs, marking and kissing your neck and collarbone, even fingering your pussy while the vibrator rubs on your clit. but when pantalone does actually fuck you, it's absolutely hot. he'll have his hands everywhere on you during sex, teasing your tits as he drives his cock deeper and deeper inside of you. his thrusts are sharp and rough, but they gradually get sloppier over time when his stamina begins to wane. he'll hold out long enough to see and feel you cum at least twice from his cock, watching as your juices coat his cock and wet the bed. and when he's exhausted? if you're still horny? don't worry, he's still got that vibrator and his fingers to fuck you.
notes. in celebration of me getting my 1st diluc after 4+ years of playing, let’s see what he and the rest of our favourite genshin guys are packing AMIRIGHT??? first post kinda shy ,, should i do a part two
— DILUC's cock is a sight that makes your breath hitch, thick and long enough to stretch you wide as he presses the flushed fat tip against your entrance, the deep red blush spreading from the swollen head down the veined shaft like he's holding back a fire. you're already trembling when he sinks in slowly, every inch of his girth parting your walls with a delicious burn that has you clutching at his shoulders, his length filling you so completely that you feel him in your core. he's no grower, always half-hard from the mere thought of you, but he uses it with deliberate control, thrusting deep and steady to build heat until you're both lost in the rhythm.
“feel how much i need you,” he murmurs, voice rough as he bottoms out.
— VARKA’s massive length dwarfs everything else, so thick and big that you wonder how your body even accommodates it, the head nudging insistently at your slick folds while veins bulge along the shaft like ropes under taut skin, pulsing with his fastened heartbeat. he eases in with a groan, the girth splitting you open inch by agonizing inch, your pussy clenching around the invasion as if trying to hold on, and yet the stretch turns to pleasure when he starts to move, using his enormous cock to claim every part of you in powerful and unyielding strokes that leave you gasping and full.
“take it all for me, juuust like that,” he rumbles, hips snapping forward.
— KAEYA’s cock slides into view long and skinny, curving slightly to the left with a uniform tan hue that doesn't flush no matter how aroused he gets, the smooth length gliding against your thigh before he aligns it with your heat. it's not overwhelming in girth but hits all those spots inside you that make stars burst behind your eyes. he wields it with such teasing precision, angling the subtle lean to drag along your inner walls, drawing out your moans as he fucks you almost languidly, savoring every quiver.
“you just love how i reach there, don't you?” he whispers, smirking as he grinds deeper.
— CYNO's arousal builds fast. he's a true grower that swells to a relatively thick tan shaft veined subtly along its length, the tip darkening as he hardens fully before pushing into your waiting pussy with honest aggressive intent. he doesn't ease in—he thrusts hard from the start, the girth pounding against your depths, your body jolting with each forceful entry as he grips your hips, using his cock like a weapon to dominate and overwhelm, leaving you sore and satisfied in the aftermath of only the first round.
“you're mine to fuck however i want,” he growls, slamming home.
— FLINS boasts the longest cock among them, skinny and pale with a light, almost purplish blush tinting the tip and faint veins tracing its endless length, coiling around your fingers when you stroke it before he guides it to your entrance. it sinks in deep, impossibly so, filling you from the front to the back in one smooth glide that has your toes curling, and he uses it to explore every hidden spot, thrusting with an even, elegant rhythm to slowly build waves of ecstasy that crash over you endlessly.
“let me go even deeper inside you,” he breathes, inching further.
— WRIOTHESLEY's cock is a thick beast, pretty long too with a tip so fat it flares wide like a mushroom cap, pressing against your lips before he feeds it into your mouth, the girth stretching your jaw as veins throb under your tongue. when he finally enters your pussy, his swollen head pops past your rim and the length follows, stuffing you full with heavy, deliberate pumps that make your walls flutter wildly, his powerful thickness overwhelming you completely.
“swallow every bit of this fat cock,” he commands, voice low and gravelly.
— CHILDE's oh so long and relatively fat cock blushes a vivid pink across its freckled surface, the scattered spots dotting the shaft like stars as it twitches against your belly, hardening fully before he notches it at your core. he drives in with eager energy, the girth spreading you open while the length reaches deep, his hold on your waist tightening with each passionate thrust, using it to chase mutual pleasure in wild bursts that leave you both breathless and marked.
“look at how it blushes just for you,” he laughs softly, plunging in.
— HEIZOU might be a grower on the smaller side, but once it thickens to its full potential, his fat tip becomes his favorite tool, teasing your clit with lazy circles before dipping just the head inside your pussy, making you beg for more. he knows exactly how to use it, angling those shallow thrusts to rub your sensitive spots relentlessly, the girth of the tip stretching you teasingly as he builds your desperation with skilled, playful control.
“not yet—i wanna see what makes you tick first,” he teases, nudging insistently.
— KINICH strikes the golden middle, perfectly balanced length and girth with a smooth, warm shaft that fits you like it was made for this, sliding into your soaked heat with confident ease as veins pulse faintly under the skin. he wields it masterfully, varying his pace from slow grinds that savor the connection to quick snaps that hit just right, drawing out your gasps and shudders with intuitive precision that heightens every sensation.
“i'll make you come undone perfectly,” he promises, thrusting true.
chuu's note: atp i'm spoiling you guys~ but ily so it's okay, i hope u all enjoy ^^
alhaitham / zhongli / ayato / wriothesley
♡ isn't the type to leave a jar up high on purpose or screw it too tight (alhaitham definitely does leave it up high tho, just saying)
♡ but they wont not indulge in seeing you struggle a little after being so bratty to them
♡ A sick part of them wants to see it through to the end, but they are men of good moral, so they close their eyes and huff before walking over to you.
♡ pulls the old, "startled them from behind and press onto their back as you reach for the jar and cage them into the bench" move.
♡ deep eye contact before handing the jar to you
♡ You're still pinned to the counter btw, he's not letting you squirm away.
♡ enjoys, no, relishes in the way you fluster.
♡ will watch you try to open the jar with a certain light in his eyes- obviously you cant, because its tight and he's clearly left you weak and limp after that move
♡ smiles at the sight and takes the jar without a word, opening it.
♡ hands it to you and takes a step back and you can finally breath!
♡ Whispers something teasing before walking away silently.
"what would you ever do without me, hm?"
baizhu
♡ Doesn't engage in petty behaviour like that. He's too sweet, please don't ever think that.
♡ In fact, Baizhu has already made sure every single jar you need is at eye level for you, since he doesn't want you straining your arms to reach for anything!
♡ This man cares for you deeply.
♡ If he ever does try something like that (this wont ever happen but let's be hypothetical) Changsheng will already have slithered into the cupboard and tried her best to loosen it.
♡ if you're wondering why the jar is covered in snake slime, now you know.
diluc / varka
♡ might place the jar too high for you to reach but immediately regrets it when he sees you climbing a counter top to reach it.
♡ cue protective husband energy, and firm palms on your waist to plop you back down safely onto your feet.
♡ will open the jar before handing it to you (whether or not he's screwed it too tight)
♡ wont say a word and just leaves.
♡ will return in 5 minutes to help you cook because he still feels guilty.
♡ when you're out of the kitchen he'll check that every jar is at a reachable level for you, and will loosen the lids.
♡ will start to get unusually chatty and by then you're already too awed by him to even care abt the argument.
childe / kaeya
♡ loves watching you jump up and down to reach the jar.
♡ when you start climbing onto the shelf, he might as well grab a bucket of popcorn - he is genuinely so impressed !
♡ when you try your very best at opening the jar (and fail) he starts to feel a little bad, ok, very bad.
♡ strong clearing of his throat that you jolt at the sound.
♡ you getting embarrassed gives him even more pleasure
"need me to handle that, sweetheart?"
♡ and he will ask you to respond, loud and clear
♡ probably tells you to repeat yourself like 10x to feed his ego
"What was that? I couldn't hear you properly"
♡ oh he's cheesing all day longggg
♡ kissing you on the cheek afterwards and leaves you alone (for the time being. he'll be back to annoy you in another hour, trust).
kaveh / itto
♡ Definitely tightens and places the jar up high out of sheer pettiness right after the argument, without even thinking.
♡ totally forgets about it till you're cooking and he mentally already calculates that you need that specific jar.
♡ STRESSED™️
♡ tries to make up an excuse for you to go get something in another room, even when you're both literally meant to be doing the silent treatment.
♡ mental face palm for breaking it first.
♡ you're confused but you leave bc he's acting weird and you don't even wanna question him abt it (lol)
♡ makes a break for it and grabs jar, unscrews and leaves it on the counter like nothing ever happened.
♡ Will blurt out an apology randomly throughout the week (you have no idea what he's apologising about and he wont elaborate)
flins
♡ probably has enchanted every single jar to tighten on command.
♡ Will manually place them high up because he loveeees when you cant reach for things and call out for his help - this is a normal occurrence btw, even when you're not fighting.
♡ So when you are fighting, he finds it amusing when you stand there staring at the jar, silent.
♡ you both know your normal response would be to whine and call our for Flins. But you werent talking to him, so you needed to deal with it yourself.
♡ Usually he'd come up behind you, all smug but you snap at him, "I dont need your help"
♡ cue the smirk and dramatic gasp,
"You wound me" "Go ahead, darling. Let me know if you need any help"
♡ will take any opportunity to tease you and he knows exactly how to push your buttons.
♡ tries to hold back giggles when you're jumping for it. In the end, he'll just place his palms on your thighs and lift you up so you can have the glory of grabbing it with your own hands.
♡ probably has you on the counter, his palms planted firmly on your waist, and your legs either beside his waist by the end of the whole dilemma.
♡ I mean. Its flins, cmon. This is light work for him.
♡ he enjoys seeing you mad and stubborn, but he enjoys seeing you give into him, even more.
♡ Let's you scold him (he enjoys it) but he knows how to keep you quiet in the end (in the best way possible)
neuvilette / ororon / ifa / thoma
♡ The sweetest boys omg
♡ he will never get into an argument with you let's be real, and if he does, it'll always be resolved before any pettiness ensues
♡ The only instance is if there actually has been a misplaced jar that is brand new, unopened (thus, he has NOT done anything to this jar - its purely coincidental)
♡ He would probably walk up and reach for it as if it were a normal day.
"careful, love"
♡ talks to you as if all is well, and it truly is in his eyes.
♡ kisses you on the temple and helps you with your cooking
