𐔌 . . . 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 . . . (𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒, 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐋𝐘) ꒱
✧ heaven missed its aim, and now an adorably confused angel (aka, you) is wreaking havoc (and maybe stealing hearts) across teyvat ― alhaitham + ayato + dottore + diluc + kazuha + lyney + neuvillette + scaramouche + tartaglia + venti + wriothesley + xiao + zhongli x reader ⋆ incl. mentions of broken wings, you have a little radio-like device that connects to heaven 𝜗ৎ i wanted to do more charas but i was scared it'd be too long . . . part 2 ?
𐔌 . . . 𝐀𝐋𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐌꒱
One second he’s reading under a tree, the next, the sky explodes and something winged crashes straight into his lap.
You, wide-eyed and covered in feathers, “Mortal! Thou shalt not gaze upon my—oh hey, you’re cute.”
Instantly, you switch moods. “Oh, thank the Creator, you broke my fall!” you chirp, wings flapping erratically and causing an Eye of the Storm to fall off a cliff. “...Oops..”
He stares at you for a long, silent second, “You’re thanking me for your lack of flight control?”
“You caught me,” you argue, proudly, “that’s destiny.”
“That is gravity,” he corrects.
Somehow, within the next hour, you’ve installed yourself in his study, sitting cross-legged on his table, sipping his tea, asking questions about “mortal philosophy” while petting his hair and getting your feathers everywhere.
He insists you’re a “cosmic disturbance.” Yet, when you fall asleep against his shoulder mid-sentence, he quietly turns a page without moving you.
You call him “wise mortal.” He calls you “airborne liability.” It’s… a start.
𐔌 . . . 𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐎꒱
The heavens open above the Kamisato Estate during a perfectly normal tea break. He barely lifts an eyebrow when you descend, glowing and terrifyingly serene.
Guards panic, servants kneel, and Thoma drops a tray. Ayato, on the other hand, just sips his boba tea. “Well. That’s new. It seems we’ve received… heavenly company.”
You step forward, eyes like judgment itself, voice like thunder, “I come seeking the one called Ayato.”
He smiles politely, “Ah, my reputation precedes me. Shall we discuss this matter over tea?”
You end up lecturing him about cosmic law while he tests if angels blush when complimented (Yes, and then his teacup explodes).
For someone supposedly divine, you blush very easily when he bows to kiss your hand.
Later, when you scold him for manipulating nobles, he says, “If Heaven dislikes cunning, perhaps it shouldn’t make mortals so imperfectly interesting.”
You have no rebuttal.
𐔌 . . . 𝐃𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐄꒱
He found you when you suddenly appeared in his laboratory, mixing around random chemicals. The first thing you do when you see him is sneeze, and three of his clones combust because of your germs mingling with the unfortunate chemical solution.
He’s delighted. Not concerned, not shocked—delighted.
“An angel, you say? Fascinating. Tell me, are your wings detachable?”
You tilt your head, halo wobbling, giggling like a wind chime, “Detachable? No, dummy! They tickle if you touch them!”
He short-circuits for half a second. Then grabs a clipboard, “For science, of course.”
You hum happily while accidentally melting one of his lab tables with divine light. You’re the perfect specimen. (He might also be a little fond. Oops.)
He stares, fascinated as you nearly blow up his lab again, “Interesting. Divine sneeze reflex causes spontaneous combustion…can you do it again?”
“Maybe if you tickle me!”
That’s how the Eleventh Segment ends up half-immolated while the Third Segment is taking frantic notes.
You float lazily above his desk, babbling about celestial nonsense and calling him “Doctor Funny Mask.”
He swears you’re the greatest discovery of his career.
Unfortunately for you, this seemingly sweet doctor (to you, no one else thinks that) is never going to let you go. So, when you tell him your signals to Heaven are working again, he destroys your little messaging device and keeps you locked up in his lab. With love, of course.
𐔌 . . . 𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂꒱
You fall straight through the Dawn Winery roof right as he’s cleaning up Kaeya’s latest prank. Adelinde almost faints.
Diluc catches you midair, with the reflexes of someone who’s done this way too often with wine crates. He sighs.
You blink up at him, dazed, “...Are you the keeper of this realm, or are you my destined savior?”
“I’m your unfortunate landing pad.”
“Ah.. so you’re the love of my life.”
“Absolutely not. I have enough fangirls.”
You cling to him like he’s a life raft, “You smell like grapes.”
“That would be the wine cellar you nearly destroyed.”
You call him “Sir Flamin’ Hot Sexy,” and he blushes for the first time since 1623.
Later, as you sit wrapped in his coat, wings drooping, you whisper, “You look sad, for someone who saved me.”
He hesitates long enough for you to reach up and brush his cheek. He catches your hand, softly, “Rest. The rest of your questions can wait until I patch the ceiling.”
When you try to thank him with “holy light,” you nearly set the vineyard on fire. He hasn’t decided whether to kick you out or hide you so you never meet Kaeya… or worse, Klee.
𐔌 . . . 𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀꒱
He feels the presence of something before you fall.
But when the “something” turns out to be you, glowing and weightless, he can’t help but smile.
“You’re not frightened?” you ask, hovering inches above the ground.
“Should I be? You seem gentle enough.”
You look at the leaves swirling around his blade, fascinated, “The wind… listens to you.”
“Sometimes it listens better than people do.”
You talk all night about freedom, about stars, about how heaven feels colder than the breeze on his ship’s deck. When dawn breaks, you gift him a feather, “A reminder that even the sky envies the wind.”
He keeps it tucked in his haori always, though he won’t ever say why. After all, you’ve become his little angel muse.
𐔌 . . . 𝐋𝐘𝐍𝐄𝐘꒱
It’s mid-performance when the ceiling explodes into a bright light. The audience gasps. Lyney, to his credit, takes a bow.
“And now, for my greatest trick—oh. You’re not supposed to be here.”
You blink from the ceiling wreckage, “…Where am I?”
He grins, “In my spotlight, apparently.”
You’re trembling, wings drooping, voice soft, “I didn’t mean to interrupt your… um, mortal entertainment...I think I took a wrong turn at the Pearly Gates…”
He offers a gloved hand, “Then let’s make this crash landing our special act.”
You spend the evening helping him “vanish” doves…only for the doves to follow you instead.
Backstage, he gives you his hat to hide your halo. You smile, “You’re kind for a trickster.”
“You’re too trusting for a deity,” he replies, but his tone is warm.
Lynette sighs, “You’re flirting with a celestial being…again.”
𐔌 . . . 𝐍𝐄𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄꒱
The courthouse erupts in light. Melusines scatter. He’s halfway through a sentence when you shatter the glass and faceplant in front of the bench like a sanctified meteor.
“Oops,” you mumble, “do I have to pay for that?”
He stares, speechless, “This is… the Palais Mermonia.”
“Oh! A palace. Fancy.”
“No, a court of law.”
“So you’re sort of, like, Heaven’s HR department?”
The courtroom goes dead silent. What the hell is an HR department?
You laugh, “Oops, wrong universe!”
When he finds out your communication is broken, so you’ll be staying here a while, he ends up giving you a “court tour,” partly to keep you from flying into the ceiling lamps again.
When you apologize for “breaking the sky window,” he sighs, just once, “Perhaps… we can find you lodging. Somewhere without glass.”
𐔌 . . . 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄꒱
You literally drop into his personal bubble of solitude. Bad move.
“What in the Archons’ name are you?”
You, dazed, “A… creature of heaven?”
He glares, “Then go back.”
But your wings are all messed up, so he (very reluctantly) takes you back home.
He absolutely does not help you fix your wings, but he also doesn’t leave you alone. He reminds you of a cat you once became friends with.
You become a part of his daily routine and can’t help yourself from saying, “You don’t do anything fun, do you?”
“Fun is a waste of time.”
“Then you’re doing life wrong!!”
He glares at you. You sleep on the couch that night. But the next morning, when he finds you crying because your wing’s condition worsened overnight, he freezes.
“Don’t—stop crying. That’s annoying.”
He ends up awkwardly bandaging your wing in silence. You smile through tears, “You’re not mean, you just talk like... thunder. Scary, but not harmful. It's comforting when you get used to it.”
He rolls his eyes, muttering, “Then maybe you should go back to Heaven where it’s quiet.”
He doesn’t mean it. Not at all.
𐔌 . . . 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐀꒱
You land mid-fight, radiant and confused, feathers flying everywhere. He nearly trips on a halo.
“Finally! A challenge that fell from the sky itself!”
You’re dazed, “I— wait, are you fighting for sport?”
“Of course. Wanna join?”
You heal him instantly, wings fluttering. “You mortals are insane.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
He challenges you to a spar. You refuse. He grins wider.
“C’mon, angel, show me what Heaven’s got.”
By the end of the day, he’s covered in soot, you’ve broken half a cliff, and both of you are laughing like maniacs under a star-filled canopy.
Later, he tells everyone he “fought Heaven and won.” You’re still trying to explain that you were trying to apologize.
𐔌 . . . 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈꒱
You land on him mid-song. He doesn’t even flinch, just keeps playing.
“Ah, another fallen star~ Are you here to steal my thunder, or just my spotlight?”
You start humming harmony with him. The crowd thinks it’s divine intervention.
3 hours later: “You’re drunk.” “I’m holy, actually.”
He tells everyone you’re his muse. You’re pretty sure he just wants free drinks.
Still, when you tell him Heaven doesn’t allow music like his, he looks genuinely sad.
“Then maybe,” he says softly, stroking your wings, “that’s why you fell, to learn what joy sounds like.”
You forget to correct him.
He calls you “little dove” and teaches you drinking songs. Mondstadt gains a new legend: “The Bard and His Angel.”
𐔌 . . . 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘꒱
You crash into his office like divine retribution. He looks up from his paperwork, sighs, and stands.
He catches you effortlessly, wings first, “You’re not an inmate.”
“Am I under arrest?” you ask hopefully. (Look, this man is hot.)
“Not unless falling from heaven is a crime.” He instantly regrets saying that, because you smile too brightly, like trouble.
He ends up escorting you around like a lost tourist. The entire prison now thinks their Duke has a celestial partner. He does not correct them.
He chuckles when you blink in confusion, “You’re free to stay until we figure this out.”
You try to “help” with fortress duties only to end up blessing the coffee machines and confusing every inmate into repentance.
He finds you asleep on his couch later, halo dim, wings tucked under his coat.
“You really don’t belong here,” he murmurs, but he makes no move to wake you.
𐔌 . . . 𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎꒱
You appear in a burst of light during his night watch, collapsing midair.
He catches you before you hit the ground, heart pounding, “What… are you?”
“Lost,” you whisper, “and tired.”
He hesitates before wrapping his arms around you, “Then rest. I’ll stand guard.”
When you wake, you offer to purify his karmic burden. He recoils, then softens when you only press a gentle hand to his shoulder.
“You carry pain,” you murmur.
“It’s mine to bear.”
“Then let me bear it with you, just for a moment.”
For the first time in centuries, he lets someone touch him without fear.
𐔌 . . . 𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈꒱
He’s drinking Osmanthus Wine when you crash in front of him like a divine comet.
He sighs, “Ah. It’s been a while since Celestia threw one down.”
You pop out of the water, grinning, “You talk like you’ve met angels before.”
“I’ve buried a few.”
You laugh, delighted, “Oh, you’re fun!”
He ends up buying you tea, halfway between amused and nostalgic. When you ask what “money” is, he feels a migraine coming on.
You sit beside him as he tells you tales about the other angels he’s met.
You lean towards, eyes gleaming, eyebrows wiggling, “You sound like you miss them.”
“Perhaps I do.”
You grin, “Then I’ll keep you company until I figure out how to fly back.”
“I suspect,” he murmurs with a knowing smile, “you won’t be in any rush.”
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