"What a lovely couple you’d make" (1)
Featuring: Phainon, Castorice, Jing Yuan, Blade, Dr. Ratio, Gallagher, Robin, Caelus (Trailblazer), March 7th x GN!Reader
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Romance, Slice-of-Life
Word Count: 2.67k
✦ Phainon
“You know,” an old vendor said, eyes crinkling, “you two make a lovely couple.”
Phainon froze mid-laugh. You were holding a half-melted starberry gelato. Neither of you had said anything remotely romantic in the last five minutes—you’d been arguing about whether mini cactus pets were a scam or the best investment a person could make.
So why was this vendor suddenly saying—
“A couple?” Phainon echoed, smile faltering just a millimeter.
You shot him a look. He was still grinning, warm and sunshine-eyed, but you’d traveled with him long enough to spot the shift—the way his fingers twitched slightly at his side, or the flicker of unease that passed through his cyan gaze like a faint fracture in glass.
Still, he leaned on the counter, and his golden grin was back. “A couple of troublemakers, maybe.”
“Trouble looks good on you,” the vendor said warmly.
Phainon laughed—a little too quickly. “Oh, no, no. We’re just—uh—friends. Great friends. Excellent at platonic proximity. No romance here, nope.”
He turned to you, still smiling, but his ears were pink. He didn’t say yes. He didn’t say no.
Later, in the quiet of your shared cabin, you both stood by the single bed like it was some sort of challenge. Neither of you said a word. But when you lay down that night, his hand found yours—armor and all, warm and careful. Not by accident. Not in passing. And maybe that was enough for now.
(Bonus, according to the shopkeeper:)
The next day, Phainon stormed back in. “You knew.”
The vendor didn’t even look up. “You shared one blanket and argued about cactuses like a married couple. I’m not blind. Also… the gelato was buy-one-get-one for couples. You’re welcome.”
✦ Castorice
The marketplace smelled faintly of candied flowers, their sugar-dusted petals catching the light as you and Castorice browsed. She walked beside you with that careful, deliberate grace — always aware of her surroundings, always making sure no one brushed against her by accident.
You slowed your pace to match hers. “Find anything you like yet?” you asked, scanning the stalls.
Her lilac eyes softened. “Not yet. I’m mostly just enjoying the walk.”
An elderly vendor with a wiry beard leaned over his table of violet candies and called out, “You two make such a fine couple! A perfect match, eh?”
You choked back a laugh. “Oh? Hear that, Castorice? We’re a perfect match.”
Her lips curved into the faintest, almost shy smile. “Mm… I suppose that wouldn’t be so bad.”
The words were so quiet you almost missed them, but she didn’t seem embarrassed — just thoughtful. You didn’t push her for more. Instead, you reached for one of the violet candies, paid for it, and offered it to her.
She accepted it without touching your hand, a quiet gratitude in her gaze. And the two of you kept walking, the vendor’s words lingering in the air like the scent of sugared flowers.
✦ Jing Yuan
The training yard buzzed with activity, Cloud Knights sparring and drilling under the afternoon sun. You and Jing Yuan stood beneath one of the old trees at the edge of the grounds, its shade casting dappled light over his white hair. Yanqing lingered beside you both, arms folded, his eyes fixed firmly on the sparring Cloud Knights in the field.
Jing Yuan, of course, looked like he could have dozed off at any second—though the faint upward curve of his lips said otherwise.
“General Jing Yuan!” a young knight’s voice rang out from the field. Gao, wooden practice spear in hand, had stopped mid-drill, a grin on his face. “Your partner—what’s their name again?”
“Focus on your drills, Gao,” Jing Yuan said, voice smooth but sharp enough to make a few heads turn.
Gao pressed on anyway. “No, seriously! You two… you’d make a lovely couple, sir!”
Yanqing’s head whipped toward him, brows knitting. “Watch how you speak to the General,” he said, voice sharp for his age. But his glare was wasted—Gao was already shuffling awkwardly under the weight of it.
Jing Yuan let out a quiet hum. “Relax, Yanqing. Gao meant no harm.” His golden eyes flicked to you, and there was a glint there—amusement, yes, but something warmer too. “Besides… he’s not wrong.”
Heat rushed to your cheeks. “We’re not—! I mean, that’s—”
“You should get back to practice, Gao,” Jing Yuan continued smoothly, ignoring your sputtering entirely. “Before your lieutenant notices you slacking.”
Gao mumbled an apology and jogged off. Yanqing muttered under his breath—just loud enough for you to hear—“I hate adults,” and angled himself further toward the training ground as if sheer willpower could block out your presence.
The moment stretched, the sounds of sparring filling the quiet. Then Jing Yuan leaned the slightest bit closer to you, his voice low enough for only you to catch.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice your smile.”
You met his gaze, pulse quickening, but before you could say a word, he was looking away again, watching the yard with that serene, unreadable expression.
✦ Blade
You were bandaging his hand after yet another reckless fight, hands steady despite the streaks of dried blood. He didn’t move, watching your every motion in silence—unblinking, unreadable.
A little old lady selling flowers passed by, glancing your way with a sweet smile.
“You two make such a lovely couple.”
Your hands froze. Blade’s gaze didn’t waver. His voice was low, cold.
“People say stupid things.”
You paused.
You tried to play it off with a small smile. “Do you think it’s stupid?”
He finally looked up, expression unreadable. “They’re wrong.”
The words cut sharper than expected. You swallowed the lump in your throat and forced a chuckle, looking back down at the bandage. “Ouch.”
There was a long pause. Then, his voice dropped lower.
“‘Lovely’ implies I’m capable of something good.”
He looked at you. “I’m not.”
You wanted to scream. You wanted to hug him. Instead, you reached up, brushing a stray lock of hair away from his eyes.
“You are. You just refuse to believe it.”
For a heartbeat, his mouth almost curved—then it was gone. Blade said nothing.
A few days later, you walked past the same florist’s stand.
The elderly woman smiled and pointed to a small bouquet of your favorite flowers, already wrapped.
“Your boyfriend picked these up earlier. Said to give them to you.”
You almost laughed—first “lovely,” now “boyfriend.” The world seemed intent on misnaming him.
You stared at the bouquet, pulse quickening.
“...He’s not my—” You stopped yourself, lips curling despite it all.
“Yeah. That sounds like him.”
✦ Dr. Ratio
You were sitting with Ratio in a quiet teahouse, steam curling up from the cups between you. He had his plaster mask off for once, tucked neatly at his side. A rare sight. He was already mid-lecture, gesturing faintly with his hand.
“Once again, your assumption ignores the most fundamental principle of logic,” he said, eyes narrowing just slightly. “It’s almost impressive how consistently you arrive at the wrong conclusion.”
You rolled your eyes, sipping your tea. “Translation: you hate being wrong, so you call it logic.”
“I don’t hate being wrong. I simply never am.”
The waiter arrived then, setting down a plate of pastries. He glanced between you, a knowing smile tugging at his lips.
“You two argue like an old married couple. Very sweet.”
Ratio inhaled, already drawing breath for what was sure to be a dissertation-length correction. You cut him off with a lazy wave of your fork.
“Careful. If you argue with everyone, people really will start assuming you’re taken.”
That silenced him. The waiter chuckled, and walked away.
You leaned back, brow raised. “You could’ve just laughed it off.”
“And encourage false assumptions?” His tone was flat.
“So it does bother you.”
Ratio finally looked up from his tea, gaze sharp. “What bothers me is humanity’s incessant need for shortcuts. Two people share a table and suddenly the world scripts a romance? Predictable.”
But then—almost too soft to catch, he added under his breath: “…Besides, if I were to choose someone, I wouldn’t want it mistaken for idle speculation.”
You blinked. “…That’s either the rudest compliment I’ve ever heard, or the sweetest insult.”
“Neither. It was criticism.” He lifted his cup again with crisp finality.
You leaned your chin on your hand, smiling despite yourself. “Mm. Whatever helps you sleep at night, dear.”
Ratio’s head snapped up like you’d just committed a logical fallacy in front of him.“…Did you just—” His eyes narrowed. “No. Absolutely not.”
You raised your cup innocently. “What? It fits. Don’t tell me you’re above pet names.”
“I am far above them,” he said flatly. “In fact, I can’t think of a single term more reductive.”
You stirred your tea lazily, eyes on him. “By your own rules, you know, silence counts as agreement.”
The clink of porcelain on wood rang sharper than it should have. “…That was coincidence. Nothing more.”
✦ Gallagher
Gallagher leaned against the bar, idly cleaning a glass while sipping from his own flask. His tie was crooked, his vest wrinkled, and yet he looked perfectly at home—like the seat had been waiting for him.
“Rough day?” you asked, sliding into the chair across from him.
He tipped his flask toward you. “Every day’s rough. That’s why they invented this stuff.”
You gestured at the drink. “Pretty sure that’s not the original purpose.”
“Eh, depends who you ask.” He swirled the glass, watching the amber fizz catch the light. “People aren’t that different.”
Before you could respond, the bartender leaned in, setting down another glass. Her eyes flicked between the two of you, amused.
“You two look good together. Been long?”
You blinked. The words hung in the air like the last swirl of smoke from a half-lit cigarette.
Gallagher didn’t even look up from where he was nursing a glass of SoulGlad. The amber fizz caught the warm lighting like an old photograph, all washed-out hues and a feeling you couldn’t name.
“You gonna start makin’ jokes like that now?” he asked, his voice dry. “Thought you were smarter than the usual dream-dazed crowd.”
The bartender gave a quiet chuckle, like she knew something you didn’t. “Just sayin’. Y’look like you fit together. Even got the matching tired eyes.”
Gallagher’s gaze finally shifted to you then, and it hit like a freight train. Not because he was handsome—though he was, in that ragged, unshaven, what-the-hell-happened-to-you kind of way. No, it was because he saw you. Really saw you. That kind of look that strips away whatever polite version of yourself you tried to put on today.
“You think we’d make a lovely couple?” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “Tch. Can't say there's much lovely in bein’ with someone who’s more shadow than man.”
You could’ve answered him—reassured him, joked back, flirted, left — but instead, you said:
“I didn’t say I thought that. She did.”
Gallagher’s eye twitched—barely. He leaned back with a cynical huff. “Mm. Then I guess she’s got the wrong idea… or the right one. Never really could tell the difference.”
He refilled your glass without asking, pushing it across the table with that same practiced hand.
And then, just as your fingers brushed the glass, he spoke—soft, almost offhand.
“For what it’s worth… I don’t mind the idea.”
It wasn’t a confession. It wasn’t even a compliment. But the way his voice dropped just then, like he wasn’t sure if he meant it or was just throwing it out there…
Your heart skipped anyway.
✦ Robin
You were helping Robin warm up before her Charmony Festival performance—adjusting her mic, steadying the edge of her flowing violet-white gown. Her voice, melodic even in rehearsal, had always been something you admired.
“You’re going to do great out there,” you reassured her, giving her a quick pep talk.
Robin’s lips curved in a serene smile, though her fingers brushed nervously over the rhinestones under her eye. “Thanks. I just hope the crowd’s ready for me tonight.”
Her halo caught the backstage light as she inhaled, steadying herself. Even now, when she was supposed to be the picture of composure, you could feel the tremor of her doubts beneath the calm.
A stagehand passed by with a smirk. “You two would make a lovely couple.”
Robin froze, wings behind her ears giving the faintest flutter. Then she turned to you with a quiet laugh, soft but curious. “Do you think so?”
Your throat went dry, but you nodded anyway. “Well… yeah. I mean—if we were, I wouldn’t mind.”
Her green eyes softened, gaze lingering. For a heartbeat, the festival, the crowd, the expectations—all of it fell away. “What if I said I already think of us that way?” she asked gently. “Would that be okay?”
The roar of the audience began to swell on the other side of the curtain. You had no time to give her a proper answer so you squeezed her hand instead. “Then let’s give them a performance worth remembering.”
Robin’s smile brightened, fragile doubt melting into quiet conviction. She stepped onto the stage, halo gleaming, wings fluttering softly behind her ears as warmth washed over her—as if she’d finally remembered she wasn’t carrying the sky alone.
And when her voice rose, radiant and resonant, you felt the air fill with Harmony as it rippled through the hall, through every heart listening, and through yours most of all.
✦ Caelus
The market was loud, hawkers waving so fiercely it felt like even the air was bargaining. You had barely stopped to glance at a trinket before the shopkeeper leaned over his stall with a too-wide grin.
“What a lovely couple you’d make,” he said, as if words alone could seal a deal.”
You opened your mouth, ready to correct him, but Caelus was faster. He deadpanned, without missing a beat, “Tragic, isn’t it? I was aiming for terrifying duo, not picture-perfect lovers.”
His tone was flat, but the corner of his mouth twitched with amusement. He picked up the trinket, turned it in his hand like it was worth more than the awkwardness in the air. A hawker’s shouted bargain echoed nearby, clanging coins punctuating the chaos, but neither of you noticed.
You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes at him. “So what’s next, letting them handle our wedding invitations?”
"…Free branding. Could be worse,” he muttered at last, eyes flicking sideways toward you. You huffed in exasperation, and his gaze lingered on you just long enough to catch your reaction before darting away.
“Do we get a certificate or something?” you fired back, intending to play along, though part of you couldn’t believe you just said that. “Maybe matching shirts?”
He set the trinket down as if nothing had happened, already moving on — except for the faint, telltale flush creeping up the tips of his ears.
✦ March 7th
You and March were going through photos from your last mission—half of them are just selfies she took while you were unconscious in the background.
“You were asleep for like five minutes,” she said defensively. “It was so cute!”
Then Pom-Pom waddled past, squinting at the two of you giggling and leaning into each other. Pom-Pom immediately deadpanned, “What a disgustingly adorable couple you’d make.” Then they waddled off with a tray of snacks.
March's eyes widened, cheeks flaring up pink. “Y-You hear that?! Even Pom-Pom ships us!”
You grimaced. “Please don’t say ‘Pom-Pom ships us.’”
March’s hands tightened on the photos, eyes darting to you. “I-I didn’t mean… I mean, it’s not like I care what Pom-Pom thinks! But… okay, maybe they're not entirely wrong.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Not entirely wrong?”
Her cheeks puffed up as she tried to hide a grin, then broke into a bright, nervous laugh. “Ugh… fine! Maybe we do look cute together! But it’s only because you make me smile like an idiot!”
You couldn’t help it—you laughed. And for a moment, her flustered grin was all the warmth you needed.