Clumsy feet, gentle hand ࣪ ˖ 𖦹°⋆
Pairing: various genshin men x neutral reader
Synopsis: just the genshin men with a really , clumsy s/o
Featuring: flins , ororon , ayato , varka
FLINS
Flins would first be alarmed — then quietly amused. You’d be walking through Natlan’s rough terrain, tripping over uneven stones or stray roots, and he’d always be two steps behind, ready to catch you.
At first, he’d just sigh — that deep, resigned sound of a man who’s accepted fate.
“You’ve got the bravery of a dragon… and the coordination of a hatchling,” he’d murmur with a crooked grin.
When you fall, his reflexes are quick. He’d catch you before you even hit the ground, one arm around your waist, flames flickering faintly from his fingertips. The warmth would linger — not from his element, but from how close he holds you.
If you apologize too often, he’d shake his head gently.
“Don’t. You walk through fire without fear. That’s enough. Just… maybe watch your step next time.”
Later, when he thinks you’re not looking, you’d catch him moving fallen branches or kicking away loose stones before you pass through — subtle, quiet gestures to make sure you don’t trip again.
ORORON
Ororon’s the type to act indifferent, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed as you trip over thin air for the third time in a row.
He’d sigh. Loudly.
“You’re going to destroy yourself before any enemy even gets the chance.”
But the second you actually fall — just a stumble, maybe a scraped knee — he’s beside you in an instant. His voice drops, low and rough around the edges.
“...You okay?”
If you mutter something embarrassed, he’d click his tongue and look away, muttering,
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s annoying.”
But then he’d take your hand anyway, pulling you up with a tenderness that completely betrays his words.
He’ll never admit it, but he’s learned to move slower around you.
Kamisato Ayato
Ayato handles your clumsiness with charm and precision.
He never scolds, never laughs too loud — he simply tilts his head, lips curving in that composed, knowing smile as you nearly trip over the teapot tray he’s carrying.
"My, my. You do have quite the talent for chaos in the calmest of settings.”
When you trip, he’s there instantly — one hand steady at your waist, the other gently catching your wrist before you fall. His movements are smooth, graceful, like a dance he’s rehearsed a thousand times.
>“Ah. Seems I arrived just in time,” he’d say with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Are you sure you’re not doing this just to earn my attention?”
You’d protest, flustered. He’d laugh softly, helping you stand straight, brushing imaginary dust from your sleeve.
When you least expect it, he’ll quietly make adjustments — clearing the tatami mat’s edge, moving vases slightly out of your reach — always subtle, never condescending.
Later, over tea, he’d add:
“You stumble, yet never fall completely. That’s quite an admirable balance, don’t you think?”
Varka
Varka’s laughter would be loud and hearty the first time you trip over your own sword strap.
“Haha! You remind me of young Kaeya when he first started training — all legs and no balance!”
But it’s affectionate, never mocking.
He’d help you up easily, his hand nearly engulfing yours.
“No shame in stumbling. Every scar and scrape’s a lesson. You just learn to keep marching.”
If you trip again — and again — he’d start naturally walking beside you, one large hand hovering near your shoulder to steady you whenever you falter.
“The ground’s just jealous you’re not paying attention to it,” he’d joke with a wink.
At camp, he’d hand you a mug of hot drink and say warmly,
“You’ve got spirit. That’s what matters. You can train balance — but heart? That’s something you’ve already got.”
And if someone ever dared tease you for your clumsiness, they’d get a friendly — but terrifying — Varka glare that would silence them instantly.
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