My Take On The Scene We Didn’t Have The Pleasure Of Witnessing

yours truly,

yours truly, (part one). / sincerely, (part two).

premise: as a friend of the most attractive students in school, you're more than used to acting as the middleman between them and the people vying for their affection, often tasked with delivering presents or handing out their love letters. however, when you chance upon a small bouquet of flowers on your desk without a note indicating the sender or who you're meant to give it to, you start to wonder if this one's supposed to be yours.

includes: childe, xiao, diluc, kazuha, albedo, thoma & gorou !

a/n: hahaha why is this so long... anyways this is a college au + reverse harem of some sorts. enjoy. i really don't want this one to flop so likes and reblogs are appreciated thx

“Do you think it's a prank?”

“Why is that the first thing that pops into your mind?” Keqing sighs as she fixes her makeup in front of a compact mirror, smacking her lips to spread the color evenly. “You're really cute, [Name]. why wouldn't someone like you by now?”

Your face burns at the offhand comment. “You're only saying that because we're friends.”

Ayaka giggles, twirling a lock of your hair with her finger. “Of course not. You're very adorable! If anything, it'd be more surprising if nobody likes you.”

“Who do you think it's from, though?” Ganyu quietly asks from beside you, observing the handful of carnations laying on your desk. Scanning the students currently present in the room, she thoughtfully adds, “maybe someone on the shyer side since they couldn't give it to you directly?”

“Or someone who did it to be romantic,” Kokomi suggests, scrutinizing the flowers with keen eyes. “That's quite nice of them.”

You hummed in contemplation, trying to figure out who placed it on your table. “Are you sure it's not a prank... or a mistake? You all sit beside me, so maybe they mistook my seat for yours-”

“You're the only one who faithfully sits there, [Name]. We don't even have assigned seats so most of us sits wherever,” Keqing clarifies, staring at you with a disapproving look. “Don't deny it. You know it's yours.”

“But I can't think of anyone who would like me!” you exclaim in defeat. “I am curious about who gave it, though... I should try to find out who it is...”

“More importantly...” Ganyu smiles at you, noticing the blush dusting your cheeks. “Who do you want it to be?”

childe:

in all honesty, he's your first guess.

not because you think he likes you or anything! he's just a huge flirt.

at the beginning of the school year, you hardly got along. you know he's a friendly guy, but it's in the way that... intimidated you. he's part of the “mood maker” clique, attracting attention wherever he goes, and you're not sure if you could handle his energy...

you preferred to stay away from the spotlight though that's a bit hypocritical considering you're friends with the prettiest group of girls in your year, and he relished in it. you didn't know if you could get along.

you didn't become friends until you were assigned partners for a project that meant a lot for your grade, and you vowed to yourself if you couldn't be close to him, you should at least be close enough to work together without trouble.

in the end, you surprisingly hit it off, childe easing the awkward air between you with jokes and random stories to tell about his weird friends. your friendship didn't end when the project did, and you continued to hang out outside of school. you're sure he didn't approach you to get closer to your friends, either; though you had some doubts at first, he was nothing alike with the jerks who tried to use you.

you're no stranger to the pranks he pulled, nor were you unaware of his flirty nature; he occasionally entertained the lot who fancied him when he attended drinking parties. so it made perfect sense if it was childe who gave those flowers, along with the gifts that followed after. it would just be him messing around again, right? oh, definitely! it wouldn't be the first time he spent his money in reckless abandon, bragging that he has the cash to spare for it.

but unexpectedly when you bring up the topic, his expression darkens, showing no sign of joking around. he looks a little shocked, too, to know someone was pursuing you.

“it's not from me,” he admits, gently taking your hand. “but it's true that i like you.”

xiao:

xiao is one of the people you deliver presents to lol

due to his intimidating disposition (and the endless amount of nasty rumors swirling about him, thanks to said intimidating disposition), hardly anybody would dare to approach him, daunted by the perpetual scowl etched on his face. he remains as eye candy, but an entity no one could reach.

you avoided him at first, too. his face is admirable, you can say that much, but you've become somewhat desensitized from having been surrounded by pretty faces 24/7 so you can't really say it's anything new... and yes, you are scared of him to a certain degree. you could never guess what he's thinking.

you weren't sure if he's as scary as people make him out to be though, since people tend to exaggerate gossip for the sake of shock value. he once defended a middle schooler from high school delinquents (through persuasion and not with fists), but the story somehow twisted into another tale entirely detailing how xiao had brutally wiped the floor with their faces and painted the concrete floor with blood...

but as intimidating as he might seem, you don't think he's that kind of character. if you overlook his piercing glare and sharp tongue, he's quite decent.

... you thought that way until you caught him tailing you on your way home.

he crept up behind you, maintaining a natural distance, but after numerous twists and turns in hopes of leading him away, he had yet to cease heading towards your direction. you wouldn't be so suspicious if you hadn't purposely gone in circles around town, leading back to where you came from — which meant he didn't have a particular destination in mind, and fully intended on being hot on your tail.

tired of having bated breath waiting for his next move, you gathered all your courage and confronted him directly, cornering him to the nearest wall to assert dominance. xiao seemed startled by your forwardness, and you took his moment of vulnerability as an opportunity to interrogate him.

unexpectedly, he sheepishly confesses, “i'm not a stalker, i got worried since you're going home this late. haven't you heard about the crime rate these days...”

from there on, you suppose you could say you understood him better. though he's snappy and stern, he's not that terrifying, even sweet at times. when you become proper friends (and you stop suspecting him as your stalker), he saves you a seat next to him, or brings you coffee that you like when he notices you're sleepy in class.

it wasn't long until everybody came to know you were friends and a girl finally — you guessed it — asked you to send a love letter to xiao in her stead.

when you gave it to xiao, he was unusually flustered, flushed pink to the tips of his ears. his expression falls flat once you tell him it's from someone else, badly containing the disappointment to show on his face.

nevertheless, you continue to be friends, and xiao has learned not to expect much from you.

he's the earliest to arrive in class, so you ask him if he'd seen the person who gave you flowers. with a cold, hard look, he says no.

he's acting kind of weird, isn't he...

diluc:

the barista in the coffee shop near your university that has to put up with so much bullshit flirting everyday.

he has to reject people in a roundabout way, and you know he hates it, but of course he has to provide great customer service if he still wants customers right... directly breaking their hearts would only make problems.

but he takes no shit from rude customers.

no, you weren't one of them. in fact, diluc quite liked you a bit. first of all, you don't have any romantic interest for the staff, you genuinely enjoy his drinks (he knows because your face is like an open book), and you mind your own business. he tolerates you enough that he can make small talk with you and it doesn't upset him in the slightest.

so it really ticked him off when some idiot was bothering you in the cafe, starting an argument over a trivial matter that shouldn't be fussed over.

in normal circumstances, diluc would've done the usual protocol — reason with the angry customer, offer free products, and let them leave the premises peacefully. but the moment he saw the man grab your shoulders and you winced in pain as a result, he didn't even have to think of what to do next.

cold coffee rained down on the ill-mannered man's head, evoking a surprised scream out of him. his fingers left your body in favor of patting away the sticky liquid from his clothes, and you stared blankly at the seething figure behind him.

“your order,” diluc announced, his voice tinted with rage. then he pretended to remember something, looking at the empty cup in his hand. “oh, i apologize. you ordered it hot, didn't you?” he forced a smile on his face. “would you like me to brew another one for you?”

the man erupted to a new screaming fit, but he was promptly dragged aside. diluc immediately questioned if you were hurt anywhere, his voice a total 180 from before and turning into a soft tone you nearly didn't recognize.

“that stunt you pulled...” you nervously said. “will you be okay...? won't you get, er, dismissed because of it?”

“...you don't know i own this place?”

“???”

in any case, you've become good friends ever since that incident. so when your secret admirer gives you your customized drink from diluc's shop (that even xiao doesn't know the recipe of!), you ask him if there's a customer who ordered your exact drink that morning.

strangely enough, he changes the subject.

“he only gave you coffee?” diluc wrinkles his nose. “he's not fit for you.”

he proceeds to shove you a plate of pancakes for breakfast and won't let you talk about that topic again.

kazuha:

the soft-spoken boy working part-time as a florist. as one would expect, his good-looking features attracted customers left and right, just like how a flower allures bees with its colorful petals and sweet nectar.

he studies in a different university from you, but it's relatively close by and you run into each other a lot. you could say you're pretty good friends; you exchanged contact information and text every other day, phone each other up to have a meal together whenever you're both free, and hang out over the weekend.

he stirred up some drama with you once. on a rainy day, he invited you to eat lunch together, but you've forgotten to take an umbrella before leaving for school so you told him you'd be a little late 'cause you had to run to the convenience store first. however, he told you not to worry about it and abruptly ended the call.

fast forward to the afternoon: the glass doors to leave the corridors had a few people lurking by, covering what was beyond. you cocked up an eyebrow in question, confused over what was all the fuss, but then you see that familiar pale hair streaked with bright red.

kazuha stood innocently by the school gates, a crimson umbrella in hand, and a small bouquet in the other. he checked his wristwatch every few minutes, seeming to be waiting for someone. he completely ignored the gawking stares pinned on his frame, busying himself by humming a quiet tune.

you hesitantly pushed open the doors, approaching him with wary steps. he immediately perked up once noticing you, beaming brightly to greet you with enthusiasm. he offered you the bouquet, telling you it's nothing more than a small gift the owner had let him craft for free (who mistakenly thought kazuha had a lover, since he was always on his phone texting someone).

you might have known the reasons behind the present, but nobody else did. and what general implications could gifting a bouquet of flowers have?

thus, the school's online forum exploded with questions, asking for the identity of the pretty boy standing by their university, and the lucky person he'd given flowers to.

needless to say it was hard to convince your friends that no, he isn't your boyfriend.

but that was another issue! the issue NOW is the other bouquet you received, much more recent in nature. after suspecting childe, your next thought was to ask kazuha if he had any buyers who purchased the same flowers you had.

his lips twitch for a moment, faintly looking displeased. but he flashes a flawless, award-winning customer service smile, covering his initial expression easily.

“no such customer ordered for those flowers that day. but i am curious about this matter... could you humor me and explain more in detail, by any chance?”

albedo:

the med student fawned over by students and teachers alike. he's simply brilliant, idolized by the entire student body. though he's mainly studying science, he's been praised for his art as well, his paintings hung in the art room proudly.

you're not very familiar with him, only knowing him through hearsay. you don't know what he looks like, so you've never confirmed for yourself if he's as beautiful everyone says he is.

he's well-known but you haven't heard anything bad about him, which is an impressive feat. his name is only ever mentioned in concert with endless compliments.

you meet him by chance in exam season. unsurprisingly, the library is filled to the brim, tables stacked high with books and each chair occupied by agitated students sipping energy drinks and coffee to stay functional. amidst all the chaos, one student remains radiant and carefree, leisurely flicking pages through his notes. he's situated by a corner table, unbothered by the mindless zombies despite having plenty of free seats beside him and everyone else is squished together like canned tuna.

and you, carrying binders, books and stationery, are visibly desperate for a place to rest. his eyes leave the words in his notes briefly, beckoning you to come closer. and you, still unaware of his identity, gladly plop on a chair and heave your heavy supplies atop the table. it shakes for a moment as it bears the new weight, rattling his items, and the zombies gape at you in question. ironically, the person you've been bothering is not offended at all.

you sneak glances at him when you need to freshen your eyes from studying, nauseated by the letters that never seem to come to an end no matter how many paragraphs you've read. you're at awe by his fair skin, not a single blemish in sight, and he doesn't even have dark circles under his eyes. truly mysterious. either he has a magical skincare routine or he's not human. if anything, you'd think he just came from a relaxing vacation, not in the middle of hell week.

you snap out of your trance, and you scold yourself for being bewitched. you have more pressing concerns, and so you grill more information into your brain, oblivious to the turquoise eyes that begin to stare at you.

the next encounter comes when exams are finally over, and you celebrate by buying the pricey food set in the cafeteria. the crunch of golden breading is rewarding for your taste buds and you shovel more food towards your mouth, minding your own business.

the seat next to you is pulled back, and you pause from chewing. it's that guy again, his refined beauty easy for you to recognize. he places his tray on the table, smiling amiably as he asks if it's fine with you should he sit there. you nod, but there's plenty of vacant tables around. it's also pretty weird that he sat next to you, not across...

well, strange as it is, that's how you befriend albedo. you've yet to learn why he came on so strong, almost aggressive. like he really wanted to talk to you. but whatever.

the more you learn about him, the more his image of “golden boy” withers away. picture of elegance? the standard of sophistication? sure. but this guy doesn't hesitate to do the weirdest shit sometimes.

he doesn't fear anything. he puts anything edible in his mouth. one school trip to the countryside taught you a few things. if he's offered fried bugs, he'll eat it. if he's given frog legs, he'll eat it. he doesn't care. he'll eat seemingly anything. because of this, you worry his admirers will put something strange in the food they give him, but that possibility doesn't cross his mind at all. (well. not that he eats it. he rejects gifts most of the time. exceptions are when they come from you.)

you're starting to think he really doesn't fear anything. when you start to scream in fright like a headless chicken while watching a horror movie, he calmly studies the anatomy of whatever horrifying creature is on screen, questioning their ability to walk when half of their body is split apart. why is he questioning horror movie logic. “ghosts are supposed to be transparent and can pass through walls, how come she can grab the main character's hair and drag him to the incinerator?” “albedo, please.” (he comforts you when you get scared, hiding your face in his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you. he softly whispers in your ear to tell you when the scary parts are over.)

he's also an overprotective older brother. for good reason, actually. his little sister, albeit cute and outwardly harmless, is an explosive child who likes to make trouble. if he takes his eyes off her for more than two minutes, she will undoubtedly set fire to his little garden.

she's the reason why he's so observant. he can tell you trimmed your hair because he's all too used to klee chopping off her own hair with craft scissors. he also notices when you feel a bit under the weather. klee is the type to hide her sickness so she could play outside, and albedo would often have to forcibly tuck her back to bed. you're no different. he will, quite literally, drag you to your house and make you rest.

but aside from being a pain in the ass, his observation skills can help you — surely albedo can make a few guesses for your secret admirer's identity?

albedo blinks at you, uncharacteristically silent. he purses his lips, and gives you a small smile. he asks a few unassuming questions, things like what traces your secret left behind, or if they'd sent a love letter and he'd check the penmanship to see if he found it familiar.

he's not the most eager to help, you know that, but you're still slightly disappointed when he says, “sorry, i can't help you with something like that. it'd be better if you figured it out yourself.”

thoma:

the cute neighbor living in the apartment next door. just like kazuha, he studies in a different university, but you run into each other a lot because... well. obviously.

you find him rather silly. he'd signed the lease not knowing pets weren't allowed in the premises, and tearfully waved taroumaru goodbye when he moved in. to cope, he started staying at the park near the apartment building, playing with the dogs there and getting hit on by their owners in the process, but let's not talk about that.

despite being a newcomer, he fit right in with the tenants. he made effort to learn everyone's names and chatted with them whenever presented a chance, thus winning their favor. it isn't a strange sight to see him with middle-aged ladies and looking at home, listening earnestly to their complaints about their husbands or rowdy children. (his hard work pays off when they give him their special recipes and inform him of supermarket deals lol)

he seems to get along well with old men too, invited to their drinking parties. except thoma isn't good at rejecting alcohol from older adults, so when you save him from such situation — pulling him away from the old men prying into his love life, because surely a good kid like him would have someone to love him dearly — he's become eternally grateful.

he's honestly too good for his own good.

exhibit a: thoma is prone to cooking too much food for one person to eat in one sitting, so he tends to invite you to eat his hotpot with him or bring you packaged food you can easily pop into a microwave. after your one act of goodwill, he's become strangely attached to you, pronouncing you best buds. he then admits he used to live with a larger group of people (hence his cooking habits), and he's thankful for your company. (you'd argue you're getting the better end of the deal, receiving free food like this)

exhibit b: he's always available to help you in your troubles. need a hand with heavy groceries? he's on his way! ran out of soy sauce? just wait a bit, he's gonna grab some from the cupboard! forgot your key inside your apartment? then stay at his place for the meantime before the locksmith comes! your shower isn't working well?... he promises he won't peek in the bathroom, so feel free to take a bath h a h a h a. need someone's opinion on what outfit to wear for a date? sure, he's- wait.

YOU'RE GOING ON A DATE?

his face twists weirdly as you showcase two different shirts, asking which one he likes better. you raise an eyebrow when he doesn't dare to utter a single word. “are they both bad?”

he blinks rapidly, then shakes his head laughing. he half-heartedly points to the shirt in your left hand, but you can tell he doesn't really think much of it. he excuses himself fairly quickly, saying he had chores to do, and scurried back to his own home.

(you were only going to a date with ayaka's older brother because she insisted you both needed a love life, but it's not like you actually feel anything for him.)

it doesn't end there. thoma acts weird sometimes. he's strangely cold when he sees you inviting kazuha to your apartment to hang out. he also stiffens when he spots xiao walking you home.

but by far, he acted the weirdest when your phone number called him, but when he answered, he heard a different voice respond.

it's childe, whom you went drinking with. he doesn't know where you live, and you're not nearly sober enough to return home on your own, and it's not like you'll agree to staying over childe's house. you also refuse telling him your address, so childe is left with no choices but to call for someone he knows.

he uses your fingerprint to unlock the password in your phone, heading straight for your contact list, and dialed thoma.

it doesn't take long for thoma to arrive where you are, panting after running for a while, and childe is almost impressed. thoma hoists you up and you obediently wrap your arms around him.

“sorry for the trouble. [name]'s dead drunk as you can see,” childe comments, chuckling to himself. thoma doesn't look amused and replies with, “it's no trouble at all. i'd be glad to help [name] anytime.”

then in a way that almost seems possessive, thoma leaves childe behind.

so now when you arrive home, bouquet in your arms, red dusting your features, thoma is displeased once more.

(yet he is envious of those who can freely profess their affections, because he's certain if he were to ever admit his feelings to you, things can never be the same.)

gorou:

you first suspected childe because you thought the bouquet of flowers was a joke, but if it wasn't and it was real with the intentions of sweeping you off your feet...

then you might have another suspect in mind.

gorou is... a funny guy. can you put it like that? you don't know what to think of him. he's nice, you already know that very well, kokomi's good friends with him and told you a few stories about him, all of which are sweet and amusing. your first impression of him was that of a pure-hearted boy that can do no wrong.

he's younger than you by a year, and kokomi was fairly excited when she first told you he would be attending the same university soon. she promised to introduce you to him in hopes you'd be friends as well.

and okay, you could get behind that. there's nothing wrong with meeting new people. gorou sounded like a great guy too, and it'd be nice to take care of someone younger. you've been coddled by your seniors the past year as a freshman, and you thought it would only be right if you did the same to the new batch of students.

so you attended the welcoming party kokomi dragged you into. it was just a small gathering to get the freshmen familiarize themselves with older students, and she told you you'd get to meet gorou there, her eyes carefully scanning the crowd in pursuit of a specific face.

just as you were reminiscing over the past where your sadistic seniors encouraged you to drink a lot in the last welcoming party, shuddering in fright, kokomi tapped your shoulder and gestured to the brown haired boy standing before you.

it must be him. per courtesy, your lips curled into a practiced smile, exuding an amicable air. kokomi briefly exchanged a few words with him, but it looked like she was doing all the talking, the male frozen in spot as if he'd seen something strange.

he stared at you blankly, eyes slightly widened, and you slowly became unnerved with his vacant gaze, your smile faltering. you made eye contact with kokomi, silently questioning her, but she gave a subtle shrug of her shoulders, also confused by his behavior.

then, completely out of everyone's expectations, he'd dropped to the floor.

gorou had knelt on the ground with one steady knee, solemn in his endeavors. in an instant, your hand was seized, fingers enclosed in his warm palm. his piercing stare was impassioned, sincere at its core. heat shot up to the tips of your ears.

“marry me!”

his voice resounded in the entire room, earning unwanted attention. the chatter halted immediately, all eyes dedicated to the spectacle that was the both of you, and your mind began to spin, cold sweat dripping down your forehead.

your voice was caught in your throat, not knowing what to say, and all you could formulate was a garbled string of incoherent mess. undeterred, the grasp on your hand was unrelenting, gorou committed through this act until the very end.

everyone was thinking the same thing: we haven't even started drinking yet, but this little guy is drunk already??

shameless. crazy. a head with loose screws. you're probably the only one who'd describe gorou that way.

but what kind of sane man would say that upon first meeting???

kokomi quickly tried to mediate the situation for him, pulling him away and patting his back to knock him out of his dazed stupor, and pushed you to the farthest corner.

she vouched for him when she saw your puzzled expression, thinking of him as a weirdo, and she insisted he's normally not that odd. she swears he was never interested in dating before, and she isn't sure what changed for him to... propose... all of a sudden... to you, who he'd barely seen for ten seconds, no less.

naturally, it feels strange for you to see him. after that disastrous encounter, gorou — who did feel embarrassment for what he did, horrified at his own impulsiveness — tried to make amends, backtracking steps (he skipped way too many and immediately went to propose lol) and treating you normally like a friend of a friend, slowly trying to make the atmosphere between you casual instead of a freezing blizzard that kills off the amicable mood.

in spite of all that, however, you do feel as if his feelings are actually genuine. he can be clumsy, and incredibly so, you don't know who else could propose to another person within a span of a minute meeting them for the first time, but he means well! you started off on the wrong foot, and maybe this bouquet of flowers is him trying to curry your favor... or something...

yet all he gives is a disbelieving look, and that's enough to provide a clear answer: it's not from him, and he's upset.

it,, probably wasn't a good idea to ask someone who likes you about another person who likes you.

but if it isn't him, who else could it be?!

drop your guesses in the comments but im pretty sure it's already obvious lol

。SINCERELY, YOUR BAD INFLUENCE

━━ PAIRING: scaramouche/reader

━━ GENRE: fluff

━━ SUMMARY: the pile of bills waiting to be paid had exhaustion weighing over you like a feasting ghost. good thing that your dear lover was someone who's proven to be adept at fighting off your worries in more ways than one.

━━ CONTAINS: modern!au, established relationship, reader is an office worker, domestic fluff, crude language, scaramouche is implied to be a former member of a gang/mafia, conversational mentions of violence, lowercase intended

━━ VALENTINE’S 2022 EVENT SPECIAL (LATE POST)

EACH step was made with purpose, which is to say, each step was made with a murderous glint in his eyes as he confidently walked the streets leading back to his home. a sick sense of pleasure throbbed underneath his skin, expressed in the victorious smirk on his face as his eyes watched the passers-by avoid him without so much as a complaint. never mind the fact that he was wearing your oversized hoodie or the fact that he was barely cradling four bags filled with grocery items on his own, scaramouche was just as terrifying as he was back in his heyday.

a familiar ringtone broke the silence he kept as he walked and he groaned as he fumbled with his things before opening his messaging app. though, of course, you had to be blind to miss the way the mood around him shifted. gone was the murderous glint in his eyes as it was replaced with an exasperatedly tender gaze. had the strangers not witnessed the way scaramouche nearly bit their head off for staring just a few seconds earlier, they would've been confident to say that they passed by two different people who just looked scarily similar. still, between their own busy lives and the possibility of being involved in a petty fight should they breathe in the direction of a ticking time bomb, the people left him to his own devices — just as they should do.

"where are you?" the text read and scaramouche scoffed at the cold way those words reached him. then again, what was it that he was hoping for? a few heart emojis? a disgustingly, cute nickname? he could only grit his teeth as he feels heat pool in his cheeks. typing back a quick reply, he pocketed his phone before resuming his trek home. the faster he got there, the less the chance that he'll embarrass himself by simultaneously combusting in the middle of the road because of his straying thoughts.

at home, you groaned as you stretched, back aching from the sitting position you held for hours straight. it has been a while since you had the luxury of not having to go overtime at work and you figured that it would be nice to spend it with your grump of a lover who has "subtly" expressed his displeasure over the lack of attention you were giving him these past few weeks. to your surprise, he wasn't home and was in fact, fetching groceries when you were sure it was your turn to do so. lips twitching upwards fondly, you felt your heart clench in adoration. nothing beats acts of service when you're about to pass out from exhaustion.

as if on cue (and you wouldn't be surprised if scaramouche really had a sixth sense for when you're about to fall asleep without giving him so much as a glance), the door opened to reveal your lover whose frown worsened as he spots you from afar. moving closer, he eyed you up and down before squinting — a tell that he does right before he's about to ridicule you out of concern. something about his "you look like shit" actually means "are you okay?" in his prominent language of tough love. wanting to be spared the rudeness today, you beat him to it by giving him a sugary smile.

"welcome home, honey boo! how was your trip to the market?"

scaramouche froze, before a sharp glare was directed at your laidback position on the couch, "what did you just call me?"

"hm? what was that, honey boo?"

your typically collected, although also mostly feisty, lover grimaced but the adorable blush that colored the tips of his ears made him look softer than he actually was. it was difficult maintaining your composure when he was so easy to infuriate but this time, the laughter that bubbled deep from the depths of your core was something you didn't even bother hiding. instead, you helped him set the groceries on the coffee table before pulling him into you as you laid against the fluff of your throw pillows with a sigh.

"oi, let me go. i need to put the groceries away."

"later..." you groaned as you nuzzled your face deeper into his neck. an action that worsened the already vibrant hue on his cheeks, "didn't you say you wanted my attention last week, schnookums."

scaramouche jabs a finger at your waist, "shut up or i'm leaving."

you loved him and you love the act of teasing him even more but at the end of the day, you were a human who instinctively clung to the idea of preserving your life from ferocious, little people like your lover. deciding that you're going to live for at least another fifty peaceful years, you silently snuggle up to him. right, this was better... there was no need to tell him that the way his arms were firmly wound up around your waist — occasionally even tugging you closer — was enough to tell you that he had no intention of leaving the couch anytime soon.

from his position, he could hear the rhythm of your heart clearly and the way you would occasionally sigh in contentment. he's far from being religious and the colorful words he spouts on the daily are enough to have him excommunicated under multiple counts of heresy and blasphemy but if he were to be truly honest and vulnerable with himself for a change, this — you and him and silence, separated from the rest of the tumultuous world — is heaven. it's either that or heaven is nothing at all.

after all, what could paradise offer that could top the way your fingers ran through his hair, massaging the parts that hurt whenever something or, rather, someone, decides to give him a headache? your hand falls from his hair and to his back, tracing swirls and shapes down his spine and it took his all to not shiver as little zaps of electricity traveled with your touch. right... this has to be heaven, the only kind he'll believe and turn holy for. confident now that you won't see his face, scaramouche leaned up to brush his lips over the side of your neck — lightly, barely there but loving, all the same — before closing his eyes. the groceries could wait.

it was half past seven when he awoke once more and immediately, an irritated grumble left his lips at the notable lack of your presence. standing up with a low whine, scaramouche moved towards your home office knowing that that's the only place you'll be at this hour.

"what the hell are you doing?"

you hummed in reply, not shocked at the annoyed tone he was using with you when he purposely announced his irritation for the world to hear with each loud stomp he made on his way over to you, "there was an emergency at work. i just need to get this done quick."

"you're at home. stop slaving yourself for your shitty boss."

you don't respond, too busy typing an email for your colleagues and scaramouche didn't like the lack of response as before you know it, he had turned your swivel chair in his direction and flicked your forehead.

"ow! what—"

"you have thirty minutes to fix whatever it is that your incompetent co-workers fucked up. if you're not by the dining table by then, i'm throwing the router in the bin and knocking you out so you'll actually get a decent amount of sleep, you moron with shit for brains."

knowing that there was no room to argue with him, you nodded in defeat, something that made scaramouche snicker, "now, how hard was that?"

"ugh, romance is dead i swear..."

"tragic. happy valentine's, brat."

laughing at his jab, you went back to work with renewed motivation and aggression as you deleted a few lines from your email that came out sounding too polite. seriously, he and his gremlin attitude were rubbing onto you.

in the kitchen, scaramouche stared at the ingredients in front of him. he wasn't a bad cook per se, he just wasn't the best. cooking was usually left in his... acquaintance's hands. the annoying ginger head dropped by too often for his liking and when scaramouche told him off for lounging around his home when he brought nothing to the table, he began bringing tupperwares of food made by his mom instead of taking a hint and not coming over anymore. still, you were thoroughly amused and well-fed given the strange turn of events so he learned to take it in stride. the less work for either of you, the safer it was for the rest of the world.

staring at the vegetables in contempt, scaramouche huffed before scrolling through his contacts where at the top, your favorite fast food restaurant's delivery hotline was saved for all the times you found yourself craving something he can't possibly make. hesitating, scaramouche glanced at the vegetables again before giving up and dialing. while there's less romance now that he's proven incapable of making a proper homecooked meal that's not eggs and bacon, he knew that credit's still due as he recited your order, memorized through the heart and well, the number of times this situation has occurred.

so what if there's no candle-lit dinner, scaramouche argues as he continues to defend his choice fifteen minutes after he placed his order, at least you'll be eating something that isn't burnt today.

to his surprise, you finished five minutes before he expected you to and you were even pleased that he had ordered in instead of cooking. too much work you said, but scaramouche figured that you've just been watching too many romanticized sitcoms as of late. the rest of the night was a blur of doing your nightly routines side by side, no different from a regular day and frankly, he liked that. over the top, corporate benefiting actions were never his style anyway. what he did remember was that you had sloppily laid your body over his last night, effectively knocking the air out of his lungs as he was left to support your entire weight without any sort of warning. the high-pitched evil voice that reigned the insides of scaramouche's head urged him to push you off of him to return the utter lack of regard but one look at the dark circles under your eyes and he was sighing in defeat. how detestable... if he had known that he would keel over for someone so weak, he would've laughed and thrown a world-ending fit of rage earlier. you were neither great nor mighty but, good heavens, you seem to have a knack for making his blood boil. he knew that some people are born gentle and kind but you? you were overflowing with so much goodwill in your heart that you might as well adopt those annoying, little cherubs that are glowing and praising every single one of your self-sacrificial acts of kindness behind your back.

really, what was he thinking when he fell for a saint?

now conscious, scaramouche toyed with the idea of telling you off and guiding you back into his stellar path of becoming a grudge-holding menace of society. it's definitely not a concern for your well-being that's bringing this thought into mind. it's just... scaramouche sighed, before directing his gaze to the continuous pinging of your phone from far away. he should really give your overindulgent coworkers a piece of his mind. stopping in his tracks, a devious grin and manic look crossed over his face. something that was hurriedly removed as you let out a muffled whine, now also roused from sleep.

"wait... what's happening?"

scaramouche smiles and that was when you knew that something was awfully wrong, "good morning to you too."

shivering slightly, you reluctantly left the bed in favor of getting to work on time. if things went south because of him... well, you'll think about that later when it does occur.

noon approached much too swiftly and before long, it was your lunch break. you could skip lunch, you mused as you eyed the towering pile of papers you had to get through today but before you could begin working on another one, a small bag was placed in front of you haphazardly.

"...scara?"

"why are you looking at me like that with your blank eyes?!" he seethed as a soft pink brought color to his face again, "it's your break, right? there! i bought you lunch because i made too much!"

you doubted the legitimacy of his last statement but before you could tease him or thank him for that matter, he was already scurrying off. shaking your head, you opened the bag only to be greeted with a neon pink post-it with "stop sucking up to your scum of a boss and report him for passing his workload to you. it's not like i can't beat him up if things go wrong" written on it. stifling a laugh, you opened the container to be greeted with the leftovers from last night and freshly cooked eggs made exactly the way you like them.

that man, really... you giggled to yourself as you began typing a report to the hr.

each step was made with purpose, which is to say, each step was made with a murderous glint in his eyes as he confidently walked out of your office and back to his home. a sick sense of pleasure throbbed underneath his skin, expressed in the victorious smirk on his face as his eyes watched your hopeless colleagues avoid him without so much as a complaint. nevermind the fact that he was definitely acting like a househusband just as ajax teased him to be or that he's shorter than everyone he passed by, scaramouche was just as terrifying as he was back in his heyday and the scaramouche of back then is all too happy to be the monster that terrifies those who dare exploit what's his.

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despair! | genshin impact smau ++ kazuha x fem!reader

“it’s not love I swear, it might be closer to despair”

summary— what happens if your childhood friend you used to hate is now ur seatmate?

contains— enemies to friends. , fluff, angst, crack, pre and post pandemic au!, childhood friends, —okay maybe to possibly lovers

status— 02-27-22 , ongoing!

note— this story is heavily connected to my other smau ‘someone you like’ so if you’re going for the xiao route, please read ‘someone you like’ until chapter five and after finishing act one of this, you can stop there and continue with the xiao smau

if you’re going for the kazuha route, you don’t have to read the xiao one and just finish both acts for this one!!

if you want both routes on the other hand, read ‘someone you like’ until chapter five, finish act on of this, finish reading someone you like until the end, then start on act two with this smau

chapters!

ACT ONE

one— finding new friends

two— she’s ugly

three— we’re only friends because our parents are

four— two best friends locked in a closet,, jk they aren’t friends

five— paper rings

six— seatmates for the entire year

seven— feelings fade

eight— different person

nine— anything to keep friendships

ten— he’s cute ig

eleven— are you dumb? I wouldn’t let some guy get in the way of our friendship

twelve— misunderstandings possibly cleared?

thirteen— misunderstandings not cleared

fourteen— third year, starts

fifteen— watching her

sixteen— in his arms again

ACT TWO

tba!!

taglist!open— @renuqi @yay-im-fucking-trash @lunavixia @snowggvk @nebulaera @tkooooop @yanderehornyyae @yaemikosblogg

if ur url is highlighted, it means you cannot be tagged.

“ GENSHIN IMPACT !! ” 🏷️— SNEZHNAYA DOES NOT BELIEVE IN TEARS (CHILDE X READER).

＃CHARACTERS! — CHILDE.

＃CONTENT WARNING(S)! — ANGST.

＃MASTERLIST! — HERE.

＃ALT ACCOUNTS! — @yyolkchi (spam/sketch posting account!) & @ddollipop (mature fic account!)

＃A/N! — INSPIRED BY THE OFFICIAL RELEASE OF THE HARBINGER DESIGNS, SOMEONE CONVINCE ME NOT TO SIMP FOR PANTALONE, HELP ME.

Snezhnaya isn't always so bitter and cold.

Sure, the winter is unrelenting, the snow piles high, up and above the heads of small children who know of nothing else outside the nation's borders, —but there's warmth to be found in this icy place. Warmth comes and goes like the frosty winds that sweep across the land. It's fleeting, and painfully unreliable, but perhaps the worst part of it all is that you reach for it every single time it comes back around, no matter how long it's been without a single flickering flame off in the distance to let you know it hasn't been extinguished.

Childe comes and goes as he pleases. He's a Fatui Harbinger first, and your lover second. You know that to be the case, even when he denies it, even when he insists to you that he does what he does in order to build a better life, —for himself first, then his family and you, because you've "always been included in that from the day I fell in love with you." Family. It's nice to think about, but it's hard to imagine that Childe sees you so fondly when he hardly ever sees you at all these days. His visits have gotten shorter, only lasting a week at most, and they're now few and far between. His travels have gotten longer, and he comes back with more injuries than he ever has before.

But you can't seem to let him go, no matter what he does, no matter what he says, no matter how many times he disappears into the distance and leaves you hanging by a thread for days, weeks, months. . . You wait. You turn down the men that only swing by the confectionery shop you work at to flirt with you while they mindlessly order small boxes of chocolates or fudge. You go home to an empty bed, saving his side just in case he crawls in through the window again in the dead of night. You hold that shirt of his that he left at your apartment not-so-accidentally half a year ago to the lower half of your face, breathing in whatever's left of his scent after all this time. It's fading, just like he is. . . But you won't wash it, nor will you wash yourself clean of him. The ties between him and you have turned into iron chains. Sometimes, they curl around your neck and pull taut until you're sputtering, falling to your knees on the floor next to his side of the bed.

You weep. You worry. You drive yourself mad wondering if he's okay, if he's injured, if he's doing alright. And then he waltzes his way back in like he never left, —and you should be angry. You should probably hate him by now after all the sleepless nights and harrowing days he's put you through, but the moment he returns with that arrogant laugh and that cocky smile, you've already lost the fight. He opens his arms and you've slotted yourself between them before you have half the mind to stop yourself, letting him hold you even though he doesn't deserve to. The thick fur of his coat tickles your neck, then weighs heavily on your spine when he sheds it like an unneeded extra layer of skin and places it around your shoulders.

Now's the time when you should shove it off, look him dead in those ocean blue eyes and tell him that you're tired of this, —that it's all too much, and you deserve better. But when he's here, he's the best man you could ever ask for. He's doting, even when his body aches and it's hard for him to move around properly. He understands when you crack under the pressure, letting you cry on his shoulder as he rubs little circles into your skin by the fire. It crackles, and your heart sings for him. Childe is all you've ever wanted. For so many years, you've watched him grow and change, becoming the person he is today who is many things: some good, some bad. But the bitter truth remains that you are an affair, second to his job that he works for tirelessly. As long as he's a Harbinger, the only place you'll ever have is as a homewrecker.

Here you are though. . . Again.

"Easy," he requests, voice strained from the pulse of his aching ribs, "—I missed you too."

"It's been two months since I last saw you, Childe," you comment, sounding much more bitter than you'd intended. "No letters, no nothing, and I. . . I was scared something had happened. Something bad."

Guilt floods through his veins. He hadn't even realized it had been quite that long. His tireless work which often requires an intense amount of traveling is known to easily allow him to lose track of time. Still, he knows he should have sent someone to give you a message somewhere in between his camp setups. He should have done more to ensure that you weren't losing sleep over him.

"I'm sorry," he relents, voice thick with melancholy. "Time gets away from me on jobs. That's not an excuse, though. I need to be more mindful of your feelings, and I'll work on that."

You hate this. When he has time to spare for you, the last thing you want to do is spend it talking about all the ways he's made you worry or feel small unwittingly. In a way, you feel equally responsible for your own feelings. He never misrepresented himself to you after all. . . You knew what you were getting yourself into, and you jumped headfirst into the fire. Because Childe, above all things, is warm. 

"We can talk about it later," you mumble against the skin of his neck.

Later will likely never come, but you're keen on overlooking that. For now, at least. Until he leaves once more in a few days time, and you're forced to reconcile with loneliness again. And so the cycle will begin; he leaves, and you tell yourself this is the last time. When he comes back, you'll pull yourself free of his grasp: the one that's ice cold sometimes, but still manages to nip at your moth-eaten, frostbitten heart. But then the next time comes around, and you find yourself in his embrace again.

"People are starting to stare."

They're common folk from the looks of it, just regular citizens of Snezhnaya, same as you. Even so, it's impossible to know when someone may be working as an informant. Childe's head on a platter is worth at least a couple hundred million Mora. . .

"You're pretty," Childe notes, a playful smile pulling at the corners of his lips, "they can't help themselves."

That's far removed from the reality of the situation, but his comment still makes you giggle. The truth is that Childe is somewhat of a Snezhnayan celebrity; much as all the Harbingers are. They rule with an iron fist over a great deal of politics, trade, travel, economic systems, and social functionality. The Harbingers are well respected, but also immeasurably feared. That is the real reason all the people have begun to throw glances your way. You're with Childe.

"Hardly," you brush the comment off, stifling a giggle.

"Hardly?" Childe parrots, "—Don't be so modest. You're the most beautiful person in Snezhnaya. In all of Teyvat, even. And trust me, I've probably seen every inch of this world. Parts of other worlds too, and none of it compares to you."

He means it. Not just outerly, though he does think your physical beauty is utterly unmatched, —but internally. When he's down and wondering if he should even bother to pull himself back up, he thinks of you, and you give him the strength he needs to move forward. He thinks of your smile, the way your eyes reflect starlight, the way your bleeding heart welcomes him and gives him shelter. When he sleeps beside you, he likes to imagine that he's sunken into your being, and that you've sunken into him. He sleeps behind your ribcage, right next to your beating heart, and you sleep next to his.

"You're laying it on thick tonight," you comment.

His compliments pile up like the snow at your feet, and you know what that means.

"You're not staying for long, are you?"

The glimmer in his eyes dies out a little as his face falls, and you wish you hadn't said anything. It's too late now though.

". . . Things haven't been easy since Rosalyne's death," he says. "Her work has been mitigated to the rest of us, and I've been given the tasks that require the most travel, since I'm the one who leaves Snezhnaya the most."

He's avoiding the question, and you sigh; warm breath hitting the cold air in a little cloud of vapor.

"You'll be gone by morning then?" You ask.

Childe opens his mouth to speak, but you already know the answer, so he purses his lips together a few seconds later. There's no point in rubbing salt in the wound.

"Let's go," you prompt, pulling him by the hand. "It's freezing, and you don't have a coat anymore."

"I don't really need one," he assures you, "I was born and raised here in Snezhnaya, after all. I'm more than used to the weather."

You just want to get inside. Both because your fingers have started to go numb, and because you know Childe has injuries that you're keen on looking after before the sun rises and daybreak comes. By then, he'll be gone again, and you'll be left to wait for him once more.

The way snow crunches under his feet is an almost comforting sound. It's been a while since you've heard it. There's a certain something to every little thing he does, —as if the world all but bends for his will and the universe seeks to bow at his feet. He's the only man alive you'd wait this long for.

He squeezes your hand as if to say "I'm sorry."

And you squeeze his in return to let him know that it's okay, —everything is fine— even though it isn't. It never really has been. But when this coat is draped over your shoulders, his fingers have laced with yours, and he's pulling you close to keep you warm, it's easy to convince yourself that maybe one day everything won't be so bad. He'll find a way to make things better for everyone: himself, his family, you. . . He'll find a way to ease the sting that comes when you wake up in the morning and he's not there.

He'll hold you to sleep, then pull away at the first sign of sunrise. Just like the icy winds of Snezhnaya, he'll come and go with the breeze.

They're bitter. They hurt. But they dry your tears when they swoop in from the north, and sometimes, they carry Childe's heartbeat along with them.

The thick blanket of snow along the ground glitters in the humble moonlight. Childe's hand is placed at the small of your back, matching the curve. And somehow, it's comforting in ways any apology he could ever give never would be. Once again, you're being swept away; washed out into his sea. You're drowning in him.

"I love you," he whispers, for your ears only.

Like it's just between the two of you, —some deep, dark secret, or something precious he hopes you'll only ever need to hear from him.

You'll think about that secret, that precious whisper, come morning when Childe sneaks away at the first sign of daylight. Maybe if you're lucky, you'll catch a glimpse of his footprints before the new snowfall rains down from the heavens and buries them, erasing all traces that he was ever even here in the first place.

"I love you too," you answer honestly.

It's all you have the will to say

But sometimes, I wish I didn't.

koko & nupi as black dragons' baseball team battery ⚾

Genshin + Spending the morning with them

With: Scaramouche

Words: 1,1k

Warnings: suggestive, slight making out, fluff

Note: The reader is gender neutral, enjoy :)

Xiao Part

The moment you wake up, you know it’s going to be a tiring day; as lately a lot of your days have been.

It’s early. Too early for the sun to be up, but the dawn was bright enough to let you admire the sleeping form next to you.

After all this time, you find yourself still adoring how at ease, even nearly peaceful Scaramouche could look while sleeping. So contrary to his usual intimidating demeanor. Hair falling all over his face, legs tangled with your own and some parts of the blanket.

At times like that, he isn’t the 6th Fatui Harbinger, he isn’t the balladeer, he is simply… Kunikuzushi

It is truly a shame to have to leave, but unlike your lover, you aren’t a harbinger, thus having a tighter, more governed work schedule.

So, you swing your legs over the bedside, stretching the tiredness away and looking a little dazed around the room, mentally preparing yourself for another day of work.

But you are stopped in your movements when you suddenly feel a hand curling around your waist.

“And where do you think you’re going,” a voice, barely awake murmurs. Scaramouche rests his head down on your shoulder, hugging you lightly from behind.

You chuckle softly.

“You know, you have to get up soon, too, right?”

He grunts disgruntled somewhere near your ear. It was common knowledge that the balladeer solely does whatever and whenever he pleases. Unless of course, the order comes from high above.

You smile to yourself, placing a hand above his own on your waist.

Scara’s breath tickles against your neck, before you feel him slowly starting to plant down soft, nearly delicate kisses down your skin. He moves from your neck, up to your jaw, the sensitive skin right below your ear and then down your shoulders again.

Shivering, you hold your breath. It isn’t very usual for him to act that affectionately, let alone during early morning hours.

But just as you are about to close your eyes in enjoyment, he stops. You try not to pout, not wanting to get him the satisfaction. Still, you turn around to face him-

-when you suddenly find yourself pinned down on the bed, hands spread to each side of your face. Scara is holding your wrists firmly, but not enough to hurt you.

His lips are curved into a sly smile, mustering you. Though, the sleepiness in them balances his comportment. “You know I could just order you to stay here, right?”

Your eyes narrow. Oh, that’s where this is going.

“Sure, you could,” you tease. “But who said I would listen?”

To this Scaramouche furrows his brows, his eyes darkening a little. Then he bends his head dangerously down to you, lips hovering above yours.

“Well then,” he whispers in a lowered voice. “I’d like seeing you try to deny my wishes.”

Your mouth twists, clearly amused by his antics, but nevertheless your heartbeat fastens. A lot. “Shut up and kiss me already.”

“What, that desperate?”

You blink, a little baffled.

This cheeky little bastard…

Deciding, not to let him get his way, to just tease him a bit more, you shrug your shoulders, looking away from him. “Well, seems like I have to go to work then.” Moving to stand up, you try to push him aside, but – of course – he doesn’t let you. Instead, his grip around your wrists tightens just a little bit, forcing you to stay.

Scara raises an eyebrow. “Better watch your mouth, darling.”

You stare back up at his eyes, mustering him curiously. “Or what?”

Daring today, aren’t we?

At this he tilts his head, eyes narrowing. Then he leans forwards a fraction, his face so close to yours that your gaze widens for a second.

You hold your breath, eyes consistently darting from his eyes to his mouth.

His eyelids drop and - blinded by instinct - you lean in. Just before your lips could touch, though, Scaramouche backs up again, just an inch.

He chuckles darkly, eyes burning in delight at your misery. “Go on. Ask me.” He lifts his hand and slowly starts running his thumb over your lips.

“Wow, you’re such a tease today,” you reply, though your voice comes out much weaker than you had anticipated.

“Say the word, darling.”

Merely inches apart from each other, you stare at each other’s lips, breath fastening.

Swallowing, a hoarse whisper escapes you. “Kiss me.” Then you lick your lips and say “please.”

Scaramouche doesn’t wait a second longer.

This time he bends fully down, lips pressing against your own, capturing you all in; your whole body, mind and spirit are filled up with him. His touch, his smell, his body.

Brows furrowed, he moves his hand slowly over your shoulder, into your hair, while loosening the grip on your wrist to stabilizes himself on the bed.

You pull him a little closer to you, deepening the kiss; fingertips running down his spine, you could feel him shiver at your touch.

At the time you break apart your limbs are tightly pressed together, chest panting with heavy breaths. For a few moments you are unable to open your eyes, savouring the feeling, the sensation of his lips on yours.

“What are you thinking about?”

Still a little dazed, you look up into Scara’s smug face. Not even surprised that he doesn’t look even the slightest bit out of breath.

“You.”

Scaramouche lets out a low chuckle. “Precisely.”

Though in the next moment his taunting demeanour lessens, instead something more… mellow appears in its place.

With a soft touch he runs his fingers along your face, slowly gliding over the darkened skin beneath your eyes.

You’re exhausted.

Lately, you’ve been working a lot more than usual. He has noticed of course.

So, yes, he wants you to stay in bed, For his own benefit, but also for yours. Though, he wouldn’t phrase these reasons aloud.

“Stay here.”

You muster him, fingers gently playing with some strands of his hair. “You know I can’t. Contrary to you, people are not afraid to get upset with me, you know. I might actually lose my job.”

He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Tsk, I’m not a harbinger for nothing. They won’t dare to bother you if I intervene.”

You couldn’t help but give a lopsided grin. “You’re cute when you’re still half asleep like that.”

Scoffing, Scara rolls his eyes, sliding his hands down to hold you by the waist. “Remind me to kill you later,” he murmurs just before he presses his lips back on yours

Thanks for reading! :) Comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

haitani rkgk

“You’re flirting with me just so you can eat my food, aren’t you?”

“Is that really what you think of me?” Kaeya smiles lightly at you. He’s dressed casually today, lacking much of the usual pomp and extraneous flair. Granted, it is summer, and that large fur coating he always has draped over his shoulder is much too warm for a night like this. “You haven’t seen me in so long, and now you’re making accusations?”

Keep reading

mono

[ xiao x little adepti!reader ]

summary: xiao realizes that he wasn't really alone.

note: i miss little devil and xiao :'> | m.list

words: 1622 | warnings: mentions of perilous trails and kinda shitty narrative because it's 4 am and im sleepy | REPOST

"they've been staying at that exact spot for three days, mister zhongli," verr turns to the child sitting on a blanket at the balcony of the inn with a worried look on her face. in her hands is a tray with a plate of almond tofu and a glass of water. she was just about to deliver it herself, when she came upon zhongli, who was also making his way to the balcony.

"i think they're waiting for xiao to come home," the gentleman can only sigh in response, for he had already expected this before he made his way to dihua marsh.

"i see. thank you for letting me know. may i?" he gestured to the plate and cup, "i came to check upon them, so if you don't mind?"

"of course," she carefully hands him the tray, "thank you. now, if you'd excuse me," she gives him one last smile—albeit a little sad—before turning to walk back to the front desk.

zhongli nods at her, before continuing his ascent to the balcony with the tray in his hand. the sound of his footsteps on the wooden platform alarms the figure on the floor, little shoulders perking up and turning around to face him.

your eyes are not as bright as they were a few weeks ago, zhongli noted.

"baba," you smile at him—too timid and doesn't reach their ears, he thought— "is that almond tofu?"

"indeed," he placed the tray on a nearby table, taking the plate and the fork and kneeling beside you on the blanket, "would you like to eat it now while it's still freshly made?"

"yes please."

handing you the plate and fork, you start to feed yourself little by little.

zhongli watches you do so from the corner of his eyes, lips tugging downwards from how you seem so… in your own world. silence was not an unusual thing with you, but this kind of eerie silence is slowly eating him. you've always been a child full of wonder and curiosity. if he's not retelling thousands of his stories, then it's you theorizing about everything and anything.

"baba," zhongli snapped out from his thoughts, gold eyes meeting your somber ones, "were do you think gege xiao is?"

oh.

so this is what this is about, zhongli turned his head towards the direction of the harbor, as if searching for an answer. in some ways, he is. he didn't want to speak about the chasm or xiao's impending doom to you.

"xiao is… facing a big obstacle right now."

"will he be alright?"

in all honesty, even zhongli doesn't have a definite answer. he knows xiao, alatus, is strong and more than capable of protecting himself and others. if he wasn't, he would have been swallowed by his karmic debt long ago. he is most resilient and devoted to his cause. but he is also too destructive for the sake of others—self sacrifice and unshakeable from his own principles. too much that he disregards his own safety.

"his safety is not guaranteed—" zhongli grimaced at the way your lips wobbled, "—but i can guarantee that the strength he had when he first decided to face his predicament, will be with him throughout and will remain within him right to the end."

zhongli pats the top of your head, letting your body lean on his side with a relieved smile at the somewhat at peace expression on your face.

he may not have quelled the storm within you, but he hopes that his words had at least given you more hope and confidence in your brother.

"i miss gege," you whimpered.

"worry not, little one. he'll return to us soon."

he says this to you and to himself.

xiao can feel exhaustion eating away inside him.

when he said that escaping will take everything he has, he really did mean that in all ways. the method used in the end wasn't the same as he had first planned, but either way, both still required all of his power.

the only difference was that there's a chance of survival with the second option.

well, he wouldn't have survived without rex lapis' help, but he at least came very close to that chance.

"heroes, huh," he says to himself, looking down at the shrine below him. the words that the traveler and the cow—ushi, was it?—had told him just a few minutes ago echoed in his mind.

a lot had transpired in just a few days—days for him but it might have taken them more or less than a week though, he's not too sure about that—and even after the vigilant yaksha said that he'd take their advice, there's still a lot to mentally go through with the whole experience.

maybe it was because seeing bosacius—for the last time—brought a lot of ache in his heart or the fact that he had almost met his end in the deep and dark underground space. perhaps it's a combination of both. for the few seconds that was spent falling into the depths of the chasm, he had felt the loneliest that he has ever been.

it somewhat scared him. the crippling fear when you know that it's the end and no one is there to witness you do so—it seems that yakshas do have fears of their own. his just happens to be the fear of dying without ever leaving a dent in someone's mind.

maybe this fear manifested because he was never really alone at all.

"gege!"

that's right. i was never truly alone. i just didn't really acknowledge that someone was there for me.

"gege!"

in fact, someone was always there for me, holding onto me.

xiao ignores the cries of rest from his muscles, limbs trembling at the ache that seems to dig itself into his bones. but he persevered, like he always does, pushing himself to stand.

"gege xiao."

the call for his name was clear as the sky—back at the chasm, he realized that the muffled noise he kept hearing at the back of his head was his name being called numerous times, the sound being blocked by whatever lives in that underground space. this time, finally, he can hear it as if the voice was right next to his ear. it sounded weak, a plea for him to appear.

it sounded like they've been calling him for so long only to be in vain.

with one last surge of his power, he enveloped himself with a green mist, disappearing and reappearing as fast as the wind could take him. only this time, his feet meet the wooden platform of his home.

ah, home. this is the first time i ever called someplace home.

"gege?..."

his head lifts up to where the sound came from, amber eyes meeting puffy ones—evidence of the time you've spent crying.

he says nothing, nor can he really think of something to say in this kind of situation. instead, he drags his heavy feet to your flabbergasted form on the floor.

once close enough, his knees fell to the ground with a loud thud, arms immediately sweeping you close with a relieved sigh.

"it's me," he whispers, "i'm here. i came back—and i'm never leaving you again."

after a moment of silence—you were still processing his sudden appearance—he hears the start of your cries, soft whimpers and sniffles right next to his ear and your small arms barely wrapping around his neck, fisting the cloth on his shoulder.

xiao does not initiate any kind of affection. yet here he is, striding towards you across the floor of the balcony with an urgency that you've never seen him have before, embracing you himself in a tight hug. it spurred more tears from your already weary eyes, the familiar warmth of your dear brother and his reassuring voice giving you a sense of peace—the ugly voices in your head are no more.

"w-where have you been?" you sobbed against his shoulder, trying your hardest to sound a little mad to scold him.

he only scoffs with mirth, finding your attempt endearing.

"i… met with my older brother."

"you left without telling me!" your fist thumps on his shoulders.

"forgive me, baobei—" he pulls away from the hug, calloused hands wiping the tears away from your puffy cheeks, "—i did not expect the trip to last weeks."

nor did i really think i'd ever come out alive.

"but i am here now," a rare smile appears on his face, immediately stopping you from your feigned tantrums to stare at him.

gege never smiles.

you sniffled, pouting at how he seemed unaffected. it must be an adult thing, you concur. still, this doesn't stop you from shooting him questions later.

"how was," you hiccuped, "how was your brother?"

a hum was his only response. he smooths down the disheveled mop of hair on your head, looking anywhere but your eyes.

"he's somewhere far from here."

"far from home?"

“mhm, very far. but where he is doesn't matter now," xiao shakes his head of any negative thoughts, "he may be far from us, but his memory will be preserved within our minds."

"can you tell me a story about him?"

"if you wish to hear it."

"mhm!" your eyes sparkled from excitement. it was xiao's first time to tell you a story from the past and you are more than ready to listen to his voice, his voice that you haven't heard in weeks.

"what was his name?"

"his name is bosacius. hundreds of years ago, i was not alone in protecting the land of liyue."

i was never alone before, nor am i alone now.

"there were four others—"

and now i have you.