Office S3x With Heizou

cw//‼️spoilers from Loki the Series‼️curse words ahead‼️ grammatical errors (English is not my first language, I apologize)‼️

Just finished watching Loki episode 1. Yeeyy.. honestly, I am exhausted. Just from the first few minutes, I was already reading up because of all the clips I've watched. I knew for a fact that something angsty was gonna come blowing sand at in my eyes.

And I was right.

Seeing Loki just so, oh God how do I describe this? Uh, confused? Torn? Idk honestly, but that expression alone made me cry. When he kept asking what kind of place was TVA, I felt a little heartache. And when he saw how his mother died–FUCK. I couldn't stop myself from sobbing my heart out. He was in pain. And it fucking hurts through the screen.

I just wanna know; what's so important about the titles as a 'hero' and as a 'villain'. What made people think, that if you save someone then you're automatically a hero. I just don't understand really. I wanna know how these titles were created and what makes these two words so different. In fact, in my opinion they're not that different at all.

Remember the saying: "A villain is just a victim whose story hasn't been told."? I wholeheartedly believe that. I can't find myself to immediately dislike someone who is labelled as a 'villain'. And I also can't find myself to like someone labelled as a 'hero'. At least, not until their stories have been told. Everyone has their stories. Whether they're unfinished, scattered, hidden, ending or just starting.

Hunting for more Wind Breaker fics this one is very lovely ˙˚ʚ(´◡`)ɞ˚˙

SAKURA AS YOUR BOYFRIEND!

notes﹒ related to him too bad, accidentally fell in love and now we're here. (headcanons)

contents and warnings﹒ fluff, slight ooc!sakura, the most tamest writing i have ever wrote so. doesn't need any warnings. (still pretty new to windbre so!!)

› return to nav?

✦ Somehow, some way, you became his lover! His first partner, may I add, because we all know this boy hasn't been into the romance scene before.

✦ He's still a bit of a tsundere when it comes to showing his care for someone, but when it comes to you, he tries hard to show how much he loves you, in his own little way.

✦ Might ask other people around him on how to treat you right, but will get defensive immediately when they tease him about it. Thinks he's also real subtle about it too.

✦ Walks you home, so no body messes with you. If he's feeling brave, he'll even put an arm 'round your shoulder to let people know that you're his— Not in a possessive way, more like "If you rock their shit, I'll rock yours ten times." wayn

✦ Also glares at anyone he deems suspicious or stares a bit too long.

✦ Shares his food sometimes, even though he's grumbling and complaining while he does so. It's a bit cute, seeing him push his food to you and looking away, so you don't see his flustered face. Will yell at you if you tease him and threaten to take back his offer.

✦ Easily flustered and jumpy, especially when you do something that makes his heart skip a beat... which is everything you do. Little guy gets so mesmerized when you smile at him so warmly, call his name with so much excitement and love, or even when you're tending to his injures or doing your own thing.

✦ He yells and shouts a lot whenever you do it in public though, but behind closed doors, he's surprisingly calm and just watches you.

✦ Lovingly calls you insulting nicknames because he's just into that 'lovely dovey shit' or as he puts it. And it just feels more natural to his character. He tries though, terribly, but it's the thought that counts.

✦ There are some times where his own insecurities come bubbling up again, afraid that you'll leave him and find someone who's less brash and more gentle... But it goes away when he sees you being so happy around him and all he could focus on is how much his heart is swelling that he felt like it'll explode.

✦ If you ever try to scold him for being careless, he'll complain and brush you off, but will actually start listening to you. Whether by his own will or subconsciously.

✦ At random moments when he suddenly thinks of you, he suddenly turns red and freezes up on the spot. You have that effect on him, even when you're not around.

✦ Whenever you gift him something, he'll probably start at him for a while. He doesn't know how to react when someone gives him something, especially out of love and affection. Would probably have a heart attack on the spot.

✦ All the gifts you give him (actual materials like clothes, accessories, etc.) are kept well and safe. Jewelry? He keeps patting it where he has it hanging on to ensure its still there, takes it off or tucks it inside his clothes when he goes on a fight. Clothes? Might get a little dirty, but will (try) wash it until it's all pristine. If anyone rips it, he'll give them the worst kind of hell.

sketches from volume 15 - 17

“YOU CRAZY? I HAVE A BOYFRIEND!”

WIND BREAKER + YOU NOT RECOGNIZING THEM. ft. hayato suo, kaji ren, togame jo, & umemiya hajime x f!reader

filled request : a chunk of it -> “..reacting to drunk reader not recognizing them and they wanna take reader home but reader won’t let them and tells them to fuck off or else her boyfriend (which is right infront of her) will kick their ass..”

notes : aa ! ! i am also a sucker for plots like these !! sorry it took me a while to get to >: thank u sm for sending this in nonnie <3 (cw alcohol ; but the consumption isn’t really mentioned in this)

HAYATO SUO.

“don’t you dare touch me,” suo’s eyes widen when you’re clumsily swatting at his hand, half lidded eyes narrowing into your best attempt at a glare. your words are slow and slurred, but he still manages to understand the gist of what you’re trying to say. “my boyfriend’s gonna make you pay if you do,” you huff, pointing an accusatory finger at him and jabbing it a couple times into his chest for extra measure.

“oh?” his gaze softens a bit, unbeknownst to you, and his smile is back the second he understands what’s happening here. “your boyfriend? where is he now?”

the way your glare immediately falls at your realization almost makes him feel bad, and he’s giving you a smile of pity when your lips tug into a deep pout. “um…” you frown, eyebrows furrowing to rid of the tears already starting to blur your vision, “i don’t know…”

“you don’t know?” suo’s voice is steady, easily hiding the way he’s stifling a laugh at the sudden change in your demeanor. he’s watching with amusement as you start to sniff, hands coming to messily wipe at your eyes with your sleeve as you start babbling, spewing out things about how “you need to find your boyfriend right this second” and how you’re “all lonely now.”

“oh dear,” he chuckles, hands coming to lightly grasp around your wrists, “your boyfriend has told you not to wipe your eyes like that before, hasn’t he? you’re going to irritate the skin.”

“mhm,” you give him a shy nod before staring up at him with confusion, gaze flickering to the thumb he’s bringing to gently swipe at the tears collecting along your lashes a moment later. the way you’re stiffening up at his touch is cute— and it looks like you’ve unconsciously recognized his familiarity even in this state.

“y-you know my boyfriend?”

how endearing.

“sure. i know him pretty well,” suo smiles, hand coming to press against your lower back as you guides you forward, “so let’s find him, okay? come with me.”

KAJI REN.

“huh?” you’ve got kaji completely petrified, eyes blown open as his hands defensively shoot up in front of him the second you’re slowly waving your pepper spray back and forth— the pepper spray he had bought you, by the way. “what do you think you’re doing?”

“i’ll tell you exactly what im doing,” you retort, eyes narrowing at the alleged unfamiliar man in front of you, “i’m gonna call my boyfriend here, and he’s gonna beat your ass if you don’t leave in the next five seconds.”

ah. the slur in your voice is all it takes for the situation to suddenly click in his head. and now that he’s looking at you closer up, he’s surprised that you’re even able to stand in such a state. you’ve only come here with him, so the only way you’ll be going home is if he takes you home.

and that’s not looking very plausible right now.

he’s clicking his tongue before ripping through another lollipop, raking his fingers through his hair as he goes through the potential routes he can go with this. how the fuck was he gonna bring you home like this..? and actually, how would it make him look if people see him forcefully tossing you onto his back and booking it home?

this was a terrible situation through and through.

“um— come here,” he tries coaxing you the way he would with a stray animal, fingers coming to hesitantly pinch your sleeve to lift your arm without technically touching you, and he’s slowly moving it a couple inches to the right. “i’m your boyfriend. let’s go home.”

you shake your head.

his cheeks are flushing red when he realizes there are onlookers now, a handful of people watching the situation unfold, and you’re not helping his case at all— arms crossed across your chest as you eye him up and down suspiciously.

“c-candy,” he grumbles under his breath, deep red spreading to the tips of his ears. “i’ll give you a piece of candy if you come with me. sound good?”

TOGAME JO.

“m-my boyfriend can fight, you know” you stumble backwards, slowly backing up until your back meets with one of the tables, and it’s just great. you’re completely trapped now. he’s looming over you the next second, big hands resting on either side of you as you try to steady your breathing.

togame will be here any minute, you’re reminding yourself. this is fine.

“that so?” there’s a low chuckle from him, and he’s feigning innocence, looking around to locate this boyfriend of yours. “i don’t see him anywhere.”

your breath catches in your throat. your vision’s still dizzy, world spinning each and every time you move your head, and you search around your hips, internally cursing when you realize your purse is gone too.

no phone, and no boyfriend.

he’s moving awfully close to you now, and you can’t move— can’t call your boyfriend. “y-yeah,” you manage to stammer, thinking hard as you decide what to do. “he even taught me how to fight… so don’t test me.”

now that’s a bluff.

“oh. did he now?” togame’s brow raises at your threat, trying to resist the urge to laugh when you’re quickly nodding the next second, cute hands balling into little fists— and oh, that’s not quite how you’re supposed to do it.

but he’ll teach you another time. “so… in that case… you know what to do when a guy does— this?” his fingers wrap around your wrist before you can get a word out, pulling you forward in one swift movement.

you’re gasping as soon as you fall forward, crashing straight into his chest, and his arms are quick to wrap around you, big hand coming to pat at your head like a dog.

“oh, how weird. i didn’t think he’d teach you to hug other guys.”

UMEMIYA HAJIME. cw : he jokingly refers to himself as your kidnapper (he did not kidnap you)

“what now, haji?” your eyes narrow at the phone screen being shoved an inch in front of your face, and ume’s gone puppy mode beside you, excitedly rocking back and forth on your bed as he waits for you to hit play.

“just watch! you’ll see. press play.”

you rub at your eyes, wincing at the way your head starts to throb, still pounding from the events of yesterday. the video that plays out in front of you is completely dark for the first seconds, and you’re quick to grow impatient— seconds away from huffing and pushing his phone away until you finally hear a rustling, followed your own voice.

“haji’s gonna make you pay,” you cringe at the sound of your own voice, and there’s a loud sniffle that follows. “so take me wherever you want, ya goof. he’ll really make you regret it when he finds me.”

no way.

“‘haji’ huh!” you hear umemiya burst into a laughing fit, your face burning at the way he’s poking fun at your past self, and you hear your drunken self scoffing at him a second after. “so what kinda guy is he, huh? your kidnapper’s gotta know!”

there was absolutely no way he recorded himself carrying you home.

“he’s huuge,” the video catches your hiccup, “he can toss you around like nothing. i’m warning you now. so you can put me down if you get it.”

from the muffled sound of your voice, you think ume probably had you tossed over his shoulder, a strong arm wrapped around the back of your thighs to keep you draped over him. “that so?” he chuckles, “what’s he look like?”

“i can’t believe you,” you sigh, fingers rubbing at your temples, “you’re unbelievable.” you’re sneaking a quick glance at your boyfriend, but he’s still focused on the video, soft smile tugging at his lips. “keep listening, ‘kay baby? this is my favorite part.”

uh oh.

“he’s the prettiest boy ever!” your cheeks are immediately filling with heat at your shameless confession, hand slamming over your mouth— there was absolutely no way. “you wouldn’t believe it. you’ll know when you see ‘im. he’s gorgeous. beautiful. i looove him! don’t fall in love with my boyfriend— you better not. he’s mine.”

“what did you just say?” | ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡

᪥ vivi’s note: so… I may have a thing for the protective!boys trope… I can’t help it, it’s just so attractive! (〃ﾉωﾉ) I will probably be making a second installment of this with some different characters! I just love these kinds of stories sm!!

᪥ summary: your ex has just said something really nasty to/about you - right in front of them.

᪥ characters: ren kaji, sakura haruka, suo hayato

᪥ genre + format: comfort, minor angst | sfw | drabble

᪥ word count: 2.1k

᪥ content warnings: fem!reader, reader is referred to by she/her, established relationships, protective/defensive!boyfriends, language, there’s some allusions to past mental/verbal abuse so please be careful dollies!! brief violence (sakura + kaji ofc), allusions to past relationships, shitty!exes, what did your ex say? you can decide!

“what did you just say?” kaji seethed, words pushed through grit teeth and punctuated by a growl. his steel blue eyes were locked onto the boy in front of him, shoulders rigid and body tense; as if he were a snake poised to strike. your stomach flipped and you reached out to grip the exposed cuff of his sweatshirt.

“kaji, it’s fine. drop it, please.” you nearly begged; your heart was already running itself ragged in your tight chest, and tears stung at the back of your eyes — seeing him again was simply too much to take, and the words he’d just spat sliced open your soul, and the thought of kaji losing it right here in the middle of the street over it just set your body ablaze with disquietness.

you just wanted to leave — leave this situation and these uncomfortable feelings behind. just get away from him.

“no, it’s not fine,” kaji snarled, anger bleeding through his voice. it wasn’t aimed at you, you knew that — but you still had to fight off the urge to flinch away from it. “and I’m not going anywhere. I want him to answer my question.”

you glanced over to your ex; his face was twisted into a scowl, and his shoulders were rigidly set, but there was a look of apprehension in his eyes — and his lips were sealed tightly, showing no hint of movement.

scared into silence. you weren’t entirely sure why that gave you a small sense of satisfaction.

“well, are’ya gonna answer?” kaji pressed, hands balled into fists at his sides. “or are’ya gonna keep pretending we don’t speak the same language?”

your ex was looking increasingly uncomfortable and shifty the longer kaji glared at him, and his eyes started to dart around as if he were searching for some sort of escape from the situation. you’d never seen him look so disconcerted before — he had always been so cocky, so full of himself, as if he was simply untouchable; a god among men.

and now — now he was being intimidated into a state of humility.

“this isn’t even worth it.” he finally huffed, voice slightly higher than you remembered it being. “there’s no need to start a brawl over stupid words.”

“then maybe you shouldn’t say them.” kaji rebutted quickly, foot sliding across the ground as he took a small step closer to your ex; your fingers tightened around the cuff of his sweatshirt, heart leaping into your throat now.

“kaji, can we please just go?” you asked, voice small, chest tight and heart thundering. kaji’s body language was pure aggression right now, and you were sure that if you didn’t have a tight grip on his right hand he’d be swinging it — and it was fairly obvious that your ex was thinking the same thing. kaji clicked his tongue irritably but stepped back, though his eyes remained fixed on the boy in front of him.

relief loosened the knot of discomfort in your body when kaji, after a long moment of glaring, let out a small snort and started to turn on his heel; the confrontation was finally over, and though kaji would probably be broody for a bit, you could finally start to put this whole ordeal in the past.

or at least, that’s what you thought — but the moment your fingers dropped from his sleeve, kaji twisted quickly and, like a flash of lightning, his fist connected with your ex’s nose, the impact punctuated by a sickening crunch and a grunt.

your ex stumbled back and clapped a hand over his nose, bright red droplets sliding past his fingers and plopping to the street below. kaji let out a small, satisfied chuff of air — and then with a voice like venom, he hissed;

“the next time you even so much as think about saying something to her, you’ll be swallowing all of your teeth.”

“hah? what the hell did’ya just say?!”

sakura’s baritone was saturated in anger and his shoulders were tense as he turned to face your ex head-on. your ex had that same irritating smirk that you always hated across his lips as he returned sakura’s glare.

“I don’t think I stuttered.” your ex stated, tone smug and unbothered by sakura’s clear aggression. you’d seen this many times before — this bravado of his, one that hadn’t been stamped out during your time with him. it was something you’d admired about him at first, but you had quickly come to loathe it; and for good reason.

“say it again and I’ll knock your lights out.” sakura growled, fists balling at his sides. from your proximity to him, you could register the faint trembling of his muscles beneath his clothes; he was holding himself back from pouncing at your ex, and you were now realizing that his short fuse was a terrible match up with your ex’s personality.

“sakura, let’s just go.” you pressed as you wrapped your fingers around his bicep, throat constricting at the tightness within the muscles. you really didn’t want to see a fight today; you just wanted to enjoy a pleasant lunch with sakura — of course your ex would have to mess that up too.

“you should listen to her, you know. she’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, but sometimes she knows what she’s talking about.” your ex jabbed, and, oh, there’s the sting of tears. you’d heard similar insults from him before, but for him to air them out in front of sakura…

your skin burned on both the surface and the underside, as if your whole body was heating to a much higher temperature. your fingers trembled around sakura’s arm, capturing his attention immediately; and when he caught sight of the expression on your face, his own twisted into one of pure fury — and you were much too slow and weak to stop him when he wrenched his arm away and launched himself at your ex.

your ex gave a startled yelp that was followed by a grunt as sakura’s shoulder collided with his stomach, and the sudden force upset his balance and he fell to the floor. your entire body locked up and your eyes widened in shock as sakura straddled him and loaded up a punch.

you couldn’t do much else but stare as sakura’s fist made impact with your ex’s nose — bright carmine liquid gushed from his nostrils and splattered against the pristine floor of the restaurant. you could vaguely register scrambling and the murmur of voices around you; yet you still couldn’t move even as a few men wrestled sakura away from your ex, all the while he struggled against them and spat heated words at the man on the floor.

“don’t you ever even fucking look at her again, you got it?! I should kick your damn teeth in!”

all at once, feeling and energy shot through your muscles and you were finally able to move — you beelined straight to sakura and wrapped your arms around his. the men holding him released him, albeit hesitantly, and you could feel the relief in the atmosphere as sakura stayed in place rather than pouncing on your ex once more.

“sakura, let’s go now, okay?” you plead, glancing around at the shocked faces of the patrons surrounding you. a few employees had even sidled their way through the crowd with displeased grimaces.

“no,” sakura growled, the single word shoving your heart into your stomach. “he’s the one that’s going to leave. right now.”

you watched in barely-suppressed shock as your ex scrambled up from the floor, one hand cradling his nose, and turned tail and shot for the door without a single word. only when the door had closed behind him did sakura’s body relax, and his warm arm slipped around your waist to pull you flush against his body. his voice was soft and quiet when he spoke against the top of your head; a sentiment meant for just the two of you despite the crowd of onlookers.

“if he ever bothers you again, you tell me immediately, understand? I’ll take care of it.”

“I do hope I merely misheard you.” suo chirped, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head up to meet your ex’s eyes before continuing, “because if I didn’t… well, let’s just say that wouldn’t be good for any of us.”

your face felt hotter than the sun and your hands trembled in your lap. when suo had brought you here to this resto-cafe, you truly hadn’t thought you’d see your ex; it wasn’t the type of place he’d frequent, but yet, not long after suo and yourself had been seated, he waltzed in with a pretty girl on his arm.

of course, as luck would have it, he noticed you right away — and when he caught sight of suo across from you, his face turned into the most hateful scowl you’d ever seen. a bad feeling pinched your gut when he immediately beelined for a table not too far from your own, and it was proven valid not too long after; as soon as his date had excused herself to the restroom, he approached your table with his hands shoved into his pockets and then spat that horrible sentence.

“and what the fuck’s that ‘sposed to mean?” your ex demanded irately, referring back to suo’s previous statement; suo merely smiled up at him, completely unfazed by your ex’s aggression. suo’s voice was even and calm when he said, almost cryptically —

“what it means depends entirely on your next course of action.”

your heart jumped into your throat when your ex’s jaw clenched and his hand shot out to grip the collar of suo’s jacket. you looked around frantically as you raked your brain for a solution to the sudden bout of violence unfolding.

“are you fuckin’ with me, man? you better not be.” your ex spat, other hand balled into a fist at his side. was he really going to attack suo, right here in the middle of the restaurant? you flitted your eyes to the front of the establishment, debating on if you should make a run for it and grab some employees to stop the situation before it could escalate any further.

but your eyes snapped back to suo when he hummed, almost as if he were amused, and lifted a hand to stick up two fingers. confusion painted your ex’s face as his eyes dropped down to it.

“well, the way I see it, you have two choices — you can drop this childish act of jealousy and return to your table silently, and we will forget all about this little fiasco. or,” — suo narrated as he dropped a finger; and now the smile had vanished from his lips, and his expression was a cold, intimidating dagger that could slice flesh — “you can push your luck and I can make you regret every single choice you’ve ever made up to this point.”

the atmosphere around suo had changed instantaneously — it was no longer lighthearted; it was as if the temperature around your table had dropped to the negatives, and suo was exuding an aura of danger so strong that it had even you shivering — shivering from mixed sensations of fear, anxiety and, strangely, anticipation.

your ex immediately dropped his hand from suo’s jacket and stumbled back, face contorted with shock and subtle fear. it seemed his ability to speak had been stolen from him, but not his ability to move — he turned on his heel and speed-stomped to the front of the restaurant, leaving your table and his own date behind.

“oh, that poor girl,” suo cooed, and that icy chill in the air dissipated instantly as he gave you a soft smile. “I wonder how she will feel when she gets back and sees him gone.”

you were still reeling slightly from the entire scene that had just unfolded in front of you — it couldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes, but it had carved a spot inside your chest and nestled there comfortably. you swallowed a few times and nodded.

“oh, yeah…” you murmured back, staring at your boyfriend’s soft face incredulously. he looked normal now, his visible burgundy orb warm and attentive as he gazed at you; a complete contrast to the cold dagger he’d pierced your ex with.

suo was certainly an enigma — something that you could never pin down. but that’s just what made him so alluring in your eyes; and it made you crave to see every side of him. maybe one day you could — but for now, you just wanted to enjoy the rest of your date.

Wound Dressings (Yandere Idol!Xiao/Reader)

a/n: happy lantern rite, everyone!!! here's xiao, hope anyone that wants to pull for him gets him <3 (CW: yandere, implied ptsd, mild violence, scaramouche is fricking foul as hell.)

unreliable synopsis: As the producer of 5wirl's beloved rapper, you found yourself stuck between Xiao and the nefarious fashion stylist/designer- Scaramouche-'s wars.

Alice's note: Producer Starlight, we need to talk. Right now. The CEO is waiting.

Yandere Idol Match-Up Masterlist

------

“Xiao, your face, it's burnt–”

“Don’t.” Xiao huffed. “Don’t come any closer. I’m fine.”

Anyone can tell 5wirl's rapper has a hard time getting close to people and you find that rather tragic. It’s a shame that Xiao chose to be distant when you find his rap music enthralling like no other, and you can tell he pours his soul into each lyric he writes. He sings desperately as though it's his last strip of breath left with voice cracks so raw and heartbreaking. While Venti sounds theatrical and clear, his will always be raspy and hauntingly unique. Every project he’s involved with sheds light on his authenticity, and you yearned for an opportunity to have him talk to you just as honestly.

However, you paid more heed to his need for emotional distance, not wanting to be nosy in this instance. You concentrated on advancing his career without meddling in his personal affairs, staying strictly business. It was not your place to know more and be some uneducated therapist.

At least, you had faith that you could maintain that belief until you noticed his sloppy bandaged cheek. Xiao stumbled forward, his hair untidy. You clenched your jaw. You grasped for his arm, feeling somewhat enraged. Instead of reacting, he simply awaited your inevitable worry.

“Who did this to you, Xiao?” You whispered angrily.

“A firework accident,” Xiao grunted. “My cousin can vouch for me. Yesterday’s lantern rite. Do not worry about me.”

“Is that so…”

You can’t muster the courage to question ADDICKTZ's Mister Zhongli, and that’s precisely why you know Xiao’s hiding a secret. Lying between his molars was not something he could do without a hitch.

Especially not to someone as observant as you.

“Does this have something to do with the stylist?”

While you technically shouldn’t risk your neck for a theory…

… It's better to route the problem immediately.

Xiao shamelessly ignored your question. In any case, you already knew the answer. This was just for confirmation’s sake. He would have stayed as stoic as always had you two been in a space that was any less secluded than the backrooms. No fan was aware of how much Xiao detested 5wirl's main stylist because none of his musings were made public.

Scaramouche, “The Wanderer.”

He’s a big name with a larger-than-life ego. Giving credit where it is due, Scaramouche is a fantastic model, but a patient stylist? He was not. He has an incurable habit of pushing everyone’s buttons that it's almost impressive. You've seen the way he yanked and pulled 5wirl like ragdolls, the only exception was Kazuha and Venti, but the latter to a lesser extent.

To no one’s surprise, Xiao does not like him.

Just a week ago, you've watched him perform “Fallen Leaves” uncomfortably on a Mondstadt Television (MTV) award show. An untrained eye is unlikely to notice how little footwork he displayed considering his constricted jeans. After the song ended, Xiao irritably loosened his belt and rolled his eyes. He didn't bow like the rest of 5wirl, instead, he left immediately without a word— that was something the fans certainly did not miss. To the common stan, it was "hot", to the wiser folks, it was a sign that something was amiss.

—

“He did it on purpose. The Wanderer wanted to prove a point,” these were the only words Xiao told you with bated breaths as he wrenched the buttons off his suffocating attire, popping and dropping them to the ground. He has little consideration for who might enter his room— not when he couldn’t breathe— not when he trusts that you’ll guard the door.

Once his chest was out and he could inhale with ease, a small smile was sighted adorning his face. He favored you with a victorious grin. 

“And he failed.”

You’ve known that whenever he’s down, he tends to focus more on his skills. Thus you mistakenly thought this was just a matter of work. You didn’t realize at the time that he was fighting for something else.

It was a gorgeous smile. A rare eye candy enticing enough to make you wish he considered you a companion. But the frown that followed as you heard Scaramouche screeching outside erased whatever joy you felt as you stumbled to lock the door.

You scowled.

“Did he really fail when he still has you wrapped around his fingers?”

Xiao didn't answer. Instead, he pried your hand off and unlocked the door.

“As long as it’s not you, it doesn’t matter how far he takes his tantrums.”

—

You believe otherwise.

That incident stirred a cold war between Xiao and 5wirl’s lead stylist. Scaramouche used to just pepper vulgar phrases but now it appears in every other sentence. None of the fans knew thanks to the AKASHA Device Policy System of disabling screenshots on employee devices. What happens in Teyvat Productions, stays in Teyvat Productions. Scaramouche would have been fired from the company with a hollow public apology from the CEO if they had known even a glimpse of the snark he spews at every 5wirl employee. 

”Did he do this?”

You cupped his cheek. Xiao didn't wince from the pain. It's all due to his extended Military Service training, you're sure of it. Thankfully, it doesn't look too bad. Curable, most definitely, but it doesn't change the fact someone attempted to hurt your employer.

“It’s… This is my burden to carry. It has nothing to do with you—”

“But I’m here for you, Xiao. You know I have a strong sixth sense, and something is wrong. You can tell me anything.”

Xiao leaned onto your palm, putting a hand above yours. He felt his chest tighten, but his face did not mark his anguish.

He may not show it visibly, but your touch broke him. On the souls of all his friends and the lives of his family, he can swear with every fiber of his being that this is as honest as he could be.

“He doesn't understand that I lost everything.” He did not look at you, but his sudden grip begged you to stay.

“–that I felt EVERYTHING.”

You stiffened, your spine shook at how concise but oddly oppressive those words were. His words were nothing to write home about, but the way his husky voice and slight growl loomed after a moment of silence was unforgettable.

Instinctively, you knew what this was about.

Bosacius.

You didn't want to pry so you knew little about him other than he accidentally died when he and Xiao were reservists. There is a mandatory Liyue and Inazuman law that stipulates that men must serve their country for about a year or two, no idol is exempted from that. According to speculations and a few hints in the lyrics Xiao composed, the idol likely watched his friend cover up a faulty grenade to save everyone in the vicinity. You did attempt to console him once, but Xiao is adamant that such comments would be an insult to Bosacius' Heroics. He “accepted” his death long before you became his producer. His soul is likely in a better place.

See where this is headed? It's not rocket science. Put “Scaramouche” and “fireworks” together and you’d get something foul. That damn multi-talented designer did something and now Xiao’s uncharacteristically more emotive.

Scaramouche likely used fireworks to reignite Xiao’s trauma.

Perhaps this line of thinking is uncouth, but this would serve as a great opening to finally get to know the person you work for on a deeper level. But for Scaramouche to unearth those memories for the sake of arguing… What a petty man.

“He wanted to “share” something that’s mine to protect,” Xiao muttered. "He insisted that giving them up to him will be a way to absolve my sins. But… I…”

He grunted.

“I don’t want to share them.” Xiao sneered. "Having them around is the last joy I have."

You feel as though the thing or person they’re fighting over is someone related to 5wirl, but you were too tired to listen to your muted intuition.

“Who is “them”?” You asked. “Would you be willing to tell me?”

He shook his head.

“I… can’t.”

“I see, that’s okay. It takes time to open up— Xiao?”

Xiao remained silent. He quickly seized the water bottle you were holding and chugged it down. As Xiao drank, you both moved in the direction of the fans while giving him your famous mask to cover the burn. His followers don't need to be aware of this.

But damn it. You’re tired of this back-and-forth pettiness.

You’ll have to step in.

——

However, your colleagues do not favor that idea. 

“Are you certain you wanna approach him?” Venti’s producer frowned. “Knowing Scaramouche’s past… instability, I’m not sure if that’s the brightest idea you’ve come up with.”

It usually takes a long time for you to naturally get close to others but after careful observation, you've deduced that none of your fellow producers were unsavory people. In truth, they were simple to read, particularly Venti and Heizou's producers. As a result, you already knew this was going to happen; you just want to let them know out of respect.

“We never know unless we try,” Heizou’s producer spoke up, somewhat optimistic but with a twinge of demur. “You’re too depressed. Who knows? Maybe you can persuade him to stop. You’re Scara’s favorite, after all.”

Favorite is a bit of a stretch, but that man does tolerate your presence.

Kazuha’s producer chortled, “that kind of hypothetical is next to impossible.”

Heizou’s producer hummed the bridge to 5wirl’s song “Sweet Dream.” You knew your coworker didn't want to prove them right, but the lyrics to that song referred to failed plans– and that's enough information for you to infer that even they think deep down that the idea was stupid.

You closed your eyes. It truly wasn't your best plan— it's straight up walking to the lion’s den, but you have to try….

“… (Y/n)? Hello?”

You blinked. Ah, you've zoned out again.

“It's better than nothing,” you said. “I can't just let everyone here be constantly berated by that narcissist.”

“Even his assistant can be a pain in the neck too, you know?” Venti’s producer chimed in. “Ya better hope you're not dealing with both of them once you get there. You might start a house fire or something.”

There's no point in this conversation. Sighing, you reached for your bag, ready to leave.

“Hmm? Now, where are you going, my ge qin'ai de?”

Baizhu— 5wirl’s creative director— stood, leaning by the door frame. Based on his lax demeanor, you assumed he had just recently taken his medicine. The rest of the producers laughed awkwardly, not knowing whether they should let him in on your plans or not. He usually accepts all forms of communion, no matter how chaotic or personal it is. But this instance urged everyone that omitting some truths was the best option.

“(Y/n)’s on their way to buy some fabric,” Venti’s producer lied. “Scaramouche had been such a pain in the neck lately so, eh, we decided to be more proactive to avoid his stupid wrath.”

“Ahhh, I see! How lovely.” Baizhu laughed, but just as you were about to walk past him, he weakly grasped your arm.

"Far be it from me to pry into my producers’ personal affairs, but once you get there,” he bent down and whispered to your ear.

“Tell that charlatan and his assistant that this will be the last time they hurt one of my kids, understood?”

As you looked up at the creative director's snake eyes, a chill went up your spine. He didn't express it as a threat; rather, he said it as a certain truth. It seemed as though Director Baizhu was determined that this was Scaramouche's final transgression. You made a mental note of that.

Director Baizhu must’ve known something that you didn't.

“Yes, Director.”

“Wonderful,” Baizhu smiled, but his gaze looked distant.

“Be sure to buy wound dressings along the way.”

——

“No way. Nu-uh.”

“Please, I seriously need to talk to him—”

“Do you wanna get stabbed? Just trust me, bro, he doesn’t want to see anyone right now. He’s too busy dressing up that haunted doll of his.” Scaramouche’s assistant trembled burlesquely, putting more pressure on the door that separates you two. “Like, he’s so unhinged right now that– high-key? Working at KFC ain't sounding so bad.”

His assistant sighed, rolling their eyes. They appeared different compared to when you last saw them. Their hair’s significantly shorter and their fingers are red from sewing– and if your eyes weren't fooling you, they're a bit burnt…?

You squinted.

“Those marks… He overworked you last night, right? Forced you to use lighters to cut threads over scissors, didn’t he?”

They glared. Struck a nerve there.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe I am just reaching for straws here–” you admitted rather plainly. “But that doesn't change the fact that you don't like your boss, and I don't like him enough that I drove all the way to confront him. What say you to letting me give him a piece of my mind?”

That seemed to work. At least, for a second.

“No… No, I seriously can't.” His assistant shook their head, with more conviction this time. “I don't want a repeat of last time.”

“(Y/n), you’re here as well.”

You both turned to look behind you.

A man wearing a mask and sunglasses— clearly Xiao— stood just a breath away from touching your shoulder. You jolted.

How didn’t you notice that he was right behind you?

“Oh, he’s here too…” the assistant said. They didn’t sound particularly hostile when addressing Xiao. “Sir, you can’t just enter if it isn't urgent.”

“But it is urgent,” You lied. “Just let us in or at least have me go inside alone—”

Xiao gently squeezed your shoulder. The mulish look in his visage beckoned you that he didn't like that idea. You didn’t have time to question what he’s doing here. His opaque stubbornness made you completely forget that he was holding you longer than he usually does.

Time and time again, he’ll remind you that he didn’t want you near Scaramouche.

“Oh my God— bitch. How many times do I have to fucking— HE'S NOT ENTERTAINING GUESTS.” The assistant growled. “Please, just listen to me. I'm honestly saving you both the trouble of talking to that edgelord.”

“Please, this seriously wouldn't take long–”

“Are you deaf or just stupid? What part of not entertaining guests did you not understand?”

Speak of the devil.

The pretentious prick arrived– him and his damn ostentatiously designed hat. He shared your gaze immediately and you swore his face lit up. It was as if he was waiting for you for quite some time now, but you’re not confident in that hunch.

“Ah, it's you.”

You cleared your throat. “Good evening, sir Wanderer–”

He smirked.

“Long time no see, starlight,” Scaramouche said. “Your dog here sure kept dragging us apart from each other.”

Xiao raised an eyebrow. It was the first time he had heard someone call you by that nickname, and while it doesn’t show in his features, he was rather unnerved at how you casually let him call you by such an endearing nickname.

This only matters because Scaramouche rarely addresses anyone beneath him with respect, much less affection.

Xiao glared at him.

Scaramouche continued, “here to give me an answer?”

“No.” You didn't waste a second. “The answer is no. I don't want to be your model.”

Xiao’s eyes widened. He immediately shielded you, but Scara merely tilted his head to maintain his gaze.

“Model?” Xiao spat coldly. “So that’s the card you're playing, Kunikuzushi.”

Scaramouche’s grin widened, “move your head away, insect.”

He doesn’t deserve to see you.

Without much thought, you bit your lip. You weren’t expecting much of a reaction if you told Xiao that Scaramouche wanted to hire you before. He tried scouting you months before he started harassing Xiao. Telling him about it slipped past your mind.

Scaramouche frowned, his eyes gauging his assistant’s reaction, “still, what a shame… With your face, you would've been a fine addition to my runway, Mx. (Y/n).”

“… Huh, so you do know my name.”

“Course I do. Xiao follows anyone who says (Y/n) around like a damn shit-for-brains dog. I’m not stupid enough to miss his owner’s name.”

Xiao made a sound you couldn't quite describe. It bordered on both a whimper and a threat.

You scrunched at the title, “that’s not true.”

“Then that only speaks volumes to how good of a stalker he is,” He clapped. "Bravo, I'm impressed. For once."

Scaramouche scoffed yet there was a genuine smile on his face. Swiftly, he approached you and had his assistant not held Xiao back, the famous designer wouldn’t have had the opportunity to grab your hand and gently kiss it out of nowhere.

You felt absolutely nothing from this gesture. Instead, you unconsciously fixed your eyes on Xiao.

And he’s most certainly pissed.

“You deserve to be working for me instead, puppet,” he muttered. “Honestly, I can’t see why you’re working for him— he's barely aesthetically pleasing. A lower-rate beauty. Do you even give a damn about your skin-care routine, worm? You look like shit. Go back to the fucking military. Muscles are required there, but looks? Not expected.”

Out of the blue, the designer gently cupped your face– your faces now an inch apart as he fixes stray strands of your hair. Strangely enough, you can't feel his breath. His face may be close, but his attention did not belong to you. You can tell from a mile away you’re being used.

As to what you’re being used for? You can’t tell.

Suddenly, Scaramouche’s assistant cleared their throat.

“Hey starlight, can you come outside with me for a sec?” They said.

The assistant held up their phone. You heard Xiao shakily exhale as you pulled away from the stylist.

“Director Baizhu’s calling.”

—-

“Director? Is something the matter?”

“Ah yes, did you buy the wound dressings?”

You did your best to hide your scoff.

Seriously, right now?

“Yes, right now.”

Oh. You didn’t mean to say that out loud.

Scaramouche’s assistant— whom you were borrowing a phone from— laughed softly, bemused. They led you to The Wanderer’s garden for some “privacy”, and yet their ears seemed cleaner than most. You didn’t mind them listening to some "tea." It’s better than being alone in unfamiliar territory.

“Trust me, dear. You’ll need it later.” Baizhu’s laughter echoed.

…

“What do you mean by that, sir?”

“Answer me first, did you buy some?”

“No.”

“Poor choice. You’ll never know when there’s an emergency that calls for it.”

Your eyebrows furrowed.

Something is off.

Baizhu sighed, “nevermind. So, how was your shopping trip? What fabric have you brought, send me the hex code.”

“Sir.”

“Yes, qin'ai de?”

“You called because you wanted to distract me, didn’t you?”

…

You were hoping that you wouldn’t hear his laughter from the other line.

“Oh, Xiao. I’ve tried.”

Slowly, you hung up and lowered the phone down to your thigh.

No… It can’t be.

You started sprinting back to where you came from.

“H-Hey, wait! You still have my phone!—”

You need to go.

NOW.

You already knew what was happening, but at that moment you slipped out a prayer to any Archon that might listen.

Please… Please don’t be right…

—-

… But then again, when has your sixth sense ever failed you?

Xiao’s stony expression crumbled and his more livid countenance shone through. You were too far to cinch his right arm from throwing a punch in the designer’s direction–

But he managed to surprise you by using his left fist instead.

“You will sooner die than lay a hand on them— not even their fucking hair.”

“Y-You—!!!”

Scaramouche was already littered with bruises when you got there, his hanfu torn and his hate discarded and stomped on with abandon.

You trembled at the sight, knees nearly buckling down.

You were too late.

They both appeared unaware of your ghostly presence behind. In a single fast motion, you witnessed your beloved idol punch Scaramouche in the ribs. You winced as a crack reverberated throughout the room before Scaramouche inhaled sharply. The thing that most alarmed you, though, was the sound of Xiao's curt yet stern chuckle, which was a dead giveaway that he wasn't going to stop until the designer was rendered immobilized. Scaramouche made an effort to stand up from the ground using his fist as support, but Xiao quickly grabbed him by the collar like a mother cat would a difficult child.

“Weak,” Xiao spoke. “Why did you even dare to provoke me when you can barely defend yourself? You’re not worthy of calling (Y/n) by any other name.”

“Y-You fucking jealous dumbass. Your career is over once I’m through with you!” Scaramouche coughed up, blood spitting out from his mouth and onto Xiao’s clenched hand. “You fucking worm— I could just release the CCTV recordings and—”

“You won’t be able to retrieve any recordings,” Xiao said in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone.

He dropped Scaramouche and knelt to his level.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to beg Xiao to stop.

But you can’t recognize him, and the words died in your throat.

“You won’t find a single clip.”

Scaramouche’s face softened into a look of dismissive defeat. However, his stony yet smug expression resurfaced.

“Ah, so Tighnari’s in on this too,” Scaramouche laughed, slowly devolving into a mildly hysterical fit. “Of course, of course! You already have Baizhu’s go signal so it’s not surprising you got that genius’ approval too. Only natural that a weak person like you have so many accomplices to back up your obsession—”

“And you?”

“H-hah. And what?”

Xiao dragged him closer.

“Where are YOUR friends, Kunikuzushi?”

…

Xiao breathed in, closing his eyes.

“I am not like you. I am not an easy target simply because I often act alone.”

In a stroke of luck, Scaramouche turned his gaze away— and saw you at the door instead.

Positively mortified.

“D-Don’t—” Scaramouche coughed. “—talk big… H-Ha… Look behind you, insect.”

Once he did, Xiao stiffened.

No, no, no— why are you here?

… Why did you get back inside?

That wasn’t part of the plan— didn’t Baizhu call you?

“(Y-Y/n), I…”

You weren’t supposed to see this.

He took a step forward, you instinctively took two steps back. You cursed yourself internally for letting your fear get the best of you when you knew that despite Scaramouche’s broken nose and bloody lips, it was Xiao who needed your help the most.

His heart dropped.

“Producer, this is…”

His throat dried up.

Why is it so draining for him to open himself up to you?

“D-Did you see that, starlight?” Scaramouche droned. Even when he's losing blood, his silver tongue quips a retort.

“Did you see the monster you were working for?”

“Xiao” pivoted his heels, frowning even now as the mutilated man lost consciousness below him. You could barely recognize Scaramouche from all that blood. “Xiao” took a step closer to you. You couldn't move. Your feet were rooted to your spot.

Fortunately, he moved on auto-pilot, grabbing you by the arm and carefully swerving past Scaramouche’s assistant to head outside.

He didn’t give you a chance to ponder over Scaramouche’s words.

For a moment, neither of you said a thing as you stood at the front gate. It felt like an eternity before you mustered the courage to speak up.

“… You’re bleeding.”

Why aren't you comforting his hand? Please hold his hand gently. Please hold him.  

Another voice screamed inside his head, one that sounded similar to Scaramouche.

Can't you see that expression on their face? That's fear. That's betrayal. The person you love thinks you're a monster, Xiao.

“... I bought some wound dressings. They’re inside my car.”

—

“Be sure to buy wound dressings along the way.”

—

Instead of feeling relief, you shivered at how convenient it was for him to keep some in his vehicle. Director Baizhu’s mind echoed in your head almost like an apparition.

In other words: this was premeditated.

And you don’t know what to make of that information.

“(Y/n).”

“Y-Yes?”

You zoned out that you didn’t realize you were already in front of “Xiao”’s car, still holding the assistant’s phone.

He squeezed your hand lightly.

“Don’t leave me.”

His voice cracked.

“Please.”

After a moment of brief silence, you gave him a hesitant frown.

… Your intuition tells you that no matter what you answer, the outcome won’t change.

You squeezed his hand back. If you didn’t, Archons know he would’ve fallen apart. 

“I’m staying.”

In a sense, you think you finally understood Xiao better. It’s just as he said yesterday: he lost everything and he felt everything. This overprotective and downright possessive nature must’ve stemmed from what had happened when he was a reservist. He can’t bear to lose another person. While it may sound nice to know he does think of you as someone important, you wish you realized this about him sooner.

Xiao has a crush on you.

He smiled.

It was a gorgeous smile. A rare eye candy enticing enough to make you glad he considered you a companion.

… But why do you feel terrified?

“Thank you. Allow me to protect you from him— from anyone from now on. Just call out my name.”

You could only fake a laugh in response.

‘Xiao, what an awful liar you are. Lying between your molars was still not something you could do without a hitch.

So do not speak as if you haven't been doing that since the very beginning.’

ANSYTEA: Thank you for joining the 1k idol event, starlight anon!!!!

DRIFTER'S BALLAD. ⋆·˚ ༘ *

synopsis: in which you come whirling into the wanderer’s life like a tempestous storm, bringing pleasant gales in your wake and an unsuspecting puppet under your thrall. (or, alternatively, you end up worming your way too deeply into the wanderer's life that he doesn't want to let go. uh oh)

warnings: 10k words, strangers to lovers!trope, pining, HUGE SLOWBURN, misunderstandings, angst, the wanderer is bad at feelings (the complete package), reader is a traveler but NOT the game traveler and has a hydro vision. aether is the canon mc. i have no idea if this is ooc, mentions of fontaine, some references to scara's past names n titles not really all that canon compliant so sorry abt that lol

mhie's notes: it took me 1 large cup of coffee and a portion of my soul to write this fic and i think im severely delirious rn. honestly hate the ending but fuck it we ball, don't ask me why i randomly decided to churn out this monstrosity because idk it's the wanderer he does that alot, this is definitely my magnum flopus bc i hate it but also what the fuck did i just write. anyways enjoy?????

Sumeru is, quite literally, a breath of fresh air.

The nation of Dendro is nothing short of lustrous, lush, and teeming with life— various aromas of delicacies you’ve never even set eyes upon before; colorful wares the merchants of Sumeru City proudly flaunt, varieties of daily necessities and souvenirs all on display.

Yes, this would be the perfect place for you to temporarily take up residence in.

Once you got used to it, at least.

But trouble always follows the unprepared, especially for someone yet to be acquainted with such a place so humid like Sumeru, and you certainly don’t expect to find yourself robbed the moment you let down your guard sightseeing.

“Hey, hey! Get back here, you thief! That's my mora!”

Your shamelessness admittedly gets you strange looks by the locals there, but you hardly pay them any mind, too focused on actually getting your valuables back and potentially saving yourself from being in extreme poverty. Adventuring was already costly as it is. You didn't need a run for your money.

Just a little more and you could get to that thief… you were so close…!

…So close until you bump into someone at the worst timing known to Teyvat. Already irritated, it doesn't take long for you to direct such anger to said someone, despite knowing just how foolish that notion was. “Ugh! Hey, do you mind?! I was just about to get that damn no good th-”

“-ief…?”

The first thing you notice about the someone that you bump into is that oh, he's beautiful.

Not handsome, no, beautiful. Ethereal, almost. As if his visage was crafted by the very Gods themselves.

And then you notice that hat.

It was huge, clearly not of Sumerian origin, and now that you look closer, his clothing resembles that of certain Inazuman individuals… Right, what was the word again? Shugenja?

He hardly looked the part though, especially with that face. You've always thought monks would've had a kinder face. This guy's face however, seemed stormy. Melancholic, in a way— you can't deny that he is likely the most attractive person you've ever come across in ages.

“Oh, ah-! I'm sorry for bumping into you!” Archons above, your voice was so weak. What was up with you? Did tumbling into some random guy mess with your brain so bad you seem to see him in rose-tinted lenses now?

And was it just you, or did he seem to look forlorn for a moment? He seemed quite aimless, too… maybe missing someone?

That brief glimpse of sorrow fades from his gaze like a flash of thunder, as if it was never there in the first place, and a sigh escapes the beautiful stranger’s lips, mildly displeased. “It’s fine. Watch where you're going next time.”

A pause, before he looks towards the direction of where the thief last scuttled off to, in a rather sketchy corner of the Grand Bazaar. “If you're done staring, the guy you were chasing went that way, by the way.”

...??

“Oh. Oh, right! Sorry, sorry, I have to go… Thank you for telling me though!”

You don't hear his response as you zip past him.

(Oh. Archons. He looked so beautiful. There's heat travelling to your face and you're not sure if that's the adrenaline from running or just a side effect of that eye-catching stranger.)

Although, a small part of your mind can't help but wonder why such a pretty person seemed to be making such a sad face.

── ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ ──

Thankfully, all was well after that encounter with that stranger. Like the heavens themselves answered your pleas, it was just your luck that a matra had spotted the thief, and by extension, you.

Turns out that the thief was quite well-known, having robbed quite a lot of people to warrant himself a top priority capture in the Matra’s jurisdiction. Apparently, he used to be a researcher that fell from grace at Sumeru’s most well-known academic institution, the Akademiya. Really, scholars were quite the odd bunch, weren't they…

Being severely hungry as a result of the chase, you end up going to a certain Lambad’s Tavern and, in a sick twist of fate, you find the stranger there again, sipping away at a cup of coffee, looking like it's no one's business what he's up to.

This time, it's his hat that you notice, not his face. In the back of your mind, you wonder why he didn't take it off. He was already inside the tavern, so why didn't he remove that big hat of his?

(He suits the hat, though.)

You don't know what drives you to move forward, whether it be liquid courage or just because of the way he seemed to be someone you were oddly drawn to, somehow. Even if you've only met him just earlier.

So, with a smile and determination on your face, you approach him, sitting down from across his seat. He visibly stops, and you can see that he's internally weighing whether to drive you out. “You're the stranger from earlier, right? The one who helped me?”

“...” Not a talkative one, is he?

“Y’know, staying silent forever won't stop me from asking. You mind if I can sit here?”

You can see him exhale out a sigh, as if the very notion of answering tires him to his bones. Okay, how rude. “Do what you want. Just keep your voice down. Don't you know people need their peace?”

You raise your brow. “Well, don't you know it's polite to make small talk?”

“Heh, well, sorry to disappoint you, but I don't know, in fact, since I rarely engage in them. Trivial things like that are no use to me.”

“Wow, what a life you must live then, with that mindset of yours.”

He gives you a condescending look. “Yeah, it's great. Perfectly content with this mindset of mine, thanks.”

You should be fuming right now, really. At the sheer audacity of this blue-garbed stranger, at his extremely candid and no filter words. But you aren't. If anything, it was quite charming. “You have a knack for throwing people off, don't you?”

“Hah, that's their problem. You humans can be annoyingly sensitive sometimes, after all.” another sip of his coffee follows suit.

Humans. Was he a non-human then if he seems to exclude himself from that category? What an interesting stranger.

You ask for his name; he's reluctant, letting another beat of silence pass before he gives it to you. Wanderer. What kind of person names someone Wanderer? Maybe he wasn't human after all.

As if sensing the weird look you give him, he noticeably bristles up. “What? Got a problem with that name?”

“No, it's just…” you pause, before you grin uncontrollably. “Pfft, ahahahahaha! What kind of strange name is that? That sounds so cool! Yet so- Er, sorry, how do I say it? Ah, right. Eccentric! That's quite the eccentric name you got there, Wanderer.”

(He tenses slightly. How strange, being reminded of the past in the company of a stranger.)

“With the way you seem so amused by my name, I’d think you'd put me off as some clown on the streets.” he grumbles, but makes no motion to actually be offended by your words. “Your order’s here. Best you compose yourself or you’d make a mess laughing yourself silly.”

“Oh, you're right..!” and indeed, your delicious order of Sabz Meat Stew comes in right at the perfect time, the smell of the mild lemon and aromantic spices wafting through the air in a harmonious blend. You could almost drool at the sight in front of you.

When you accidentally burn yourself by immediately taking a small sip of the stew, there's a snicker from across you from Wanderer, his expression mildly amused.

“Even sturmbeasts have the patience to wait till it isn't hot. If I didn't know any better, I’d say you’d finish that stew in one go.”

You huff. “Well, I'm hungry, so just spare me the clever quips, will you? Or I just might.”

Unbeknownst to you, a strange feeling of nostalgia wells deep within him when he sees you scarf down the stew, albeit quite gracelessly.

There's awe in your expression for such a simple thing, just a broth made from herbs and meat.

It reminds him a little bit too much of the puppet he was before, that starry-eyed face.

What an interesting stranger.

── ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ ──

“Ah! It's you again, Wanderer!”

He can see you scrambling to get to his side, and frankly, he doesn't even know why he ended up here, focusing on the now muddy path in front of him. The rain rumbles on, getting stronger by the minute.

He'd been getting restless as of late, always dreaming, the ghosts of the past being more of a pain lately. Since Lesser Lord Kusanali did tell him to take it easy… even she couldn't blame him if he couldn't help but want to leave the stuffy air of the Akademiya. She'd understand.

Probably.

So here he was, in some corner of Avidya Rainforest, walking through the heavy rain. This was his life now, being a wanderer. To think that he, a former Fatui, a Harbinger at that, would end up writing research papers about how that recluse’s nation ended up is now letting time pass by aimlessly walking through this inconvenient rain shower… truly, he's fallen far from grace.

“Wha-! Hey, don't ignore me! You're going to get soaked..!”

Though with your appearance, he supposes it wasn't a bad decision. Even if his ears hurt from your volume.

“Shouldn't you be worrying about yourself rather than me?”

Unlike him, you were visibly soaked, rain droplets littering the expanse of your form, the water making your clothes cling to you like a second skin. You wave your hand dismissively at his statement.

“It's no big deal. I'm used to heavy rainfall already, on the road and all… and besides, I gave away my umbrella to a merchant passing by before coming here. But in any case-!”

You grab at his wrist, and he could easily shove you away, tell you to leave him be, but somehow, he doesn't. “What are you doing?”

“Getting shelter, obviously!” and just like that, you take him by the hand, hiding under his hat, whirling past the strong breeze, unwavering, running towards the nearest shade you can find. “The both of us will end up soaked at this rate!”

Your hands are warm in his own.

Soft, gentle. So unlike his own cold, mechanically structured joints. A small part of him loathes the sensation.

Human touch reminded him of what he was, after all. Created, artificial. So different from the warmth of your fingertips, of the heart you housed in your body. It’s a bitter reminder of what he had yearned to be, and what he could never be.

And yet inexplicably, the Wanderer finds that he doesn't hate this particular touch.

(How bothersome.)

The two of you find shelter in the form of a huge tree, big enough to block out the temporary rain, and he watches as you gather your bearings, checking your travel bag for any soaked items. He can see that you're diligent, tirelessly taking out the items that seem to be a lost cause, and leaving the ones that seem salvageable to dry near the shade. You even hum a tune while doing so.

Hah, how carefree.

“So, why did you give it away?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Your umbrella. Humans get sick easily, and only an idiot would give up their umbrella in this downpour, so why bother giving it to someone else? They won't even return it.”

He can see you purse your lips, contemplating how to answer his words. Then, you shrug. “Guess I just wanted to. Doesn't hurt anyone if you just wanted to do something good.”

Are you serious?

“But you'd be the one inconvenienced. It's not worth it.”

“Says who? That merchant looked troubled, and if I could help him even with something small as giving my umbrella, then it's worth it.”

How vexing. This unabashed kindness certainly takes him for surprise; You could've easily ignored that merchant, like all humans do, and go on with your life, perfectly dry and dandy. He would certainly do that, anyway. But then again, he wasn't exactly the giving type, and he wasn't a saint. Who was he to judge?

A few moments of silence pass, and even for him, this awkwardness is stifling.

“...Say, do you think it was a bad decision?” he can't discern anything deep in your tone except for the simple desire to keep up cordial conversation. “Giving my umbrella away, I mean.”

“No.” he answers immediately, despite not really knowing why he answered that way. He doesn't even think it was a good decision to give it away in the first place. “It wasn't.”

“Why?” there's curiosity in your voice, and for a moment he seems out of it, plunged into a bygone memory. Why indeed?

(“It’s only natural for people to want to help someone in need. It's in our nature.”

“I'm not exactly.... 'people' though, Niwa.”

A bygone laugh lost time echoes across the breeze.

“Who says you aren't included? Everyone could use a helping hand. Naturally, it applies to those who aren't human too, Kabukimono. But I already did tell you, right?

You're human just like the rest of us, as far as I'm concerned.”)

The voice of Niwa echoes in his mind, a passing thought.

“Its in human nature to want to help people, and because just a simple thing like that meant there was one person who wanted to reach out to you,” a pause, before he adds something far more personal than his normally guarded self would.

“-and because that meant there was at least someone who wanted to help you, even if for nothing in return. Just wanting to do something good. No strings attached.

…It's not a bad thing, at least.”

(This, he supposes, is one of the things that made him long to be like them in the first place.)

You probably wouldn't know just how much it took for him to say these words, just how much your passing words seemed to impact him. You probably wouldn't know either, how saying these words, forcing them out from his artificed jaw had made some part of him feel infinitely lighter. Snapping an invisible shackle from his body.

Making him feel a little more free, in a way.

“Hm.” You fall back into that silence, and he can see you musing to yourself about his words. “Is that what you think?”

??? “I guess so.”

He doesn't see the smile on your face. “You’re a good person, Wanderer.”

Hah. What a joke. Him? A good person? If only you knew. “You shouldn't just assume things about me just because of my words.”

What part about him was good? Humans truly loved to jump into conclusions easily.

(He's a fire, turning everything he cherishes to ashes, and then blaming it on himself. Hazardous to everyone around him. He's nothing like a good person.)

And yet he elicits a laugh out of you, melodious and clear, the sound strangely pleasant in his ears. What audacity.

“Yeah? Well, I guess it's just a feeling. You're pretty blunt, but you have this strange sincerity to you, you know? I like that. It's good, that honesty. It means you can accept the harsh parts of life people normally turn a blind eye to and move forward. That makes you a good person, that type of mindset.”

(Huh. He's never thought of it that way.)

It was still raining. Wanderer can hear the pitter-patter of the droplets from above the tree, gloomy sky overhead. It's sorry weather and this was one sorry conversation, hitting too close to something he thought he had long buried in the dust.

“You’re strange.” he mutters, and you laugh again, smile playing on your lips.

“Thanks, I get that alot.” you snark playfully, turning away from him, already getting back to fixing your things.

The weather was gloomy and dark, but the glow of your smile seemed to overshadow it all.

Indeed, how strange, this conversation.

For the first time in a long, long time, when he dreams, the Wanderer finds that the restlessness that plagued him isn't as suffocating as before.

── ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ ──

“Woah, you can really see the best view here!”

Had he not heard the crunch of the leaves under your feet, perhaps he would've startled, immediately throwing you off with a simple gale from his anemo powers. But you'd probably end up showering him with that stupid hydro vision of yours, so he doesn't entertain the thought, at least for now.

You plop down next to him on the soft bed of grass, one knee propped up to rest your head on. He follows suit, sitting down at one of the vantage points he's come across.

For some reason or another, you both find yourself in each other's company too many times for Wanderer to count. Whether it be from him passing by you in Sumeru City, or spending time at Avidya Forest and seeing you help around with those Forest Rangers, he certainly has seen quite a lot of you these days.

Whenever you do cross paths, he gets dragged into unsavory situations like helping out the people in Avidya Forest, getting a meal at some tavern you introduce him to, ever spontaneous with the incessant conversations about the mundane that he can't help but indulge in.

It has gotten to the point where he begrudgingly accepts the title you bestow upon him as friends.

Ridiculous, unnecessary. He didn't need a human connection, not now, not ever. Why the hell did he not rebuke you? He's received titles that are far more intricate and complex than you could ever imagine, ever comprehend.

(He won't say that he actually does enjoy it, being someone you consider your friend.)

You talk about your travels, about the nations you've been in, about damn almost everything possible. He's never enjoyed chatty humans, but your presence exudes comfort in some way, one that he can't help but return to, despite all his complaints and grumbles about it. He can bicker with you all he likes, spout insults upon insults from his lips, and you'd still see through him anyway, calling him out on his true intentions.

(“You know, you're kinder than you give yourself credit for.”

“That's ludicrous. Did the daydreaming rot your brain too much?”

“You say that, but if so, why are you so insistent in helping me with these simple things?”

A cart full of Zaytun peaches in his hands and yours. A commission for more mora. Your commission. He could've let you do it yourself. So why?

Both of you know why, but the puppet you've come to be endeared with is far too prideful to admit the true reason.

“That's... It was just in a whim. That's all. It's nothing like what you think it is.”

“Heh, sure, whatever you say, Kuni.”)

Whether you've intended to or not, you've glued yourself by his side to the point where he doesn't even know when there's a day he hasn't heard your enthusiastic voice talking about who knows what, and somehow, he finds that he doesn't tire of it at all.

If anything, your presence by his side is like a refreshing breather from everything in his life.

You've helped him immensely, despite the fact that it likely took you a great many times trying to break through his demanding and standoffish nature. For that, Wanderer truly does feel grateful for the fact that you chose to stay by his side despite how prickly he often lauds himself as. It's beneath him, it should be, it is.

(You've made it clear that he can easily get out of this strange arrangement as he sees fit, but even if it came to, the Wanderer can't find it in him to complain. He never does.)

In the duration of your time together, he finds that being the subject of your attention and companionship is something he takes great pleasure in, amugness and haughtiness aside. And frankly? He's firmly attached to it now, and he's sure as hell he's now unwilling to let such an addictive and warm feeling slip by his grasp.

…Maybe Buer wasn't so foolish about this whole companionship thing after all.

(“We’re friends now, you know! Companions, whatever you wanna call it.”

He can see the mirth on your face, the upturn of your lips. He can hear your laugh, and he can almost see your eyes crinkling around the corners. He didn't answer then, only turning his hat away from you to hide his face which houses a smile he’d rather not show you, given your teasing nature.

“Hmph. What childish whims you make me take part in.”

He'd also rather not show you how red his face was, but that was besides the point.

“Aww, you're shy! Hehe, I knew you weren't all gloomy and sarcastic! Come on, let me see how much you like being called my companion!”

“...Be quiet or I’ll take back my words.”

Laughter peals out of you, and the sound makes his smile just a tad bit bigger.

Your friend. Your companion.

That wasn't so bad.)

Out of all the humans he's come across, he thinks you're the most bearable.

The soft glow of the setting sun paints a picturesque view of Sumeru’s forest, amplified by the soft blend of reds, yellows and orange which makes the sunset look even more wonderful. Your hydro vision glints by the angle of the light hitting it, situated near your heart. Similar to his vision’s own placement, he notes with satisfaction.

The occasional breeze passes through as well, making your hair all messed up.

(Endearing.)

“Guess you were right. It is quite pretty here.” You continue, again, smiling at him with that irritatingly dazzling smile as you turn back to the sunset. Something in him stirs.

“The view is... bearable at best.”

He can see you scrunch your face in feigned irritation. “Jeez, just say you agree!”

Wanderer doesn't respond, content to drink in the comfortable silence between you two.

Indeed, for all his wandering, he'd come across many sights that were quite tolerable, a fact that you would understand most, being of similar standing as a traveler. This view in particular better than the rest, he muses.

You look good with the setting sun in the background, lighting your skin aglow. Not that he'd ever admit it to your face or else he'd probably face even more teasing from you, irksome terribly nosy as you are.

You both stay that way, watching the sun descend below the horizon, melting away like a soft flame, the darkness of the night soon to come.

“Hey, Wanderer?”

“What is it this time?” Masking it with feigned irritation, he hopes the fondness of his expression doesn't reach your eyes.

“Thanks for showing me such a pretty view.”

The Wanderer turns to you, the words he painstakingly garnered after internally warring with himself die on his lips, seeing you watch the blood red sun soon disperse, leaving the flickering embers of reds and orange in its wake.

The view, huh?

Yeah, it wasn't so bad.

---

“Oh! Welcome back. You stayed out quite late. Did you have a good time with [Name]?”

Nahida’s gentle tone greets him when he returns. She knows of you, given how frequently you've visited the Sanctuary of Surasthana to bother the ever so aloof puppet. The Sanctuary is relatively quiet, save for the occasional light noise of Wanderer's geta sandals as he descends down the steps.

Night has long graced Sumeru City, the pitch black darkness encompassing the nation, but the lights down below still find that the City itself is still bustling with life, likely soon to close up as the people get ready to rest after a hard day's work.

“It wasn't anything special.” she looks at him quizzically, intent to seek a reaction from the ever so guarded puppet.

It's only when she gets close enough that she stops, a small, knowing smile creeping up her face.

“It was just to see the sunset for a few minutes.”

There, from a miniscule glimpse from behind his face does she notice it.

The red on his cheeks that's all too similar to the shade around his eyes.

── ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ ──

It's been a while since you and the Wanderer have graciously known each other (his words), and to her most eager surprise, Nahida finds that it seems you've changed the puppet for the better.

He's visibly less prone to snapping at people, more mild-tempered (which is a huge improvement in her book) and can even hold conversations with others more— granted, only if she or you were there.

Of course, he still actively avoids delving into the trivialities of mortals, but is content to stay in your company.

His thesis and research papers have seen the light of day more often too, being given to her days early in advance when he normally would've waited till the deadline to submit them.

(“I see that your productivity has increased with regards to your academic endeavors. That's good news!

If I may, what’s with the change of heart?”

She could see the Wanderer scoff, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms, defensive. Like a cat with its fur on end, she likens.

“That's not your business to be concerned about. Besides, aren't you glad I'm finally putting up with this tiresome activity you've given me to learn more about myself like you wanted?”

“Anyway, just take it already. I just-” he'd sputtered then, so uncharacteristic of his normally apathetic nature, tipping his hat low away from her as he hands her the stack of papers.

She doesn't miss the pink hue splattered across his face. The sight is familiar.

“I'm in a hurry to meet someone, and these boring research papers will end up making them wait for me even longer. Need I say anything else?”)

In fact, by the way he's acting lately— the constant hovering around you under the guise of simply going out of the Akademiya to gather research material, the various times she's caught the both of you asleep, shoulder to shoulder in the corners of the House of Daena, scribbles of shared notes and books around you two, the way the Wanderer seems more keen on interacting with you than others…

The rumors that seem to point to him spending much more time outside the Akademiya, and sightings of him across various parts of Sumeru with a certain someone.

And to hit the final nail in the coffin, the final puzzle piece of the dichotomy of the puppet she's harbored in her tutelage, she even caught him making a certain something with great care that's normally atypical of him, clearly tailored to the taste for a certain someone.

Yes, by the information at hand, she could even say that the Wanderer is….

No. She shouldn't jump to conclusions just yet. Wisdom came with knowledge, and she didn't have sufficient knowledge to prove whether her hypothesis was correct.

The wisdom she's gaining here is still invaluable despite it being an arbitrary decision she had just thought of; She had nothing to lose here, and this would bode well in order for her to understand the workings of the puppet once called the Balladeer.

A creak of the Sanctuary’s doors alerts her to the appearance of someone coming inside.

“Nahida…?”

Ah. Perfect timing. It seems she’ll get the answers to her questions today.

“[Name]! What a nice surprise. What brings you here? Is the Wanderer giving you any trouble?”

The shake of your head is vehement, and you're quick to defend the prickly puppet at once. “No, no way! Well– Not too much trouble, anyway. You know how he can be.”

She smiles at that, slightly relieved at how earnest you answer. As expected, you were truly a sweet one, and she can tell why the puppet is intent on sticking by your side. “I see. Then, a friendly chat? If that's the case, feel free to chat with me. We're all friends here, after all.”

“Well… Yeah, about that.” Your expression is sheepish, a little meek. She keeps a mental note of the small color adorning your cheeks. “I wanted to ask for some advice. You know? For me- I mean! For a friend! Yes, for a friend, haha…”

“A friend?” she can play along with this if it meant she would gain insight to her current predicament. “Well then, ask away! Please tell me what this friend of yours needs advice on.”

A deep breath from you, willing yourself to take out the words lodged in the back of your throat.

“Say, Nahida. What would you do if you realize that someone who you've recently spent a lot of time with makes you feel… well, makes you feel, you know.”

Oh?

The God of Wisdom can almost giggle at the way you're trying to get your words to make sense, stringing them together in an instant. When you've clearly mulled it over enough, Nahida cranes her neck to hear your voice.

“Mm? What was that, [Name]?”

You take a deep breath, and spill everything to her.

By the time you exit the Sanctuary of Surasthana, she's trying hard not to fight but a grin on her face, and ultimately falls short.

There's only one final conclusion she's came to, and the puzzle has already come together.

Now, she wonders, if her conclusion was indeed right, how would it go from here? Once she'd understood the situation at hand, she'd given you just a small hint at the feelings she knows is simmering beneath the normally composed Wanderer, and hopes that you'd do well with such information.

This time, would a puppet such as him accept what was to be offered to him? Or would he turn away from it, as he always used to do with what he truly wished to have?

Truly, there were still many questions in this world that needed answering, and this was no exception.

---

“Are you done speaking with Buer?”

The puppet with the huge hat is by your side the instant you exit the Sanctuary. Instead of the usual exuberant energy, the you he's greeted with seems more quiet.

What did that damn god do? He swears, if she had even offended you in some way, he'd–

“....” Still quiet.

“Hey, have you grown mute or something? Look at me.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. We talked. Just about… something trivial. About my travels, that's all! Don't waste your time thinking about it, Kuni.” you're visibly out of it, but you flash him a smile as you always do, immediately heading back to the City.

He's unconvinced that was just the content of your conversation, given that God's need for constant information. He might as well say it. She's more nosy than she gives herself credit for, so he rather hopes you didn't give in to her (most likely) constant questioning.

“Well, if you say so.” immediately turning on his heel and moving, he misses the look you send him, and the words you utter under your breath.

“Yeah, maybe I should trust Nahida.”

“You've always been good at looking past the surface, [Name]! I'm sure this time is no different.”

“Still, what if I thought wrong? What if he simply sees me as his companion, or like, a confidant, and not-”

“That's unlikely. I'm certain he feels the same. But it's always better to try.”

“Well, you're right about that. Are you really, really sure he'll respond the way you think he will?”

“You'll do great regardless of the outcome, you know. Even if things will change between you two because of your decision, the Wanderer will appreciate you regardless. You've been a huge solace to him. Knowing him, he won't let you slip through his grasp easily.”

It's silent for a moment.

“I sure hope you're right.” an exasperated, fond sigh escapes your lips. “Really, he can be so confusing sometimes. Guess that's part of his charm.”

“Hehe, that I agree. You'll definitely do well, [Name].”

“Thanks, Nahida.”

You're having second doubts about what you're doing, each step nearing the Sanctuary of Surasthana you've no doubt the Wanderer is in right now. He'd never willingly go anywhere else on his own accord unless it was here, after all.

In your hand, the small glint of the present you've prepared for a certain someone gleams, spotless and pristine. A lotus pin. Its petals contain liquid resin and encased in it, a real Nilotpala Lotus, the colors resembling the shade of the Wanderer's eyes the reason why you picked it in the first place.

(You hope he likes it.)

Aside from the pin, there's also the letter containing your heart— rather, the feelings that have threatened to burst ever since the day you've come across that beautiful puppet with the strange, strange name. The one you’ve considered to be the sole captor of your attention, and not long after, your adoration.

Ah, what's the point in lying to yourself? From the moment your eyes met those blue-indigo ones, you knew you stood no chance in the feelings that soon enveloped you.

It took some time to get over once you've realized it, the subtle shift of you and the Wanderer’s dynamic growing to be more and more difficult to ignore as you both spend time together.

Just how deeply have you begun to feel for this puppet, longing to be able to see all the sides of him?

His joy, his melancholy, his anger, his arrogance, his haughtiness…. The sides he condemns and holds in a tight grip, and the softer parts of himself which he desperately tries to hide.

How he always seems to be more patient when dealing with children or the elderly on your encounters in Sumeru City or Avidya Rainforest, how his words betray his true intentions, how he’s far more human than he ever believes himself otherwise, being the most caring person you've ever come across, in his own weird ways.

Every second you spend with him, you see even more parts of himself that he bares before you, trusting you to accept it and stay by his side even then. And you do.

You're completely and utterly enamored with him, it's terrifying.

Sumeru was just supposed to be another next stop for you. Being a traveller, partings and meetings with others were transient, fleeting. You didn't expect to feel the growing attachment to this fragile yet untouchable puppet swell until it consumed you.

(You didn't expect to care for him this much, to fall for him this deeply.)

He calls himself someone beneath such simple feelings, but you can't help but hope that perhaps he has grown to care for you as well, in one small corner of his heart.

He may say that he doesn't have one, a homage to his inhuman origins, but you're not buying it. How could you believe him, when all his actions proved otherwise?

You remember when he first opened up to you, a small sight into what made up his entire being, a glimpse behind those stubbornly unreachable walls he's conjured up to protect himself. The both of you were high up in one of the huge trees that only the rainforests of Sumeru can boast, under the canopy of leaves.

He'd been standing, looking at the stars with that same stormy expression you had first seen on him the day the both of you had first encountered each other.

You'd been in awe of the twinkling stars high up in the sky, to which the Wanderer had responded with his normal apathy, immediate nitpick about your supposed ‘simplemindedness at mere balls of gas in the heavens’. It had escalated, a conversation about the stars slowly turning in the direction of fate, and eventually towards questions about yourselves.

(“So I can call you by that name? Kunikuzushi?”

Even though you tried to hide it, there'd been an unmistakable grin on your face. He'd finally told you at least some part of his past! Perhaps this would lead you two to get closer.

And maybe….

Wanderer– Kunikuzushi, rather, crossed his arms, giving you a deadpan look. “You're so happy about that. It's just a name. Use it if you want to. Calling me Wanderer all the time is way too troublesome.”

“Troublesome? I don't think so, though? And of course I'm happy! Finally, here I thought you'd never tell me anything about yourself. This is cause for celebration, you know.”

“Hardly. Only simpletons like you would find it fit to be celebrated, but the sentiment is admirable.” Adorable, hiding his face beneath his hat. The small peek at the normally straight line that is his lips turning upwards tells you all you need to know.

“Riiight… In any case, Kunikuzushi is too long!” he grimaces at that. If it had been anyone else, he probably would've smited them for the slight insult. You aren't just anyone, though.

“So, can I call you Kuni?”

He takes his time weighing the option whether to be dissatisfied with the nickname or not, but in the end, ultimately decides the latter.

“Do whatever you want.”)

Whatever the case, you've already been persuaded by Nahida to tell him about your feelings.

You weren't going to run away from this. You won’t. You were going to give it to him. You were going to give it. Don't be a coward, [Name], this won't hurt anyone at all, and Kunikuzushi—

“What are you talking about, Buer? It's nothing like that.

....Look, they're not that important as you think, you've thought wrong. [Name] is just....”

The Wanderer's voice echoes loudly, irritated. And he's pissed, judging from his tone. Hiding near the steps to the entrance the Sanctuary of Surasthana, you can't help but listen in. Was he arguing with Nahida? And a mention of your name...?

“Are you sure? Because I thought—”

“Well, you thought wrong. There's no way I'd be attached to someone that's as troublesome as them, who can't even learn to take a hint that I don't want to be bothered.”

Huh?

“But, [Name] is a good person. They've clearly helped you immensely, and if you keep ignoring their impact on you, then…”

“They’ve done nothing. They're just– Look, whatever foolish flight of fantasy you've conjured in your head about me and them, it's nothing. Don't bother trying to refute me, because it really isn't anything.”

You hardly pay attention to Nahida's response, too busy trying to steady the emotions currently rushing through your body.

Normally, you’d immediately question his words, chalking them up as him just wanting others to stop prying into his business.

But the sincerity in his words, the finality of it- Was that what he really thought? You thought he at least appreciated your presence. Not… not this. You feel like your chest is threatening to burst.

Did you really mean nothing to him? Was all that time you've spent together really nothing?

You don't know. In fact, now that this riveting declaration he'd given had come to light, all you know is that you don't want to be here right now. He's talked about betrayal before, something in his past. He didn't divulge too many details, but you knew it wounded him deeply.

Now, though? you can't help but think it was you that had been betrayed.

To think that all this time….

Whatever traces of your earlier enthusiasm has died and snuffed out like a flickering candlelight. If he were to spot you now after you know how he truly feels about you, would you be able to face him?

There's only one answer. You can't.

You needed to get out of here, and fast.

So you did.

── ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ ──

When the Wanderer goes to the spot you two meet up frequently and doesn't find you there, he's mildly displeased.

His pride was far too big to quantify, so normally he would've brushed this off, but it was you. You, the only person he'd even relatively opened himself to.

Ever-present you, who he's grown to care for in more ways that he can admit. You, the person he can't help but be drawn to, the one being who's been on his mind far too many times to count. The one who's shown him that in this damn world, there were things that were worth something.

That he was worth something. Worthy of attention, companionship, and all the good things you've brought to him.

He shouldn't be feeling this way, because he really shouldn't. It was just a day without you, how hard could that even be?

But the sting of slight hurt can't help but surface at you not showing up at your designated meeting spot.

You don't show up the next day.

Or the next.

Or the next day after that. And the next day after that day.

There's a sinking feeling in the void where his heart lies, bitterness that can't compare to the coffee he takes in that stupid Lambad's Tavern.

Without the constant rambling of a certain someone inadvertently making his days lighter, his routine has grown as dull as it always has, now that you've left the picture.

(He despises this feeling.)

Ah. Again, someone else had left. You left. Left him just when he was so close to realizing the fact that maybe, this transient connection between you two should be something he could care for, that he was allowed to foster; Something that the Wanderer could finally hold dear.

What a joke.

Though his mind had long cemented the idea that you had indeed left him in the dust as all mortals he'd cherished had, some idiotic, hopeful part of him thought otherwise.

Would you really leave him without warning?

Without good reason? As much as he would like to say to himself that yes, you would, for fate has never been kind to a puppet such as he, always taking what he cherishes away from his grasp, deep down, he knows you wouldn't do that.

The [Name] he knows isn't like that. You could be mischievous, insufferable, stubborn to a head-ache inducing fault, but you weren’t someone who would leave without a reason.

You upheld your beliefs to a strict standard, too tough on yourself sometimes that he finds it irritating, and always so easy to sway. As much as he'd like to disagree, he knows you too much, so much that he undoubtedly believes you wouldn't leave without a reason.

As for why… There had to be a reason why you suddenly thought it was best if you would spend less time with him. Rather, that you stopped spending time with him.

Was it because of his personality?

Immediately, he chuckles humorlessly. Hah, don't be an idiot. If that was why you'd left then you would've left a long time ago.

Then…. something he’d said to hurt your feelings? He doesn't recall anything of the sort so why—

Oh. Oh.

(“Well, you thought wrong. There's no way I'd be attached to someone that's as troublesome as them, who can't even learn to take a hint that I don't want to be bothered.”)

Curse his traitorous tongue.

Immediately as his hopes had risen, they were crushed by the steady, disgusting realization that because of that one conversation with Lesser Lord Kusanali, you had deemed yourself unfit to stay by his side like he's secretly been wishing.

He didn't mean it.

As realization festers like an ugly weed poisoning his mind, it's fear that spikes him like little pin pricks all over his consciousness, before desperation takes over and worsens his already crumbling thoughts. He didn't mean for you to hear that. That wasn't what he meant.

Again, someone he held dear had been stripped away from him and it was all his fault. Again, he was the fool, the puppet that hoped for too much.

(“Nothing is so broken that it can't be fixed.”

“What kind of useless advice did you pick up on your travels? What a joke.”

“Hey, just so you know, I actually believe in this saying! After all, it's true. And it's a wonderful statement, don't you think?”)

“Nothing is so broken that it can't be fixed.” he murmurs to himself like a mantra, and though he tries to stomp it out, he can feel the rush of adrenaline pumping his mechanical joints, willing him forward.

He had to apologize. At least, clear up what you had heard that day, tell you that no, that wasn't what he meant. It wasn't what he meant at all.

This was selfish of him, truly, and he won't deny that perhaps he doesn’t deserve to face you, but who cares?

He's grown far too deep into this bond with you that even if Celestia itself had threatened to tear it apart, tear you two apart, he'd use every part of himself to resist, to tie back those broken strings, damn pride forgotten in the winds.

If it wasn't salvageable anymore, then he'd make it so that it is. He'd tell you that he didn't think you were a bother, or that you were just a simple passerby in his long life.

He'd tell you that he’s sorry, that you were more than those things, that you've been more than just a simple companion to him for a long time already. That you've been more than that for a long, long time. If you would allow it, he'd tell you that he—

No. He needs to focus on finding you first. That can wait until after he sees even a glimpse of you.

Now that he has a clear goal in mind, the Wanderer works with a brutal efficiency that he once harbored, back when he held the title of the Balladeer.

Though that version of him is long behind him, if it could speed up the process of finding you, then he'd use it.

He'd use any means necessary right now.

So, he heads to your residence, determination filling his body and a simple outcome in his sights.

── ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ ──

“Are you sure about this, [Name]? You said you really, really like Sumeru… Maybe you should really think about it more! You might regret it if you don’t!” 

Paimon’s voice is sympathetic, and clearly because of how haggard you looked. You thank the heavens she and Aether don't question the tear stains on your face. 

“Sorry, Paimon, but I’m sure. I’m not changing my decision.” your voice is a little hoarse from the crying from earlier and probably the day before that, but you put on a brave face to reassure the floating girl. “And right now, I'd think a trip to Fontaine is much better than staying in Sumeru.”

Aether and Paimon look at each other, concerned looks on their faces. It warms your heart, despite the fact that you don't know them all too well and just decided to tag along when they mentioned they were headed off to the Nation of Justice. 

You've only heard about Aether in passing, often talked about by the very reason you had even left the Land of the Dendro Archon. The hero of Mondsdat, the outlander, Sumeru’s savior, the endless titles leave you reeling even still. If it were any other day, perhaps you would be taken with him, someone you admire immensely in the flesh.

Too bad your heart is still stuck on one particular puppet. Really, what luck, falling for the one man (puppet) who was as untouchable as he was prideful.

This wasn’t you coping, no, but now that you think about it, this outcome wasn’t something to be surprised about. The Wanderer had made it clear his view on human relationships. It was you who had simply assumed that perhaps like those cliche light novels you’ve come across, maybe there could’ve been something else born out of the companionship you and the Wanderer shared.

“Just know that you’re always welcome to travel with us.” Aether says simply, giving you a simple smile. Luckily, you find it in you to smile back, just a bit. You’re really grateful for them.

But then your mind wanders, back to your residence, back to the contents of the conversation you’ve heard out of Kuni’s– Wanderer’s– mouth. Fine. If this was what he wanted, you stopping to bother him like he so loudly explained– then he’d get it.

The gift you’d made for him, the letter. Just thinking about it made you want to sink into a hole and just never come out.

(Maybe he’d come looking for you. Maybe he’d miss you, feel the depth of your absence like you do for him. You wish he does. You hope he does, really. You were really a goner.)

Looking at Port Ormos’ docks, watching the boat that’ll take all three of you to Fontaine get closer as you begin to forcefully open a new chapter of your adventures, your heart can’t find it in you to be excited at all, although normally you’d be thrilled at the idea of even visiting a nation you’ve been unfamiliar with. You’d probably be chatting away with Aether and Paimon right now, asking about the food, the best sights, everything.

You should be doing that. It’d give you a reason for your mind not to wander and think about the crippling weight of your decision and the feelings that are still very much stirring up within you, with the cause being a certain man with a large hat.

Ugh, could you even stop thinking about him? For all you know, Kuni might just happen to be around the corner and—

“And just what do you think you’re doing now, hm? Intending to leave after you so carelessly hadn’t informed me? Didn’t you say that we were companions? I get that you tend to be forgetful, but even so, this is too much.”

Oh my god.

You’ve never whipped your head around so fast, turning your body towards the source of that familiar, arrogant tone. Lo and behold, speak of the man and he shall appear. What in the world was he doing here? He looks like he’s about to murder someone right now. You hope that someone isn’t you, but there wasn’t anyone else he was looking at dead in the eye, so that’s all for your hopes.

(And why did you feel so relieved? Get a grip on yourself, you fool! This wasn’t a damn tragedy movie.)

From the corner of your eye, you can see Aether and Paimon giving you two strange looks. You can't blame them. It was weird seeing the normally unbothered Wanderer in the company of someone other than Nahida.

Nonetheless, you face him straight in the eye, eyebrows raised and defiant. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at Sumeru City?”

He tries to answer, but you can see that he falters momentarily, and that seamless face of his morphs into something that– you hope you weren’t imagining it– something that you can only plainly describe as regret, that in which you can’t help but feel an inexplicable pang in your heart.

Then, you notice it.

Pinned above his vision, with the golden feather he seems to carry with him everywhere. The lotus pin. Right, you’d left it at the inn you were staying in, not wanting to see it again after… Wait a moment, he’s wearing it.

You've hardly the time to feel elated when you feel it. A tug of your hand. You try to remove it from your own, but you’d underestimated the strength he harbors in that lithe body of his; he’s pulling you to the side, immediately heading in the opposite direction. For a moment you’re almost swept into the visage that seems straight out of a romance novel, his hand firmly in place in yours. “Wh-! Hey, Wanderer, wait…!”

Only when you’ve both crossed a specific distance from the docks and in a rather sketchy alleyway with no prying eyes to bother you both does he see fit to let go of you, stopping abruptly that you almost bump into him had it not been for his hat.

It's almost ironic. You'd first met him in an alleyway not too dissimilar to this, and now you're both in another alleyway, this time not as strangers, but as two individuals who have wormed their way into each other's lives so deeply that the presence of the other bleeds, so entangled and mixed into the life of the other in a manner that allowed something far more personal to fester like ink bleeding into a blank canvas, unable to be scrubbed away.

“What were you thinking?”

Is he actually asking this now? What’s more, not even sparing a single glance at you. Honestly, you’ve had it with him. If he wanted to play this way, then so be it.

“What am I thinking? What are you thinking?” you hiss, crossing your arms. “I was just heading off to a new destination of mine, like all travelers do. Yet you act like it’s the end of the world or something. If anything, aren’t you glad I’m not here to bother you anymore?”

“'...So you did hear me and Lesser Lord Kusanali’s conversation. I knew it. Tell me, what else did you hear?”

“That’s… none of your business. Now leave me be, the boat’ll be arriving soon and I don’t intend to be late. Unless you’re purposefully trying to stop me?” 

A smirk from him. So he still had the gall to look haughty? “What if I am trying to stop you? What would you do then?”

“Then I’d run away.”

“You know I’m faster than you, right? Or are you forgetting I can use my vision to keep up?”

“So? It can’t hurt to try. Who knows, maybe I’ll use my vision to walk on water to escape you. That'd be a sight to see.” you say, stubbornly sticking to your stand. “Enough bickering, Wanderer, let’s just save the small talk and get to the point. Why are you really here?”

Again, that look of regret flashes across his face. “....”

You wait for him to speak. When he doesn’t, you immediately turn away back to the direction of the boat. Of course that gets him talking.

“I didn’t mean them. The things I said to Buer, it- it wasn’t…. I really didn’t mean it, [Name].” there’s urgency in his voice, a hint of desperation too, one that seemed almost at the edge of tipping over. “Believe me, I didn’t mean them, I swear.”

You aren’t ready for this right now. “Then why say it in the first place? To Nahida, too…! I can’t possibly believe that you didn’t mean them.”

“I’ll keep saying it till you believe it.” the intensity in his voice is firm and determined, surety in it that makes you feel warm from head to toe. Dangerous. He really doesn't know just how much he affect you.

“You’re more than just a companion to me.”

── ➶-͙˚ ༘✶ ──

Please, self-control. Do not be swayed by that face.

But the softness in his tone when he says these words inform you of the sincerity of what the Wanderer is trying to convey, the nature of his words right out in the open, unmasked and raw, bearing itself to you. Genuine regret and guilt fill his expression, and if you decide to look closer, you can see it. The small outline of tears from his eyes.

You can’t look at him. You can’t, or else you know you’re going to be a goner.

“How do I know that’s not a lie?” you challenge, voice small, sneaking a peek at him. There’s a breathless chuckle from him, as if endeared by the thought. The expression he holds right now leaves your mind utterly blank, the fondness in it, the affection seeping from his eyes in waves, a fact that you notice firsthand. You always notice.

“Do you really always have something to say at a time like this?” his words lack bite, amused more than anything. “Then, if you don’t believe me…”

He draws closer to you, close enough that you can push him away if you so desired. You can see him look at you momentarily, a silent question. When you don’t refuse, however, he seems satisfied, and takes it as a signal to proceed.

“I’ll just have to prove it.”

What was happening? Hold on, was he really going to—

His touch is cold, but comforting. Thumb brushing against your jaw, to your lips. So softly, and so lovingly it leaves you in a mess, face burning. You can feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the spot he’d held with such care still smoldering in its wake. He cradles your face in his hands like it was you that were precious porcelain, but he doesn’t close the distance like you’ve envisioned.

Instead, you find that there’s hesitance in him, a line he desperately tries not to cross, not from repulsion, but fear. Fear that this was all a dream, that it would be taken away from him in a heartbeat. Fear that you would be taken away, whisked into an unfortunate end like so many others he held dear. Fear for what it meant if he embraced the tempest of feelings he’s long harbored for you.

Fear for what it meant if he held you.

It’s this very fear that’s brought upon the teardrops falling down his face. And oh, how beautiful he looked despite his sorrow. How glad you feel, the sole witness to his spirit, the unwavering bundle of mysteries that makes up who he is.

You hadn’t forgiven him for his words back at the Sanctuary that day, but that would be brought up later, and hopefully by the end of this, banished from your mind, a simple misunderstanding.

For now, with equal tenderness as you would handle a treasure, you wipe away the tears that encompass the flawless canvas that is the Wanderer, and the world seems to stop at the way you both stare at each other, wordless. Words were unnecessary, for the eyes have always been the window to the soul.

His gaze overflows with unspoken words and apologies and the hidden nature of his true intentions. You've no doubt yours holds the same weight.

Stay, his eyes seem to scream. Stay with me.

For once there’s no playful banter, bickering, or any other devices that mask the true nature of your feelings. You can hear the faraway call of the boat’s captain for any passengers heading to Fontaine to come and hurry! but you’ve long made up your mind. 

bonus: clear skies after the storm.

“Did you see Hat Guy pull [Name] away like that? Oh, he’s definitely up to no good! Traveler, do you think we need to check on them? He seemed like he wanted something out of them, though… You know how scary he can be if he wants to.”

The chatter of Paimon’s voice flies over his head, with Aether simply dismissing her thoughts.

You didn’t come on the boat after all. But still, he’s not paying heed to Paimon’s words, because it really didn’t seem that way.

In fact, by the way he held your hand, the utter relief he’d seen in the Wanderer’s face when he'd found you, the slight protectiveness he'd displayed over you, and the way your eyes had lit up at the sight of the former Harbinger, Aether could even say that you two were…

Suddenly, it clicks.

“Ah... So it was a lover’s spat.”

“Huh? A lover's spat? What are you talking about now!?”

@ MHIIEEE 2023 : do not copy, repost, or plagiarize my work.

𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐏𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌

nonnie asked: lately i noticed many writers writing about reader kissing character's face while wearing lipstick and therefore covering them in it and i found it so cute and then started to imagine your om!ocs and the modern au guys (…) being covered in lipstick kisses too […]

pairings: my genshin modern au guys (xiao :: scara :: aether :: kazuha :: heizou :: venti :: childe :: diluc :: kaeya), my obey me ocs (dantalion :: valefar :: stolas), my twst oc (cheron) x gn! reader

warnings: these lipsticks are not smudge-proof

a/n: as said i might write a full thing for one character when i have the chance but considering i have 13 characters here and i can only think of so many scenarios, i’m writing a few paragraphs each for now ^^;

original ask

modern au || dantalion || valefar || stolas || cheron

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐀𝐔

𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎 Piercer/ Tattoo Artist

It had been a busy week in which you hadn’t seen much of each other, so when you finally made it to Friday evening, you were overjoyed to see your boyfriend again. Needless to say, when the door swung shut, the first thing you did was flutter some well-earned kisses across his face, not even bothering to take your make-up off.  So when Xiao spotted his reflection in the mirror, the flush on his cheeks wasn’t the only rose colour decorating his beautiful complexion. While you watched his blush darken, he couldn’t meet your eyes in the mirror and you giggled to yourself as you watched them snap to you when you pulled the neckline of his shirt out of the way and planted a final kiss on the base of his neck.

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀 Piercer/ Tattoo Artist

It was your day off, so for once you weren’t out of the house before Scara, instead getting ready at the same time as him. You made him his usual morning coffee to go after he slept over, since he straight up refused to drink anyone else’s, and kissed him goodbye. Not long after he arrived at the piercing studio, notifications started blowing up your phone and you skimmed the furious string of texts, laughing to yourself. Apparently, Xiao hadn’t said anything about the smudge on the corner of his lips, leaving Heizou and Venti to have a field day when they came in, teasing him relentlessly even after he wiped it off.  As for the accusation that you did it on purpose, who was to say…

𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 Piercer/ Tattoo Artist

“Do you still need the make up remover?” Aether asked from outside your bathroom door. You’d both just gotten back from an outing with the others from the piercing shop, staying longer than you initially intended. But that was what always happened. Venti could be very convincing and the group was too much fun to leave early. “I’m done, but I didn’t notice you wearing any makeup earlier,” you admitted, opening the door to let your boyfriend in.  “Well I wasn’t,” Aether sheepishly laughed, rubbing the base of his neck. And then you saw it. Faint traces of colour decorating his temple, cheek, the corner of his mouth and even the parts of his neck and chest not covered by his shirt. A shade that very closely resembled the lipstick you applied before going out. “You might be a bit of an affectionate drunk.” “Oh my— I’m so sorry, Aether,” you apologised, quickly searching around for some cotton pads and wiping the lipstick off his chest, trying not to linger on the thought too much. “Don’t worry, I thought it was cute,” he assured you, his warm smile seemingly lighting up the room. As you leaned in to clean his face, he took the opportunity to steal a quick kiss from you as well. “You should wear it more often, it looked very pretty on you.”

𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀 Piercer/ Tattoo Artist

Kazuha had come over for lunch, as he often did, taking a break from his coworkers between the plants, sketching if the time allowed for it. When you both had to return to work, you pressed a sweet kiss against his cheek and then rushed to help a customer. And while neither one of you noticed the colour dusting his cheek, the others sure did and wasted no time pointing it out, though all their teasing comments seemed to bounce right off of him.  He wiped the stain away before any customers came in, laughing off how he hadn’t noticed at all. “Of course you wouldn’t notice,” Heizou agreed, a knowing air about him. “After all, you’re way too busy making heart eyes at your florist to even think about looking anywhere else for a second.”

𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐔 Piercer/ Tattoo Artist

“Hey honey, could you help me with something real quick?” You called your boyfriend over as you finished applying a new shade of lipstick you bought. As Heizou strolled up to where you were standing, you turned towards him with a smile. “What do you think? Do you like it?” “The colour looks beautiful on you,” he easily replied, sending you a flirtatious wink. “Though I’m not sure if it’s really the colour or just you being gorgeous that’s causing it. Now what did you need help with?” Wrapping one arm around his neck, you pulled him in for a kiss, making sure to firmly plant your lips against his. If your boyfriend was surprised at all, he masked it well, easily melting into the kiss. As you pulled away a little breathlessly, you grinned. “Just wanted to see if it’s really smudge-proof, though I guess it failed in that regard.” You traced a finger around the faint trace of colour on his lips as Heizou took the tube from you and applied the lipstick with pinpoint precision. Turning to you, his olive eyes were gleaming with mischief as he chuckled. “I think we should run a few more tests, just to be sure.”

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈 Piercer/ Tattoo Artist

“This one’s for the song you wrote for me and this one’s for bringing me my favourite coffee without me asking,” you mused, studying your boyfriend’s face covered in pink-hued gloss marks. Somehow a kiss to the temple had ended with you caging Venti against the couch, fluttering a dozen kisses all over the skin you could reach. “Ehe, what can I say, I’m just the best boyfriend ever,” he giggled, tracing his fingers down the contours of your face in return. Then, something in his expression changed and you prepared yourself to shut down whatever idea he was about to propose next. “Maybe I should think about getting one of them tattooed? On my shoulder or so?” “Don’t you dare.”

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄 Idol

Ever since you had caught a lot of heat from Childe’s manager for accidentally letting your boyfriend leave with a mark decorating his collarbones, you were very cautious of leaving any visible stains on him, even if it was just makeup.  Still, you found ways to work around this little inconvenience. There was one time you signed off a little post-it note you left on the fridge for him, wishing him good luck for a performance, with a lipstick stain. After seeing his reaction of childish glee, it became a staple in your relationship. Then again, whenever Childe came home from work with his makeup still on, he never failed to press a big, fat, lip gloss stained kiss on your cheek, chuckling like the menace he is when you make a show of wiping it off.

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 Club Owner/ Bartender

Diluc had seen his fair share of shameless make outs during his time at the Angel’s Share and normally he just turned his head the other way, not sure why people would enjoy slobbering all over each other. Well, that was until he met you anyway.  Though he’d like to think he was more composed than the intoxicated people at his club, whenever you pressed your lips against his, he thought he might get drunk off of you. He swallowed hard when you pulled away, mind still trying to process what was happening as his eyes tracked the movement of your own kiss-swollen lips, not hasty to wipe away the traces of you against his skin.

𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 Model

Kaeya actually revelled in it whenever you leave any type of mark on him, as long as it didn’t lead to a scolding from his manager. Whether it was something more durable like a hickey or something easily wiped off like a lipstick stain, Kaeya always looked very smug about it afterwards. After all, the marks were a testimony to the events that transpired previously, and what could he say, Kaeya enjoyed those very much. Even more so considering he knew his way around a makeup bag, confidently picking out shades that looked gorgeous on you and even more gorgeous when they were smudged around the corner of your lips and over his skin. In his opinion, every photo of the aftermath was more stunning than any of his cover shoots.

𝐎𝐛𝐞𝐲 𝐌𝐞! 𝐎𝐂𝐬

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 Majolish Owner/ Devil Style Chief Editor

You walked in on Dantalion getting ready, his attention that was previously on his reflection in the vanity mirror flickering to you when you entered. His plush lips, curled into a loving smile, are painted in a flattering shade of red and your gaze was trained on them as you came to stand in front of him. “Are you trying a new shade? It suits you well.” “I am. I’m glad you like it,” he hummed, tilting his head in contemplation. “I wonder…” Cupping your cheek in his palm, the demon leaned towards you and you instinctively closed your eyes as his soft lips pressed against yours with purpose. As always his kisses made a part of your brain short circuit and you blinked at him dazedly for a moment after you parted. There was a satisfied gleam in his bright eyes as he wiped at your bottom lip with his thumb, studying the red stain he left. “As expected, it’s an even lovelier colour on you, my flower.”

𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐑 Casino Owner

“Little lamb, come here for a second.” Valefar was no stranger to finding your lipstick smudges at the rim of his drinks or wiping smudges of colour and gloss from his cheek before leaving for the casino after you gave him a kiss goodbye. He didn’t mind, found it cute even, but as he regarded the pink stain on the collar of his white dress shirt in the lounge’s mirror, he knew it won’t come off with a quick swipe of his thumb. It wasn’t a big deal, he kept spare shirts in his office, but Val wouldn’t pass on the opportunity to fluster you. “Care to explain yourself?” You were halfway through stuttering out a sheepish apology when Valefar backed you against his desk, keeping you pinned to him with a hand on your back. Intense amber eyes keep contact with yours as he leaned down to suck a noticeable hickey on the same spot his collar would be, knowing your clothes barely wouldn’t be able to hide it. “Debts should be repaid, wouldn’t you agree?”

𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐒 Popular Streamer

It was a pleasant day in the Devildom, as pleasant as it could be in a realm without the sun anyway, pulling the two of you out into town. While strolling from apparel stores to gaming shops, you passed a café you frequented and decided to stop by for some refreshments. As you pointed around various shop displays, you had the sinking feeling that your drink emptied faster than usual. And when you spotted the colourful stain that had transferred from your straw to your boyfriend’s lips, you caught the culprit red- handed (or rather red-lipped). When confronted he merely chuckled playfully before swooping in to steal a kiss on top of your drink, staining them with more of your lipstick and thereby destroying the evidence. (His straw also became more colourful as he offered you his drink as compensation.)

𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐎𝐂

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐍 Prince of Hell

When Vil gifted you a set of lipsticks and glosses from a campaign he was part of and had no need for, you accepted them gratefully. You just finished sorting through all the shades and trying out a pretty shade of red, when there was a knock on your door and Cheron sauntered into your room.  “There you are,” he grinned, charming without even having to try, before pulling you close and stealing the air from your lungs with a kiss. For someone who claimed to not be interested in ferrying more souls to hell, he sure seemed intent on trying to kill you. “What’s this you got there? Vil’s new collab?” “Right you are,” you paused, peering around him to the lipstick tube in your hand and chuckling as you read the shade name. Pressing another kiss right onto the middle of his cheek as payback for his usual schemes, you took in the red matching the colour on the corner of his lips. “Don’t you think it’s a beautiful colour, Cherry? It does match your hair and eyes. Maybe I should start calling you that.” There was a dangerous glint in his crimson eyes, clearly aware of the red staining his face, as he swiped his thumb under your bottom lip where the lipstick left a smudge as well.  “You have a lot of nerve marking the Prince of Hell.” His grin showed off the points of his fangs more clearly now, clearly amused at your little stunt, taking a step forward and walking you backwards towards the edge of your bed. “That’s fine. If you can handle the consequences, that is.”

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barbietoes

hey so how do you think the bat boys would deal with a sweet yet fiesty crush? Your jealousy post got me thinking. How the boys deal with jealousy over a crush, but what they do with a crush who isn’t prone to jealousy? the boys ask if crush ever gets jealous over a crush and s/o is like “no. I don’t own him. I have no right to feel jealous over him since we’re friends. And if we date, I’ll just trust him. He’s not my property. If he does cheat on me, I’ll hunt him down and kick his ass cuz I imagine we’d agree about committing at some point”?

Dick:

You don’t get jealous. Huh. 

He slouches on the sofa, arms crossed and cheeks puffed out. No he’s not sulking, he’s just stumped. Your words make sense and give him another reason for him to like you. But what does that make him? Here he is, getting bothered by everyone close to him trying to show off how much closer they are to you while looking at him. Especially Wally, yes bros before hoes but he really needs to stop putting his arm around your shoulders whenever the three of you hang out. Not to mention the smug smirk the red head sends him knowing he won’t be able to do anything about it. “Oh, I’m just being friendly” his ass. 

He suddenly feels something tugging at his pants. Looking down, a tiny smile forms on his face as lifts Haley up to his eyes. 

“Haley, would you get jealous over your crush?” 

He heaves a heavy sigh when she tilts her head questionably. Figures. 

Plopping her on his face, Haley barks energetically most likely from him blowing raspberries into her tummy in attempts to vent out his frustration. He has it so bad for you… Why does life enjoy making things harder for him including his desire to simply ask you? 

Jason: 

Welp. That’s a problem. Don’t get him wrong, it’s great and a relief for him since it means you're a green-flag, pro-healthy relationship type of a person. Problem is that he likes you. And he’s trying to gauge if you like him back so he can know if he has a chance with you. Jealousy is one of the biggest indicators of figuring out if a person likes another person seen in books, TV shows, movies, real-life (he’s totally not talking from first-hand experience). 

But you don’t get jealous. He’s not a jerk to plan to purposely instigate you into jealousy but considering it’s one of the more obvious signs, he was hoping he can use it as a form of proof that the feeling was mutual. So much for that plan though. 

Feet propped up on his desk, he slumps deeper into his chair and takes grumpy chomps out of his chili dog. Seriously, what does a guy gotta do to figure out if he’s able to ask someone out around here? 

Apparently everything that annoys him when the chili slides off the hot dog and onto his white t-shirt. 

“Shit.” 

Mentally he flips a finger into the air as he makes his way to the sink. To whomever is sending back luck towards him, he sincerely expresses fuck them. 

Tim: 

He’s not bothered by it. It’s a perfect response that shows the positivity in being in a relationship with you. So, he’s not bothered by what you said whatsoever.  

That’s what he tells himself, approaching his third hour of searching up if it’s normal to not feel jealous when crushing on someone on top of all the other signs of having a crush. Aggressive mouse clicking and tapping of the keyboard filling the room as his eyes drill holes into the screen.

All the articles say that it’s fine and usually points towards a good sign. He’s thinking the people who wrote them have never been in a relationship before and don’t know what they’re talking about. 

Groaning, he leans back and spins himself in circles. It’s not them. Or you. It’s him. He’s the problem. He’s grasping straws, hoping his feelings aren’t one-sided. That he’s not being odd or -wait. Hold on. Is he being a red-flag???

His eyes shot wide open, he rolls himself back to his desk and fills the room again with clicking and tapping. Only for his phone to ring. 

“Hey, Tim! Do you want to-”

“Do you think I’m toxic?” 

By the end of the phone call, he’s offended. He was asking a genuine question; what did needing sleep have to do with this?

Duke:

He flips to one side. Then to the other. No matter what he does, counting sheep, listening to black out noise, he can’t fall asleep. 

One part of him falls for you even harder. Your response was so cool and mature. Like, that’s how he’s going to be treated when the two of you go out. Loyal, couple goal’s commitment from you to him and him to you. There won’t be any drama. No you did, he did, who’s that. A strong, wholesome relationship. Thinking about this part makes him want to start planning how he’d ask you out. Where, what time, flowers or food. 

But then there’s the fact that you may have someone you like. Who it is, he wouldn’t be able to know since you won’t express it. What he does know is that he might not have a chance with you. Even if he were to ask you out, you’d reject him. As he thinks about this,  he isn’t sure which is worse at the moment: him getting rejected or him not being able to confess from the start. 

Grabbing his phone next to him, he considers texting his Batsibs until he remembers: none of them were normal. Slowly he puts his phone back down. Maybe he’ll ask his friends at school. At least he’ll get a somewhat decent advice from them. 

Damian:

He thinks you’re lying. It’s part of human nature to feel jealous, especially for romantic reasons. But you don’t feel jealous? Bullcrap. 

He angrily scribbles his answers onto the paper, maintaining neat hand-writing as it would be unbecoming for it to look like chicken-scratch (full on shade to Jon everyone in his family other than Alfrend and his father by the way). There’s simply no way you would answer as such unless you truly have feelings for someone. And that fact he doesn’t even know who it might be from how tight lipped you’re being-!

Snap goes his pencil. He bites his lip, frustrated and agitated all over again. He won’t admit to anyone else other than to himself but he has a crush on you. But if you like someone, he doesn’t want to continue harboring them. He has no intentions of getting in your way of happiness or causing pain to you and himself. So why can’t you at least drop a hint or something? 

He goes back to working on his homework with the broken pencil until the lead breaks this time. He’s quiet for a second. Then slamming his pencil down, he heads to the Batcave to get ready early. Nothing gets better as he endures teasing during the whole mission. He’s not being broody and it’s not because of a crush!