This Made Me Feel 😫🦋✨

Hi guys (authors)… im sorry 4 liking too much of ur posts its tew good.. 💔

Sukuna and His Goddess Waifu

So, how did he pull you?

Simple. He decided.

Sukuna first saw you when he was just a small, scrappy child—a nameless orphan wandering among mortals, unloved and unwanted. Maybe you were helping someone, maybe you were just passing by, but to him, it was fate. You knelt down, offered him food, kissed his forehead with the gentlest touch, and walked away with a soft smile.

That was it. That was all it took.

"Yes," he thought. "That. That right there will be my wife."

There was just one tiny problem.

He was a nobody. A weak, starving child. And you? You were something else. Something divine.

So, what did he do? He trained. He bled. He broke his bones, healed, then broke them again. He clawed his way to power, forcing the world to acknowledge him. No longer a weakling, no longer a mere mortal—he became something more. Something worthy.

But then came the real problem.

How the hell was he supposed to find you?

Because, as it turns out, his dumbass had only seen you once in his entire life. And, to make matters worse, there was a very real possibility that he had imagined the whole thing.

Wow, Sukuna. Great job. Truly a genius-level plan.

Still, he refused to give up. He grew stronger and stronger, thinking maybe, just maybe, with enough power, he could track you down—sense you, find you, claim you. But the years passed, and doubt crept in.

Had you ever been real?

Were you just a dream? A fantasy conjured up by a lonely, starving child? Because let’s be honest—you were too perfect, too pure, too good.

The realization hit him like a boulder to the chest. The defeat, the disappointment—unbearable. And slowly, he gave up.

Besides, even if you had existed, by now you’d be too old for him. Or worse—already married. Or dead.

He had played himself. Gotten his hopes up for nothing.

And then—

He saw you.

Even more beautiful. Even more perfect. Even more… you.

It was after a long, bloody war. He had wandered into a quiet bay, stepping into the cool water to wash away the grime of battle. That’s when he saw it—soft ripples, a gentle glow, the outline of a figure.

At first, he thought it was a water spirit. Or maybe a curse.

No.

It was you.

There you were, bathing peacefully, unaware that you had just shattered the last bit of reason left in his soul. And that’s when everything clicked.

You weren’t human.

And you would—in fact—be his wife.

No doubt about it.

He had planned this moment for years. Thought of what he’d say, how he’d announce himself like the all-powerful being he had become. He’d make a grand impression, take your breath away with his presence alone.

Then—before he could even figure out how to start—you turned your head and smiled.

"Oh," you said, tilting your head slightly. "You’ve grown up."

That was it. That was the first thing you said to him.

Sukuna was waiting.

Waiting for you to say something else—anything—that acknowledged how impressive he was. Maybe a gasp of realization. A whisper of awe. A wow, you've become so powerful and handsome, please take me now.

Instead, you just… kept bathing.

Like he was a particularly large and grumpy bird that had landed nearby.

His eye twitched. "You’ve grown up? That’s all you had to say?"

You tilted your head, watching him like he was some amusing little creature. "Well, you have," you said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You were just a little cub when I last saw you."

Cub.

Cub?

Sukuna clenched his fists, trying to decide whether he should be offended or just sink into the ground and perish.

You, meanwhile, were still looking at him with the same gentle, unreadable expression. If anything, you seemed fond. Which was not helping.

"You—" He exhaled sharply through his nose. "You remember me?"

"Of course I do." You gave him a little smile, but to him, it felt like you had just carved your name into his soul. "You were such a sweet little thing."

He was not sweet.

He was not little.

He was a warlord. A demon. A walking catastrophe.

But to you?

Just a sweet little thing.

Sukuna gritted his teeth, taking a step forward, making the water shift around his massive frame. "Listen, woman—"

You laughed softly. "You sound the same."

Oh, that was it. That was the final straw.

Something in his brain—already barely holding on—snapped.

You were his. That was final.

And if you didn’t realize it yet, you would.

"Do you have any idea what you’ve done?" His voice was lower now, rough and commanding, but his hands trembled where they hovered near you—like he wanted to touch you but was restraining himself. "You think you can just… feed me, smile at me, and disappear?!"

You blinked up at him. "I wasn’t aware I needed your permission."

Oh, he liked you. He really liked you.

A growl rumbled in his chest as he leaned in, his massive frame blocking out the rest of the world. "You belong to me. You have always belonged to me."

You just hummed, tilting your head like you were considering something. "Hmm. No, I don’t think I do."

He inhaled sharply, like you had physically stabbed him.

You were toying with him. You had to be.

"You will," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "I’ll make sure of it."

He had spent years searching for you. Built himself into a monster. Became something worthy. And now, here you were, looking at him like he was nothing but a large, stubborn tiger who had wandered into your bath.

By the time he was done, you wouldn’t just acknowledge him.

You’d never leave his side again.

----

It didn’t take long before you two got married.

Not because Sukuna asked—no, no. That would imply he gave you a choice.

The moment he found you, he had already decided. And Sukuna, being the absolute menace he was, did not handle obstacles well. Which was unfortunate for you, because you, dear wife, had tested him endlessly.

It wasn’t intentional, really. You were just… yourself.

And that was the problem.

Because Sukuna had spent his entire life thinking you were divine. Unreachable. Unteachable. Something he could never fully grasp, no matter how much power he amassed.

He was okay with that. Fine, even.

Because at the end of the day, you were his wife.

He had made his dream woman his wife.

And on the first night of your wedding, for the first time in his life, Sukuna slept like a baby.

———

The next morning, he woke up feeling good.

Too good. Suspiciously good.

He sat up, stretching his absurdly large frame, and glanced at you. There you were, sleeping peacefully beside him, completely unbothered by the fact that you had married a warlord, a demon, a walking calamity.

He squinted.

Were you real?

He poked your cheek.

You swatted his hand away in your sleep.

Okay. So you were real.

He flopped back onto the bed, exhaling. "Shit."

You were his. Officially. Legally. Spiritually. Cosmically.

And suddenly, his brain—already running on delusional husband energy—decided something else.

"I need to build her a temple."

———

The next time you saw him, he was pacing back and forth, talking to his men.

"The biggest," he was saying. "No—bigger than that. If it’s not visible from the godsdamned heavens, you’ve failed me."

You stared at him, unblinking. "Sukuna."

He turned, eyes lighting up when he saw you. "Wife."

"Why are you terrorizing the architects?"

"I’m building you a temple."

You blinked. "A temple?"

"Yes. The biggest. The most magnificent. Something worthy of you."

You crossed your arms. "Sukuna, I don’t need a temple."

He stared at you like you had just spoken complete nonsense. "Of course, you do. You’re my wife. You deserve the best of the best."

"I think a nice house would be fine."

"No."

"Sukuna—"

"No."

He folded his arms, looking at you like a very stubborn, very large child who refused to compromise.

You sighed. "Fine. If you insist. But make sure it has a good kitchen."

His eyes narrowed. "…Why?"

"Because I want to cook."

He recoiled. "YOU want to cook?"

"Yes."

"No."

"Sukuna—"

"No wife of mine is cooking. That’s what servants are for."

You pinched the bridge of your nose. "I like cooking."

"I like destroying entire armies, but you don’t see me asking for permission, do you?"

"That is not the same thing—"

"You’re my goddess. You should be worshipped, not slaving over a stove."

"Cooking is not slavery—"

"Debatable."

You sighed. "Fine. Then I’ll cook in secret."

He squinted. "I’ll know."

"No, you won’t."

"Yes, I will."

"You won’t."

He pointed at you. "I will."

You stared at each other, locked in a silent battle of wills.

Eventually, he huffed. "Fine."

You raised a brow. "Fine?"

"Fine." He scowled, looking away. "But only when I’m not around."

You smiled. "Deal."

He narrowed his eyes. "I feel like I just lost something."

You patted his arm. "You did."

---

Sukuna had seen many things in his life. But watching a golden celestial chariot descend from the sky, carrying beings who radiated power beyond reason, was new.

Your parents stepped out first, looking like they just owned the entire universe—which, to be fair, they probably did. Your mother, a glowing figure draped in cosmic silk, gave Sukuna a once-over and sighed, like she was disappointed her daughter had married a mortal warlord. Your father, a towering being with burning stars in his eyes, simply nodded at Sukuna like he was approving a pet.

Then came your brother. Mars.

He was huge, arrogant, and immediately tried to fight Sukuna on sight.

"Ah, so this is the man who stole my sister," Mars sneered, cracking his knuckles. Sukuna blinked. "I didn't steal her, you overgrown meteor." "You married her." "...Yes?" "FIGHT ME."

The entire village was watching as the god of war (your brother) kept lunging at Sukuna while your parents casually observed, judging Sukuna’s performance like it was some royal tournament.

You, meanwhile, were busy playing with the village children, completely ignoring the chaos behind you.

At some point, Sukuna turned to you—panting, shirt half torn, arms bruised from fighting an actual god—and yelled, "WOMAN, CONTROL YOUR FAMILY!"

You just waved at him cheerfully. "You’re doing great, babe!"

At dinner, Sukuna finally got a moment to sit down—only to learn even worse news.

Your mother sighed dramatically. “I was hoping our daughter would marry someone divine, but I suppose this will do.” Your father sipped his celestial wine, eyeing Sukuna. “He’s strong. And stubborn. I like that.” Mars just scoffed. “I still think we should throw him into a black hole and see if he survives.”

Sukuna was about to cuss all of them out until he noticed—

You were glowing.

Not like metaphorically. No. You were literally glowing, like the moon had chosen to radiate directly from your skin. The villagers whispered about your true form, about how no one is allowed to look upon you unless you grant them permission.

And it hit Sukuna like a ton of bricks.

He had always known you were divine. He had just never fully processed what that meant.

He married a literal celestial being. His in-laws were gods of the freaking planets. His brother-in-law was trying to kill him every five minutes. And now there was a rumor going around that mortals couldn’t even look at you.

"...Am I—" Sukuna paused, rubbing his temples. "Am I the only mortal who’s allowed to see you?"

You blinked innocently. "Well, yeah. You’re my husband."

The villagers gasped.

Mars choked on his wine. "WAIT. HE’S SEEN YOUR TRUE FORM?" Your mother narrowed her eyes. "So that’s why he’s still alive." Your father chuckled. "Interesting. I suppose he’s truly worthy, then."

By the end of the night, Sukuna had:

Survived three fights with Mars.

Been subtly threatened by your father.

Judged by your mother.

Accidentally started a cult because now the villagers worshipped him as your celestial consort.

The next morning, as your family prepared to leave, Mars gave Sukuna one last death glare. "If you hurt her, I will personally rip you from the fabric of existence." Sukuna rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Get off my planet."

As the golden chariot ascended, Sukuna let out a long, suffering sigh.

Then he turned to you.

"...I need a vacation from your family."

You just smiled, completely unbothered. "Aww, but they love you!"

---

just shut up and enjoy it and the super bowl is kinda good the halftime show is about to be elite.

omg !! I saw your post where you said you'd be taking song fic requests and I have one. 🫣

song: you belong with me - Taylor Swift

lyrics: "But she wears short Skirts, I wear T-shirts She's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find that what you're looking for has been here the whole time If you could see that I'm the one who understands you, been here all along so, why can't you see? You belong with me.."

Pairing: football player!lee know x introverted!reader

genre: angst (with fluff at the end...?)

You Belong With Me~

a/n: this is absolutely my favourite song ever! @hugsforjungwon thanks for requesting this, it was thrilling to write, and I hope you like it!

my taglist is open btw, just message me if you wanna be part of it!!

masterlist | prompt list

ty, @cafekitsune for the dividers~

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

for asks view this post

The night was calm and peaceful. You lounged on the couch, absentmindedly swiping through your phone, while your best friend, Minho, lay sprawled across you. An 80’s hip-hop song played softly in the background, prompting you to groan. "Who on earth decided to play this ancient song?" you quipped, only to answer your own question. "Oh right, we have a Minho in the room." He simply rolled his eyes, and you couldn't help but chuckle.

You and Minho had been inseparable since childhood, so close that you even defied the college rules and secretly roomed together. In your opinion, sharing a room with your best friend was far better than being stuck with some spoiled rich girl. The college dorm arrangements were always harsh, and you didn't want to take any chances.

Over time, your connection with Minho has only grown stronger, and perhaps, you've developed a crush on him. However, you knew deep down that his relationship status as someone's boyfriend rendered your feelings insignificant. It was heart-wrenching for you, but what truly mattered was Minho's happiness, even if it wasn't with you.

Tonight appeared to be just like any other normal night, with both of you lying down engrossed in your phones. Strangely enough, Minho seemed restless, his fingers dancing furiously on the screen as he typed away. Suddenly, his ringtone erupted into a fast-paced melody, prompting him to abruptly leave the room. You didn't pay much attention at first, but you could faintly hear his voice resonating from outside the door. He was tense and arguing.

You realised it was another one of the many fights between him and his girlfriend. You sighed and turned your attention back to your phone. After a few minutes you heard him come back inside, a hand running through his hair like he always did when he was nervous.

“Trouble in paradise?” you asked putting your phone down and turning your attention to him. Minho laughed ruefully, running his fingers through his hair again, as if just thinking about it was enough to make him want to pull at his hair. "Not exactly," he replied, his voice tinged with a mixture of fondness and frustration. "Jiyeon is wonderful, really. It's just that we have different...senses of humor. She didn't appreciate one of my jokes, I brushed it off as something trivial, and now she's giving me the silent treatment."

"Makes sense. Your jokes suck."

"They do not."

"You're the only one who laughs at them."

"You do too!"

"Only because they're so bad!". As you uttered those words, your gaze dropped to the floor, almost as if avoiding eye contact would reveal the hidden truth of your admiration for Minho's jokes.

"Jiyeon's not bad, of course, but don't you think you jumped into this a little too quickly?" The thought had been lingering in your mind, quietly questioning whether Minho's trust in everyone was warranted. It took him quite some time to let his guard down and trust someone, and although you would never voice it aloud, you couldn't help but feel that he had rushed into this relationship faster than he was comfortable with.

Maybe it was because Jiyeon actually registered as a girl to him. After all these years of being friends, you probably didn’t look any different than the boys to him. It wasn't that you didn't enjoy dressing up, it just wasn't a priority for you, and you didn't have much time for it. Growing up in a small neighborhood, you weren't exactly the social butterfly either.

Jiyeon, on the flip side, always exuded an air of elegance and charm. She was effortlessly put together, making it easy to engage in meaningful conversations with her. Although she adored Jiyeon, it pained her to see her standing next to Minho. They didn't even have to be physically close to give off the impression of a couple.

As your conversation gradually faded, you decided to play some music. The song that came on was your absolute favorite, causing you to sway your head and unleash your inner karaoke star. Minho chuckled, leaning back in his chair, his fingers unconsciously tapping along to the rhythm.

"Jiyeon would absolutely despise listening to this," Minho remarked.

"It's quite entertaining!" you replied with a smirk.

Uh huh, sure," he playfully retorted.

In that moment, you couldn’t think of what Jiyeon thinks of all things. You saw her enough without dwelling on her when she wasn't even there. So what if the music was a bit silly and funky? You were a little silly and funky yourself. Sometimes it made you wonder how Minho could spend time with you, considering how different you were from Jiyeon. It just didn't make sense to you.

But what did Jiyeon really know? She wasn't the one who had known him for ages, who could sense his moods from across the house, or who shared all his inside jokes. No, that was you. But did it even matter anymore? Who were you to feel bitter about Minho's new love interest? Just a friend who hung on his every word, whether you showed it or not.

"I don't understand how you can listen to this," Minho interrupted your thoughts, causing you to quickly look away, feeling your face flush from almost being caught staring at him. "It all sounds the same to me. Like static."

"Not to me," you replied, watching Minho get up to make some tea. You couldn't help but wonder if there was some sort of barrier over his eyes that you could remove, so he could see you for who you truly were: everything he had been searching for.

______________________________________________________________

The following day, Minho was in the company of Jiyeon during the morning, but upon his return, he seemed unusually quiet. It was evident that he had a lot on his mind, so you decided not to disturb him. However, you couldn't resist for too long.

"I noticed you left in the morning," you mentioned.

"Yeah, I was with Jiyeon," he replied.

"Is everything alright?" you asked, concerned.

He let out a forced laugh. "As alright as it can be, I suppose."

You nodded, not wanting to pry further. "Are you ready for the big game this afternoon?" you inquired.  "Yeah, I guess," he responded nonchalantly. You smiled, reassuring him, "You're our star quarterback, you'll do great." Extending your fist, you offered him a fist bump, and he reciprocated.

The game arrived sooner than expected, and you quickly put on your house scarf before rushing to the stadium to wish Minho luck. Spotting him, you couldn't contain your excitement and almost tackled him to the ground. His laughter filled the air, a rare and beautiful sound. It was moments like these that made you feel privileged to be one of the few who could bring out that genuine joy in him.

As you said 'Good Luck,' you both performed your special handshake, a ritual you always followed before every game. Afterward, Minho mentioned that he had something important to tell you and went off to prepare himself. You waved him goodbye and found a seat in the bleachers. It was then that your gaze fell upon Jiyeon, she was the head cheerleader, energetically waving her pompoms and looking absolutely adorable in her tight top and short skirt, something you would never be. You couldn't help but feel surprised that Minho didn't approach her for a kiss or something.

The game began and the crowd erupted with cheers, each person supporting their own team. In the end, your and Minho's team emerged victorious! You jumped up, threw your scarf aside, and hurried down to meet Minho.

"You were amazing! I'm so proud of you, as always," you said excitedly.

"Thanks, y/n," he replied, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

You continued to gush about the thrilling game, but then noticed that Minho was only focused on you. Curious, you asked him what was on his mind.

"I wasn't completely honest earlier. Jiyeon and I... we broke up. And I've been thinking aboutwhether I made the right decision or if I was too blind to see what was right in front of me. I think I've found my answer."

You stood there, shocked, and surprised. Was this really happening?

Without warning, Minho swept you off my feet and pulled you into the most passionate kiss you had ever experienced. In that moment, it felt like the entire world disappeared, leaving just the two of you.

There was nothing wrong with exploring, making mistakes, and searching for love. But if it wasn't out there, Minho would always come back.

He would always come back to the person he had known all along.

I've rejected affection for years and years 

 "Come now, Just one hug from me? I'm your boyfriend and all." Childe frowns when you answer 'no.' and keeps writing things in a certain notebook. He still kept trying though. However, you always rejected. 

Still, everyday he'll shower you with gifts and never ending compliments. Even when you tell him to go away, he kept insisting. 

Now I have it, and damn it. It's kind of weird. 

 "Pleaseee??" He begs. "Not even a kiss?"

".. Fine." You swore you've never seen someone jump up in excitement and lunged towards you, pressing soft kisses all over your face. Your face was red and kept yelling at him to stop, even though you haven't noticed you were enjoying his affection. 

 He tells me I'm pretty, don't know how to respond.

  "You're so beautiful, you know that?" He said while looking up to the stars. Tonight was a meteor shower and both of you went outside to glance up at the sky. His smile never disappeared from his face, you thought it was adorable.

I tell him that he's pretty too, can I say that? Don't have a clue. 

"You are too." You mindlessly muttered out. Yet he still heard your words. Your eyes automatically looked at him, and he was smiling at you. "You mean that?" He asks. You nod in response, watching his smile grow bigger and before you knew it he hugs you, tighter than before. This time, you weren't pushing him away.

Part 2

Hiromi Higuruma is lying on the couch, face half-buried in a pillow, suit rumpled and tie half-undone at his throat. His hair sticks up in odd places where he’s run his hands through it all day.

A finger of whisky sits abandoned in a glass on the coffee table, the few sips he’d managed to savor making a reappearance as spots of color on his high cheekbones.

“Too far away,” he mumbles.

“Hmm?”

“You’re too far away.” He flops one big hand off the couch in a half-assed “come here”. And you do, smiling to yourself as you squeeze in next to his sprawled body.

He immediately wraps his arms around you, the scent of tobacco and faint cologne shadowing his embrace. His hands splay over your back, pressing you closer.

“You’re so clingy when you’re sleepy, Hiromi,” you tease.

“Hmph no I’m not,” he yawns, entirely unconvincing. “And I’m not sleepy, either.”

“Right. Not at all,” You laugh as you snuggle into his warmth. “That’s not gonna hold up in court.”

Your terrible joke is rewarded with a low groan, and Hiromi buries his face in your neck. “That never gets old, huh?”

“Nope,” you grin.

His grumble is muffled, his stubble scratching against your skin. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I know.” He presses a drowsy kiss to your jaw, his sharp nose nudging along your cheek. You wind your fingers in his hair, massaging his temples and smoothing out the ever-present furrows on his brow.

“Mmm that’ll really make me fall asleep, love,” he warns, his eyelids heavy as he blinks up at you.

“That’s okay. We’ve got nowhere to be and nothing to do.”

“Goddamn. That may be the sexiest thing you’ve ever said.” He squeezes your ass in one big palm and shifts so that you’re cradled in his arms.

He breathes in the comforting scent of your shampoo, and you feel his body relax beneath yours. The slow, steady beat of his heart lulls you until you’re both fast asleep.

mornings with minho ✨️

the final part of my mornings with mini series! i really hope you guys like this one 🥰💓 enjoy!

~

The feeling of fur startles you, jerking your head back slightly. "Hm?" You grumble to nobody in particular, slowly opening your eyes to see Dori standing right in front of you. "Oh, hi, baby."

He rubs his head against your face, causing you to chuckle. You scratch the top of Dori's head as he lays down beside you, curling into himself.

You close your eyes again, hoping to fall back to sleep quickly. "Dori," the sound of your husband's voice keeps you from sleeping, and you lift your head up.

"He's right here," you mumble while lifting the blanket, revealing the tiger cat.

"Did he wake you?" Minho whispers, climbing onto the king-sized bed.

You nod your head, laughing lightly. "Yeah, but it's okay. He just wanted some cuddles," you mumble, gliding your fingers along the cat's spine.

"He's just like his father," Minho jokes with a smirk, moving some of your hair out of your eyes.

"Are you going to start rubbing your head against my face too?" You ask, giggling. Minho hums before leaning down, rubbing his forehead with yours. More giggles erupt from your lips, and you playfully push him away. "I hate you."

The brunette laughs before placing a kiss on your lips. "No, you don't," he says with a grin. "If you didn't, you wouldn't have married me."

You suck in a breath, agreeing with him before pulling him into another kiss. "You're right," you whisper against his plump lips, grinning slightly. "I'm so in love with you."

"Me too, honey," Minho kisses you a third time, hooking a finger beneath your jaw.

He moves the covers and slides back into bed. He ducks under the blanket, feeling the back of his hands against your side. You can hear him mumble quietly, knowing that he's trying to persuade Dori to move.

It doesn't take long for Dori to leave your side, watching the cat jump off your shared bed. Minho wraps his arms around your waist, pressing himself against you.

"You made him move just so you can cuddle me?" You laugh, moving the blankets to see him.

"I didn't make him move," he mentions, lifting his head to meet your eyes.

"Sure, bunny," you shake your head, bringing your hand to his hair. Minho nuzzles his face into your tummy as you comb your fingers through his hair.

His hands dip under his shirt you're wearing, and a shiver runs down your spine at the ticklish feeling. You glance towards your phone as Minho traces shapes on your lower back, checking the time.

"Do you have to work today?" You ask him in a whisper, noticing it was almost seven am.

He shakes his head, scooting up the bed a bit so he's face to face with you. "No, the big boss man gave us a few days off," he informs you.

"Oh! A few days, you say??" You joke, bringing one of your hands to his face. "What are you going to do with yourself?"

Minho gives you a look before dipping his head into the crook of your neck. "Spend time with you, honey," he sighs, placing light kisses on your skin.

"You're so cute, bunny," you whisper, tilting your head back. Minho trails his lips up your jawline before kissing your lips softly.

"I love you."

You kiss him a couple of more times, bringing both of your hands to his cheeks. "Hey, bunny?" You whisper, suddenly feeling a bit nervous.

Your husband pulls back from you, his dark eyes meeting yours. You can see the love he has for you in them and it makes you less nervous. "Yeah, honey?" He whispers back, leaning into your touch.

"You know how we talked about starting a family?" You ask, stroking his cheeks. Minho nods his head in response, seeing the confusion settling on his face. "Well, I'm pregnant."

~

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𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐒𝐓. | 𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎

— when your greatest love throws itself at you at a time you’re not meant for it, do you risk it all, or keep your peace?

content/warnings: romance, angst, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, unrequited love (misunderstanding), emotional cheating, has a timeskip, modern au. unedited.

Deep into August, the sun extends its arms over the horizon to caress your bare legs. Your arm is thrown across your face to shield you from the sun, the narrowed eyes contrasting with the equally blinding grin you wore. Toes curled into the sand, you buried yourself deeper into the lap of the person as grim as the dark shades he wore, a handsome frown visible on his agitated face. You couldn’t help but smile wider and reach up to pluck the shades from his nose, appreciating that he accompanied you to the beach despite being uncomfortable with crowds.

“Xiao?”

“What?”

“Am I deep winter or smooth spring?”

Brows furrowing, he licks his lower lip before closing his book, the tip of his index finger squeezed between the pages. Sweat trickled down his skin, sure to have the ink staining his damp fingers until the words slowly tattooed itself onto his skin. Sitting up, you steal his free hand into yours and watch as Xiao’s gaze zeroes on your fingers looping through his, cheeks tinted red either from the heat or your gesture.

“You’re summer August, and I’m deep winter,” he answers vaguely, retracting his hand before shielding his eyes with the shades sat at your lap. “Does that answer your question?”

“It does, but I have another one. Why am I summer August?”

Xiao’s nose scrunched–a rather adorable sight, if you were asked. “You’re warm. If the color yellow or orange became a person, it would’ve been you. Bright. Radiant,” the concentration on his face mirrored the ones he wore when working. You wish he’d relax a little bit on your rare day off’s–the sun is out, children are laughing around, and there’s a nearby shaved ice stand; everything is beautiful in this moment but you can’t find it in yourself to reprimand Xiao’s stoicism.

There’s warmth pooling in his eyes, one you only witness when you’re in his presence.

It makes your heart skip a beat until it comes tumbling down the hill of unrealistic thoughts over the hopeless desire that maybe one day, he’ll like you back.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

Smirking, you wiggle your eyebrows and tease him. “Like what?”

“I don’t know! You look weird, like... like–”

“Like I want to absolutely kiss you right now?” Because you did. His cute little hat sits on top of his head so endearingly that you so badly want to take a picture. You want to stare at him a little longer, admire the redness spreading from his nose to his cheeks, watch the way his lower lip curls into his mouth each time he gets flustered, and burn the image of him at the back of your brain.

Xiao, your best friend since the first August of university, and the man you’ve always foolishly pined for despite his constant rejection.

Still, you trail around him like a lost puppy, ignoring his confused yet shy stares each time you announced your presence, and basically decided that you were now going to be his friend, which is the best decision of your life. Xiao isn’t someone you needed to get out of his shell; you had to learn how to enjoy the silence of his life, and respect it.

It’s entirely contradictory to your summer August bumbling self. You’re clumsy where he is always ready to catch you. He’s firm when you are swaying side to side after enjoying too many mimosas from the beach bar. He’s quiet and forever gentle in tucking you under the covers before pressing a kiss to your forehead, and you think of how his lips are summer August hot when it comes to contact with your skin. You think about the young man who sees himself as deep winter, clad in the knitted sweaters you had given him as a gift walk through your door, and hesitantly looks around as if he hasn’t been here a hundred times before.

Where he is deep winter and stiff as a rock when you dance with him under the Christmas lights, you’re the bonfire easing him to relax his muscles, and just enjoy the beat. “We look silly dancing,” he says, then follows up on how he doesn’t like being less of what he deems proper.

But he dances. He twirls you and smiles whilst you laugh, cuts the cheese and swirls the wine in the glass while you drunkenly send him flying kisses – you’re as passionate as he is emotionally numb, and he is the muted version of all your raging emotions.

Whereas you are the definite yes, he is the hesitant no.

“Xiao.”

“If you’re going to tell me you love me again, thank you. I love you too, but you’ve been babbling it non-stop for the entire night. I think I get your point.”

“Do you?” you giggle, mouth hid behind your hand before you grow more serious, head tilted to the side. “Do you truly? If I said I love you right now, and I’ve always been in love with you, are you still going to reject me?”

Xiao’s frown deepens even more. “There’s nothing to be loved about me.” “There’s plenty.”

“Maybe that’s just you,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “The familiarity of having me around might be confusing you. We’re best friends, but that’s all there is. I don’t really see any logical reason for you to develop such deep, sincere feelings for me when I’m not even an ideal lover, so if I were to reject you, it’s not because I don’t want you. A relationship with me would just ruin our friendship, and...”

“Complicate things?”

“Complicate things, yeah.”

“But would you let me love you?”

He doesn’t respond right away. He mulls over it–you can tell by the slight pinch of his brow, the way his back droops down as he stares at the ground as if to ask himself if he’s even worthy of the affection you badly wanted to give him. The only problem is he doesn’t see this. Not just with you, but with everyone else. Xiao is deep winter; reclusive, cold, unaffectionate. It’s impossible for him to see himself the way you do.

“I think you’re drunk, so I don’t take you seriously,” is his response after several beats, hooking his arms under your armpits to guide you back into your room. “Sleep it out. Then we’ll talk.”

You never have that talk. The unspoken words hang like the mistletoe in the air which Xiao deliberately ignores. Head hung low, lips pursed and pale as if locks held back the truth he wished to convey and begged to set free. But Xiao was the living epitome of self restraint–he quietly slithers next to you in bed instead when he thinks you’re asleep, unaware that you’ve steadied your breathing through the drunken haze–and says nothing else.

No I love you’s like you wish to hear.

But there goes his face slowly moving next to yours, his lips pressed at the top of your hair as his gentle hands reach for the blanket to cover your chest. Arms snaking through your waist to hold you close when close is not close enough, and the space does nothing but grow wider the harder your heart yearns, you begin to close your eyes.

This moment will not last. Moments are called such for they are fleeting and experienced shortly, yet lives on forever in faulty memories that eventually fades away. So you clutch it and engrave it to your bone–the shape of his body next to yours, the foolish hopes tying you to a future where it couldn’t exist–and desperately hope that you get to keep at least this minute where you feel his heart caged with yours.

And when his side of the bed (your bed, truthfully, but he’ll always have a place next to you) grows cold in the middle of the night, and his shoes disappears besides yours on the porch, the true winter begins and August ebbs away.

The ice melts.

Not a peep could be heard in the deep winter. There’s nothing but warmth emanating from the remnants of his vulnerability, which for once, you liked to believe he also feels the same way even when he’s not yours.

You believe people will always have that love which never comes for them no matter how hard you chase for it. You could go to the ends of the earth, bang on someone’s door, go down on your knees and make promises of the happiness you can ensure, but all is useless when the house is empty. There is nobody to open the door. No one to welcome you when you walk through the space, or arms to fall into after a long day. The lavatory would be too spacious for a single person when it could fit two pairs of hips standing next to each other as you brush your teeth together.

But there is Thoma, and the house has never been more brightly lit than you’ve ever seen it. It doesn’t have to be Christmas deep in winter when fairy lights are strewn everywhere, giving a magical aura to an even more stunning home decorated by framed photographs of you and him on walls like you were his proudest memory. And you are.

From the moment you’ve met Thoma, it’s been summer all year throughout. His kisses are heated as they are honey-like. The words he spoke are like poetry blotted in brown paper with the promise of a lip stain on a napkin corner. He is perfect and real, and loves you more than you could ever imagine yourself to be loved, and you are getting married.

Wedding preparations, amidst its chaos and stress inducing events, felt fulfilling. You and Thoma would be occupied day and night planning things to perfection, followed by a kiss on the cheek to reassure you nothing had to be extravagant if you wouldn’t prefer it. You’re already perfect, your fiancé would whisper between exchanged breaths, there’s nothing you need to worry about. But his efforts leave the opposite effect when your fingers land on a certain invitation printed with a name that has been echoing in your head for years.

Cruel as it may be, you begin to wonder if you’ve fully mourned the loss of someone who has never been yours.

“Wow. You’re getting married.”

“Yeah, I am.

Before you, your best friend, Xiao sits. He’s clad in a suit, all firm lines smoothed into perfection with every move of his muscle as he leant back in his seat.

You couldn’t fathom the emotions flittering through his handsome face. A pinch of the brow, his lower lip jutting out, index finger anxiously tapping at the table as if to call your attention to the empty finger just a space beside it. And truly, you’re as cruel as you can be, hiding your uncontrollable smile by ducking your chin at the thought he’s been unmarried this entire time.

“I… I didn’t know you were dating, but congratulations. I’m happy for you.”

“Thank you,” you respond almost robotically, since everyone seems to repeat the same phrase over and over again until it got tiring. “I would really love if you were our best man. Thoma’s best friend, Ayato, was the original best man but I requested if it could be you instead since the maid of honors are already Thoma and Ayato’s friends. It would’ve been nice if I could have you there.”

Xiao offers a tight lipped smile. The years that have passed start to show in his face, yet his beauty only sinks deeper within his bones. Shoulders broad enough with the strength to carry the entire world from it, lips thin and perhaps just as soft as you envision if you’ve only ever kissed it – seeing him again after how long felt surreal. Unfathomable. So much has changed, yet you still stayed the same. Fighting the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl whenever your crush was in your presence, and him being completely oblivious to your affection.

The only difference now is that you’re to be wed, and for the first time ever, Xiao looks mildly displeased at something you say. “Sure, of course. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Your gut tells you he doesn’t mean it. Thoma’s face disappears for a moment at the back of your mind, and your belly churns as you lean forward. You shouldn’t be prying into other people’s lives when you’re about to spend your entire one with another. It’s common sense, yet you’ve not always been the brightest when you smile up at him fondly again, heart aching beneath your clothes it became difficult to breathe.

All because your silly heart still longs for the one person you can’t have.

“So how have you been?” is nothing but a silly excuse of tell me everything I missed. Let’s condense the years into this few minutes the universe allows us before the time stops ticking and we need to part our separate ways again. Tell me, from the slightest detail of your most mundane day, and I’ll listen.

“The same as always. I’m doing just fine.”

“Are you happy?”

“I’m content.”

“Those two things are different.”

Xiao shakes his head in amusement; you still haven’t gotten rid of that stubborn head sititng between your shoulders. “Not much has changed about me or my life, Y/N. There’s nothing exciting to tell,” one of his shoulders lift in a shrug before he gestures to you, “You’re getting married, though, and I didn’t hear or see this coming at all. It sounds like you have more stories to tell than I do.”

“I’ve always tried telling you about Thoma, you were just… busy. All the time.”

You were never there, but Thoma was. Resentment and hurt leaves a bitter taste in your tongue that Thoma’s sugary lips could barely coat them between kisses.

“We’re grown adults. We both have jobs. You understand my line of work is demanding and I can’t give you dating advice whenever you need it. Not to mention, I’m not the best to approach for those kinds of things considering my lack of experience.”

“I wasn’t going to ask for that, I just wanted to talk to my best friend.”

Xiao takes a moment to study your face. Pursing his lips, he gives you an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I should’ve made more time for you.”

Silence hangs in the air. So much time has been wasted–you’ve graduated university, established your own careers, and have had your fair share of meeting and leaving people who come into your life. Xiao, on the other hand, simply drifted off into thin air. Hanging out at the beach no longer seemed like a possible occurrence when it’s been tradition, and you eventually had to get used to being left on delivered. There’s a magnanimous amount of gaps left in between these spaces, and you want to be greedy. You want him to be in every page you’ve written, every ending you’ve created, if only he was there. But he wasn’t. Thoma was, and he’s colored your canvas in colors you haven’t seen before when your summer August only knew the silence of deep winter.

The what if’s linger deep until it settles onto the blank snow, blanketing you both with the thoughts of what could’ve been if Xiao had only replied to your texts one by one.

Would Thoma have remained in your life? Would you be getting married to someone you never expected to meet? Would you have slowly forgotten what the beach looked like since there’s no point digging your feet in the sand when you didn’t have Xiao who constantly nagged you to stay still?

All these rhetorical questions, and Xiao still manages to take you aback when he chuckles to himself, the sound dry and exhausted. The shoulders who carried the weight of the world sags in defeat. “You know, it’s funny. I always imagined I’d be marrying you.”

The world crashes. The café you met up in goes silent, the people moving about rooting frozen from their spots yet your tea goes cold from the forever of beats that passed between words.

“What?”

“I remember you were always teasing me when we were younger. I thought it was cute, and I often dreamed that we’d end up together, but now you’re getting married and it’s far from everything I expected,” glancing at your engagement ring and the invitation letter sitting hauntingly between you, Xiao falters in his words. “But… I am happy for you. I can’t be happier now that I know you’re with a good man.”

“What… how… how can you say that, Xiao? Do you really have no idea how much I love you?”

“What do you mean?” he laughs nervously, “You were messing around back then.”

“I wasn’t. I meant every word I said.”

Shrugging, he looks down at his coffee with a frown so forlorn he embodies deep winter with not a warm body around to keep him company. “None of it matters now, does it? You are to be married, and I’ll go back to living my life once this all passes.”

“Passes? You think everything is that easy?”

“I don’t know what you want me to do, Y/N. Our feelings are exactly just that; feelings. They’ll come and go,” Xiao reassures, but it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than you. “You’re about to be married, and I want nothing but for you to be happy. Thoma is the kindest man you’ll ever meet so you’ll live a great life. You don’t need to look at me like that–you haven’t lost a thing.”

You haven’t lost a thing.

Not at all. How could you ever lose something you were never quite certain was yours to begin with? But now, it rested at the palm of your hands. Curled up like an innocent creature soaking up the warmth of your fingers until you’d been bled dry and iced to the bone, the rhythm of your heart bringing back to life what had never been dead, rather frozen in time.

“If it’s meant to pass, then why have I been in love with you for as long as I can remember?”

“Hey, welcome home!” Thoma greets the moment you enter your shared apartment, helping you get rid of your boots and hang your coat while you stare at the ground numbly. “How was your meeting with your friend? Did everything go well? Come tell me all about it through dinner–I made your favorite.”

You lean against the wall for support.

Your life is perfect. Every sane person would die for what you have: a loving, handsome fiancé who comes home early everyday to cook the food he knows you like, a cozy place to spend forever in, the scent of almond tofu screaming home and comfort. And then there’s Thoma, eagerly setting up the table and taking a chair for you when he notices you standing idly by the doorway, his smile creasing into worry as you swallow audibly.

He could tell from just one look of your face that tonight isn’t as good as he hoped. “Thoma…”

He’s beside you in the blink of an eye. Wrapping you in his strong arms, your fiancé rubs his hand up and down your back, easing you as the tears release like a broken damn. “Oh, darling, what’s wrong?”

“Thoma, there’s something I need to tell you,” you pull back, using the hem of your sleeves to wipe away the tears. He’s so beautiful, so kind that you couldn’t have possibly have the heart to hurt him. But your heart belongs to someone else, and you can’t lie to an honest man. He deserves the truth and the truth you tell, nails digging at your thighs as each word that comes out of your mouth drives a knife deeper into his soul. You tell him how you’ve never moved on from a summer love, from an eternal longing, to this craving of a person who left a hole in your heart in which only they could fill.

And you can’t do anything except let Thoma take a step back from you, furiously blinking back the tears that threatened to push through. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Thoma sniffles. “Hey,” he tilts your chin up, warm eyes glistening.

The sight of him, so forgiving even without his words, still so gentle in the way he caresses your cheeks like you hadn’t just stomped on his heart a thousand times nearly made you question if you’re doing the right thing. You wait for it, the hesitance, the slight skip of your heart signaling when a bad decision was to be made, yet there’s none. Nothing but silence lingers at the back of your mind now that Xiao’s face lingers as it has been since the day you learn to love a little more and hope a little less.

“I’ve always known.”

“What…?”

“At the back of my mind, I always knew there must be someone else. You always felt so… distant. You didn’t quite see me in the times you looked at me, and I wondered if you were imagining someone else before you. I won’t deny that I’m hurt and it would take me a while to recover, but you’ve seen me, Y/N,” delicately, he slips off the ring off his fingers and tucks it into your palm, hidden and stored away for eternity like a promise meant to be broken. “This is the first time you’ve let me meet you as you are. So go to him; I won’t hold you back.”

Bringing your fist to your lips, you attempt to muffle your sobs. “I-if you knew the whole time, why did you p-propose to me?”

Thoma smiles, his eyes crinkling. “I love you, and I hoped you felt the same.” “But what about us?”

“Don’t worry about that anymore,” he rises to his feet, his car keys spinning around his finger as he turns to you with a bright, wistful grin. “What are you waiting for? Let’s go find your best friend.”

He doesn’t need to say more before you’re reaching for his outstretched hand, the gesture as familiar as breathing and your hand fitting perfectly with Thoma’s. You hold on extra tight when you beam up at him, both from disappointment and excitement, the both of you aware this is going to be the last time you’d ever hold each other this close. So you hold onto him for dear life as he opens the car door for you, revs the engine like you’re running out of time and perhaps you are, because Xiao always seems to be slipping through your fingertips and you’re not deep August under the blazing heat of the sun anymore.

It’s deep winter. The snow is getting thicker with each passing minute, the road covered in white until the snow begins to flake in your lashes when you step out the car.

Xiao lingers outside his apartment, his breath coming out in small, heated puffs with his brows knitted in thought. When he hears the crunching of your boots, his head spins to your direction, eyes wide at the breathless figure of you. “You,” he breathes out, blinking aghast as Thoma leans over the car door with a supportive smile. He pieces two and two together, and laughs in disbelief. “You’re insane–”

“Xiao, I’m in love with you. I always have been, but now I don’t want to let you go now that I know what you feel. You… you’re all I ever wanted. I couldn’t possibly imagine what my life would be like without you.”

His lips thin. It’s enough to make your heart lose hope again–you’ve seen this scenario happen to you before, how he shuts himself off the world after convincing himself he’s not worth the affection and love people give him. He calls himself names, degrades himself into a smaller, lesser being who’d be best off alone before people realize he’s not as great as people make it out to be. The solace of never seeing people frown at him has been the only way he’s ever known life, but you ever so lovingly smiling up at him since the day you met makes him feel this is a risk he can take.

Maybe now, it’s time to let his walls crumble and let the ice thaw, to let deep August bring warmth to his life.

Studying your ring-free finger, Xiao lets his shoulders drop before crushing you into an embrace. “You’re too damn stubborn, you know that?” he rasps into your ear, and you wrap your arms around him, the biting cold making it painful to cry–the world’s own way of telling you there should be no gloom on the day you’ve always been waiting for. “You forced your way into my heart and I don’t think I can ever close it for you again.”

“Don’t you dare,” you sniffle into his shoulders, “I’m staying with you until you don’t want me anymore.”

Xiao knows he’s never said it before. Every night, he tosses and turns in his sleep, replaying the memories of his youth where he rejects your not-so subtle confessions of love. Even as he grows older and his eyes grow more weary, there’s still that young man inside of him hoping it’s real. He runs away and hides in little corners in hopes he’d get you off his mind. Too afraid of the hurt love might bring, and this is the first time he can confidently say, “I’m not going anywhere. I stay right where you are.”

work wife part one

summary: are they really yours? tags: established relationship, angst, borderline cheating, deadbeat toji, 18+ minors and ageless blogs do not interact, not proofread incl: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, shiu, higuruma, sukuna, choso, ino taglist: open

part one, part two

✦ You surprise them with terms of endearment in their language

(Or, pretending that Teyvat uses certain languages based on the regions.) 

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe 

✧ You don’t remember what prompted you to emit this word specifically, however, its occurrence was as natural as the auroras in the Snezhayan sky. During a typical day, when you were casually conversing with Pierro, you just replied with:

“Of course, just be careful, mel.” (honey)

It was out before you could register it, and you hoped he didn’t catch on. But it's known that nothing passes by the Jester unnoticed. Pierro’s gaze was uncharacteristically stunned, yet it softened the moment he turned to you. 

“It’s been… centuries since you called me that.” 

You averted your gaze away in shame, muttering a small apology. But the Director stepped closer to you, his gloved fingers brushing underneath your chin to look you tenderly in the eyes. 

“No, no. I do not seek an apology. You often called me melimelum (honey apple) during our days of guilelessness. Go on. Utter these words for me once more. I must know whether you remember them as much as I do.” 

Meeting his gaze, you stammered upon your words but managed to convey “mi mel” (my honey) for him again despite your coy disposition. The Jester smiled as if an eon-long frost had been melted off his heart. Thus, he leaned closer to relish your lips in his, whispering.  

“That’s more like it, corculum (sweetheart). These words are always sweeter when uttered by your lips.” 

✧ It is no one's surprise that you and Capitano participate in convivial challenges. Who else would match the harbinger’s fierce ambition for competition if it weren't for you, his partner? From duels, training, and games, to even… endearing nicknames. Yes, just loudly calling each other cute nicknames until the other gives up, in the privacy of your own home. 

“You may be the strongest man in Tevyat, Capitano, but!” - you loudly proclaimed “I can still defeat you in a battle of wits.” 

“Your words bring forth a challenge that I seek, my beloved. If you dare to challenge me, know that I will not back down.” 

“Hmph!” - you crossed your arms, a triumphant smile already gracing your features. “My dear, sweet Captain. Don’t be so sure of yourself. It’s clear that I love you more.” 

“Absurd,” - Capitano clenched his fists, his resolve is unshaken. “My love for you brings mountains to dust and the seas to dry. It is clear that I love you more.” 

“Tsk, tsk. I can still express my love in a far wider range, geliebter (loved one).” - There it was. Your special attack as you spoke confidently back. “ You better not underestimate me.” 

The Captain froze, his stance now rigid. Even through his pitch-black helmet, you could see you seized him off-guard. A word he has not heard in centuries, even more so, you put in the effort to pronounce it correctly. The Harbinger stepped closer, his sharp fingers gently cupping your cheeks.

“My dear, cherished, loved engelchen (little angel). Where did you learn that from? Such sweet words will not be tolerated. I shall memorize the entire dictionary to out-win you in this battle of precious monikers.” 

“Oh yeah? We’ll see, herzblatt (sweetheart), because I did my research! So I win!” - you mumbled proudly, even when Capitano kept squishing your face by squeezing your cheeks lovingly. 

Your little ‘warfare’ was left at that, and you didn’t think much of it afterward. A successful conquest; or so you credulously thought. Little did you expect, that in a couple of days, Capitano would burst into the room, a thick book in his hand labeled ‘Dictionary & Encyclopedia of Teyvat's Ancient Languages’.

“My dear, you won’t believe this! I have found a compelling addition to what I must call you, notlazohtlé." (my precious thing)

“U-um, Capitano. You didn't actually spend days trying to memorize a whole… dictionary, did you?”

“Nonsense. A warrior never backs down from a challenge. Especially one bestowed upon him by his yōltzin.” (lover)

✧ When Il Dottore heard you speak, he had to ensure the grip on his book was firm. He swore he almost dropped it but made sure to conceal it, as his back was facing you while he stood in front of bookshelves. 

“What did you just say?”

“Habibi” - you retorted simply. “Or, do you prefer azizam?” (my dear)

There was a prolonged silence coming from the Doctor. The sound of this native tongue brought a conflicting range of abrupt disgust and wistful familiarity. Yet Dottore clenched his jaw; there wasn’t an ounce of humor in his voice, and he would much rather go on pretending he hadn’t heard you say those words. 

"What are those harebrained names you are calling me? Has your time in Sumeru made you so asinine?"

You were not surprised he reacted this way. Nonetheless, It was futile to hide your solemn disappointment, so you sighed - "Never mind..." 

The book he had been flicking through was gradually set aside. Although you couldn’t read his expression, he remained eerily still. 

"Say it again." 

"Hm?" 

"I said,” - Il Dottore suddenly turned, stepping closer to firmly set his hands on the table, looming over you. “Say it again." 

Oh no, you thought. “I said habibi. Like people in the Sumeru desert region often say… But I thought you’d loathe it so maybe aziz-” 

Your words were cut off, as the Harbinger cupped your jawline and made sure to silence your doubts with his own lips. The sudden kiss was as sweet and warm as honey, and as ardent and fiery as the blazing deserts of Sumeru. 

“I was not being serious.” - He explained after leaning away, even if his scoff came out stilted. He didn’t mean to be rude, instead, he was impressed you went your way to learn these expressions. His hold on your jaw abates in an instance “Call me whatever you want.

You blink - “Well, you studied like… twenty languages since you were a student. So I wanted to gauge your reaction. What about ‘my heart’? was it kalbi, or…?” 

“...Ya balsam qalbi (O balm of my heart), you just called me a dog.”

The Doctor couldn’t help but laugh at your antic. Your sweet attempts at endearment were beyond him, especially when you fumbled on pronunciation. Thus, he settled with teasing you, locking his lips back with yours. You could feel his love wash over you like the gentle breeze blowing across the sand; carrying away any lingering worries and leaving you with the joy of being with him.

✧ Scaramouche abhors seeing couples being all mushy and sweet in public. Lovers giggling when embracing under the shade? Ugh. Calling each other cute nicknames as they walk? Disgusting. Stealing discreet kisses while no one is looking? Nauseating! 

His reaction is nothing new for you, as he frequently crossed his arms in annoyance. Particularly after a nearby married couple passed by the two of you, one of them saying “Anata, don't forget to buy some sugar and flour on our way home.” - Just people going on with their lives. What you didn't expect was how the Puppeteer would latch to your arm and accuse you:

“Why are you not calling me that!?” 

You blinked in bewilderment - “...what?” 

Scaramouche huffed, his expression sour - “You know what! Dropping the semi-formalities and using Anata (dear). Don't make me repeat myself.” 

“But that's how married couples refer to each other.”

“So?” 

Silence. The two of you awkwardly stood still, frozen. And then it clicked. “I can’t believe my ears… The 6th of The Fatui Harbinger,” 

“Wait, I take it back –” 

“Is asking me,” 

“Don’t. Don’t you da–” 

“To use anata, like a precious spouse would do to their loved one! Aaa!” - you gushed and beamed, your tone countering Scaramouche’s flustered groans, while he tugged at his hat to conceal his furrowed eyebrows. “Should I welcome you home with a cute pink apron, telling you that dinner and a bath are ready, too? Or maybe, offer you something else… ” 

“You’re insufferable. I regret even bringing this up now.” 

“Fine, Fine. I'll stop." - you sighed after a hearty chuckle. “Sometimes, rigid formalities can appear as an insult too, you know. After all, what sort of sweetheart would I be if I didn’t consider your troubles."

You mused innocently at the mental image of using terms of endearment like a married couple. However, your imagination was interrupted as the Harbinger took it upon himself to grab your waist, pulling you flush against him.

"Did I tell you to stop? If we're going to pretend to be a cute, married couple - then do so properly. Besides, what was that part about offering something else when greeting me back home?” 

✧ When you prepare little surprises for your beloved Pantalone, you often come up to him with contagious excitement, eager to show what nick-nacks and artifacts you brought along. This time, you recently returned from an expedition in Liyue, and as always your affluent partner greeted you with honeyed enthusiasm, embracing you tightly as you spoke of your adventures.

“Pantalone, Pantalone!” - You exclaimed gleefully “I learned something new while I was staying in Liyue Harbour!” 

“Oh? And do tell, sweetheart, what is it that caught your curiosity this time?” - Pantalone spoke elegantly, helping you undress from your adventuring garbs. 

“I was familiarizing myself with certain literary texts and it led me down a rabbit hole of traditional phrases common in Liyue… And I figured out how to call you precious! Bǎobǎo!” (baby) 

Pantalone’s eyes shot wide open with renowned zeal. He grinned and clasped his hands, “Oh, my treasure! How adorable of you! And did you go all the way out just to learn this for me? Let me hear you say it again.”

“Bǎobǎo! It suits you! Or maybe you prefer xīn'gān?” (heart and soul)

Pantalone was ecstatic, his smile further widening - “My, my, you certainly worked on your pronunciation. Your stay in Liyue paid off then, because dear, you are making me swoon with your adorable surprises. Pray tell, what other phrases did you learn?” 

“Well, I was told that lǎogōng (hubby) is good.”

“Mhm, yes, yes.” - Pantalone nodded.

“Also huài bāo,” (naughty)

“O-oh?”

“And wǒ yào nǐ,” (I want you)

“O-.... oh,”

“And also shǐjìn yīdiǎn (go harder), but I was told this one is a little bit intense.”

The Regrator became motionless. You gazed at him with such pure naïveté, so oblivious that your charming perception didn't grasp the weight of these foreign words. He placed his hands on your shoulders firmly and inquired seriously:  

“My sweetheart. Who, exactly, taught you all this?”

“Well, so. There was this lady who had a small perfumery shop by Chihu Rock. I think her name was Ying'er.” - you pondered but smiled “She was a nice lady, she taught me all these phrases, and said they would work like a charm!”

Pantalone had to exert all his mental strength to avoid fainting or exploding. He is unsure of what exactly, but one more word from you and he'd drop to his knees with a ring for you. Rather than translating your earlier words, the Harbinger lets out a shaky sigh and focuses on controlling his hitched breathing.

“Oh, Shǎguā (silly). If you were unsure of the words' meanings, you could have just asked me and I would have demonstrated. Personally.”

✧ It was another day at Tartaglia’s family home in Snezhnaya. You visit him often and his family has long since welcomed you as part of their household. Especially the siblings, as Teucer and Tonia always welcome you with tight embraces whenever you arrive. 

When you found your beloved Childe in the kitchen, he innately greeted you with a kiss on the cheek, asking: “You’re right on time, sweetpea. We’re planning on making homemade meat dumplings. Maybe some borscht as a side dish too. Is that okay with you?” 

To which you simply nodded, already moving to help - “Of course, milyy (sweet). Do you need me to start with the bullion?” 

The Harbinger stopped. He never heard you use native terms, but when he registered your words, his head quickly snapped toward you in astonishment.

“Do my ears deceive me?! Did you just call me…!” 

Aha, so you got him. You tried to hide your giddiness, a faint grin threatening to appear - “Well, I just tried to use something new. You love nicknames, right? So perhaps…” 

“Say it again!” - The man practically leaped at you, his eyes now glowing with elation as he hyped you up to reveal your cards. 

“Okay, okay big guy, just take it easy. I just said milyy (sweet). Maybe you’d like it if I said… lyubimyy (darling)?”

Tartaglia gasps as your sweet words hit his ears, but then a wide grin spreads across his face. “Oh, is this a challenge? If so, fight me! I will shower you with more love for each sweet word coming out of your mouth. But I warn you, you'll have to use them a lot more often from now on.” 

He kisses your cheeks again, this time with even more passion and fervor while he cupped your cheeks. His lips felt like waves crashing against the shore, and each one left an invisible imprint of love and adoration on your soul. As you chuckle at his affectionate antics, small hushed voices interrupt you two. 

Teucer and his sister Tonia were peeking behind the kitchen door, giggling as they eavesdropped on you two. However, when Tartaglia caught their gazes, the rascals scurried away giggling.

“Hey! Quite sneaking in! Did your parents not teach you to give adults some privacy?” 

Latin: melimelum (honey-apple), mel (honey), corculum (sweetheart) German: geliebter (Loved one), herzblatt (sweetheart), engelchen (little angel) Nahuatl (Aztec): notlazohtlé (my darling/precious thing), yōltzin (lover) Persian: azizam (my dear) Arabic: habibi (my dear), Ya balsam qalbi (O balm of my heart), qalbi (my heart), kalbi (my dog, lmao)  Japanese: Anata (informal you, dear for couples)  Mandarin: Bǎobǎo (baby), lǎogōng (hubby), huài bāo (naughty), wǒ yào nǐ,” (I want you), shǐjìn yīdiǎn (go harder), Shǎguā (silly melon) Russian: milyy (sweet), lyubimyy (darling)

*While I speak Arabic, and Russian and know a little bit of Japanese; If you have some additional info on the linguistic part, or speculation or spot some inaccuracies - please, please, please 🙏 kindly share them with me! I am open to fixing any mistakes. Or if you just have headcanons and love projecting certain languages onto these characters like I do - share them with me! 

Thank you