adorzora

[adorzora]

Nezriel went from this

And then she jumped to her feet and flung her arms around Azriel. But Azriel chuckled and squeezed her gently.

To this

Nesta swayed, but Azriel was there, catching her, bringing her to his chest, scarred hands stroking her hair. "Thank the Mother," he breathed. "Thank the Mother."

The big, scary shadowsinger is a soft, mushy, tender teddy bear for Nesta.

[adorzora]

★ jump out the window

pairing enjin x oblivious! reader

desc. (req.) the two times you were oblivious to enjin’s flirting and the one time you were not. contains slight angst & self deprecation on the readers end ending in fluff. audio jump out the window by big sean. wc 1241. reqs. open. library.

before this situation (if you could even call it that), no one within the cleaners would ever dare to call you oblivious or any thing else of that nature. while not necessarily a genius intellectually, as a member of the infamous team danger you were renown for your fighting abilities and level headed mindset that allowed you to complete missions solo, and often times without the help of any supporters.

now, as aformentioned, as a member of team danger you did carry some similar qualities as other members of your group, such as having an… interesting personality (to put it nicely) that not everyone was fond of. oddly enough, there was one blonde haired captain that had a certain affinity for you—yet you somehow failed to notice despite his continual and obvious efforts to gain your affection and attention. that didn’t stop him from trying though.

one enjin is lying on the floor… for some reason that you currently can’t determine at this point in time. it’s a rare day off for him, rudo is visiting canvas town with other members of team kid, and the other members of team akuta are additionally enjoying their free time—but you still can’t understand why he’s here, spending time with you.

he could quite literally be anywhere else right now, especially out chasing other women, an activity he frequented doing up until a few months ago when your unlikely friendship became closer. initially you just assumed it was because you made a lightly teasing comment about his womanizing tendencies, or maybe he randomly just decided to change his ways? it honestly wasn’t something you were going to put much thought into.

that still begs the question, why is he still lounging on your floor of all places? it’s not that you were uncomfortable with his presence or didn’t want him in your room (you didn’t really care to be honest), you just didn’t know why he was still there in the first place. earlier in the day he had caught you eating lunch in the dining hall, and decided to join you for the meal, which wasn’t all too out of the ordinary.

the only difference being that afterwards your conversation took you down the hall where he helped you retrieve your laundry so you wouldn’t have to take multiple trips, eventually staying in your room as you began folding and replacing your clothes in their respective drawers. despite questioning if he was comfortable in his spot lounging on the floor next to where you were kneeling, he assured you that he was fine and continued lying on his side, his head supported by his hand as he looked at you with an expression you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

semiu and riyo had both spoken to you about how they personally felt that enjin was interested in you romantically, but you still could not see what they were talking about. while you could agree that he was naturally flirty, that didn't necessarily mean he was seriously interested in dating you. besides, even if he was in fact interested he would probably move on to someone else in less than a week.

as you continued folding the last shirts you had into a nearly full drawer, you placed your hands into your lap and looked at him with a cocked eyebrow as he let out a yawn. “tired?” you asked, watching on as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

“yep, I'm thanking about taking a rest right here." he patted the empty space next to him on the carpet. "care to join me?" you gave him an incredulous look before returning to straightening up other areas your room, eventually paying him no mind as the minutes went by and soft snores filled your ears. the floor couldn't have been comfortable, but if thats what he preferred you didn't mind. friends took naps in each others rooms right?

two outside of the assumption of your friends you did not find enjoin unnatractive in any manner, anyone could admit that he was pretty attractive even if he wasn't necessarily their specific type. to their surprise you could even admit that he was in fact your type (which was simply, may I add, tall, blonde, tattoos... need I say more?), but stubbornly, you still didn't think he was interested in you at all. according to them he was, but you didn't want to get your hopes up about a well known player.

shuffling papers on semiu's desk and listening to music as you organized them, you failed to even notice that someone was approaching until they leaned over on it directly. enjin looked smug as usual, and noticeably his spherite friend was not with him today. this day being one where he was assigned a mission, you could only assume he was here to pick up the mission details that semiu had left for gris—yet enjin was still the one who showed up to retrieve them...

“got my mission details for me?” he wiggled an eyebrow as you pulled open the filing cabinet underneath the desk, grabbing the stapled packet and handing it to him.

he returns to his full stature before running a hand through his hair and placing the packet under his arm. “thank you baby.” he sends you a wink and a smile before turning on his heel and leaving. maybe there was some truth to what riyo and semiu were saying after all?

the realization at this point, enjin is beginning to grow frustrated. he had been pulling out his most subtle moves on you to get you to understand how he felt and clearly it still wasn’t working. deciding it was time to do something bold, he planned on doing something about it the next time he saw you, which ended up being later on that day.

there was no easy explanation for what was going on in this exact moment. you still weren’t sure how you ended up here yourself, but you did know that your friends beliefs were confirmed and they ended up being correct. “you don’t get it do you?” he sighs from where he’s standing, not moving the hand he has flat on the wall next to your head.

he’s given you enough room to escape if you wanted to, with his other arm hanging slack at his side. he looks frustrated, but as he looks down at you, there isn’t any lingering anger in his expression—only an uncharacteristic flush on his cheekbones and a slight weariness. “I get it.”

“then why have you been acting so freaking oblivious all this time?” he inches closer to your face but it doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable, and the look of relief in his features causes an unfamiliar swell under your ribs.

“I didn’t think you were being serious. it’s not exactly like you’re known for staying long lasting relationships.” noticing the slight dip in his lips at your comment you decide against rambling on about his former behavior and instead focus on the present. “I just didn’t think you’d want to seriously be with me.” he leans down and rests his forehead against your shoulder.

“psh. if only you knew. I’ve been trying to catch your eye for a while now.” he picks his head up and delivers a light peck to your forehead before returning to eye level and grinning. “that enough evidence for you?”

[adorzora]

the duke

[adorzora]

He stole my labubus 😔

[adorzora]

Cacucu takes a liking to you

• When you first met the small saurian, you couldn't hide your excitement. The little guy was just so adorable! He looked nothing like the other saurians in Natlan, and he seemed to only communicate via mimicking someone else's speech, but he was perfect in your eyes.

• Who wouldn't fall in love with an orb of a bird who says “what are you on about?” & “no way, bro”

• It wasn't too much longer until you met the saurian's human companion — a sauro-vet named Ifa. After listening to him speak for a few minutes, you instantly recognized where Cacucu's manner of speech comes from.

• You and Ifa immediately click. And it's not long before you spend more time together than apart.

• Ifa shows you around the Flower-Feather Clan, and you even learn a few things about being a veterinarian during your tours.

• In turn, you recount a few tales from your travels around Teyvat in all of the thrilling details!

• Soon enough, a certain saurian begins to find you even when you and Ifa aren't hanging out. He doesn't appear to need anything in particular though, he just wants to hang out, you guess.

• Cacucu even ends up in your lap one day. While you were taking a much needed break in the shade, Cacucu flew over and cozied up in your lap, slowly lulled to sleep as you pet him.

• Any time you tried to cook something, the little guy would fly over and watch you intently. And how were you supposed to say no to such an adorable face?

• You were always nuzzling Cacucu, petting him for as long as he would allow it, sneaking him a bite of food, and letting him chill out with you.

• Unbeknownst to you, Ifa was aware of his companion's escapades. A good chunk of the time, he was standing just out of view, watching you spoil Cacucu.

• If he wasn't in love with you already, watching you treat his friend with such kindness definitely made him fall head over heels~

[adorzora]

when ifa casually, innocently, dropped an "and that's why i like you" after you solved a dilemma in the clinic, your heart did three consecutive backflips and your mind went haywire.

it wasn't a "yeah, that makes more sense, bro." or something platonic that cacucu might've already added to his little vocabulary, so it sounded different from his usual commentaries. and of course, you notice the subtle shift of his tone and words, and of course, you alleged some kind of meaning behind those—something you hope to go beyond the platonic boundaries.

except it's april first and you're not so sure if he's riding the bandwagon or if there's genuinely an underlying thought.

"you alright, bro? you've been zoning out since we closed the clinic."

great, now his handsome face is right in front of you, at eye-level and just a kiss away!

"y-yeah." you mumble, dropping your gaze down to where your hands scamper to pretend to be occupied. then he giggles, mentally you curse him out.

"since we wrapped up early today, do you wanna grab dinner with me?"

excuse me, what?

"romantically, i'm asking you out on a date; it's not a prank. i actually do like you, and i've been—"

and so, you kiss him.

[adorzora]

“Okay here’s the list of chores I want to get done today” I tell myself before having sudden full body fatigue from seemingly nothing

[adorzora]

━━━━━━ in the fog, in his arms ⟢

♱    |    flins is an inexperienced lover. more often than not, you're the one who initiates affection. but during his bouts of jealousy, he gets a little clingier.

𖤝 including��� ⠀! ⠀flins          ◟          𖤝 warnings ⠀! ⠀written pre-release so expect ooc, no beta we die like xiao's adeptus friends, bulleted headcanons w/ a short written portion!          

𖤝 notes⠀! ⠀after grinding on crk to try and max out manju cookie, i finally remembered i had some stuff to do and one of them is this fic LMAOO THAT PHAINON LONG FIC IS STAYING IN THE BASEMENT.... divider used were made by @uzmacchiato please check them out!!!

❝      tags     ⚜     .  @aritsukemo and @luvydei my favorite flins kissers i was motivated by your reblogs to make this so i hope you dont mind the tag HELPP

flins, to say the least, is an inexperienced lover. it’s really no surprise that his affection towards you comes across as awkward and stiff, after all, you are his first lover.

early on in your relationship with the lightkeeper, you’d need to learn how to voice and act on your wants and needs. flins doesn’t initiate affection, not because he doesn’t want it, but more so he’s not quite sure how to without seeming too clingy or overbearing. so please, take his hand in yours when you're taking a walk down the streets of nod-krai in the wee hours of the night—he’ll squeeze at your hand when the fog gets thicker and tug you closer so you won’t get lost.

if you want a hug, just wrap your arms around his torso. doesn’t matter if you're taller or shorter, flins will always find a way to pull you closer by your shoulders, press his nose at the juncture where your throat meets your shoulder, and simply melt. do card your fingers into his hair and watch as he unravels with a content sigh and low chuckle, the sound reverberating across your bones like a trail of goosebumps. 

if the night is stretching too far and flins still isn’t in bed with you, just walk into his office like you own the place, and make yourself comfortable in his lap. flins doesn’t even bat an eye to the added weight, in fact, he relishes in it! you’ll feel him lean back in his seat, hold you by your waist, and tuck your head under his chin as he works. when he hears the steady rhythm of your breaths, flins will instead brush his thumb across your cheek and press a loving kiss to the crown of your head before carrying you back to bed.

but there are still downs in your relationship, especially when you realize that flins cannot be a normal lover. his work requires his attention almost 24/7, leaving you to your own devices for days—sometimes weeks—in your lonesome. you understand, truly, you do. but like everyone else when you feel lonely in the absence of your lover, you often find yourself in the nearest tavern, chatting away with his subordinates with rounds and rounds of beer.

now, flins trusts you to remain faithful as he is. but seeing you chat animatedly with his soldiers that are prominently bigger both in stature in build, flins can’t help the jealousy that twists inside his chest as he gazes from afar. he knows he can stand on his own during fights, and he knows that you’re simply enjoying yourself while he’s away. but was it really necessary for the fatui soldiers to hoist you onto their shoulders, holding you securely by your thighs (with consent) and boasting about their strength? 

flins thinks, no, it was not at all necessary. so he marches his way over after finishing his usual drink. true to his habit, flins doesn’t enter the circle through normal means. he’s grown quite fond of giving you a slight startle with his little talents with the shadows. so what better way to get his lover back by tugging at your shirt from behind until you fall straight into his arms with a surprised scream.

“flins?!” you shout in alarm. arms snaking around his shoulders to steady yourself as his hands gently cradled the back of your legs and back. you blink up at him curiously when he simply nods in acknowledgement to the soldiers and begins walking away. another blink, you’re staring over his shoulder and waving your previous company goodbye.

flins huffs, adjusting you in his hold. “did you have fun without me?”

you like to think that you’re far into your relationship with flins to know his little quirks. it’s given you the perfect opportunity to test your perceptiveness on multiple occasions—this being one of them. 

you look back at him to see that he’s already staring at you. you don’t even notice how he’s summoned his lamp and how the fog grows thicker. you let out an amused snicker before tucking yourself under his chin, letting your nose ghost over his throat and feel the way his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “i did. maybe i should hang around your subordinates more often while you’re away.”

flins scoffs at your obvious teasing. his finger tapping repeatedly at your back, a giveaway to his growing irritation. “shall i order a few of them to be stationed near my office? i’d rather not have you sneak out during after hours when you can easily get lost in the fog.”

“do you not trust me?” you challenge.

“i don’t trust your sense of direction.” he fires back.

you playfully hit him on the chest, crossing your arms over your chest and huffing. flins’s chuckle courses through your body like a warm bath—easing taut muscles and reminding you of home. 

“i missed you, my love.” flins whispers to the crown of your head. you don’t point out the erratic beating of his heart, nor the way the back of neck looks unnaturally red. 

with a resigned sigh, you throw your arms around his shoulders, and whisper back to him, “i’ve missed my flins, too.”

flins is an inexperienced lover. he’s a bit shy with his affections—never really asking for more than what he’s given—but he’ll lap up whatever you drop by his feet. at times, you feel like he’s more of a guard dog than a lover with the way he shadows you around, ready to civilly tell anyone off and show that you’re taken. but you can excuse it, especially when he gets extra clingy when he’s jealous.

© 𝓵ysarion 2025 — do not plagiarize, repost, or translate works without the knowledge or consent of the creator in other platforms or websites.

[adorzora]

"3 A.M. Santuary"

a/n: Anon req!! Post-nightmare comfort from Scara<3

pairing: scaramouche x you

genre: fluff

You woke up gasping.

The dark felt heavier than it should. The room was quiet—too quiet—except for the thudding in your ears and the frantic rise and fall of your chest. Your body was warm under the blanket, but your hands were ice-cold, trembling from something you couldn’t quite shake.

It was just a dream.

It was just a dream.

It wasn’t real.

But the images lingered—sharp and cruel. Fear clung to you like sweat. You swallowed hard and blinked, trying to steady your breath. But even with your eyes open, your heart wouldn’t stop racing.

"Hey."

The voice beside you was hoarse with sleep, rough at the edges, but unmistakably his.

You turned your head slowly. Scaramouche was lying on his side, one hand half-buried under his pillow, the other now reaching out for you. His brows were furrowed even in the dim light, lips parted in confusion.

"You okay?" he asked, eyes narrowing slightly as he pushed himself up on an elbow. "You were breathing like you just ran a marathon."

You didn’t trust your voice. You nodded, sort of, but it wasn’t convincing. You felt his eyes scan you in the dark—slowly, carefully—and then his voice lowered.

"...Nightmare?"

You hesitated, then gave a small nod.

And just like that, the irritation slipped off him. The way it always did when it came to you.

He sat up without another word and reached for you, pulling you into his arms with zero hesitation. No dramatics, no teasing, just quiet urgency. You folded into him instantly, hands gripping his shirt like a lifeline.

His arms wrapped around you tight, one hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, holding you there against his chest like he was protecting you from whatever your mind had conjured.

"You’re okay," he murmured, lips brushing your temple. "I’ve got you."

Your breath hitched again, a choked little sound you didn’t mean to let out, but he didn’t flinch. Didn’t mock you. Just held you tighter.

"It wasn’t real," he said, firmer this time. "Whatever it was—you’re safe now. You're with me."

You pressed your face into his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin, his warmth, the rise and fall of his chest grounding you. His hand was steady at your back, drawing soft, slow circles that soothed more than either of you realized.

"I hate how real it felt," you whispered.

"I know." His voice was low, soft. "That’s how dreams get you. But nothing’s gonna happen to you." He tilted his head so his cheek rested against your hair. "Not while I’m here."

You melted into him even more. And for a moment, he said nothing—just let the silence stretch while he held you like the world outside your bed didn’t exist.

Then, quietly, almost annoyed, he added, "Seriously. Next time your brain wants to terrify you at 3 a.m., tell it to get in line."

You let out a watery laugh against his throat. "You’re such a dumbass."

"And yet you’re clinging to me like a teddy bear."

"Yet I don't hear you complaining."

He huffed, but his arms tightened around you anyway. "Yeah, right."

You stayed like that for a long while, curled in his lap under the covers, his fingers in your hair, his chin resting on your head. His body was so warm, so real, so present that the fear started to melt away, replaced with the steady comfort of him.

"...You better fall asleep again," he muttered, voice already drowsy. "Because now I’m not letting go until morning."

You didn’t even try to argue.

Wrapped in his arms, the nightmare faded for good.

[adorzora]

Life abides no reason—For none are born by their own consent. Death abides no reason—For it cannot be defied. Time abides no reason—For it deprives us all equally. Space abides no reason—The...

[adorzora]

shadowy lights, stranger wights🕯️

[adorzora]

After the fight when diluc left for few years while kaeya was still in mondstadt.

[adorzora]

☆ wearing their clothes

synopsis. seeing s/o wearing their clothes for the first time :) (like shirts/sweatshirts or jackets/coats :pensive:)

the blade has spoken. erm... first draft being posted... i feel a little nervous after changing from reshinless to the user i use everywhere..

pairings. albedo, alhaitham, capitano, childe, wriothesley, diluc, neuvillette, kinich, xiao, dainsleif, wanderer

albedo felt himself heating up already. the red that crept up his neck was noticeable as you looked up. you were wearing his lab coat, and all cozy in the bed you both share.

"you're.. wearing.. my.." - "oh.. wow."

he had just come back from work and he couldn't wait to cuddle with you in bed, yet it was as if he wouldn't mind conducting another experiment with his new 'assistant' by his side <3

alhaitham when he suddenly walks into the empty home, tired of the work he's done for only archons knows how long he had been working. he just wanted to come home and tell you about all the things he's been- oh.

he was stunned. star struck. fuck. were you really wearing his sweater right now? the grayhead felt himself simply smirk at he adorable sight of you simply sleeping on the couch. a dinner made just for him, along with dessert on the side (ifykyk)

"maybe i'll tell you when i wake up, love."

capitano who simply lets out a chuckle, one out of love. he loves how large his coat looked on you. he handed it to you after going out for a while, asking you to simply hang it beside his desk. yet you had better ideas. and by better ideas? is to wear it of course!

"well what do we have here? you're so adorable my love."

he tucks strands of your hair behind your ear. adoring the way you tried your best not to fall over as you tried to spin. this was enough to keep you warm though. not to mention how he was already carrying you bridal style to bed.

childe laughs, seeing you try on one of his shirts, looking at yourself in the mirror before turning to see him.

baby, you look amazing! how about another spin?

even when you simply scoffed, he loved how you looked right now. fuck, he could feel himself reddening already. he definitely will let you have full access to his wardrobe. just take it all like how you took his heart too.

wriothesley just put his jacket over you to keep you from being wet while watching the melusines play with sigewinne, yet right now he was more focused on how much he admired your figure in his clothes. his jacket.

"what's wrong?" "...nothing. you look amazing today, yk that?"

he chuckled at your behavior, unaware of your own attractiveness as you told them to stop running around the fountain with the wetness of the floor spreading. you couldn't help but ease up and laugh as well.

a certainly crazy day at the court of justice- neuvillette was finally finishing up the last few cases, not to mention how absurd some of the cases were.

not realizing he ended up taking your jacket instead of his home, only realizing it when the melusines mention how different it look from his usual one. oh man. there you were. trying on his coat that just seemed a little too big (or small) on you. gosh were you cute.. what do you mean his ears are red?!

"i.. it looks better on you than me, doesn it?"

dainsleif who was there immediately as soon as the red wine was spilled onto your outfit. quick to spring into acting, he throws his jacket over it just as fast. scolding the person who jealously just oh-so accidentally ruined your outfit tonight purely because they wanted your significant other? oh please he wasn't having any of that!

but by the time his anger went away, he didn't realize how.. alluring you looked.. in something he wore all the time. it definitely suited you better, only noticing after he finally parked the car. he definitely had to give you more of his clothes.

"you.. uh.. i.. well.. you're beautiful. you know, you're welcome to keep that."

diluc's face was turning as red as his hair seeing how you quietly snored, sound asleep in his- no, your shared bed. seeing how closely you held his coat to your chest, as well as the shirt you wore.

"...I don't.. deserve you."

he simply took his boots off, letting his arms snake you close, one of his hands trailing up to your scalp, calmly stroking your head as he feels you smile into his chest. this was life.

kinich who always had an interesting wardrobe, you really just wanted to see how comfy his clothes were if he can swing back and forth that far!

and in which you did, spinning and looking at yourself in the mirror in his clothing. you loved it even more from how it smelled just like him too <3

"someone's having fun aren't they?"

you felt yourself blush out of embarassment of getting caught. but before you could apologize, he already had his lips on yours.

when xiao decides it'd be a good idea to give you a hoodie just to realize you never gave it back. is it just.. yours now?

and to find out the answer? yes! it is! and he finds out in the cutest way possible—by finding you sleeping soundly and wearing it all the same. almost indifferent about it as if it was normal.

"you okay?" "i-i've been looking for this y-you know.."

he only flushed more when you tell him you missed him so much.

finally coming home, wanderer, or scaramouche just wanted to cuddle. no words shared. just to hold you in his arms.

but maybe it was good that didn't happen. because now he was looking at the love of his life, and eating the food they made him. knowing how they made it with the knowledge on how he can't really taste anything. not to mention you were wearing.. that sweatshirt he lent you.

you.. look.. good.

[adorzora]

A little redraw of my favourite avoidant grandpa.

[adorzora]

"why're you still up?"

as you stir awake, CHILDE hums and offers you a small smile. you turn to face him, observing his eyes that are as deep as the color of the ocean.

"anything wrong?" you ask him through half-lidded eyes, stretching the arm you were laying on.

he stares at your face for a moment, then a minute longer. you wonder why he's looking at you like that, like you're an answered prayer or his dream come true.

he's in a daze. with each passing second, he traces your features with his eyes. and finally, after the silence, one of an unperturbed pond, childe smiles and kisses your forehead.

he lets his lips linger for a moment longer, a pleased sigh leaving him. he wonders what great deed he has done to have you in his arms. he wonders what could've made him such a viable candidate to have your deep affection. especially, with his line of work as a fatui. childe wonders if you even look at his job—at his status—considering how you would always be there to patch up the wounds he acquires after every fight.

you were always there without fail, way before he realized your feelings were mutual all along.

that being said, he's grateful that you see him more as a person than anyone else could. that you had never use his job once against him, or made it seem like that should define him if he was good at all or not. you know he wouldn't hurt you and he wouldn't hurt anyone else without reason.

he has proven it. time and time again.

childe leans back to look at your face once more, and he can't stop thinking about how he'd love for his family to meet you. how he'd love it to see you in his little circle. his mind thinks of everything he wants to do with you, from ice fishing to cuddling up beside the fireplace with thick blankets and hot cocoa.

but now, as he looks at your sleepy figure, still waiting for a response as to why he was awake at an ungodly hour. in a low whisper, he says.

"no," he smiles and brushes away a stray hair that has fallen on your face, "you just look pretty and i couldn't sleep."

as the early signs of dawn peek through the blinds, softly illuminating the room and hilighting the amber hues of his hair—childe remembers the nights he spent dreaming about you, having you in his arms. and, he's sure that reality will always be better than his fantasies, now that you're beside him. because when he sees you smile at him everytime he comes home...

childe knows you'll always be his miracle. his light at every end of a tunnel.

aki's notes. it's 6am and i have childe brainrot 🧍‍♀️ get that man away from me.

[adorzora]

genshin boys overhear you talking to yourself

premise. sometimes, talking to yourself feels safer than facing the guy you can’t stop thinking about…until he walks in on you mid-spiral. from awkward blushes to unexpected confessions, here’s what happens when your most embarrassing moments become the genshin boys' favorite memories

features. kazuha, diluc, childe, wanderer, alhaitham, xiao, ayato, cyno, itto, kaeya, baizhu, dainsleif, tighnari, thoma, heizou, bennett, kaveh, zhongli

kazuha

You're crouched beside a broken cart wheel, half-hidden in tall grass, muttering furiously to yourself as you examine the splintered wood.

“Of course it had to break here, in the middle of nowhere. No signal flare left, and I let the boat crew leave without me. Brilliant. Great job, really stellar planning—”

“You’re being rather harsh on yourself.”

You startle so hard you nearly fall backward. Kazuha stands a few paces behind, hands tucked calmly into his sleeves, his eyes full of quiet amusement and concern.

“You were gone longer than expected,” he explains, seeing your confusion. “Beidou sent me to check if you’d lost your way—or started arguing with local wildlife.”

You flush. “No, I’m just…talking to myself. Thinking through how to fix it.”

He steps closer and knelt beside you, examining the wheel. “Hm. The axle’s intact. A proper wedge might hold long enough to get you back to the road.”

You blink. “Oh. You’re not going to tease me about earlier?”

“I speak to the wind as if it listens,” he says lightly. “Why would I judge you for speaking to yourself?”

You glance at him. “And does the wind ever answer?”

He smiles faintly. “Only when I’m quiet enough to hear it.”

And then, just like that, he gets to work, gathering branches, finding rope in your satchel, never once asking why you chose to be alone in the first place but just staying until the cart moves again. Maybe the wind hadn’t answered, but he had.

diluc

He walks into the tavern early in the morning, expecting silence. Instead, he hears your voice in a low, frantic whisper as you await his arrival: “Okay, you’ve got this. He’s just a man. A tall, brooding, red-haired, intimidatingly handsome man—Archons above, why am I like this?”

He freezes mid-step, but the tap of his boot on the tile is loud enough to betray him. You whirl around, mortified, and lock eyes with him like a deer caught in emotionally compromising headlights.

He blinks once. Slowly.

“…I assume that was about me,” he says, voice neutral, but his ears are visibly pink.

“I—No—I mean—kind of?” you squeak, visibly crumbling under the weight of your own existence.

He clears his throat and looks away, reaching for a mug that absolutely does not need his attention.

“Understood,” he mutters.

For the rest of the day, he’s overly polite, painfully formal, and avoids eye contact like it’s flammable. Later that evening, you find a cup of your favorite tea left out for you—steaming, perfectly steeped, and completely unsupervised. The mug has a folded note under it, consisting of just three words: “You’ve got this.”

childe

He’s passing by your room when he hears your voice, quiet but distinct, and increasingly unhinged: “Okay. Plan A: cry. Plan B: threaten to cry. Plan C: run away and never return.”

He pauses mid-step, then leans against the doorway with a lopsided grin. “Wow, those are some elite-level crisis strategies. You sure you’re not Fatui?”

You shriek in embarrassment. “How long have you been standing there?!”

“Long enough to know you’ve got potential,” he laughs, pushing off the doorframe and stepping inside.

You groan and hide your face. “I was joking. mostly.”

“Nah, I kinda like it,” he teases. “Plan A’s got emotional flair. Plan B? Classic drama. However, Plan C?” his voice softens just a bit. “If you ran, I’d just find you. You know that, right?”

You look up and find his smile stripped of mischief. It’s quiet and gentle in a way that makes your heart trip over itself.

“But…if you do need tissues, I’ve got plenty.”

Somehow, this ends with him dragging you to sit on the couch, arms slung around you, both of you buried under a blanket neither of you remembers pulling over your laps.

“New plan,” he says, voice muffled against your shoulder. “Plan D: stay right here.”

wanderer

He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop. He'd simply been on his way when he found you pacing the courtyard, completely unaware of his presence.

“He probably doesn’t even notice when I smile at him. Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s just ignoring me. Ugh. I should just throw a rock at him.”

He replies instantly. “Try it. I’ll throw one back.”

You flinch so hard you nearly drop your bag. He’s already leaning against a pillar, arms crossed, unreadable as ever. His gaze flicks to you, sharp but dissolving into something strangely unguarded. You open your mouth, but he speaks first.

“I notice,” he tells you, quieter now. almost like it costs him something to admit. “More than you think.”

Then he’s gone, vanishing down the corridor before you can speak, like he never meant to say anything at all. But later, you find a small, perfectly smooth stone placed outside your windowsill. No note. No explanation. Just one rock, light enough to throw.

alhaitham

He’s walking past the study when he hears you, your voice sounding low, frantic, and clearly not meant for anyone else.

“Okay, if I just put the books back exactly the way he had them, maybe he won’t know I was here. Unless…he cataloged them by page wear. Oh archons—what if he did? Why does he have to be attractive and terrifying?”

His deadpan voice sounds right behind you. “For the record, I do catalog them by page wear.”

You jump, dropping the book you’re holding, but instead of hitting the floor, it lands effortlessly in his palm.

“Also, you’ve been muttering to yourself for three full minutes. You’re not exactly subtle.”

You open your mouth to explain, apologize, evaporate, anything, but he just walks past and plucks a book from your stack.

“You misaligned this one by 0.6 centimeters,” he remarks, tone neutral. “But I’ll let it slide.”

You’re still frozen, blinking at him.

Without looking at you, he adds almost offhandedly, “Next time you wish to come by, just ask. I’d rather see you here than not.”

And then he starts reorganizing beside you. He’s silent, efficient, and just close enough that your shoulders nearly touch.

xiao

You’re sitting alone on the quiet terrace just outside Wangshu Inn, knees pulled up to your chest as you mutter into the dusk. “Why did I say ‘sweet dreams’? Who says that to Xiao? He’s the vigilant yaksha, not some character from a bedtime story. He probably thinks I’m a sentimental weirdo—”

“I don’t.”

You whip around. He’s suddenly there, silent as ever, standing just behind you in the fading light.

“I don’t think you’re weird,” he repeats, voice soft and steady, though there’s the faintest crease in his brow like he’s wondering if he’s said too much.

You scramble to stand, completely flustered. “Wait, how long were you—?”

“I heard my name,” he says plainly, as if that explains everything.

The air feels charged with embarrassment. Yours. Maybe his, too. After a pause, he glances away toward the treetops. His voice is quieter now.

“No one’s said that to me before.”

You blink. “Said what?”

He doesn’t meet your eyes. “Sweet dreams.”

There’s something almost reverent in the way he says it, like the words feel too fragile in his mouth.

“I didn’t think those were something I could have.”

The breeze carries the scent of silk flowers, and for a long moment, neither of you says anything.

Then, without looking at you, he adds, “But I liked hearing it. From you.”

Your heart flips once, hard.

And before you can spiral all over again, he turns to go, but stops just long enough to murmur, “Goodnight. I hope…yours are sweet, too.”

ayato

He’s strolling through the estate gardens when he catches the faint tones of your voice, muffled but unmistakably dramatic. Curious, he peeks around a hedge and discovers you monologuing to a cluster of blue hydrangeas with passionate gestures.

“Lord Ayato, my dearest nemesis. Why must you smile like that? Why must your tea taste like heartbreak and fine politics?”

His brows lift in faint surprise. 

“And why did I tell him it was ‘transcendent’? That’s not normal person behavior. That’s the kind of thing a swooning diplomat says before fainting into their fan.”

Ayato brings a hand to his mouth, stifling the laugh that bubbles up. He knows he should announce himself—knows it's indecent to linger—but curiosity roots him in place. It’s rare to see you so unguarded, and rarer still to be the subject of such poetic vitriol.

You pace a few steps, oblivious. “He probably thinks I was flirting. Which I wasn’t. I think. Ugh.”

He waits just a second longer, watching as you sigh and press your fingertips to your forehead like a tragic heroine from a stage play, before stepping forward, his fan snapping closed with a soft click.

“I didn’t realize I’d been cast as the villain in your private soliloquy.”

You freeze. There is no mistaking his voice, nor the silk-smooth amusement threading through it. Slowly, you turn.

“I must say, your critique was…vivid,” he continues. His expression is polite, but his eyes betray him, bright with barely contained laughter. “And rather unfair to the tea, which I assure you is not culpable for your emotional distress.”

Your mouth opens. Nothing comes out. He tilts his head, as if considering something seriously.

“Though I do wonder what heartbreak tastes like to you.”

You groan and bury your face in your hands.

He inclines his head slightly, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “Next time, speak your grievances aloud to me instead. I assure you, I respond far better than flowers.”

cyno

He walks in on you muttering and pacing in circles.

“Okay, okay. Don’t laugh if he tells another joke. But also don’t not laugh, because then he’ll think you hate him. Ugh, why is this so complicated?”

He appears behind you with a perfectly straight face and says, “What do you call a fake noodle? an impasta.”

You shriek and nearly trip over a chair. He waits. You groan.

“That was…better than usual,” you admit.

He pauses as he appraises you. His lips twitch. “So. You’ve been rehearsing responses to my jokes?”

You blink, caught. “No. Definitely not.”

He steps closer, arms folded, head tilting in mock-serious thought. “Interesting. That implies you anticipated more. Which means…you’re expecting me.”

“…to keep telling them?”

He nods solemnly. “Correct. And now that I know you’re preparing, I’ll have to escalate.”

You groan again, this time into your hands, and he finally cracks a smile. Later, he’ll tell you a compliment disguised as a riddle. You’ll pretend not to swoon. He’ll pretend not to notice. Neither of you is very convincing.

itto

You’re standing in front of a mirror, hyping yourself up. “You’re brave. You’re bold. You can flirt with Itto today. Probably. Maybe. Okay, no, don’t flirt, just survive eye contact.”

A voice behind you booms, “Well hey, I think you’re already killin’ it!”

You scream and spin around so fast you almost knock over a stool. Itto’s standing in the doorway, grinning like a kid who just found candy and a beetle.

“Also, flirting’s totally encouraged. Ten outta ten, would recommend.”

You clutch your chest. “How long have you been standing there?!”

“Since the part where you said you were bold and brave or whatever. Sounded super cool, so I figured I’d stay for the ending.”

You groan. He’s still grinning.

“But hey,” he adds, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish laugh, “you don’t gotta overthink it. Just talk to me like normal! Or, y’know, you could flirt if that’s easier.”

You entertain the idea of feigning amnesia, knowing he’d probably fall for it. Instead, you mutter, “...I liked your hair today.”

He lights up like the sun. “See? You’re killin’ it!”

Somehow, this ends with him offering to coach you through flirting with him. The audacity.

kaeya

You were only meant to drop off a report. Nothing more. Just a quick visit to the Knights’ headquarters, a few signatures, and out. And yet here you are, lingering in an empty hallway, your forehead pressed lightly against a stone pillar as you mutter to yourself.

“Genius. Absolutely genius. ‘Nice weather, Kaeya.’ That’s what I went with. Might as well have added, ‘Hi, I’ve been harboring a wildly inconvenient crush on you since Stormterror was still a problem. Want to date and/or be the reason I start writing terrible poetry again?’”

A breath of laughter—not your own—cuts through the silence.

“I’d be open to both,” a familiar voice replies.

You freeze.

He’s there, lounging against the window alcove like he’s been there all along, elbow propped casually on the sill, head tilted with interest. His smile says he heard every word. His eyes say he enjoyed it.

Kaeya pushes off the ledge and strolls toward you, every step perfectly unhurried. “Next time you plan to deliver a monologue about me, perhaps wait until I’ve left the building. Unless,” he adds, voice dropping with playful weight, “you were hoping I’d hear it.”

You can feel the heat rise to your face like a sunrise.

“I was just thinking out loud,” you manage.

“So I gathered. And for the record”—he passes close enough that his cloak brushes your sleeve—“I find it flattering.”

You briefly consider flinging yourself out the nearest window.

At the end of the corridor, he glances back over his shoulder, smile curling just shy of sincere.

“If the weather stays this nice, do let me know if that wildly inconvenient crush turns into something more actionable.”

And then he’s gone.

A junior knight passing by gives you a puzzled look. “You, uh…look like you saw a ghost.”

You exhale, voice thin. “Worse.”

baizhu

You’re by yourself in the back room of Bubu Pharmacy, sorting herbs and muttering under your breath. It’s been a long day, and unfortunately, your brain has chosen to perseverate.

“If I faint in front of him again, I’m just going to say it was low blood sugar. Not the fact that he tucked my hair behind my ear like it was nothing.”

“Hmm. I’ll make a note to check your glucose levels...and perhaps develop a tincture for sudden-onset romantic distress?”

You whip around so fast that a handful of Qingxin spills onto the table. Baizhu stands in the doorway, serene as ever, holding a tray of tea like he didn’t just obliterate your self-esteem.

“It’s a surprisingly common condition,” he adds, eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “Often triggered by gentle gestures and poor coping mechanisms.”

Changsheng pokes her head out from behind his collar and lets out a tiny, delighted laugh. “Lovesick. Very contagious,” she stage-whispers.

You bury your face in your hands.

Baizhu sets the tea down beside you with quiet care. “I could prepare a cure, but I fear the malady is mutual—and, strangely, quite welcome.”

dainsleif

You think you’re alone, sitting quietly in a dim corner of the library and murmuring your frustrations to yourself. Dainsleif, combing the shelves for a particular volume, pauses when he hears the soft thread of your voice carry through the candlelight: “I bet he doesn’t even remember my name. I’m probably just a temporary footnote to him anyway. Someone who fades like shadows at dusk.”

His low voice answers from just beyond the glow of your lantern. “You are not a footnote.”

You nearly jump out of your skin as Dainsleif steps into view. The candlelight flickers across the lines of his face, which remains composed and unreadable but not unfeeling. He doesn’t speak gently, not exactly, but there’s a steadiness to his tone that seems to lessen the musty air.

“Names are more than words,” he says. “They are memory. History. Presence.”

He kneels slightly and locks eyes with you, his gaze piercing.

“I remember your name,” he continues. “Not only the shape of it. I remember the weight it carries when you speak it. I remember the careful way you said goodnight two nights ago, as if you weren’t sure I’d hear it, or hold it.”

You can’t breathe. You can’t look away.

“Don’t assume I forget the things that matter,” he says, rising to his full height again. His expression doesn’t shift, but something in his posture softens. And then, without waiting for a reply, he turns and disappears into the stacks. For a long moment, all you can hear is the echo of his footsteps and the pulse of your own heart—louder now, and somehow less alone.

tighnari

You’re elbow-deep in soil, half-focused on coaxing the withered pardisah into a new pot, when your frustration finally boils over.

“Okay, next time, just say thank you and walk away. Easy. Normal. Not, ‘Wow, your ears are so expressive today,’ like some feral maniac.” You groan and press your forehead to your palm. “He probably thinks I’m studying him like a botanical specimen. What is wrong with me?”

“To be fair,” a dry voice answers behind you, “most people don’t notice ear movement unless they’re watching very closely.”

You nearly send the pot flying as you whip around. Tighnari is leaning beside your bag of soil, arms folded, one brow arched in faint incredulity.

“You were there…the whole time,” you croak.

“Roughly since the ‘feral maniac’ part,” he amends, tail flicking with suspicious amusement. “You were a bit harsh on yourself, but entertaining.”

You cover your face. “I swear I didn’t mean to make it weird.”

“You didn’t,” he says gently, and then—surprisingly—smiles. “I didn’t mind the compliment. It was…oddly specific, but sincere. And clearly the result of long observation.”

He steps past you, crouching to inspect the flower you nearly murdered in your panic.

“Next time,” he adds, not looking up, “less spiraling, more speaking.”

His tone is neutral, but his ears betray him with the smallest, involuntary flick.

And then he mutters to himself, “They’re only expressive when you’re around, anyway.”

You pretend not to hear. For now.

thoma

You’re alone in the kitchen—or so you believe—flipping gyozas with intense concentration and muttering under your breath. “Okay, Thoma likes them crispy. Not burnt. Crispy, like his smile. No, wait, what? Focus!”

“Crispy like my smile, huh?”

You flinch. The spatula slips from your fingers and clatters to the stovetop. Thoma is casually leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and grinning like he definitely heard more than he should have.

“I’m flattered,” he says, stepping closer. “But now I’ve got questions. What, exactly, does a crispy smile look like?”

“I—I meant the gyoza, not your— Wait, no, I meant both—I mean—”

The oil hisses sharply, like even the pan can’t take it anymore. Smoke streams upward.

“No, the gyozas!”

Thoma is already by your side, grabbing the pan with practiced ease and sliding it off the stove.

“You know,” he says, grinning as he surveys the damage, “you didn’t have to set them on fire just to impress me.”

“I didn’t—!”

“Hey, I’m not complaining. Means I get to help.” He tosses you a wink. “Teamwork, right?”

Somehow, you end up shoulder to shoulder, sleeves rolled up, hands floured, trying again as he gives teasing tips on “optimal gyoza symmetry.”

Later, as the final batch sizzles golden and perfect, he leans just close enough to murmur, “Still not sure what a crispy smile is, but if we’re talking about yours…I think I get it now.”

heizou

You march down the corridor, shoulders tense, voice pitched low but laced with despair.

“No, Heizou, I don’t need your help picking up the papers I dropped. I just need a convenient hole to bury the cadaver my dignity in, thank you very much—”

A hand suddenly lands on your shoulder.

“AAHH—” you scream mid-sentence, spinning on instinct and swinging your bag in self-defense.

Heizou barely ducks in time, a laugh tumbling out as he stumbles back, half-shielding himself. “Whoa, violent thoughts and airborne satchels? I should’ve brought a warrant first.”

You freeze, mortified. He’s already dusting off his sleeves like it’s just another day at the precinct.

“Really now, that’s the welcome I get?” he continues, far too amused for someone who was nearly concussed.

“You snuck up on me mid-spiral,” you retort, torn between embarrassment and residual adrenaline. “That’s reckless behavior, even for you.”

He raises a brow, utterly unbothered. “I prefer to think of it as instinct. I happen to have an uncanny sense for when people are saying my name behind my back. Or in this case, aloud. To themselves.”

Your eyes widen just enough to give you away. Heizou smiles like he’s just cracked another case.

“You know,” he adds, stepping just close enough for his voice to drop a tone, “talking to oneself is a perfectly natural response to emotional distress. Especially when that distress has, say…a face and a name?”

You groan and press a hand to your forehead. “You’re insufferable.”

He tilts his head. “And yet, I’m the one you keep muttering about.”

You try to come up with a retort. You fail.

“Don’t worry,” he continues smoothly, already turning on his heel, “your secrets are safe with me.”

“You are the secret,” you call after him.

“And still,” he says without looking back, “you can’t seem to stop confessing to it.”

bennett

“Okay, just be normal. If I trip, I’ll just play dead. He won’t even notice. He’s used to disasters,” you tell yourself as you pace in tight little circles outside the Adventurers’ Guild.

“Wait, was that about me?”

You nearly leap into the decorative flower box beside the stairs.

Bennett stands behind you, blinking wide-eyed, equal parts confused and concerned.

“No—I mean—kind of?” you stammer.

He scratches the back of his neck, flustered. “I mean, yeah, stuff does kinda explode around me sometimes, but…hey, you’re not gonna trip.”

He pauses, then adds quickly, “But if you do, I’ll totally catch you! Probably! I mean, I’ve got decent reflexes! Usually!”

He’s turning red now, voice rising an octave as he tries to dig himself out.

“Not that you’ll fall, or need catching! It’s just—If you did fall, hypothetically, I’d be there. Probably. Hopefully. Unless something explodes first.”

You both stare at each other in silence for a beat and then burst out laughing.

“So,” you say, grinning, “wanna grab lunch before something does explode?”

“Yes! Wait, are you asking me out?”

You hesitate. “…Would it make you trip if I said yes?”

“Most likely.”

“Then, I’ll give you ‘probably’ as my answer.”

“Perfect.”

kaveh

He hears your muffled voice through the wall.

“If I see his ridiculously pretty face one more time, I’m going to cry. Or combust. Or both. There is no middle ground anymore.”

A suspicious creak of the floorboard makes your soul exit your body. The door swings open slowly. Kaveh stands there with a tea tray and the most theatrical expression known to man.

“Well,” he says, in full dramatic cadence, “had I known my face was wreaking such havoc on your emotional equilibrium, I would’ve brewed peppermint for the nerves.”

You groan and throw a pillow at him.

“Ah! betrayed by the very person moved to tears by my beauty. So you’ve chosen emotional combustion. Noted.”

You peek between your fingers. “Kaveh, please go.”

He places the tea tray down very deliberately. “I’ll leave,” he says, moving toward the door, “but only after I point out that I’m flattered, deeply and profoundly.”

He stops in the doorway, looks back with a grin just slightly too genuine.

“By the way,” he adds, not quite looking at you, “it’s mutual. The whole…emotional-overload-in-each-other’s-presence thing.”

And with that, he leaves. The tea cools quickly. You do not.

zhongli

You’re standing outside Wánmín Restaurant, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts and muttered self-advice as you wait for a certain funeral consultant to join you for lunch.

“You can’t just stare at him every time he talks. He’s not poetry. He’s a man. A terrifyingly wise, elegant man made of tea and regret.”

You pause, frowning at the phrase.

“Tea and regret?”

You jolt and whirl around. Zhongli is standing just behind you, his expression unreadable, as if weighing your words with the patience of centuries.

After a moment’s pause, a faint smile graces his lips. “I believe that’s a new metaphor.”

Then, with a quiet elegance, he gestures in the space between you.

“You may continue your soliloquy. I find it…endearing.”

You feel your composure unravel, cheeks flushing crimson as you try to meet his calm, knowing gaze. For a moment, the world narrows to the soft sound of your breathing and the quiet dignity of a man who understands more than he lets on, and you silently wonder if maybe, just maybe, he is poetry after all.

[adorzora]

I made Enjin again 🥰💖✨💕 my beautiful man ✨💖✨