. . !

𓆩 ☆ 𓆪 . . 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐚 !

𓆩 ★ 𓆪 . . xiao x reader ⁝ wc. 1.2k ⁝ fluff to angst

𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐘𝐎𝐔, orders given by the geo archon himself.

zhongli saw how his eyes sparkled when he looked at you, when you smile too hard and your eyes crease and crinkle, when you laugh a little too hard at his bluntness and you lean against his chest for support.

it will only end in disaster, zhongli once warned. believe me, i am simply looking out for you.

but what did he know?

xiao wasn't a good person, he was quite aware of that. he was like the moon, he only brought light upon the darkness situations. but you, he thought, you were definitely the sun.

"yeah, that sounds about right," you hummed when he brought it up, earning a tilt of the head and squinted eyes from xiao. 

"what do you mean?" his eyes fluttered when you started to kiss the now visible part of his jaw, before he scrunched his eyebrows and forced them open.

"people can't stand to look at the sun. it's too bright, annoying. the moon is quiet and beautiful," you kissed him on the lips, once, twice, thrice. i love you. you pressed your lips against his gemstone before pulling back to look into his crystalline amber eyes. "do you know how many pray to the moon each and every night, thanking it for it's light and beauty?"

"the moon," he questioned, bringing a hand to not-so subtly cover up his fiery cheeks. "but why not a god?"

you chuckled and cupped his cheek, gently swiping across his freckle as if it were dirt that could be wiped away. "the gods are nothing compared to your beauty, my moon."

"if... if i am your moon, that would make you my sun, no?" xiao swallow a lump in his throat, his heart beating all too quick from him to focus on anything other than your eyes, or hands, or how close you were. unable to focus on anything other than you.

"indeed it does."

xiao kissed his teeth and tore his gaze from you, albeit reluctantly. the glaze lilies suddenly became of interest to him.

if you were his sun, that would mean you were just a measly little star, right? just a burning ball of gas. and he, apparently to you, was the moon. a natural satellite that shined a light upon billions, something people pray to. 

and you're just a star. 

you're so much more than that.

you're so compassionate towards him, not to mention how devoted you are. you're amorous in his eyes, dreamy and unreal. you were an angel, but you weren't. because angels and heaven and a holy cloud space was all fictionalised story to xiao. his life was this, an adeptus. his life was you.

he would say you're perfect, but you aren't. he has seen you lash out, and bark meaningless and empty insults at him only to apologize right after. he has seen you sob and sniffle and bleed. perfection is so quick to bore, he thinks. especially when your imperfections are more beautiful when you show them to him as a whole, when you trust him with all it. all of you.

"you're more than a star." xiao admits on a cloudy night, hands laced together while the scent of rain and qingxin flowers poisons his senses.

"hm?"

"a couple months ago," he coughed into his hand, golden band fading into a mere rusty yellow in the dark of the night. "you said i was your moon and you were my sun. but what is the sun but a star?"

you blinked at him, before creasing your eyes and giggling, your smile widening with every second he looked at you. "you're right. the sun is just a star." 

you sit up and dangle your legs off of qingyun peak, instantly alerting xiao to straighten up next to you. "stars are most beautiful when they explode. they reach the end of their lifetime and burst into this magnificent shockwave of light. it's breathtaking."

"a supernova." xiao recognises. you nod, squeezing his hand a little bit tighter.

"one day i'm gonna explode. and then, it's gonna be absolutely enthralling. fucking angelic, i tell you." you laugh, a sound xiao could and would die happily listening to. "i will be angelic when i die."

mortals die, xiao is more then aware than that. he has had dozens die in his hands, more often than he can count. he isn't always there on time. it's never your fault, you would tell him, and he would agree. he cannot be there for every beck and need liyue has. you taught him that he has concerns and needs, too.

this time, however, was definitely his fault.

just a moment too late, he was. time had slipped through fingers. you had slipped through his fingers.

he could've been quicker. he could've been there. he could've taken the hit. you couldn't. 

a low blow has been taken on you, a harbinger's blade had sliced straight through your stomach. and he was too late. he was to blame.

"no, no no no no no." this couldn't be. his spouse was not leaving him. you could get through this. he'll take you to that one pharmacist, what was his name again? baihua, baizhong? whatever the hell it was.

he was doing everything in his power to save you. he was ripping off articles of clothing from both himself and you, attempting to soak up the blood. your dainty hand grabbed his wrist, shaking. 

"it's okay," no it wasn't. "i'm okay with dying like this. with you." but he was not. he wanted you. he needed you.

he shook his head and drew blood from his lip until iron filled his mouth, choking on his sobs. you nodded in contrast, allowing tears to fall. "it is. because xiao, when you live for somebody, you are prepared to die."

your words were hushed, like a child's secret. like a teenagers first kiss with their highschool sweetheart, vowing to not tell a soul only to gush about it to your friends later.

he was afraid. he didn't want to lose you. he pulled you into a tighter embrace, hugging what was left of you and squeezing the remaining oxygen in your lungs.

"please. i can't. not without you. please, please, please." he sobbed. tears mixed in with the harsh rain that punched at his skull. he was the saddest little baby in all of liyue.

he kept kissing you, savouring your taste even if all he got was blood and salt. you kissed back, light and almost unconscious, like how used to kiss him during early mornings. he watched your eyelids grow heavy and he felt how your body went limp. he squeezed you harder and begged, pleaded, prayed. barbatos, rex lapis, raiden shogun, tsarsita, anybody. not my darling. not my love. not yet.

"i told you so." a disembodied voice spoke,  thick of pity, yet so low and flat. 

the glass broke. xiao sobbed, and screamed into your shoulder. he couldn't breathe. he didn't want to, if it meant he would have to live without you. 

you said it would be fucking angelic when you died. you lied to him, looking straight into his eyes and said it would be enthralling. yet, when he looks at you now, all he can see is the devil's work.

zhongli approached him and hugged him gently, a father's embrace. he was so cold compared to you. you were so warm and welcoming.

you were his sun, but now all you were is a supernova. 

cw: somno, yandere, dub-con

it’s been a long while since dainsleif has travelled with anybody for a prolonged length of time, much less somebody who he looks at and imagines what it would be like to kiss. he holds himself back, apart from you, knowing what he is and what he’s seen and thinking how you should never have to deal with the hideous fallout that is being beloved of the twilight sword (knowing him, loving him, he thinks, is a death sentence). but he cannot stop himself from imagining how silky soft your skin would be, if he were brave enough to strip off his gloves and touch you. how sweet the lingering taste of your lips against his would be, how warm and soft and solid and real you would be in his lap - and how tightly he would cling to you, like a raft in raging seas. 

there is no time that these feelings hit him so deeply as when you are asleep.

dain sleeps little nowadays; he does not really need to sleep to function, though he does take a few snatched naps when he feels safe enough to do so in order to recharge. but you - so solidly and normally human, so fragile and ordinary despite all of this - you require sleep, so he watches over you when you do. sometimes the two of you have a hastily constructed adventurer’s tent, and you have some semblance of shelter - sometimes you sleep straight on the ground with the stars and moon lighting your pretty face.

it’s then that dain’s mind starts to run wild with itself.

for you’re so wonderfully peaceful asleep - your chest rising and gently falling, your lashes resting against the curve of your cheeks, your lips slightly parted. the soft noises you make, sighing and mumbling, when you stir just a little and your brow creases. you’re so, so beautiful. dain can’t help himself.

he can’t help himself strip off a single glove - to caress your face and almost feel he could finally pass away there and then as he remembers how soft the skin of another human is. when you nuzzle into his palm, brush your lips sleepily across it in an echo of a kiss without waking up, he wonders if this is it and his torment has finally been brought to an end and this is celestia.

a touch turns to more - the brush of thumbs across lips, of his hand across your collarbone. he loses count of how many nights he has touched you so softly and so gently with one hand and wrapped his other gloved hand (the abyss touched one, the one that does not deserve to be bare against you) around his cock as he muffled whimpers and whines of your name into bitten lips. it’s enough, he tells himself, fiercely, as he comes over his hand and wishes he was spilling it inside of you. you would not want him. you do not deserve to be touched by filth like him–

but as nights drag on, and you sleep closer and closer to him, smile at him more, fall asleep with your head on his shoulder and a sleepy mumble of his name on your lips … dainsleif isn’t sure how long it will continue to be enough. 

I just want them to talk.

do not disturb | wc: 2.7k

Cyno hums in contemplation, the cool water flowing over his fingers. He turns the faucet off just as he hears footsteps on tiles and takes a towel to his hair, counting the four seconds he knows it takes to get to the room.

“Cyno, I really don’t- oh,” you stop in your tracks, right on time. He doesn’t have to turn around to know you’re holding a familiar folder of papers with complaints outlined in red ink. “Sorry. I didn’t…”

“You should really learn to knock first.” He thinks it’s funny because the rooms here don’t actually have doors, just sweeping arches for the great big important spaces, and then tiny arches for less important rooms (like his apparently), and then medium-sized ones for… well other things. Kaveh was the Kshahrewar graduate, not him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. And… and…” He can just hear you bristle. You even straighten up a little judging from the faint shuffling. “And I don’t know, maybe you should put up a sign or something.”

Cyno rubs the white towel over his head slowly, finally standing up from where he’d been kneeling. “Maybe I should.” He’s seriously considering it—you always bring up good points. “Though, I thought everyone knew only my room is in this wing. You’d have to go out of your way to get here.” That and he’s just come back from an expedition. No one bothers him after those.

Thick water droplets and remnants of the desert circle around the drain. You hadn’t walked in on much. He had been rinsing off the sand grains that stuck to his arms and shoulders and were especially annoyingly weaved in his hair, but he’d also removed his armor—he didn’t typically wear much anyway so to see him with even less was probably too cruel, even by your standards.

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(do not tag as ship 🔪)

ᵔᴗᵔ . . 𝗮𝗱𝗺𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗮𝗳𝗮𝗿 !

ᴖ.ᴖ . . fem! reader ⁝ wc. 1.2k ⁝ reblog

𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗺𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵𝗲 [𝗯𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗿]

“if only you can talk…” you crouch on the ground to pet your cat. it watches you curiously. tilting its head, it meows back at you.

come as no surprise, you find a lone lavender melon waiting on your kitchen window sill. inspecting the fruit in hand, you note that it was a day early from growing ripe. whoever left it must’ve factored in the timeframe of when you’d stumble upon it.

it previously bewildered you to see them appear without fail considering it was situated on your moody companion’s claimed surface area. you were thoroughly impressed to see that you had yet to be faced with complaints of a cat attack. after all, it was rather protective of you and your home.

members of the village know what an enormous grump it is; even hissing at greetings or coos from kind strangers.

today ultimately marks the nth moment you received a little present from your supposed ‘admirer.’ frankly speaking, you beg to differ. why would an admirer leave fruit instead of flowers? it made no sense. you’re more likely to believe that it’s simply a good samaritan and nothing more.

you tried to actively gather information from your neighbors in the past. alas, it was all for naught. they couldn’t give you anything useful, it was too vague, stating he’s an unfamiliar face wandering the quaint village. placing the lavender melon in a water filled basin, you carefully wash it and place it in a bowl with other fruits you were waiting to ripen.

with that out of the way, you prepare for your travel to town. slipping on your boots, you sense the unwavering glower of your companion. you guess it wouldn’t hurt to bring it along with, you just window shopping for future purchases.

“fine… you can come along, little one,” you playfully sigh, as you boop its nose.

the hike was a blur. your mind fully distracted with thoughts of your alleged shy admirer—who he was, what he looks like and his personality, and why he was doing this. you were immediately pulled away from your daydream after you take one step into the market.

the environment was bustling to the brim with chatters of a newcomer. it was a big deal for a small community like your village. the tiniest change received much attention. and although you couldn’t discern their murmurs, you were able to catch at least two words.

eccentric wanderer.

the rumblings grow louder, inevitably seizing your attention and forcing you to follow where it comes from. to your utter shock, your feline companion meanders right under your nose. it was rubbing itself against the leg of a young man in peculiar clothing. despite its scuffed fabric, you can still tell it was made from the finest cotton in inazuma.

nonetheless, that isn’t what you focused on. your stare falls on the lavender melons in his arms. when your gaze met his own, he visibly shrinks at the attention. the poor thing looks frightened, hiding behind the veil draped over his head. your pet cat continues to purr for his affection, which raised a few brows—including yours.

he didn’t loosen up until you offer him a small grin and wave his way. his eyes widen in childlike wonder at you before red colors the tips of his ears and the apples of his fair cheeks. in the softest voice you’ve ever heard, he says,

“it appears fate has called for us to finally meet.”

𝘃𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶 [𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗯𝗮𝘁𝗼𝘀]

since your younger years, you’ve heard tales about guardian angels from the elders of your community. they tell you that each being in this life has one of their own watching over them. truthfully, you didn’t believe them. you thought it was a load of rubbish. if it were true, then what do they make of those who perished for mondstadt’s freedom?

be that as it may, it didn’t stop their taunts. the sisters from the cathedral coo that you must’ve been looked after by the anemo archon himself! the less loony, but loony regardless, tease the wind sprite must be fond of you. the first three incidents they list can be passed off as coincidences in your eyes.

it first took place on a super windy day. your freshly washed laundry was swept off the clothes line to only heaven knows where, just to return neatly folded on your doorstep the next morning. the second time it happens, you were helping amber and the traveler decorate the main square of the city tor the windblume festival.

you stand on a ladder, as you mull over on how to fasten the flora banner to the building’s exterior when you accidentally lose your footing. gasps echo the area, preparing for the worst when a strong gust of wind passes, cradling you for a graceful landing. amber dashes to where you lay and fusses over you for any injuries.

aether, on the other hand, stays a foot behind you two while he waits for instructions. a breathless chuckle escapes your lips when it clicks in his mind who saved you.

and last but not least, possibly the most significant one and what had you second-guessing yourself, it plays out on your way home one evening after a day of running errands. you were walking on the grassy road outside of springvale when you hear a few hilichurls come near your direction. you can’t explain what occurs next without sounding like you’ve gone mad.

a gust of wind breezes past your figure, rustling the bushes distances away. it snatches the attention of the behemoths and earns you a window to flee. it was hereafter you start noting every unusual encounter. though, it was a senseless chat over a bottle of dandelion wine, a tiny remark from the town bard about your woes changed your mind.

“from your story, i’d say the anemo archon is greatly fond of you, miss,” venti slurs, then downs his nth swig of the night. the warm lighting of the tavern displays his inebriated state, highlighting the redness of his cheeks.

you’ve heard it one too many times. you would’ve scoffed at him if you weren’t sincerely piqued by what he had to say. it had you resting your arms on the table and leaning in to get a better look of his face. “the anemo archon?”

“hm...” he lazily nods his head along. “did you not know that he is still one with the wind? besides, it’s typical of barbatos to grow attached to his people. have you not heard of the stories? however… i have yet to hear a tale similar to yours.”

venti shrugs. “maybe the almighty god is endeared by a fair maiden like yourself.”

you didn’t reply.

you swallow the remainder of your drink before bidding him goodbye. deep down, you didn’t accept his answer. it made no sense at all! why would an archon fawn over a mortal? it sounds absurd. you make haste to return home and piece it together yourself.

without your knowledge, the subject of what’s been on your mind was overseeing your journey back. venti releases a big sigh of relief once he senses you set foot in your cottage safe and sound.