Genshin Impact Fluff - Tumblr Posts

Courted by a… Hero?

synopsis: Diluc has feelings for you, but is under the impression that you do not reciprocate - his courting attempts show as much. But he comes to find out, that you are at ease around his alter ago… 

It won’t hurt to try and court you as the Darknight Hero. Right?

pairing: Diluc x fem!reader

tw: fluff, pining, courting, seemingly unreciprocated feelings, Darknight Hero!Diluc

word count: 3k words

a/n: this was suggested by a lovely anon~

Diluc Ragnvindr is enamored with you.

Diluc Ragnvindr thinks he is not that subtle about his affections. But it seems that he actually is, because otherwise the Master of the Dawn Winery does not understand how you manage to miss all the clues, all the longing gazes, all the small compliments and acts he does for you in attempts to hint that he’d like to court you.

Аpparently the longing in his eyes is lost in his regular stoic and a bit mournful expression, small compliments are so polite that it’s not hard to mistake them for his gentlemanly antics, and his other actions are just a thread away from acts of service and help, which, given his сhivalry nature, do not stand out too.

Diluc doesn’t get many opportunities to see you, since you do not visit the tavern often, but he tries so hard to make the meetings more numerous. An invitation to play cards at the Cat’s Tail here and there, an insistence to walk you home, an offer to accompany you through the market as you go grocery shopping, always coming with an excuse of checking on the goods to tell Elzer later what purchases they should change for the Winery and its workers. Adelinde always smiles at him knowingly whenever some new dishes are added to his menu.

He is trying to show his affections to you, he really does, but he is too dense for that to come out exactly as he pictured it in his head. However, when you smile at him softly, accepting his offers, when you vent a little to him about a stupid coworker, when you stop at the Good Hunter to have supper with him - he thinks that the long process is worth it.

It’s a great surprise, but the first time he gets an opportunity to hold you close is not a part of you dating him. No, your relationship is far from that, and his persona is hidden under the mask and a hooded cape, as he carries you bridal style. He is well aware of you staring up at him, but he can’t make himself lower his gaze and meet with yours. He is just bringing you to a safe place after you twisted your ankle on a late evening run to catch a cat for your neighbor - a sweet old woman, whose pet seems to love escaping on an almost daily basis.

Keep reading

flawless night, forevermore

feat. ayato, baizhu, alhaitham, childe, kaveh, raiden ei ( separate )

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 they are so obviously in love with you

( or, in which i tie them to a taylor song i’ve been crazing over, but you don’t have to know the songs to read / understand )

note. reader’s gender unspecified, no other warnings

> part one / part two ( more characters )

KAMISATO AYATO. lover

His lips curled up with a fathomless fondness he did not even notice about himself. His ticklish gaze, his admiring eyes, his comforting silence—such a poor, poor man drowning in his hopelessness, falling love struck into the night.

Even atop the dewy grass that stained his carefully tailored clothes, he paid no mind to the mess as he preferred to hear you talk instead. The intelligence of a Kamisato was long forgone in the melody of your voice, and perhaps you had strum his heartstrings too much to the point he loses his senses. He forgets a lot of things about himself when he’s with you, perhaps at one point, even his own name.

Kamisato, the name that ties him to a lifetime of formality and not a single night of rest. A dreary lifetime that does not allow him to learn the wonders of love. But oh, how he loves you.

“I’ve always wanted one of those cute little tea tables,” you muttered into the cool winds under the glowing moon. Your finger absentmindedly traced an oval into the air, a motion that had his head following your invisible drawing. “We can sit together in the mornings and have tea before work.”

“Then we’ll get one,” Ayato affirmed. He failed to notice how his own grin had widened, simply as an automatic reaction from seeing your pleased smile at his response. “Little cushions for us to sit in, too,” he added on. “You know those round ones? We can have them in our favorite colors.”

Look at him, blushing over silly cushions.

There’s a dazzling haze in his eyes when he’s like this. It’s a spark that never runs out once ignited, for he has a history of rambling when he’s with you. “There is this porcelain tea set we can get, which has a pattern I know you’ll like,” he’ll say, further jumping to “And it comes in a set of four—we can always invite Ayaka and Thoma over to drink with us.” He’ll go on and on like this, fantasizing of a life where you lived together, happily ever after.

He’s imagined this for eons in his head. Such innocent-presenting ideas and remarks, but it’s obvious in the way he talks so fast. It’s ridiculously evident the more excited he gets as the night stretches on, that he’s been daydreaming of the moment you move in with him, so he may love you every day.

All he asks is to be forever yours, for as long as time permits.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

BAIZHU. sparks fly

It almost never rained in Liyue.

But his words were such a booming thunderstorm that no water droplet could ever compare, even amidst this cold, grey afternoon. And only when he finally blew you away like a thin stack of cards, did he feel a sharp sense of emptiness at the sight of you running off into the pouring rain.

Baizhu admitted that you were a burden to him. Boring, unintelligent, annoying—that you were a hindrance to be around. You were only a distraction to Qiqi, and more importantly, a bothersome presence to him.

It took all his willpower just to spit such venom from his tongue straight to your face—all his might just to convince you that seeing him is a bad idea. And yet, you still called him a liar.

“You mean none of those words,” you sharply inhaled via short, speechless breaths. He could tell you were breaking down from his hateful speech, but to his guilt, it was exactly what he wanted to see from you. “You’re just trying to drive me away again,” you spat out. You were trying to convince yourself: that fact alone was clear to him. But the longer he stayed quiet despite biting back the truth—biting back that he has fallen so immensely deep in love with you—you began to doubt yourself.

But the moment he watched your figure break down past this storm, he immediately crumbled with a sense of guilt much stronger than any curse he has ever wished upon himself.

Perhaps he was too harsh on you. Archons, perhaps he was too mean—this was exactly why he didn’t deserve you. You deserved better than such a sick, lowly man who could not even live for himself, instead binding his life to save others instead.

But still, even after all his own revelations and realization of his nonexistent self worth…

He was still a greedy, selfish man.

And that selfishness had him running right out of his door and into the pouring rain, not caring at how the sudden cold nipped and picked at his skin, or how the winds beat at his frail body. Not even the Archons could halt such a starvation for salvation—it was the only spark he had left to chase.

In this cold, dreary life—in this cold, dreary day alone—you still shone like the sun under the dim streetlights of Liyue upon this pale grey sky. His body still eased the moment you caught his eye, almost as if your gaze alone had suddenly removed every drop of sickness he self-injected into his own bloodstream, or as if you were the cure he was looking for all his life.

Such selfishness once again had his body fighting from collapsing when he desperately fell into your arms that held him so dearly. And the greed of mankind only snapped when found his lips settled so hopelessly against yours, clinging onto your kiss as if he would die tonight.

Truly, maybe he would. But for now, in your embrace, he feels the strongest he’s ever been since he sold his soul.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

ALHAITHAM. enchanted

Archons, he hated these events, though he had no choice but to attend. No one could ever allow the Acting Grand Sage, even if he held so much spite, to escape the demeaning eyes of Sumerean publicity.

Alhaitham held himself as an independent soul. But this formalwear, this clanging of champagne glasses, this suffocating air—were definitely not so independent nor free.

This hall of aspiring young scholars and old men, all in one exhibit for the sake of research and networking. Academics is what they acclaim, but the Acting Grand Sage may be too thick of a personality for them (if he had one at all). But the only thing keeping his eyes open from boredom, quite surprisingly a person, was you.

You, who looked young compared to these much older alumni and long-time scholars. And it was truly you, out of the many faces in this room, who he could not name.

Your eyes met from across the room. Such a sliver of a chance—his eyes whispered a curious glance from the opposite wall among this dreary sea of scholars. There was a spark graced by the Electro Archon, perhaps; or maybe even a gush of wind from the God of Anemo. But every sense of composure was lost when his body moved on its own, walking himself closer and closer just to meet you.

It begins with hello; it always does. It continues with quick remarks, with “I’ve never seen you before,” and with “Have we met?” And soon enough, he feels like he’s in school again. He feels a flutter he has not known in years, an urge to talk quicker than he can think. The crinkle at the corner of your eyes has him immersed in amazement. The sole fact that you can crack a smile at him; a smile that wasn’t fake politeness like all these scholars.

For some reason unbeknownst to him, that expression of yours alone had his feet glued to the floor, like you’ve trapped him in such an engaging conversation he desperately could not let go. It was a forcibly dreadful night—you turned it flawlessly enchanting in a way that you read to him like a book, all in which he could not put you down once he begins.

And once the event ends, and he is forced to leave you so soon, he watches you walk away with an expression that he himself could not even read.

Wonderstuck.

He would never notice the light tint on his face, staining his cheeks all the way home.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

CHILDE. cruel summer

Left foot, right foot, tiptoe, right foot—hold the counter, hold the wall, hold the rail all the way up the steps… He’s got this.

One step down the hall, another foot down, a third one until he finds a steady rhythm. The room is hazy, the walls are spinning. His head hurts and he feels like a baby taking his first steps, so helpless and unsteady that he almost wants to cry again from exasperated frustration alone. Why was this so hard? Did he really hate himself so much, that he would stagger his way home from the bar like this?

One hand on the door, turn the knob, and—

Ah. He dropped his keys so loudly on the floor.

You woke up with a start from the bedside, immediately turning to him wide-eyed in both starling surprise from the noise, and more importantly, concern. He didn’t mean to wake you. He hated feeling guilty, but it was the exact feeling that crept up his spine once he saw the devastated look on your face. Frenzied eyes and dark circles—clearly you had stayed up just to wait for him, too.

“Ajax,” you voiced—a tone full of worry and heavy exhaustion, God, he felt so horrible. “Oh, Ajax, come here.”

As much as he didn’t like it when you cared for him like this, he was not immune to the sounds of your calling. His shaky legs carried him immediately, as if the alcohol in his system was pulling him towards you, too. “I’m fine,” he barely stuttered out. It was a claim he had to make immediately, a sign he was desperate to reassure you.

Your eyes grew heavier, though he did not know if they were lidded from concern or from sleepiness. Either way, he practically melted from the touch of your palms resting against his cheeks. So warm, but a much more pleasant warmth than the burning summer air that he just walked in, all the way home with a liquor-dazed mind.

“Have you been crying…?” Ah, and that was why your eyes were narrow—they were squinting at the sorry stains of tears that lined his cheeks. He forgot to wipe them, it seemed. It was almost laughable.

“No, just sweat from the heat.”

Crying over you… He’d never let you know that. To cry, to bleed, to die—you would never be the first person he tells.

“You reek of liquor…” Quite disgustingly so, he thinks. And yet, you still held his face so fondly, moving his head in such a gentle manner as you swiped his tear stains with the pads of your thumbs.

He stayed silent. He had no answer to this one.

“I love you,” he mutters, though it’s a confession nevertheless. And he says it so sadly—so miserably that you couldn’t help but sigh. He hates it, too. He hates it when you sigh. Because when you sigh, it means you’ll just let it go; No matter how many lies he tells, or how many times he cries, or how many secrets he keeps, you’ll still accept him like always.

“I love you, too.” And that was the worst line he’s ever heard.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

KAVEH. foolish ones

“Oh, woe is me…” Loves me, loves me not, loves me… “Did you happen to see anything in the mailbox?”

His roommate stared. “Go check it yourself.”

Kaveh heavily sighed. He couldn’t; He physically could not bear to do it. It’s not that he was lazy to get up, no. The real issue was the genuine grief he would feel when he opened the mailbox, only to see nothing inside. No special gifts, no romantic letters, and absolutely no confessions of love signed with your name.

It was embarrassing, really. To feel this dramatic and obsessed with words of admiration from you—oh, especially when Alhaitham found out about this whole lovesick ordeal. But he could not help his mind from just imagining it: the reflection of himself in your eyes as you finally confess your feelings of passion and love for him (feelings that didn’t exist, feelings he merely imagined you having, all so pathetically).

But he’s so weird, and he’s so terrible. To imagine a fabled life with you when you probably did not think about him this same way. How foolish. Did you daydream about him like he daydreamed about you every night before he slept? Did you think about him like he thought about you every time he sees your favorite color in the passing? Did you wait at your mailbox like he waited for any letters from you? No. No, you didn’t.

And he’s cried, quite humiliatingly. He’s cried that the perfect life he could picture himself having with you at his side would never be a reality. He’s cried a downpour of tears, simply because he allowed himself to be so caught up in a delusion that was so sick of him to conjure up.

“Are you free for dinner tonight?”

“So sorry Kaveh, I already have plans…”

Plans with someone else. No wonder you hadn’t written him any messages, or contacted him in a while. That… was not the scenes he had in his head. His imaginations, his hopes, his dreams—they did not have someone else in them. For someone he was so hopelessly in love with, he felt so much hurt. A foolish lesson to be learned by a foolish romantic.

In the end, he’d just be talking himself to sleep again. He’d just smile at the sight of you flourishing. Without him, your world will go on turning. A world full of reciprocated love and devotion, one that he would never know.

⎯ ✧ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

RAIDEN EI. you belong with me

The Raiden Shogun was self-destructive. No more than a few people knew of such a fact, but she was certainly one of them.

Because if she cared for her own wellbeing, truly, then she would not fall for selfish desires. Nor, would she be here now, sitting next to you outside a sliding screen in her private gardens of Tenshukaku, sipping your favorite tea and hearing your sweet voice ramble about something so unpleasant to her ears. If she prioritized her own emotions, then maybe she’d be living in blissful ignorance right now instead of listening to your woes over a lover… A lover that was not her.

“And then, she teases me,” you complained, though it was clear you hated it. You didn’t like whining about your partner, which was a good thing—but it made Ei feel sick, because it meant you really loved that woman. “I know she does that all the time, and I just need to get used to it,” you continued, “but sometimes, it gets too much, and she still doesn’t stop.”

But I wouldn’t do that to you, the archon thinks to herself. And suddenly, the tea isn’t as appetizing anymore, because her own words felt drilled onto her tongue, forever forbidden to speak aloud.

“Miko… Has always been like that,” Ei quietly admits instead. She doesn’t want to insult your lover, for that same person was also her own friend. She wanted to be supportive, but it was impossible when she was so in love with you, that she spent every second of each passing day just wishing she was in Miko’s place instead.

“Yeah… But—still, I mean…” You sighed, coming to a loss for words to describe the pink haired shrine maiden. “Is it really so hard to ask just for her to understand how I’m feeling…?” you whined in what seemed like genuine distress. Your face sunk into your hands, and it took all of Ei’s willpower just to keep her respective distance from a romantically taken friend.

But I understand how you feel, Ei once again thinks. She feels so dirty of a friend for comparing herself like this. I understand you better than she will ever.

“Ei…” you muttered. She almost chokes from the way you say her name. “What should I do…?”

Be with me, instead. “Don’t cry over something, or someone, you cannot control. It’s possible your personalities are just not fit for each other, you know.”

“But I love her, Ei…”

Ouch.

She clears her throat, recovering from sharp breath of air she just inhaled. A part of her just broke in that moment, and it was so obvious, too—her expression quickly changed, her body became stiff, her balance suddenly shifted, and yet…

You noticed none of it. Your head was too clouded over love for another woman that was not her; So clouded, in fact, you did not notice the way Ei almost began to tremble. The misery you carried only crafted tenfold for the archon, eternally unbeknownst to you.

But you don’t belong to her, anyways. So why was she crying?

HELIOTROPES: A SIDE STORY

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding, brief mention of alcoholism and implied child abuse (not to reader), totally unedited (didn't have time! sorry!) reminder that segment list is on the masterlist if needed!

notes: THE BDAY SIDE STORY IS HERE, sorry i couldn't get it out on time i've been so busy i literally did not have the time to format or do anything sobs but i hope u guys enjoy because i had so much fun writing it. i originally came up with the idea for milk's bday a few weeks ago hehe. i rlly love it because it gives more background into reader and some of my fav segments (minus theta </3 he didn't make it in this one. but perhaps i shall do a christmas side story and make him the star).

THREE TIMES THE SEGMENTS MET YOU WITHOUT REALIZING IT,  AND ONE TIME THEY DID.

I. THE KAPPA SEGMENT & THE EPSILON SEGMENT; READER, AGE 6

You were cold. Soft puffs of air left your lips, shaky and weak. You were curled up in a ball on the ground, and a part of you knew that you needed to move but you couldn’t bring yourself to, your limbs felt as if they were iced to the ground—maybe they were, you could barely even pry your eyes open to check. 

The storm had died down, brief and brutal as they usually were, but you had been unable to find shelter before it hit. The town had to be close, you could hear people leaving their homes to fix up their properties from destruction of the harsh winds. It was only a matter of time before someone spotted you curled up on the ground, you were wearing a bright purple cloak. Your mother would find you, she would come to your rescue, she’d bring you home and make some hot cocoa for you just like you guys used to do during the bad storms before your father left for Fontaine City. 

It felt like an eternity. It might’ve been an eternity, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was that everything was cold, and you felt sluggish and slow, and you were starting to struggle to breathe because the air felt like icicles scraping at your lungs. You were tired, you could feel yourself falling asleep but living on the northern border, you knew better—you had to make it somewhere warm before you fell asleep, otherwise you might not wake up. 

But you couldn’t move, you thought you should feel scared and you thought you should definitely be crying but you couldn’t even do that. And as the minutes passed, slow and agonizing, you began to question whether or not someone would find you in time. The more those doubts began to surface, the more appealing the relief of sleep became—at least if you slept, you wouldn’t have to wait out these freezing and harrowing minutes alone. You could dream of your mother and father, of Sylvie and Elliot, maybe you would even dream of your soulmate. You heard that some people who were favored by the gods had dreams of their soulmate well before they ever met. 

Your weak breaths began to even out as you gave into the lull, but just as you were on the verge of falling asleep, you heard it—the crunching of snow, fast and loud heading in your direction. You forced your eyes open now, whimpering as the ice and snow caked on your face ripped at your skin painfully, and through little slits, you watched a figure dashing toward you.

At first, you thought it was your mother, wishing you could cry in relief because of course she found you, she would always find you. She would always come to your rescue. She would wrap you up in her arms and cry at you for being such a fool, but you knew she would just be happy you were okay. 

But as the figure drew closer, you realized that it was far too small to be your mother—you thought maybe it was Sylvie or Elliot, rushing ahead to get to you and maybe your mother was right behind them, but again, you were proven wrong as an unfamiliar boy knelt at your side, red eyes wide and silvery-blue curls hanging in his eyes as he peered down at you. 

He pressed his hands against both of your cheeks, as if to warm you up, but you thought it might’ve made it worse, because with the small bit of warmth against your skin and the feeling of someone else’s touch after being alone so long in the blizzard, you found your eyes drooping shut again, being lulled to sleep far faster this time. 

At once, the boy ripped his hands away and you could hear him pulling off his own cloak. He wrapped it around you tightly tucking one of your arms inside the thick material but hesitated before stuffing your other arm in there too. You forced your eyes back open, watching as he stared at your hand in confusion, and you parted your lips to ask what he was doing but no noise left them besides a wheeze of cold air that had ice slicing down your windpipe and your body shuddering in pain. 

Noticing your reaction, he put your arm into the cloak. He stood up, and you wondered if he was going to try to lift you himself, or leave you, but then another voice reached your ears, loud and tired, calling a name that you couldn’t quite make out but it had the boy lifting his arms and waving them frantically. 

A few moments later, there was a new figure kneeling next to you, brows furrowed as he looked down at you. “How did you get out here all on your own in this weather?” he murmured more to himself than you, and careful to keep you wrapped up in the small one’s cloak, he took his own off and wrapped you in that one too, easily lifting you up into his arms.

He was a stranger, and you knew you shouldn’t feel so comfortable in his arms, but you couldn’t help the way you leaned into his chest, basking in the warmth and relief of having been found, even if it wasn’t by the person you wanted it to be. You started to doze off again but found yourself disrupted as he jostled you in his arms suddenly, eyes blearily reopening to give him a confused look. 

“No sleeping,” he warned, giving you a steady look before motioning for the boy to follow him as he brought you into the town.

He took you to the inn, bustling with people who had taken refuge from the sudden storm, and immediately the innkeeper recognized you, gasping as she hobbled over to the man and led him in the direction of the fireplace, shouting for people to go fetch your mother or stepfather. He placed you down on the ratty couch of the inn, keeping you nestled inside both cloaks before pushing it as close as possible to the fireplace. 

He stepped away and at once you felt cold again—not physically, but mentally. Empty in a way that you’d never experienced before. You wanted to tell him to come back but you still couldn’t speak, your throat hurt and your lips still felt numb. 

The boy lingered for a moment, standing in front of the couch and staring at you as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t—much like you.

“Come, Kappa,” the man who saved you said just as you finally began to drift off to sleep with the warmth of the fireplace next to you and the weight of their cloaks pressing down on you. “She will be fine. Delta is waiting, you know how he feels about wasting time.”

You could only watch them leave, confused as to the warmth you felt when you were wrapped up in his arms—you knew it was different than normal but didn’t know why—and Epsilon never noticed the thread tied neatly around your finger, which was hidden by his and Kappa’s cloak. Kappa, mute and anxious, was unable to force the words out of his mouth as Epsilon held his wrist and led him from the tavern away from you. 

II. THE IOTA SEGMENT; READER, AGE 11

You shuffled through the streets, sniffling and wiping at your eyes with baggy sleeves. You were getting odd looks from all around, wondering why an eleven-year-old was wandering around the streets alone wearing clothes that were far too big for her body. You had stolen Wriothesley’s jacket and gloves to cover your nice dress and the rings adorning your fingers, you probably should have taken them off before leaving the palace—the last thing you needed was for your mother to yell at you for losing her grandmother’s pearl ring and the city was out of control with pickpockets the past few months. 

It had already started raining, much to your displeasure, you remembered the prophecy that spoke of the day Fontaine City would be drowned by the gods and not for the first time, you wished that the day would just come already. You were so tired of dealing with your stepfather, and you hated the way he looked at you, and you hated how now he was even turning people against you and your father. 

You were supposed to have joined your mother and siblings in visiting your uncle for dinner, but instead, your mother had made an off-handed comment about how you should go spend some time with your father and grandfather instead, and you knew it was because your stepfather must have said something to your uncle. You didn’t know what, you had never been close to your uncle but you’d thought that since he was still family, he wouldn’t care for the words of an outsider.

But you should have expected this, in Fontaine, nothing came above the word of a person’s soulmate, Celestia’s gift to humanity. Of course he would believe your stepfather, because your stepfather was his sister’s gift from the gods—he only ever wanted the best for her, and he had somehow convinced your uncle that you, her own daughter, were not the best for her. 

Another sob bubbled at your lips, you pressed the sleeves of Wriothesley’s jacket to your mouth to muffle it. You wondered if your mother thought you were stupid, that you wouldn’t know what she really meant, but of course you knew. You spent too much time just observing people to not know. You didn’t have any friends to talk to besides Wriothesley, and Wriothesley was always busy. All you could do was sit around and observe until you got bored. 

Maybe you should have just gone to your father or grandfather and tell them what happened, but you knew if you did that, they would be livid and it would escalate things even more, and you were the one that would deal with the backlash of that, not them. So instead you went to Wriothesley, and stole his jacket and gloves, and refused to tell him what happened before you fled from the room to leave the palace. 

Just as you were about to turn the corner, you slammed into a figure and hit the ground hard, crying even more when mud splattered all over your face and into your mouth. You tried to wipe the mud off of your face through choked sobs but now the gloves were covered in mud too from you trying to catch yourself, and you only smeared it even worse.

“Oh.” 

It was a young boy who you had slammed into you but you couldn’t make out his facial features through your blurred vision. You were caught off guard when he was suddenly pressing his cloak against your face, using it as a rag to try to wipe off the mud. It didn’t help much, all he did was smear it around more because his cloak was drenched, but it had at least cleared your vision. 

“... Better?” he said hesitantly, looking down at you.

You sniffled a bit, using the clean part of Wriothesley’s jacket to wipe at your eyes before you nodded, but you didn’t stand up from where you were sitting on the ground. You didn’t want to. The boy leaned in a bit closer, frowning, “Are you… crying?” 

“I am not,” you denied immediately, but your voice betrayed you, cracking and breath shuddering over another sob. The boy looked suspicious. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not!”

“You are.”

“Not!”

“Yes, you are!”

“I am not!”

You glared at him. 

He glared back. 

Then he sat down in the mud next to you, plopping down hard and splattering mud all over you again. 

“Are you crying because you fell because of me?” the boy asked.

“‘m not crying,” you muttered, but with far less vigor this time. When he only stared at you, red eyes wide and earnest as he waited for an actual response, you finally said: “My stepfather is mean to me.”

“Oh,” the boy said in response, and the two of you just sat there for a moment, ignoring the way people kept giving you strange looks. Then, he reached up and patted your head, getting mud in your hair and on your forehead. Your brows furrowed as you stared at him, trying to figure out what he was doing, but he looked just as confused as you. “The Doctor pats my head when I get sad sometimes. It makes me feel better. Do you feel better?”

He drew his hand back swiftly into his lap, as if the single touch had poisoned him, and then you noticed how he was sitting with a large space between the two of you, the hand that had touched your head trembling and his body stiff. You wondered if he was like Wriothesley, Wriothesley used to get scared whenever people touched him, even just a kiss on the cheek or a pat on the head, and he never initiated contact with anyone else—you were pretty sure it was because his grandfather drank a lot, and when he drank a lot, he hurt people but whenever you asked your father, he said it was none of your business. But your father didn’t like Wriothesley’s grandfather, and you supposed that said enough, your father liked pretty much everyone. And then, realizing he might be like Wriothesley, you felt sad because he still tried to make you feel better even though he was scared. 

“I feel better,” you said quietly.

He smiled, brightening up a bit, but just as he was about to say something, you heard your name being called, loud and panicked. Your eyes turned up to where Wriothesley’s father was rushing through the rain in your direction, a few of his men following close behind. 

At his side, Wriothesley was with him, looking guilty as he refused to meet your eyes.

“Traitor!” you cried at Wriothesley as his father gently hauled you out of the mud to your feet. “I don’t want to go back there!” 

“He was worried, little one,” Wriothesley’s father patted your head, voice quiet as he spoke. “We all were. The city has been dangerous lately, you cannot go running off on your own. Your father just about had a heart attack when Wriothesley came to us and told us that you took his jacket and left the palace grounds.”

Wriothesley’s father pulled off the muddy gloves and coat to drape his own cleaner one over your shoulders—if he had been a second faster, maybe Iota would have caught sight of the thread tied to your finger before he ran off to get back to Delta. 

III. THE GAMMA SEGMENT; READER, AGE 16

You had made it your goal to attend every festival you possibly could across all of Teyvat. The music festivals of Fontaine were an easy tick to your list, but it had taken a lot of convincing to get your mother to agree to the Lantern Rite Festival of Liyue. With you, Sylvie and Elliot combined though, it was impossible for her to say no. 

It was all you’d been thinking about for days now, and as you walked over the bridge to enter Liyue Harbor, you thought the city might’ve been the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen, eyes drawing upon all of the decorations and stands—it was dark out already, but somehow the city was still completely lit up and alive. People were singing and dancing, chatting loudly and laughing.

It reminded you of Fontaine City before the curfews were set and you were confined to the palace. 

“Look at all of the lights,” Sylvie whispered excitedly, tugging at your arm as she pointed to the lanterns decorating each corner of every building. 

“They say that they release thousands of lanterns at the end of the festival into the air,” Elliot said, squinting as he dipped his head down to see the words of the book he was reading. “They send their soldiers traveling throughout Liyue to collect all of them after Lantern Rite ends.” 

“Do you think we’ll be able to release one?” Sylvie asked, bouncing in her feet as she turned to look at Elliot, who just shrugged. “Can we go explore? Please, mother.”

Your mother looked tired from all of the traveling, sharing a look with your stepfather before nodding. “We’re going to go check in at the inn we’re staying at. Be sure to meet back here before nightfall, we have reservations at the Xinyue Kiosk tonight.”

Delighted, you lit up, watching as your stepfather told Elliot and Sylvie to go buy themselves a kite from the Toy Shop before handing them each a pouch of mora. You should’ve known better, but still, you glanced at him after Elliot and Sylvie ran off in opposite directions. His eyes glazed right over you as he held your tired mother by the waist and led her off in the direction of the inn. 

Your smile faltered but you refused to let it ruin your mood—you were in Liyue Harbor during Lantern Rite. You weren’t going to let him make you sad, you had your own coins anyway that you got from tutoring the Beaumont kids. Instead, you rushed off across the bridge and down the street, in the direction of the main area of the city. 

There were people everywhere, all of the shops stayed open, your smile widened as you watched a bunch of kids Elliot and Sylvie’s age run around with kites in their hands, ignoring how the adults were chiding them for doing it while the streets were so busy. 

You peeked around at some of the market stands, tempted to try some of the food but you figured that you’d get yelled at if you filled yourself up before the reservation, knowing that your mother spent a lot of time and mora getting someone down to Liyue a few months ago to make sure you guys were put on the waitlist. 

Instead, you found yourself in front of a jewelry shop, looking through the glass windows at the gemstones perched up on pretty purple cushions. They were already sold out of Emeralds, Topazes and Agates, but they had a full stock of Turquoises, Jades, and Diamonds. Distantly, you wondered who the hell was going to buy Diamonds from the jeweler, knowing that the rest would at least be bought by people with a vision. 

Your eyes narrowed, and just as disappointment was about to hit you, you caught sight of what you were looking for:

Varunada Lazurite. 

Your gaze shot open in surprise—the gemstone was always sold out in the Land of Hydro with so many people who had hydro visions living within the city. You had managed to get your hands on three chunks the last time the shop near the palace restocked, even though you had to wait in a line for nearly twelve hours to make sure you were the first one there after the restock. You had thought you’d have to wait another month or two for a chance at obtaining the other three you needed. 

But right there were the three brilliant and shiny chunks of Lazurite you needed tucked in the corner of the glass box. Excited, you realized that you wouldn’t have to wait as long as you thought—once you got home, you’d be able to grab the three you already had and crush them down into dust with your father for the second-to-last vision ceremony, to give you the increased connection with your hydro energy that you needed to finally start learning your family’s passed down hydro art. 

Then, you would start the long process of trying to acquire the full gemstones, which were far more expensive and rarer than the chunks. 

“Unless you’re going to buy something, I suggest you move on. You’re holding up my customers,” the woman behind the stand said boredly.

“How much for the three chunks of Lazurite?” you asked, raising your chin. 

She only quirked her brow upward. “Forty geo sigils each.”

“Geo sigils?” you gasped, eyes wide and lips parted as your elation immediately disappeared. 

How were you supposed to get geo sigils? You weren’t a Liyue native, you had no way of knowing how to find them. You barely even had any Hydro sigils and you were from Fontaine. 

“You’re a foreigner?” the woman asked, squinting her eyes a bit as she looked you over. You nodded, and she sighed heavily. “Very well, seventy-five thousand mora. Each.”

You blanched, knowing in your heart that she was ripping you off. Forty geo sigils was worth closer to sixty-thousand than seventy-five thousand but you weren’t going to argue that when she was doing you a favor by taking the common currency for you already. 

Defeated, you asked: “Do you take bank checks?” 

The woman nodded, and you pulled out one of the Northland Bank check slips that your mother had given you a few months back—it was your stepfather’s, he was the only one that had a bank account with the Northland Bank, and you figured that he would be mad when he realized you’d spent over two-hundred thousand of his mora on your Lazurite chunks but you thought that he deserved it, and signed the check happily after making it out to Mingxing Jewelry. 

She handed you the bag with the Lazurite chunks and thanked you for the business. Smiling to yourself, you made your way down the street again, this time looking for Sylvie or Elliot.

You got no further than a few yards before someone slammed into you, sending you both sprawling out to the ground. 

All the air left your lungs as a heavy weight dropped onto your stomach, scrambling off of you almost immediately, panicked. Your eyes met a pair of red ones and a face flushed pink in embarrassment, burn scars decorated the upper half of his face and for a moment, you thought he was familiar from somewhere. He was around your age, you couldn’t help but notice.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “Sorry, I was just-I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m looking for someone and-”

“It’s-” You began to say ‘it’s fine’ but the words died on your tongue when you realized that the bag you were holding was significantly lighter. You shot an accusing look at him, thinking that he had pickpocketed you but as you did that, your eyes caught a glimmer from the corner of your eye. 

The Lazurite.

You rushed toward it, but not fast enough, only able to watch as a small child darted through the crowd to steal the shiny object.

“Hey!” you shouted angrily, glaring back furiously at the boy who had bumped into you, who looked even more humiliated now, pressing his knuckles against his mouth as if refraining the urge to gnaw at them. “Look at what you did!”

You didn’t even spare him another glance, ignoring his apologies and his offers to help you get it back as you gave chase to the child who had stolen your seventy-five thousand mora gem. 

You hadn’t noticed the warm feeling that had swept through you when he had crashed into you, nor had Gamma noticed the thin red thread wrapped around your finger in his panic.

IV. THE ZETA SEGMENT; READER, AGE 19

The Windblume Festival.

You smiled as you stepped into Mondstadt City, the beams of the sun washing over you and a gentle breeze sweeping through the city. You had heard that Anemo Archon makes the days of the Festival the most beautiful that the city sees all year—you had doubted it, partially because the Hydro Archon thought it was the greatest entertainment to douse the city in rain and storms whenever the music festivals were taking place. It never deterred them, the musicians would always play on even through the rain and thunder, but you had never quite experienced a festival like this, even during Lantern Rite, you had been unlucky with dreary clouds draped over the harbor. 

You didn’t even know where to go first, you were so overwhelmed with all of the colors and all of the people and you thought you shouldn’t be, you should be used to crowds by now, but you’d spent so much time locked up in the palace after your father’s death that you were getting anxiety just being in the vicinity of so many people. 

Your father. Your throat felt tight just as the reminder of him. He was supposed to be at Windblume with you—he had promised to bring you last year knowing how excited you were to see all of the nations’ different festivals, but he’d died before he could. You hadn’t even been able to bring yourself to go without him, but you forced yourself to go this year, to enjoy it for the both of you. 

And you couldn’t enjoy it with such a cloud of gloom hanging over you, so you squared off your shoulders and pushed away all of the dark feelings, forcing the small smile back onto your face as you made your way into the city, although it wasn’t quite as bright as before. 

You sighed as you made your way up the steps to the city’s main square. There were kids dancing to the music of a bard and flower stands set up all around the fountain in the center of the square. You wanted to buy one to give to someone, as per the Windblume tradition, but you didn’t have anyone to give it to. Sylvie and Elliot were supposed to have joined you for the festival, but their stepfather forbade them at the last minute, forcing you to attend the festival alone.

You looked around, eyes falling upon where a pretty woman with brown hair and green eyes was leaning into a tall blonde woman, and next to them, where a shorter blonde man was being dragged to the center of the square by a little girl dressed in red, who was pointing excitedly to a stand somewhere behind you. 

“Are you waiting on someone?”

You jumped at the unfamiliar voice, turning to the side only for your eyes to fall upon a handsome man with dark skin and blue hair. His lip ticked up a bit as you studied him, and a bit embarrassed, he added: “Sorry. I was just wondering, you’re not from Mondstadt, are you?”

“Is it that obvious?” you asked dryly, glancing down at yourself. You wondered if it was the way you were dressed or if it was the way you looked like a lost duckling trying to figure out where to go. Disappointed, you thought you had made sure to wear an outfit that leaned more toward Mondstadt’s typical fashion than Fontaine’s but either way, it was a bit embarrassing. 

“No,” the man said immediately. “I was just throwing it out there for a conversation starter, I’ve found it works wonders.”

“Does it?” you asked curiously, peering around the pavilion as more people began to wander around.

He hummed in agreement. “Usually, they start asking me why I think that because they are from Mondstadt,” you laughed a bit and the corner of his lip pulled up, “and if they aren’t, I explain to them why I asked, and then they laugh, kind of like how you are now.”

“You’ve got it all figured it out, don’t you?” you asked, letting the tease slip into your tone as you relaxed against the stone wall behind you, glancing up at him.

“Not at all,” he corrected. You gave him a questioning look and his grin widened a bit as he leaned in, as if to whisper to you in conspiracy. “I just made all of that up.”

You laughed louder this time, more in surprise than humor, but he seemed to take it as a positive regardless, straightening back up and looking down on you. “I’m Kaeya,” he greeted. “Cavalry Captain of the Knight’s of Favonius.”

“I’m…” you began, but found yourself trailing off as you caught sight of a figure ducking into an alleyway. All you caught was a head of silvery-blue hair, but somehow you could feel yourself drawn in that direction as if something was pulling you and were a puppet on a string that could only follow along. “Excuse me for a second.”

You didn’t hear his response and though you felt a bit bad about leaving him hanging like that, you were more focused on trying to figure out whatever the pull to this person was. You took off in that direction, relief hitting you when you realized he was still lingering at the mouth of the alley, fiddling with something in his hands.

“Excuse me,” you called, trying to get his attention. He didn’t respond, he didn’t even look up, so you repeated yourself as you drew closer, reaching out to touch his arm but he jerked away, dropping whatever was in his hands and your eyes widened as it hit the ground hard, shattering. 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him, you could feel the cold and harsh gaze set on you as he waited for you to say whatever you wanted to say, but now you were at a loss for words because you didn’t even know why you came after him and you didn’t know what you wanted. 

“Did you need something?” Clipped and icy, the thin smile on his lips did not meet the red of his eyes, and any words that you might’ve been trying to say to excuse your actions died on your tongue. 

“I’m sorry,” you finally said, grateful that your voice remained steady even under his severe look. “You looked familiar. I thought we might’ve met before.”

He looked ridiculously familiar, in fact. You swore that you’d seen him before—the red eyes, silvery-blue hair and the scarred upper half of his face—it was all so familiar but you just couldn’t place from where. He looked taken aback a bit by your words, examining you for just a second before his lips twisted down again. 

“We have not,” he said, voice frigid as he knelt down to pick up the broken pieces of the object that he had been holding. It was a dismissal if you’d ever heard one, but instead of leaving, you knelt down next to him.

“Here, let me help-” you tried to say, but at once, he grabbed your forearm, fingers pressing deep into your skin to stop you.

At once, a jolt shot through you and he seemed to feel it too, if the way he drew back as if he had slapped had anything to say about it. He stared at your hand as if he had just seen a ghost, lips parted in shock and eyes wide, and just as you were about to ask if he was okay, he spluttered something out about being late for something and then he was moving, disappearing around the corner before you even knew what was happening. 

You sat there for a moment, stunned, and completely oblivious as to what he had seen.

Zeta’s heart was racing and his head was pounding, red eyes wide with disbelief as he leaned against a wall around the corner, far away from you. A part of him was embarrassed at the way he had run, he couldn’t even remember what excuse he had given—something along the lines of having to go because something important came up, a load of bullshit of course, but he thought it was better than what would have happened if he stayed there any longer after seeing that thread. 

The thread.

Zeta didn’t know what to think. He had known of your existence—he knew because the moment the Iota segment found out years ago, the boy went running to every segment to tell them how a thread showed up on the Doctor’s finger, how they finally had their soulmate. He never expected to meet you though, much less before any of the other segments, and even then, a part of him had been convinced by Lambda’s persistence that this was all just a ploy for them to drop their guards, a fake, a means to destroy them in a way they had yet to be destroyed. 

But you were there. You were right there. Zeta couldn’t help the way he peeked back around the corner, eyes immediately drawn to where he had left you in the middle of the alley. You looked upset, expression downcast as you glanced around, still trying to find him. A part of Zeta wanted to walk back over to you—talk to you, study you, try to figure out just who you were and why you were tied to them, there had to be something unique about you that made you their soulmate, that made them have to wait five hundred years just to meet you. 

But he knew better. 

The Doctor would already be suspicious. 

It wasn’t unlike Zeta to have bursts of emotion when dealing with too many people—he got overwhelmed quickly after spending years having to keep up a friendly mask at the Akademiya. No matter how hard he tried to keep himself calm and learn new methods for not exhausting his thin tolerance of social situations, he never seemed to be able to do anything to fix it, an unfortunate side-effect of having been created with this mindset, because he would always revert back to the one in which he was originally made in.

But it was not the sudden outburst that was the issue. It was that shock that spread through him when your hand brushed his arm. The warm feeling. The familiarity with someone who should not be familiar. The Doctor would have noticed it, and he would have questions.

Zeta sighed heavily, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose as he leaned his head back against the wall. He cast one last long look backward, eyes lingering on you, memorizing your face and your body, the outfit you wore and the gems that donned your fingers and neck. 

With a tight feeling in his throat, he pushed himself off the wall and head in the opposite direction of where you were standing, knowing that it was only a matter of time before the Doctor reached out demanding to know what had happened and Zeta needed to figure out what he was going to say before that happened, wanting to keep this little encounter a secret to himself because he knew that Lambda would inevitably find out through the Doctor and then he would try to hunt you down. 

One last look, he told himself, again. He glanced back as he reached another corner, the alley where he left you only barely visible from the distance, but you were already gone.  

— “hands off! i’m taken!”

for the first time in your drunken daze, you don't recognise your own husband.

CONTAINS : gn!reader, 983 wc, fluff, (attempts at) humour, mentions/reference of alcohol consumption

A/N : neuvillette is in pain (emotional) while you are in pain the morning after (literal).

it’s not often neuvillette finds free time amongst the seemingly endless piles of papers on his desk. when he does get some free-time, he always makes sure to treat you out to the places you most recently show interest in. however, these evenings out more often than not result in you having one too many drinks. (“it’s a rare evening date!” you would tut, waving a finger at him while your free hand holds the wine glass.)

he worries for you and your health after all, and he most definitely doesn't want you to experience these so-called "hangovers" you bemoan about as he coddles you through it all the mornings after.

and so what better way to help prevent such a tragedy than by putting a stop to it prematurely?

“hands off! i’m taken!”

…or so he thought.

regardless, that doesn’t change the fact neuvillette now stands in the middle of one of the (now quite humid) private rooms in the upper floor of hotel debord, clutching his stinging hand close to his chest while staring at your huffing form in a mixture of hurt and shock. he blinks once, twice, thrice as he slowly begins to process your words — or, lack of.

“pardon?”

“i said,” you stress, narrowing your gaze at him as you begin to sit up, “hands off! i’ll have you know i’m happily married to the loveliest, most beautifulest man in teyvat and i don’t need some… some meddlesome old creep trying to get in between that.”

were this quite literally any other day besides one you were drunk on, neuvillette would be jumping for joy over the moon (metaphorical… probably) and documenting this moment in his diary he keeps safe and secured in a locked drawer under his desk, positively cooing and sighing in pure adoration at your adorable self.

(he also doesn’t have the heart to tell you beautifulest isn’t exactly a real word, but he’s flattered all the same. and it makes you that much more adorable in his eyes.)

alas, this isn’t any other day. no, instead it is a day which marks his drunk spouse being unable to identify their own husband, and your intoxicated words render him silent. 

now, don’t get him wrong, he’s glad you are, for a lack of better words, raring to defend your marital status and honour when intoxicated. however…

‘meddlesome old creep’? is that how he appears? he thought he looked quite dashing this evening, what with the way you sang his praises after he got himself dressed and questioned if you were actually married to one another.

then again, he supposes it’s still accurate to say you’re still questioning whether or not he is your husband. just not in the joking manner you initially did.

seeing how you’ve begun to grow a little restless with his prolonged silence, neuvillette awkwardly clears his throat and begins in what he hopes is a tone which masks the minor betrayal your words caused. “i’m glad you feel that way about our marriage, mon cœur, but—”

“stop!” neuvillette’s mouth instantly ceases movement. “how… how dare you, a stranger, call me that! just who… who do you think you are? my husband?”

“actually, i am.”

you blink at him. “you’re what?”

“i am your husband. neuvillette.” in all honesty, he doesn’t know why he’s nervous. perhaps it’s your scrutinising gaze causing him to sweat, taking him back to the first days when he could finally put a name to the emotions you brought out from within him — ones which have never weakened, but only seem to grow stronger as the days pass by. his hands clam up, and he’s glad you can’t see him wiping his palms against the fabric of his clothes from where you sit. even when you’re drunk, you tend to remember the most random moments. more often than not, they end up being in some relation to him.

(neuvillette laments the times where you only remembered his brief loss of composure.)

after a few more agonising seconds of staring, you speak up once more. “you’re lying.”

there are many things neuvillette wishes to say in response — such as showing your wedding rings, pulling out the small polaroid of you both nestled within his inner coat pocket, recalling the first day you met, the first day you talked, the first “thank you” you ever said to him, the first—

quickly, he snaps himself out of this spiral. just in the nick of time too, for you open your mouth to say something else. “my neuvillette is cute and lovely and pretty and everything a person could only dream to have.”

is he not cute right now? is he not lovely and pretty right now? is he not everything a person could only dream to have right now? what makes the him through your drunken lens so different to the him in your memories?

against his better judgement, he decides to ask the big question.

“then… may i ask what i am?”

“a liar.” and, as if to rub salt in the wound, you add, “i don’t like liars.”

neuvillette feels as though he could cry.

(when you awoke to a pounding headache the next morning, the last thing you expected was your husband brooding on the edge of the bed, his back facing you as he mumbled something along the lines of, “i would lie for you… not to you…” though it was a little hard to tell amidst the incessant pitter-patter of rain against the window.

despite racking your brain in an effort to figure out what caused him to be in such a state in the first place, the only things you remembered from last night were him wiping his hands on his clothes, as well as him looking as though someone slapped him across the face.

yeah. perhaps it is best you don’t tell him that.)

mon cœur = my heart, which can be read as my sweetheart/other half/life, etc.

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SLEIGHT OF HAND | LYNEY

summary you will not let lyney get to you. unfortunately, lyney already got to you the moment you met eyes. after all, what is a magician if not an expert in stealing hearts?

or, local sumeru architect goes to fontaine looking for inspiration and comes out of it with three rainbow roses and a crushing magician.

warnings 13+, gn!reader, follows the fontaine archon quest, so there are major spoilers throughout the entire fic! MURDER (lyney trial spoilers) + feminine french pet names ough + bff!Aether loml + sweet talker lyney + KISS SCENE (suggestive)

notes 8K words. thank u to my french bff art @aanobrain who said lyney is a magician he would say mon lapin 🤧❤️ + other various french pet names. thank u to ellie hyomagiri & earthtooz too for hyping this up, my supporters…

“500,000!?”

Sumeru streets are always bustling with its people—from children skipping around the neighborhood to frantic scholars who zip back and forth before returning to their homes when the moon is high. However, the sun is beating down on everyone right now: street vendors are making a profit, dogs are barking as they play fetch with laughing children, and you stand across the blond traveler and his floating companion.

You wince at the volume of Paimon’s shrill voice, inciting bypassers to send miffed glances your way. Embarrassed, you cover the side of your face with a hand, whispering, “Is—is that not enough? I can—”

“No, no, it’s not that!” Paimon’s arms flail around, eyes blown comically wide. “It’s just, you know, more than what we earn from our daily commissions combined!”

“Oh, I see.” you nod, relieved. “Well, I can lower—”

“No, no, no, no,” Paimon interjects hurriedly, and even the traveler shakes his head. “Pleasure to do business with you! Paimon and Aether, at your service!”

“Really?” you can’t believe your luck—the traveler himself agreed to escort you to Fontaine! Or does it count if Paimon agrees on his behalf? “That's a relief. Even Katheryne of the guild had a strange expression when I posted my commission.”

“It’s probably because of the amount of zeroes you might’ve accidentally put,” Paimon murmurs.

Aether tugs on her foot as if warning her. “We'll be leaving soon. Are you prepared?”

“Oh, yes. My stuff’s over there by the bench, you see?”

Aether and Paimon’s faces simultaneously fall. “All of that?” Paimon starts counting it, gaping when she has four little fingers held up.

They sure complain a lot. “You can still back out.”

Aether takes a deep breath, making his way over to your luggage. When he brushes past, you hear him chanting 500,000; 500,000; 500,000 under his breath. He wordlessly carries all of them, his chest puffed and expression grave.

“They’re heavier than I thought,” Aether wheezes out as Paimon flits worriedly around him. “How long are you going to be staying in Fontaine?”

“Oh, just a day or two, maybe,” you say, taking pity and taking one bag from him. “Most of what’s inside are art supplies.”

“Ah,” Aether says.

“500,000,” Paimon reminds him.

“We’re close,” Paimon says, flying back to where you and Aether are still walking behind, him heaving and you offering water now and then. “I saw a huge ravine-looking view! It was like a city on a waterfall!”

“R-Really?” Aether puffs out a breath, sweat rolling off his temple.

You tried prying some of your bags away from him when it seemed like there were monsters up ahead, but he refused instead to fight them with one hand on his sword. He still won. You guessed that he was trying to make traveling easier for you, yet all you felt was immense worry.

“Are you feeling okay, Y/N?” Paimon asks, floating beside you. “You look unwell.” You should ask your companion that, instead.

“I’m a bit nervous. After all, it’s my first time traveling outside of Sumeru.” You smile, patting her head. She doesn’t seem to mind, beaming back. “But I need to get out of my comfort zone to be better, right?”

“That's right! Paimon has a feeling you’ll enjoy Fontaine!” You and Paimon glance at Aether when he heaves a heavy breath, yet he only waves the pair of you off with his free hand. “Before you know it, you’ll be itching to travel again once you’re back in Sumeru.”

“I'm only there for work. I just need to learn a lot, and then I'll enjoy it.”

“Still a student through and through, huh…”

“I can see it,” Aether chimes in, looking all too relieved to rest his arm finally. “I can see Fontaine up ahead.”

You feel the cool breeze brush against your face, a refreshing change from the past hours you and the other two have been trudging through the desert. You could strip off layers and dive if you could. You can make out the harbor even miles away, pouring water out like an endless waterfall stretching for miles.

Arriving in Fontaine is introducing yourself to the rustle of layered skirts, the water-kissed smell, and citizens left and right babbling about tragic endings and thrilling climaxes.

Aether sets your bags on the floor with a heavy exhale. Paimon feeds him with another jug of water.

“I guess we’re here now.” You pull out a heavy pouch you’ve been keeping in one of the bags Aether had been holding over his shoulder. Paimon takes it with greedy, greedy hands. “Thank you for keeping me safe and carrying my luggage, Traveler— are you even listening to me?”

“There’s a girl over there,” Aether says, now staring ahead.

You and Paimon turn to look; sure enough, someone is standing by the edge, looking forlornly over the water. Half of her foot is off the platform, making Paimon fidget.

She gasps. “She isn’t going to jump into the water, is she? Maybe we should go check on her…”

Halfway through Paimon’s sentence, you gathered the courage to speak to the girl with the cat ears.

“Hey, miss.” Her ear twitches. “Is something the matter?”

She turns, looking faintly surprised. If you weren’t so close to her, you wouldn’t have been able to tell there was a change in her expression. “I'm fine. thank you.”

“Oh.” Now things are a little awkward. “Is there something in the water you’re looking at? You might slip if you keep tipping forward.”

She peers below, unworried—silent.

“As long as you’re okay, I guess,” you sigh, awkwardly hovering above her shoulder when realizing it might come off strange if you touch her. “I’ll leave you be.”

Her lips twitch, something close to a smile. You don’t stick long enough to admire it, heading back to Aether and Paimon and shrugging at their inquisitive looks. “She says she’s fine.”

“I think it’s time for me to separate,” you say. “I want to take all of it in as much as possible. Paimon has my payment. Thank you both so much for keeping me safe.” Mostly Aether, though. But Paimon was there, emotionally.

“It’s no problem,” Aether says, his smile warmer than when you first met him. “Stay safe out there. You can look for us if you need anything else.”

“I don’t always pay 500,000 for each of my commissions.”

Paimon wilts. Aether flushes, stammering, “Not what I meant.” You laugh heartily as they wave when you walk off to the aquabus, hopefully, prepared for what Fontaine will give you.

Your sketchbook is a page away from completion when you hear about a magic show at the Opera House. Not that it was hard to miss—everyone and their grandmothers were prattling about nothing else but the entire day.

Fontaine is known for its love for dramatics, but the twins they keep mentioning must be a one-of-a-kind spectacle to have half their region’s population speak about them so reverently.

After wandering for hours, taking in the endless sights of fresh water streaming and grand castle-like modern buildings, you find yourself in the Fountain of Lucine. You’ve heard of Fontaine being somewhat titled the ‘City of Love,’ but seeing couples surrounding each nook and cranny of the tourist spots was still astonishing.

(You console yourself by thinking that there’s something romantic in sketching frantically while the rest of the crowd are sucking faces.)

To your luck, you spot three familiar heads in the fountain plaza.

Aether senses you before you can even say anything, glancing to the side and smiling when you wave at him.

Paimon flutters excitedly. “Y/N! We didn’t think we’d see you again this early. You look like you’re glowing.”

“Was it that obvious?” you laugh sheepishly. “Fontaine is beautiful; I couldn’t even stick too long in one place before I see something else that catches my attention.” You look to the girl you met earlier, who nods politely. “Hello. Are you three acquainted now?”

“Mhm!” Paimon says, hands on her hips. “This is Lynette! She’s inviting us to the show they’re holding here!” She gasps, “Speaking of—”

“Ah,” Lynette says quietly, “I couldn’t get an extra ticket. I’m sorry.”

Lynette is the magician you keep hearing about? With her seemingly reserved personality, you wouldn’t have guessed it. “Oh, no, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Paimon,” Aether speaks up. “They gave you your ticket, right? Why don’t you just float next to me or sit on my lap?”

Paimon’s eyes sparkle. “Great idea! That way, I can give my seat to Y/N, right?”

“You guys…” Your chest feels warm as Aether hands you one of the two tickets in his hand. “You really didn’t have to.” Is this what 500,00 gets you? The loyal companionship of Aether and Paimon?

“It’s a good idea,” Lynette says. “My brother wouldn’t want you to miss the show. He’d be devastated.”

“If you insist, then I suppose I can’t refuse.” Aether and Paimon do a cute little cheer. “But I need to return to the hotel; I can’t be watching a magic show carrying all these.” Surely Aether can understand.

Later, with your hands finally empty and charcoal-free, you rush back to the Opera Epiclese, the person standing guard kind enough to open the doors despite being a minute late.

“Welcome, one and all, to the Opera Epiclese!” The audience roars with cheers as the spotlight illuminates a figure on the center of the stage. You hurry to your seats, brushing past Aether and Paimon. “I am the star of today’s show, Lyney.”

Lyney bows, then stands upright with a Cheshire cat grin.

The thunder of the crowd’s applause is deafening. If you weren’t able to see it, you’d think that you hadn’t been clapping at all—senses numbed and your fixed stare all on the boy on the stage.

Your eyes catch on the small braid on the side of his head before the gleam of his eyes hypnotizes you.

He’s handsome, you think dizzily at the back of your head.

“Don’t blink,” he says, his voice lower as if meant to be a whisper, “or else you might miss it.”

The show proceeds. A dove soars away from inside as he flips his hat; you flush at hearing the soft laughter that slips from him after. The cards that materialize out of nowhere descend to the floor. His fingers shuffle the cards while talking to keep the audience satiated; they fly off his hands, yet he doesn’t lose focus, stretching them mid-air with a sleight of hand. They fall apart and come together neatly and precisely.

His stage presence is demanding. It would be as if Lady Furina herself would accuse you of committing a crime if you were to look away for even a second.

Then, when he scans the crowd, busy twirling his cards in his fingers, his gaze catches your awed ones.

Something in the air shifts. Or maybe it’s that it slows.

A card slips from his grasp. A mistake. He blinks and breaks eye contact, laughing heartily to play it off. But you don’t believe it—not when you swore your limbs locked in place as well when lilac drilled into your soul.

You breathe, hands bracing against your chest. What was that?

You would’ve played it off as something you imagined if not for Lyney continuing to glance at you occasionally. His slip-up had been forgotten, as though it was all part of the show.

(Is it also part of the show when it seems he’s unable to tear his eyes off of you?)

Of course, the twins prove their worth. They showed you exactly why the people of Fontaine adore watching them through theatrical magic, cards in their sleeves, and defying logic.

You’ve shuffled to the edge of your seat as Lynette disperses into bubbles and comes back alive. You’ve held your breath as Lyney emerges from the box across he was in a moment earlier.

You’ve also been witness to the murder of Cowell.

CRASH.

The shatter of glass resounded along with the horrified gasps of the audience. Sickeningly enough, you could almost hear the crack of bones if you hadn’t been crying out in alarm. Yet, as they gape and shriek over the sight of a limp arm popping out, you find your gaze tracing back to Lyney, who stands motionless in front of the box.

When Lady Furina points fingers and has everyone siding against him, the guards escort the audience from the Opera House. All evidence presented left Lyney in a spotlight unlike his performance: with a disgusted and unamused crowd. Even you have to agree that it isn’t looking well for his case at all.

Yet all you can think of as you leave the room is that Lyney looked as terrified as everyone else was—much too raw of an expression for someone to accuse him of anything at all. He looked young and scared.

(His hands were shaking.)

The rest of your Fontaine trip is admittedly duller when you’re a little more familiar with its city and don’t have a yapping little fairy and a capable Traveler by your side. It’s hard not to hear chatter about the events that went down: Lyney’s trial, Aether volunteering to be his lawyer, and the truth behind the real murderer.

It solved a case beyond the murder of Cowell. Fontaine sure has its mysteries, and the crowd sure loves them as they would a magic show.

You keep your hands busy. Last night, you found yourself thinking back to the magic show, to deft fingers weaving through cards, to violet eyes that kept on flickering to you. By the time you snap back to reality, you’ve subconsciously drawn shapes and lines that suspiciously look like the magician himself: the curve of a smile, piercing eyes, and you entranced by it all.

Flustered, you crumple his face staring back at you out of sight. Yet you can’t bring yourself to throw it away.

You shove the last bit of garlic baguette in your mouth to furiously bat these unwanted thoughts away.

“Isn’t that Y/N?” Paimon’s voice is unmistakable, a short distance off.

You jump out of your skin, spinning to see Aether and Paimon waving and walking over to you. You thought they'd already left Fontaine after that; you wouldn’t blame them if they did.

“Y/N! We haven’t seen you since the Opera House performance,” Paimon exclaims, twirling around your head like a thrilled fly circling a trash can.

You hold onto her back, hoping she’ll stop making you dizzy. “We were escorted out before I could say goodbye. I couldn’t watch the court trial but heard it all turned out fine.”

“That’s right!” Paimon nods proudly. “Paimon helped a ton during it; you should’ve seen it! What have you been doing?”

“I found a fellow architect while visiting the cafe nearby, and we chatted for hours,” you say, remembering that your voice is hoarse for that reason. You also don’t tell them you couldn’t get a certain magician off your mind. “I learned a lot. I don’t regret coming here one bit.”

Paimon says something else that you’re sure you’ve nodded absentmindedly at while your gaze wanders over to the two familiar people a few feet behind, watching you three with cat-like eyes—and it’s not just because of Lynette’s unique features.

“Those are the magicians, right?” you gesture behind Paimon and Aether as if you haven’t already familiarized yourself with their faces.

Paimon nods. “Uh-huh. You should introduce yourself! They look like they want to talk.”

Something about that feels foreboding. “Um, no, it’s fine. I don’t want to be rude and interrupt your conversation.”

“No,” Aether says firmly. He seldom speaks; you might as well play along if he says so. “Besides, Paimon is right. Lyney wants to talk to you, you know?”

“Oh, yeah! He kept mentioning seeing someone sitting beside us! And it couldn’t have been Neuvillette because he said it was an unfamiliar beauty that bewitched this weak magician’s heart.” Paimon nods, even recalling how he’s enunciated each syllable theatrically.

“I’m sorry?” you blurt. “Lyney recognizes me? What did I do?”

“Paimon thinks it’s because Lyney is curious about who Lynette met! He was like that with us, too.” Paimon changes her pitch to match Lyney’s. “Are these your friends, Lynette?”

Aether’s eyes feel like they know something you don’t. “It won’t hurt to strike up a conversation with Lyney. He’s been shaken up since the trial.”

There’s something unspoken hidden in his words. “What does that mean?”

Paimon doesn’t wait for an answer, grabbing you by the arm and dragging you to where the twins are waiting. Aether chuckles as he jogs behind.

“Paimon, Aether,” Lyney says, almost sly, “You haven’t introduced us to your friend here.”

“Paimon can do it!” She floats on top of your head and does a bit of jazz hands. “This is Y/N, the one who commissioned us to escort them from Sumeru up to Fontaine.”

“Generously,” Aether adds.

It’s a little embarrassing to have the legendary Traveler and Paimon introduce little old you to a famous magician such as himself, but his grin is still excited.

“From Sumeru?” Lyney repeats, smiling wider when you nod—as if that crumb of attention is enough for him. “I see.”

He performs a bow around the same height as where your hands rest; he takes one, kisses the back of your palm, and smiles against your skin. “I’m Lyney, and she is my sister, Lynette.”

“It’s nice to see you again.” You smile at Lynette, who nods in return. Lyney straightens to look at his sister.

“We met when the Traveler and Paimon just arrived at the harbor,” Lynette sighs even without looking at her brother.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say, meeting Lyney’s eyes. The spot where he kissed is still warm—tingling. “Your show was incredible, despite what happened. I’m glad that the truth revealed itself.”

“Thank you.” Lyney’s gaze sharpens. “I saw you at the performance, yes. I was worried for a second you might steal the show if you were to come up on stage.”

You blink. “Are you saying—”

Lyney grins, “I apologize that the night had to end that way; it must’ve been horrifying. Say, what if I give you a little show right now to make it up to you?” Did he make it up to each one of his audience, too?

This is not a man acting “shaken up,” as Aether put it.

“You really don’t have to.” You glance at Aether and Paimon, silently asking for help; however, they’re too far gone, urging you to say yes with gestures and encouraging nods.

Lyney tilts his head, demanding your attention on him once more.

You sigh. “I would love to see it if you don’t mind.”

“Of course!” Lyney looks like he’s the sun bursting personified. “It would be a pleasure, ma chérie. Not to worry, it’s nothing life-threatening. I just need you to focus on me.”

Not that it’s hard. The others have become a dull buzz in your mind as Lyney holds your gaze. “Okay.”

Lyney smiles, much softer, satisfied. “Good. Now,” he tips his hat, “recently, I’ve received a little lesson from someone about the language of flowers. Are you familiar with them?”

“Not in Fontaine, no,” you mumble, watching his hands closely. You were expecting a rabbit to hop out of that hat any second now.

“Shame. But I suppose I wouldn’t want to spoil the fun.” Lyney snaps his finger, then deposits his hand inside his hat. “Hmm… Oh? Something’s not quite right. Would you mind looking into this hat for me to see if the flower is here?”

You hesitate. The hat is so close to him.

Swallowing, you nod, leaning in to inspect his hat at a careful pace. All you can sense is the faint scent of heat Lyney is emanating, the breath you two share, and the pounding of your chest. You swear you could also hear his, matching yours.

“The hat’s empty.”

Lyney smiles wider. “Yes, perhaps because you already have it.”

You jump back in surprise, your hands patting your body to see where he could have snuck the flower in. With your frantic movement, the flower falls off from what seems to have come from your head—Lyney catches it.

His mouth carves into a smirk, leaning to invade your personal space, his free hand coming up to tuck hair behind your ear. “Careful.”

Your face is burning. Plucking the flower out, the delicate and tender pink sears into your palm. “What does this flower mean?”

“What does it, I wonder?” Lyney whispers thoughtfully. “I suppose you’ll have to tell me once you find out.”

And when he inclines backward, it feels like you can breathe again. Time flows normally, and the people passing by seem much louder than before—as though you’ve surfaced from underwater.

Lyney clears his throat. “Shame I haven’t prepared myself a grand show for you, but I suppose that would call for another time, wouldn’t it?”

Lynette is looking at Lyney as if he is stupidly amusing.

“Thank you,” you say, burning, burning. “For the show, I mean.”

“That was a little weird,” Paimon whispers to Aether, but she is terrible with keeping volume and has everyone turning to her with varying expressions. “P-Paimon means that was good! Wow, Lyney! Isn’t that a different flower you gave us? That’s the flower Charlotte was talking about, right?”

“Rainbow rose?” Aether supplies.

“Yes! It means—”

“Ahem.” Lyney is quick to interrupt. “Lynette and I must take our leave now, if you don’t mind. It was fun catching up with you two.” You have to hold your ground and not look away when he hones in on your figure. “And it’s a pleasure meeting you. Don’t be a stranger. Look for me if you want more.”

His smile is a little devilish, you now realize.

“Bye,” Lynette says blankly, following after her brother, who seemed to be hurrying to exit.

His ears were red.

“You’re still staring.”

“I am not,” you rebuke hotly, flailing to cover Aether’s mouth with your hands. Yet all it does is bring your attention back to where Paimon and Aether are staring—the rainbow rose on your person.

Paimon and Aether yelp when you drag them away despite Lyney having already left the scene.

“Hey—! Don’t just go dragging Paimon around like a balloon like that! Did Lyney get to your head that much?”

“He did not.”

Paimon tilts her head, frowning. You shy away from her worried gaze, glaring at the flower instead. You still don’t know how Lyney managed to get it there; you hold it to your chest, where your heart is racing miles per minute because of his stupidly smug smile.

“What does this flower mean, Paimon?”

Paimon seems elated to be of help. “Easy! Charlotte told us that Rainbow Roses mean ‘passion’ and most notably ‘romantic encounters’!”

“Passion,” you curse. The rose seems as if it is staring back innocently, unknowing of the turmoil you’re going through because of it. “Romantic encounters.’ ugh.”

You can still remember how Lyney’s eyes twinkled as you felt his breath against your face.

“Ooh, he thinks he can trick me. He thinks he can affect me just because it pleases him to do so. I’ll show him. I’ll show him! I am not a blushing maiden!”

“You’re already very affected by this,” Paimon says, yet it’s lost by your newfound determination. Two can play at this game.

You’ve definitely been staying in Fontaine longer than what you told Aether and Paimon, but you can’t leave yet. Not when you found yourself walking to a flower shop to purchase a vase, fiercely digging through soil, turning gentle when your fingers reach for the Rainbow Rose. Not when you see it in the corner of your eyes as you try to sleep, and you find yourself daydreaming about a charming violet-eyed virtuoso.

It’s for research, you excused lamely at the hotelkeeper who didn’t ask why you’re extending your stay. In truth, not that you’d tell anyone. It was because you were hoping for another grand show from him. A farewell show for you—closure.

If you were to travel back home and get too drunk to think straight, Kaveh would learn about your crisis (romantic awakening?) and laugh at your face.

In hopes of looking for your Fontaine architect friend, you spot Lyney instead, on the side of the street surrounded by cheering kids. They clap and jump, and Lyney laughs. “One more, one more!”

“Again?” Lyney does an exaggerated sigh. “I’m starting to run out of cards in my sleeves. I’ve guessed my entire deck from your hands by this point!”

“But, Mr. Magician,” one of them whines, pouting up at him and blinking, “we want to see more! We want to know how you do it!”

“Alright, how about this, hm?” And then Lyney peers right at you. Ironically, you’re the one startled when you’ve been watching that entire spiel, and he hasn’t acknowledged your presence beforehand. “Y/N, would you mind giving these children a little show with me?” He gestures for you to come closer.

“What show?” you ask suspiciously, taking slow steps in case he pulls out another flower out of nowhere.

“You don’t have to worry,” Lyney laughs. “Will you be my assistant for this show? You are very familiar with this trick.”

“Please, we want to see!”

You falter at the little kids’ excited grins, especially when paired with Lyney’s pout and round eyes. “Okay, tell me what to do.”

His eyes do the little gleam again. “Stand in front of me, mon lapin.”

Your heart is skipping beat after beat, making itself known as you shuffle until Lyney is directly behind you.

“Relax, chérie, you just need to stand still.” It’s a little hard to relax when you feel his breath against the back of your neck, but you won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting that, so you keep your chin high and relax your shoulders. “Good.” 

He begins to speak louder to his awaiting audience. “I know it’s hard to keep your eyes off this beauty before me, but watch the hat for a surprise, alright?”

He flips it for his little audience, one hand resting on your waist and the other extended to hold his top hat. The proximity is almost suffocating. You watch with bated breath, and they complain about it being empty.

“Oh, is it?” Lyney hums, twirling the hat until it’s flipped upside down, presented right before you. “Perhaps I need my assistant’s help.” You snap out of your daze when you realize he’s talking to you. “Y/N, do me a favor and show them the flower inside.”

You reach inside the hat and, much to your surprise, feel a stem. You pull it out; the Rainbow Rose stares back at you, almost mocking you, saying he did pull out a flower out of nowhere. It's this trick again.

The kids gasp in awe and confusion—it’s all the same for Lyney, who snaps his fingers and creates magic like he was made to. Like magic was for him to summon with his hands.

“What? It was empty!”

“Where did that come from? I was watching Mister Magician’s hands the whole time!”

“Are you a magician, too?”

“No,” you say lamely, holding the rose, feeling Lyney still patiently standing behind you. Heat crawls up your neck. “No, I’m not. It’s all Lyney.”

“It’s all me,” Lyney echoes in amusement. “You’re quite magical yourself.” Finally, he spares you, pulling away to stand beside your figure. He doesn’t take the rose back—maybe even give it to one of the children. He knows exactly what he’s doing. “That’s enough for today. The sun is setting, and your parents might get worried.”

They pout and slump their shoulders, but Lyney has this older brother's sternness to him that has the children scurrying back home anyway.

You then realize having to stand in front of Lyney was unnecessary.

The flower is warm. Lyney’s eyes slip to yours.

“I didn’t even have to stand in front of you like that,” you complain, heart inclined to race off your body.

“Yes, but I feared that I would slip up again if I were to catch a glimpse of your face,” Lyney admits smoothly. His lips curl into a smirk when you stare wordlessly. “What? Don’t believe me? I had to improvise when I saw you watching from afar.”

“A great magician such as yourself? Making a mistake? I doubt it.”

“You already have such high expectations placed on me, chérie,” Lyney says, his smile easy, but his ears are a little red, poking out from his hair. “That’s no good. With no audience, I’m just plain ‘Lyney’ to you.”

“No trickery? No cards up your sleeves?” you play along.

Lyney doesn’t miss a beat. “No, though I do have a few more roses begging to be held by your hands.”

“They can keep begging.” Lyney grins wider when you glance down at his hands. “Do you give them off to everyone you meet?”

“Who do you take me for?” Lyney isn’t offended; he laughs, delighted. He is preening under the sunset—or maybe it’s your attention. “Of course not. At least, not like this.”

You stare, unimpressed. “Sure.”

“So cold, chérie,” Lyney sighs, plucking the stem from your fingers to slot it behind your ear. It seems he likes doing that. “Here I am, trying to get you to warm up to me, and you treat me like this.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll be going back home soon anyway.”

Lyney’s expression shifts into something more unrecognizable, his eyes dipping down to somewhere below your nose. “Oh. Avoiding attachment?”

You nod.

He grins, and he’s still so close. He knows how to entrance his audience, pulling you in until you forget to resist. Always watch the hands; yet Lyney could be digging a dagger to your side at this moment, and you wouldn’t even notice.

“I’m flattered you even want to avoid me because you know you’d get attached,” he purrs, tilting his head. Is Lyney just big on personal space? 

“Don’t assume,” you retort. “I know how guys like you think. Even a magician as great as yourself can’t trick someone who’s already seen through it.”

“It would be easier if it were just a trick, wouldn’t it?” Lyney sighs, much to your confusion. “I take it that someone has told you what this flower means?”

You’ve nearly forgotten all about it. “Yes.” You find yourself unable to look directly into his eyes. “I know.”

But even with that, you can still feel his heavy gaze, pinning you down and threatening the strength of your knees. You suppose it comes with being a performer—watching his audience carefully, pinpointing each micro expression to say the right words.

“There doesn’t have to be any attachments.”

“What are you trying to say right now?”

Lyney’s reaches for your hip, sharing your gaze like he doesn’t know how to do anything else. “That you enamor me. That I am holding back from wanting you. I know you feel the same—you can never hide anything from a magician. But if you’re concerned,” he mumbles, “then this doesn’t have to mean anything. You may call it infatuation.”

You want to laugh. Or maybe you want to cry. Most of all, you want to nod helplessly, wrap your arms around his neck, and give in. It’s hard not to when he looks at you like that. “You want me that bad?”

“I almost want to disagree.”

“Almost?” Lyney gets closer, and you stop him with a palm on his chest. “We’re outside.”

Lyney grins. “Have you forgotten what Fontaine is also known for? No one would bat an eye. Love is in the air, and all that.”

“Absolutely not.”

“So still you’re letting me?”

You laugh this time. Letting him, as if you aren’t the one itching to pull him close and find out what he’s like behind the curtains. “Are you asking me as plain old ‘Lyney?’”

Lyney brightens, clearly pleased there wasn’t a ‘no’. “Yes.”

“No tricks?”

“No tricks. No strings.”

You let him lead you away into some dark alleyway. He kisses you like he was longing to do so all his life. You have only met him that fateful day, not even a week ago. But you claw at him like you get it—like he’s ruined you for anyone else the moment you shared gazes in the Opera House.

Romantic encounters, you quietly recall as Lyney swipes a thumb over your aching bottom lip.

You don’t see Lyney the day after that. And for some reason, it makes the itch worse. (Perhaps it’s because you’ve gotten a taste and can’t get enough.)

It’s mostly your fault, the sudden disappearance—you’ve cooped yourself up in the hotel room, buried your face in pillows, and screamed. You berate yourself for giving in, but another part of you—one that’s louder than any other thought in your head—wants to do it again. Wants to hold his handsome face in your hands and have him kiss you breathless. That was nothing like you had ever felt before.

You groan. It’s another new day. You might as well make some progress with your portfolio.

There’s a Café you’ve been visiting more often than not. Ordering a drink and spending a good chunk of your day sketching the view. Instead, you find yourself staring at Aether, Paimon, and Lynette seated at one of the tables.

Lynette’s eyes flick up to yours as she sips tea. She murmurs something to the other two, and you watch with amusement as Aether and Paimon’s heads snap to face you.

You let your gaze wander, eventually landing on Lyney, who is reciting his order with his charming-act-on smile, who is present because of course he is. You want to turn and run away, but that’d be letting Lyney win, and you’re nothing if not stubborn and prideful.

“Y/N!” Paimon greets once you’re within earshot, kicking her feet happily. “Good morning! What are you doing here?”

“Breakfast,” you reply, waving at them. Aether pulls a chair from the other table and gestures for you to sit. “Did I interrupt something?”

“Nope!” Paimon swipes a fork from the table and digs in on the Ile Flottante, leaving nothing for Aether. “Lynette and Lyney told us about another show they’re holding to make up for the previous one.”

“Mouth full,” Aether reminds her, a little too late as the Ile Flottante spews from her mouth.

“Really now? Maybe I can pay properly for a ticket this time,” you laugh, nodding at Lynette. She smiles faintly, hiding it behind the rim of her cup. Lynette sure is the polar opposite of her twin brother.

A shadow looms from behind, the silhouette of a figure with an unmistakable top hat. You tilt your chin and see Lyney peering down at you with a sweet smile. You will yourself to keep your gaze focused on his eyes only and nowhere else below the nose.

Speak of the devil…

“Sweetheart,” Lyney says instead of exchanging pleasantries like a normal person.

“Lyney,” you reply in kind. Then you look away upon realizing that Aether, Paimon, and Lynette had been silently watching the exchange with muted, stunned expressions.

Lyney, holding a tray of drinks and food in both hands, scoots the chair next to yours with his ankle. “I wasn’t informed that Y/N would be joining us,” he says, setting the drinks and plates down like a waiter with a flourish. “You can drink mine. Let me order another.”

You hold onto his wrist as he makes his way back. He turns to you, surprised. “Let me at least pay for my own breakfast.”

Lyney grins, delicately withdrawing from your grip. He places a loud kiss on your hand. “Don’t worry about it.” And then leaves, because he can’t take no for an answer.

“Is it just me,” Paimon starts as you resign yourself to finishing Lyney’s drink (It’s your favorite, the one you always order), “or is Lyney acting weird around Y/N?”

Aether laughs. “There's definitely something going on. Don’t end up staying too long in Fontaine, now. What was it you told us? ‘A day or two’.”

You huff, your face turning unbearably warm. “Shut up, you two. I am here to do research, not to find a summer fling.” You’ve already failed, but they don’t need to know about that.

If you were to touch your lips with your fingers, you’d think of no one else but Lyney’s hands on your hips and his mouth swallowing your words.

Lynette clears her throat, a quiet but noticeable thing. “Don’t be fooled by my brother, Y/N.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m still keeping my safe distance.”

She shakes her head. “That’s not what I mean. Don’t be fooled by my brother.” She stares at you from the rim of her cup—something about that has you listening obediently. “No matter what he tells you, he always cares too much. No matter what you may think, he always gets hurt first.”

“That’s not…” You can’t imagine that. From the start, it’s always felt like he was the one who could do what he wanted.

No tricks.

Lynette is his twin, after all. She knows him best.

No strings.

Defeated, you sip on the straw with the same fervor of an aggravated hilichurl, and that’s the end of that.

Conversations during breakfast are much lighter when Lyney returns with a full meal as his treat. Celebration, he says. Celebration for what? Who knows? Lyney winked, but his glance directed to you said enough.

“You say that you don’t want to get attached, but you’re awfully close to the Traveler, of all people,” Lyney says offhandedly once the others have left for their own matters.

You lean against your seat, grinning. “Are you jealous?”

He doesn’t say anything, instead upturning his nose as if scrambling to regain control. You laugh, oddly endeared. Lyney turns his head away, trying to hide the smile that curls his lips upon hearing it.

“Hey,” Lyney says seriously, reaching for your hand. “Where have you been yesterday?”

“Why? Missed me?”

And because he’s Lyney, he takes his time kissing each of your knuckles. It’s more intimate than the whole ‘no strings’ arrangement you agreed on, but you suppose Lyney thinks that any physical attention is free reign. “What would you do if I said yes?”

“You’ll be fine,” you say slyly. “You’ll have to get used to it if you want to risk your heart just to get laid.”

He rolls his eyes, tugging you closer. “I’m not risking anything to get laid. Do you think so lowly of yourself, chérie?”

“Isn’t this all there is to it? Physical attraction,” you ask, genuinely confused.

Lyney blinks. “Of course, but—” His eyes flicker down, and his words trail off.

When you speak, you feel your breath bounce back from his skin—a testament to your proximity. “Lyney,” you whisper. For what? Urging him to continue? Urging him to close this distance? You’re not sure, either.

You have so much to ask. What do you mean? Why can’t you finish your sentence? Why don’t you just kiss me already? But it’s hard to speak; Lyney’s name is all you can think of. 

You whisper his name again. His grip on your hands tightens and loosens, a frustrated frown creeping up his brows.

Your hand shoots out to reach for the back of his head and give in. He flinches for a second before relaxing completely.

His lips almost taste sweeter than his words. Almost as sweet as how he finds purchase on your waist and holds your chin during every kiss.

You pull away to breathe, missing how he leans closer to chase after you and pouting when he can’t. “Yeah. That—That didn’t have to mean anything. I just wanted to know what it felt like again.”

“Yeah.” Lyney licks his lips, his gaze unable to tear away from where yours are swollen. “Yeah, I know. You taste like my drink.”

Really, no one’s surprised you gravitate towards each other again, feeling like you’re soaring and melting into a puddle at the same time. Lyney doesn’t touch you where you both know would cross the line, but he grips near possessively to what he can, as if breathing you in and worshipping your skin.

You know after this, he’d go back on stage, fooling his audience with what’s invisible to the average eye, as if this never happened. You know this because this is your deal: satiate the feverish attraction you have with each other and leave once you’re satisfied. (But you also know that you’ll be thinking of his touch and his lips while you stare at the vase beside your bed.)

Lyney is a magician, first and foremost.

He hooks you in, and keeps all your attention to himself like he’d die without it. Then he disappears with a snap of a finger. He’s finished his trick, leaving you befuddled in your seat with more questions than answers.

As you drift off to sleep, all you can think of is that there are two roses now.

“Brother.”

Lyney looks up from where he’d been entertaining Rosseland, seeing Lynette with a stern face. “What? What happened?”

Her tail flicks. “You said you weren’t going to get attached.”

Lyney exhales softly, his eyes slipping shut. “I’m not.”

Lynette finds herself smiling softly. “I may just be your assistant, but you can’t lie to your own twin.”

He buries his face in his hands. With his sight gone, images of your face while whispering his name flash in his mind. His eyes fly open, mortified, his whole face red. “I don’t know how it happened. I didn’t think it’d be deeper than that.”

He was the magician in this, but it felt as if you were the one who tricked him instead.

It’s been two weeks since you first arrived in Fontaine. By this point, you’ve grown more familiar with its views than your own city. Having Aether, Paimon, Lynette, and even Freminet around doesn't make it any easier for you to feel at home.

And then there’s the Lyney Situation. You meet up most nights, more than that when he’s free from shows. He keeps seeking you out, and you keep letting him in. There was one night where Lyney spent the night instead of heading straight to the door—and those nights turned into two, then three, and then he finds any excuse to keep doing it.

It’s not like you could stop. He told you look for me if you want more, and you always want more, because how could you not? Lyney treats you like he’s never had to take care of anything more precious but still manages to render you breathless like you’ve never experienced thrill the way he gives it to you before.

But you still have to go back home. And Lyney still has his own life, has his secrets. He feels untouchable even when your arms are wrapped around his neck.

No strings attached can still work for summer flings, doesn’t it? And what are summer flings, if not just that?

Lyney hovers above with his hands caging your face. He’s grinning so wide—and you’ve seen all kinds of smiles on him with your time spent together, but it was never this genuine.

“You’re bad for me.” He says it like a confession, a prayer.

You raise an eyebrow. “What did I do to you?”

His hand trails down until he’s rubbing shapes on your hips. “Make me feel like I’m myself whenever I’m with you.”

At your silence, Lyney clears his throat. “But it’s not like that, don’t worry. I just mean—”

And how does that even make sense? He pours his heart, then later reveals it’s nothing but a decoy to keep this facade realistic.

“Oh,” you say.

That was the final act you’d been waiting for. The final trick—the farewell show.

And so you pack your bags—shoved your sketchbook back inside, face forward, and promise not to look back. Leaving Sumeru hasn’t even been this hard.

Aether and Paimon shouldn’t be surprised if they find you missing; they’d been the first to know that your stay in Fontaine isn’t meant to last forever. And you’ve warned Lyney about this. Avoiding attachments? It felt more like running away from your problem.

Lyney is a busy man on his own; you’re nothing but some architect from a different region who happened to get caught up with him at the right time.

You sigh and call for the aquabus.

A hand clasps around your wrist, pulling you to collide against a familiar chest. Lyney’s eyes are wide, almost insane. Sweat clings to his forehead, and his breath comes in frantic pants.

“W-What—”

Lyney’s eyes search your face. Or maybe it’s him trying to convince himself that you’re right there, in front of him. “You didn’t even tell me.”

“I—I’m sorry—”

“Were you just going to leave like that? Don’t you think I at least deserve a farewell?”

“Lyney, I’m sorry. I know, that was stupid.” You haven’t seen him with an expression like this before—so raw and broken, begging to be glued together with your hands. “I didn’t want to formally say goodbye because I knew I'd want to stay.”

“That’s stupid,” he repeats in agreement.

You breathe shakily, eyes scanning the stunned crowd. What’s The Great Magician Lyney doing here? Holding some stranger in his arms? That must be what they’re thinking.

“How did you even know I was leaving?”

Lyney’s eyes cut down to his hand, gripping a crushed rose. “I was paying a visit to an empty room.” Embarrassed, he tries to toss it away, but you take it before he can.

You wordlessly place it in its home: the spot behind your ears. You don’t tell him that the two other roses he gave you serve as bookmarks in the sketchbook you’ve used all up in Fontaine. Where you’ve drawn his face more often than not.

Lyney groans in frustration, his hands curling around your waist. “Is staying so bad?”

“It’s not like I’m leaving forever.”

And then you notice Lyney’s hands. They’re shaking uncontrollably, not unlike how it did during that incident—and with it came the frantic exhales, as if natural human breathing alone is already hard enough for him.

“Oh, Lyney,” you say softly. You drop your bags and embrace him fully.

He doesn’t hesitate in pulling you closer, burying his face on your neck. “Don’t—don’t,” he gasps, “don’t just try to leave like that.”

It’s hard seeing Lyney like this. He’s usually so composed and easy-going. He gulps in a deep breath, and his voice cracks as he calls for you. This must be something out of his control—something deeper than the back of his stage.

“Y/N,” he whispers.

“Lyney,” you call back as gently.

He swallows your surprised noise with his mouth, moving against you like you’re his last meal on Teyvat. He’s still shaking, but it has subsided the longer you stay pressed against each other. You’re not sure if it’s his Pyro vision or if it’s your skin burning at the thought of Lyney’s skin against yours. It’s searing.

This is different from the last kisses you shared.

Passion, you think dizzily, breathless from his hunger. This is passion.

“What was that for?” you ask, embarrassingly winded.

Lyney brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. He looks sad. As though he only comes alive when you’re with him. “A kiss to make up for your absence in the following weeks.”

“I can always come back,” you say. “No, I will come back. I promise. I just need to get home for a bit.”

“Okay.” Lyney nods, exhaling heavily. “Yeah. I know, I understand. Once you come back, come straight to me, alright?”

“Of course.” You lean in to kiss his cheek. You’ve never done it before because it always came off too intimate. And judging by the blush that explodes on his face, he thinks the same.

It all doesn’t matter. The line has been crossed days ago; you’ve just been turning away from seeing it.

He kisses you again. Then again. “Have a safe trip,” he says in between kisses. “I almost wish you commissioned me to escort you, regardless of the price.”

“What, you want 500,00?” The aquabus has arrived; Lyney grips you a little tighter, childishly willing himself not to see it.

“500,000 kisses, and more.” Lyney rests his forehead against yours, his captivating eyes keeping you still, the way it always does. “But you can give me that when you come back.”

( Before they were taken away from the stage for an investigation, Lynette comes up to her brother and asks, “What happened back there, Lyney? I thought you were about to twist your own fingers.”

He is unsure how to tell his sister that he saw your awed expression and nearly lost his wits.

“It was nothing,” Lyney admits, his face growing hot at recalling his slip-up. 

It wasn’t out of embarrassment, no—not when the memory of your wide-eyed beaming expression and how his mind blanked along with the skip of his heart plagued his mind.

“It was nothing,” he repeats numbly. It’s not. It was the start of something. )

a/n ok just a quick rant this fic BROKE ME. it was like every other day i hated then loved writing this fic. im not used to writing fics this long so pacing is not my forte </3 but i just feel proud of myself for finishing this so HOPE U LIKED IT. if ure still reading until here ily ❤️

more a/n two lyney fics and two kissing scenes. i can’t even lie to myself. everyone can tell.

more more a/n it was halfway through writing this fic that i rewatched the magic show and only noticed lyneys hands were shaking and i GOT SO SAD OMF 😭😭😭😭

i loved you on a moonlit summer night

pair. diluc ragnvindr x gn!reader

content: tooth-rotting fluff, love at first sight, allusions to reincarnation but no actual instances of reincarnation

synopsis. diluc knows that he doesn't belong in mondstadt anymore. he doesn't belong anywhere— no place to truly call home and nothing in this world but vengeance in his heart. but on a wintery day on dragonspine, he finds his salvation: a box of cecelias, a fire seelie, and the owner of the best flower shop in the city.

wc. 8.4k

a/n: thank you to my beautiful @hyomagiri for beta reading, helping edit and hyping this fic up to the max. i ended up feeling confident enough to post this because of her, three cheers for ellie i love you to the moon and back <3

WINTER

It wasn’t his fault. How was he supposed to know that buried beneath blankets of snow and sheets of ice, there would be Cecelias?

Fire seelies are usually reliable with a bounty of treasure waiting at the end of their path. He isn't sure why it led him here, to some inconspicuous pile of snow which he hastily melted without realizing there was something precious hidden within.

The mistake doesn’t register with Diluc until the sweet scent of flowers and ash and burning wood wafts under his nose. He blinks in confusion at the pile, perfectly burnt to a crisp and resting at the tip of his boots.

Boxed up flowers? What are they doing out in the middle of the mountain?

He remembers then, a story someone once told him— he can't put a name to the voice but it echoes in the hollow chambers of his heart:

"Did you know that you can preserve the freshness of flowers? All you have to do is box them up nice and tight and store them in the snow."

It's an interesting tidbit of information. He can't for the life of him remember where he heard it from, though.

Wind howls in his ears, powdery snow from over the horizon plowing down the mountainside and into his face. It doesn't deter him from examining the scene. The fire seelie floats just above his shoulder, quiet now as it looks at the pile.

He’s entirely distracted by the sight, unsure of what to make of the strange discovery, until he hears the crunch of snow behind him. With the Fatui lingering around the foot of the mountain, he expects to whip around and face an enemy. He even braces himself to be knocked off his feet by a wild boar.

Instead, his sudden movement frightens you and makes you stumble back until you fall flat onto the ground.

There’s a long pause of silence that stuffs the air, neither you nor him tearing your eyes away from each other. You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, so still that it looks like you've succumbed to the frozen climate of the mountain. He breathes a slow sigh of relief when a wavering exhale leaves your lips in the form of a puff of cloudy air.

The heart resting in his chest stirs. An ancient dull ache, thrumming in the depths of his body as he looks at you in surprise.

Again, there's a voice in his ear. This time, he recognizes it as his father:

"Your mother? I fell in love at first sight."

Growing up, he never quite understood that string of words. First sight? How could someone fall in love at first sight?

Diluc Ragnvindr is a million things, but romantic is not one of them. Love at first sight is a silly fairytale that parents tell their children to tuck them into bed. It's something that could never exist in such a cruel world, plagued by monsters and evil.

It's easy for him to close his heart off to the idea of something as ridiculous as love at first sight, despite the way his eyes haven't left yours. And he's painfully aware of the way you're looking at him too, but he does his best to ignore your gawking.

Maybe he's catching a cold. He doesn't feel well all of the sudden.

Your gaze drifts to the pile of ash just behind him and you sigh, putting your head into your hands wet from snow.

"You found my seelie," you murmur, sounding very unimpressed. He blinks at you until you continue, "Those were important, you know. They were for a very special occasion."

Diluc takes in your form, clothes thin and unfit for the snowy conditions of Dragonspine. Even without the chilly altitude of the mountain, this winter in general was particularly bitter. He almost wants to scold you for dressing so thoughtlessly, even though he doesn't know your name.

"My apologies. I will reimburse you whatever the cost, and more."

"It's... not about that," you tell him from your place on the ground, still not looking at him. You seem stressed. His heart squeezes terribly.

"Not about what?"

"Mora."

He falls silent, so quiet that you finally peer up at him wondering whether or not he's even still standing there. And he is, regarding you with a thoughtful expression. His presence is so unnoticeable despite being right in front of you that it makes your skin crawl.

"How can I make it up to you?" He asks, extending his hand for you to take. Your clothes are soaked through already, cold and frozen from the subzero temperature. It doesn't help soothe his worries that he can feel a storm coming. He should get you out of here as soon as possible.

You huff, allowing him to drag you to your feet. It's then that you realize how warm he is, almost hot to the touch. The faint glimmer of a Vision dangles on his hip. Your eyes flicker back to his and he nearly jolts out of his skin.

"Don't worry about it. It's alright," you tell him though you sound disingenuous about it. You're obviously distracted, probably wondering how to explain to your client that their expensive flowers ended up as a pile of ash.

"It was my mistake. Please, let me know if there's anything at all I can do," he replies earnestly.

"Really, it's fine," you sound slightly exasperated by his stubbornness. If it were anyone ordinary, they would have taken your mercy and left you to freeze on the mountain without a second thought.

Diluc Ragnvindr is no ordinary man.

It takes him a moment to realize his hand is still gripping yours rather tightly. He recoils with an awkward cough.

“What are you doing out here in the mountains?” He asks. It dawns on him then what a stupid question it is, since you’ve obviously come to collect your frozen flowers. You tell him anyways:

"I buried some flowers further up the mountain a few days ago," you sigh, "not sure if I can find them anymore, though. That's why I've been following this little one around."

You scratch under the seelie's chin. Well, where you would imagine its chin to be, at least. It seems thrilled by the affection.

"It's going to storm soon. You should head back down the mountain and try again later."

"It's urgent," you insist, ready to brush past him and continue the trek up.

He stops you with your wrist in his hand. "Then please, let me accompany you to the top of the mountain. It isn't safe with the Fatui lingering around. It's the least I could do."

You eye him hesitantly, but then your shoulders relax and you sigh again. "Okay, okay. We should hurry and get out of here, then."

He wordlessly follows you up the trail, watching your movements carefully. While you don't seem suspicious, he can never be too sure when it comes to the Fatui. Save for the rustling of pine trees and the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots, empty silence fills the air.

It drives him crazy. So crazy that he decides to speak.

"What's your name?"

The name that leaves your lips makes him smile. He can only think that it really does suit you. 

"My name is–"

"Diluc. Diluc Ragnvindr, right?"

Heat creeps up to his cheeks. Of course you know who he is. He's the most famous person in all of Mondstadt, for Archon's sake.

"I've seen you around the city," you quickly explain, awkwardly fumbling over your words. "And at festivals and such."

Before he can dwell too much on it, your seelie chirps— once, twice, three times as it dives into the snow and slowly melts it away. You suddenly halt in your steps, crouching down to sift through the remainder. An exhale of relief leaves you when you dig out a box, intact and frozen to the touch.

He looks on in curiosity. Your hand brushes the snow off the top of the box and you open it, revealing another couple dozen Cecelias.

"Thank goodness..." and your seelie seems to agree, because it dances around your head with a pleased noise.

You're too busy admiring the flowers to realize the snow has kicked up. He's too busy admiring you to notice, either. It isn't until the seelie dips in front of your face with a panicked garble that you finally tear your eyes away from your box of flowers.

"It started to snow..."

Diluc's gaze drifts from you to the darkening sky. It's much too late to make your way down the mountain. In his time in Snezhnaya he learned one very important rule of surviving the cold: you can't outrun snow.

Your seelie leads you to a small cave in a section of rock, covered in starsilver and crystalflies. There isn't any kindling to make a fire, and he isn't willing to brave this type of storm just for some wood.

Diluc shrugs his coat off his shoulders and wraps it around your shoulders in a single motion. Heat envelops you, warmer than the fire seelie that guided you through the mountains. It’s a warmth that fills you from the pit of your stomach all the way to the tips of your fingers.

The seelie floats between you, trying to do its best to keep the both of you in its light.

It's comfortable and quiet for a while— not a peep from either of you as you listen to the howling of wind and snow outside. 

How did Diluc ever end up here?

Bad luck, karma, anything that would explain why he ended up snowed in atop Dragonspine with you— anything at all other than it was in the stars' design that he be with you right here and now. Fate mocks him.

Even worse, there's a voice in his head telling him that this is exactly where he needs to be right now. He's getting a migraine.

Diluc watches you sift through the remaining ashes of the burnt box, trying to see if there's anything you can salvage. Unfortunately, Diluc's Pyro vision was only good for combat and keeping you warm at this moment.

"I'm... really sorry," he says again, looking away sheepishly. He can't bear to look at the disappointment furrowing in your brows.

The sound of a sigh echoes in the cave, and he finally manages to look at you. To his surprise, you're only staring back at him with soft eyes: no contempt, no anger, no disappointment. It makes his heart sink, not only with guilt, but also because there's just something so sweet about you that it makes him want to hold you closer.

"It's okay. At least a majority of them survived. It'll be plenty."

"If you don't mind me asking, what were they for?"

"A bouquet for a wedding. The bride specifically asked for Cecelias, since it was the first bouquet he ever gifted her," there's a fondness on your face that makes him snort. You look at him funny. "What? It's romantic."

"They're just flowers. What's so sentimental about that?"

"They're not just flowers," you frown, scooting a little closer into his side to soak up more of his heat. The fire seelie's light flickers against your face. "Cecelias only grow in extremely windy places. They're illustrious and elegant, even after growing in such harsh conditions. Isn't that just..." you smile at him, slow and warm. "It's beautiful."

Diluc considers your explanation for a moment, tugging his coat around your shoulders tighter. "I suppose so."

"You suppose?" You laugh. "My my, I didn't know Diluc Ragnvindr was so down-to-earth when it comes to romance."

Your laugh is doing terrible things to him. There's something about it that reminds him of the days he spent wandering the Winery as a boy with Kaeya in tow. The nights he would spend catching crystalflies. Times long since passed. He suddenly aches to be back among the grapevines.

"I don't indulge in that sort of thing."

He never could, so long as there was something ugly and bitter and tainted in his heart.

"You've never fallen in love?"

"Not once."

Love like that doesn't exist. Not in a world like this.

He repeats what he believed was true, chants the mantra in his head until he's dizzy as if trying to convince himself that he isn't already lost in you. The warm orange glow of the seelie dances in your eyes, lights up your smile in a way that makes his stomach turn.

I fell in love at first sight. They were words that he couldn't understand until today.

"Is that so?" You muse, slotting your head in the space between his jaw and shoulder. He doesn’t move away. "You're an unusual man, Diluc."

"Maybe I am."

But he knows that the moment he met you, everything was about to change. You don't even dignify him with a glance as you say it:

"Let's fall in love, then."

The demand is simple and he's absolutely positive you're joking. Something in his soul tugs anyway. He swears one thing at that moment: someway, somehow, he'll make it all up to you.

You are, after all, the first person to remind him of home in a long time. Every aspect of you is so comforting and familiar, even if he can't quite place his finger on it yet.

You reach out to pet your seelie, even though you know your hand will phase through it. "You sure did lead me to some strange treasure, hm?"

It trills happily with a little twirl.

Diluc meets you in winter, in the valley between the peaks of Dragonspine. He meets you, and it smells of burnt wood and ash and Cecelias. It's so cold that you can't feel your fingers but you're smiling in the afterglow of a seelie nonetheless, and so is he.

SPRING

He learns that you own the little flower shop at the edge of Mondstadt, just within the front gates of the city.

You're teaching a young girl, Flora, how to nurture them. And he finds it a little endearing, the way you're so gentle not only with Flora but with the flowers you're showing her: daisies and tulips and Windwheel Asters, all of which are in season right now.

Diluc recognizes you when you open back up for spring, surrounded by boxes stuffed with fresh bouquets. You seem to be in a rush getting organized, holding a stack of boxes instead of taking them one by one and clumsily scattering them around so you can go through them.

He stops you by stepping in front of you, two hands on either side of the stack to steady them as you stumble to a halt.

"Diluc?" You peer from around the boxes. He can only see your curious eyes from this angle. He laughs.

"Sorry to interrupt you when you're so busy. Do you need help?"

"Well–" you do a little hop to straighten up the boxes in your arms, "–it would be nice to have an extra set of hands getting everything ready for the Windblume Festival." You contemplate his offer for a brief moment, then ultimately decide against it. "But I would hate to steal you away from your other responsibilities. You're helping with the festival too, right?"

"I owe you one. Think of this as a favour from a friend," he refutes stubbornly.

"I'm sure many would be missing the help of Diluc Ragnvindr," you tease, shifting around so that your body tilts toward him.

It's then that he can finally look at you fully, with a soft orange apron tied around your waist and Windwheel Asters in your hair to match.

One day, you would go on and explain to him that it was sort of like advertising, and that showing off how nice the blooms look as an accessory brought in a lot of business. Right now all it does is render him breathless.

"They can afford to miss me.” He can't help the smile that creeps its way onto his face at the sight of you— he feels silly about it too, like some lovesick little boy.

You hand off the boxes into Diluc's arms. "Can they? I heard you were supplying all of the wine for the festival. That's a tall order," you giggle, bending down to grab another two boxes of flowers.

"It's... manageable," he answers, making a mental note to himself to buy Adelinde dinner some time as a thank you. "What about you? What are all these boxes for?"

"We're holding a flower gifting service in the plaza, on the night of the big party." He looks at you curiously as you continue, "You can send someone you care for a flower or two, or you can send them anonymously if you just wanted to make someone's day!"

"Sounds..."

You smile knowingly. "Romantic?"

Diluc places the boxes down on the ground and pries the lids off, revealing more and more ready-to-bloom flowers. "Yeah. Romantic," he sighs.

"These will all be in full bloom in time for the festival.” You lean down behind him where he's crouched down, until your chin is nearly resting on his shoulder. He's sure his breath hitches so loud that you can hear it.

The following weeks entail complete mayhem. With the end of spring rapidly approaching, excitement buzzes throughout the city. Notably, he overhears many talking about your business and the new flower gifting service.

The Windblume Festival is a special time for Diluc. His father used to take him and Kaeya as children, back when the world was a little happier. On the night of the festival, he stands at the booth contemplating. Unlike a majority of the citizens of Mondstadt, he has not a clue who to give a flower to. Flora frowns.

"Um, mister, are you ever going to write a name down?"

The quill halts just above the piece of paper. "I don't have to sign my name, do I?"

"You can send it as a secret."

Diluc looks up from where he's bent over, observing you from a few feet away. You're conversing with some ladies who are interested in your bouquets. It was a good business idea to do something like this.

He only meant to support your idea as a friend. Now he's conflicted on whether or not he should dare to write your name.

You look absolutely radiant tonight with magical crystal chunks strewn about your hair and a crown of flowers circling your head. He isn't sure he's ever seen someone so beautiful.

He finally decides. When you turn back around to give him your attention, he's gone.

He's sure that will be the end of it, and that after tonight your brief and strange relationship with him will come to an end. But then you come bounding up to him just as he's about to head out.

"Look! A flower!" You exclaim, shoving it into his face. He's pleased that you like the one he picked out for you.

"Yes, I see that. It's nice."

"Nice? Nice?! It's adorable! I've never gotten one before."

He looks at you funny. "Never?"

"Nope," you laugh sheepishly. "I don't really get out much. Too busy running the shop."

He takes the flower from your hands and tucks it just behind your ear, adding it amongst the crown of Asters surrounding you like a halo.

"It suits you.”

"Does it?" You ask him quietly.

His heart beats furiously. How could he ever steel himself when you have such a big smile on your face, adorned with flowers and gemstones?

"Will you dance with me?" The question leaves him before he can stop it. You look at him in wonder, with his fingers brushing the hair from your face. Whatever evil overtakes him in that moment, he'll have to thank later, because without hesitation you're dragging him into the middle of the plaza with glee.

You come to learn that he isn't exactly what you'd call an elegant dancer. He only knows movements that he learned at banquets held by his family— basic steps born from obligation. 

"I thought you'd be better at this," you tease, allowing him to pull you along by the waist.

"I don't dance," he huffs. "I haven't in a long time."

"We should dance together more, then."

Diluc sighs, but there's a tiny smile spreading across his face. "I guess we should."

"This flower... do you know what it represents?" You gesture to the bloom tucked behind your ear. He shakes his head and you continue, "It means everlasting love."

He laughs at the irony.

"I see. How... fetching."

"I wonder who it was," you smile to yourself. He thinks you look breathtaking.

Diluc's lips curl at your joy. He twirls you under his arm once, twice, then pulls you back into his body as he considers your words.

"Yes, I wonder who," he mutters with an amused expression that you just barely miss. And he knows exactly who, but he's not sure if he could handle seeing you melt into a lovestruck puddle at his admission.

Diluc dances with you in spring, under the warm glow of lanterns and the taste of grape juice staining his tongue. He dances with you, and it smells of the Windwheel Asters that crown your head and mint jelly on your breath.

He tugs you a little closer, just because.

SUMMER

If you were to ask Diluc how he felt about these big "charity" events, he would scoff in your face and lecture you about how they were nothing more than money traps set up by the Knights of Favonius.

He would say it purely out of spite, of course, mostly because he knows Jean is too kindhearted to allow for such shady business. Openly, at least.

His distaste for the Knights and all they stand for are not hidden deep in his heart. He sneers when there's a casualty— mocks their inefficiency at any given opportunity.

You never knew him to be such a bitter man when it came to the Knights. Diluc was good at keeping up his polite and indifferent charade to their practices.

It wasn't until the beginning of summer when you realized his loathing. It was their own incompetence that led a horde of slimes directly into the city, nearly smashing your little shop to bits.

You've never seen him so furious.

Outwardly, he was simply curt with them. He had only a few choice words lined up when they apologized with their heads hung low, watching them with his arms crossed over his chest.

Inwardly, you could see the anger swimming in his eyes.

That was three weeks ago. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth to think that just three weeks ago, they were leading danger straight into your shop and now here they are, asking you to donate to their cause.

"You're sulking," you tell him from across the table. He immediately sits up straight, jaw relaxing.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You know," you smile at him, moving one of your pawns forward, "I think the Knights are happy you're here. Relieved, at the very least, that you don't seem mad at them anymore."

He only frowns whilst knocking your pawn over with a bishop. "I wasn't mad at them."

"You were. Even I could tell."

"They almost got you hurt."

"Almost," you remind him with a small huff. "They were just slimes! No harm no foul."

You make a fatal move, but he doesn't even gloat because he's too busy cursing out the Knights in his head.

"I just find it in poor taste that they would ask for your hard-earned Mora after endangering you like that." He shrugs you off nonchalantly, as if you can't see the fire blazing in his eyes at the mere thought of it. 

You blink at the chessboard as he checkmates you, slumping back in your seat with a tiny pout. "Once again, you've bested me."

"It seems I have," he says, lips finally twitching up into a small smile.

"Don't you ever get tired of beating me at this game? I sure do."

"That's a shame. Same time tomorrow?"

He watches with a laugh as you grumble in irritation. You can't help but notice how quiet it is, even over the chatter of the people in the plaza. There's something off about him today.

It's clear that he doesn't want to be here, volunteering his time to the Knights for a cause he has no faith in. It was a favour for Jean, he told you, to which you mused that he owed a lot of friends favours.

To be a noble in Mondstadt, and especially the wealthiest, Diluc is obligated to attend all sorts of gatherings he detests. You can see it written all over his face.

"Hey," you call out to him softly, leaning over the table. Your voice is a hush as you tell him: "Let's get out of here."

He glances around. "I'm expected to be here, you know?” He laughs once more, though he seems to be considering your offer. He decides to indulge you. "Where would you like to go?"

You think for a moment, brows furrowed. He watches the minute twitch of your lips, the creases of your smile; everything about you is so alive and beautiful.

Then, you point. You point high, with a breathless giggle. 

"There," you say, gesturing toward the giant statue of Barbatos, "let's go up there."

He almost flat out rejects you, wanting to scold you about how dangerous it would be and that, for someone without a vision, you sure do have the gall to even suggest it.

But then he sees the excitement twinkling in your eyes, which are already scrunched up from how big your smile is. How could he refuse?

Diluc ends up trailing behind you, inconspicuously hugging his coat close to his body. You don't realize why until you're standing at the feet of the statue.

You gasp at the bottle of wine tucked into his coat. "Did you steal that?"

"The Winery provided all of this. I would hardly consider it stealing," he chuckles.

You nudge him with your elbow, a grin on your face as you accept the bottle into your hands. "I didn't know you were so sly, Diluc."

"I used to do this all the time when I was a kid."

"Steal wine bottles?" You look at him with wide eyes and an impressed smile.

"The maids forbade me from drinking at the Winery's banquets. Try telling a thirteen year old boy not to do something, see what happens," he huffs in amusement.

"You don't even like wine," you remind him. Diluc only hums in response, grabbing it and stuffing it back into his coat as he takes his first leap up the stone.

"Consider it a gift.” He twists around so he can look down at you where you stand, watching him with a mixture of fascination and horror.

His hand extends to yours. For as many times in this life as he is willing to offer it, you would take it.

He helps haul you up to the very top, barely breaking a sweat as he watches you climb beside him. After all, he withstood countless adversaries in his time in Snezhnaya: climbed mountains as tall as the sky with nothing but his claymore. 

When you ask how he's so calm about this, he only tells you that he used to climb to the roof of the manor when he was a boy.

He had a lot of secrets kept caged up in his body, you realized many months ago. Diluc was never too vocal about his time before he returned to Mondstadt.

You do remember, however, that at the banquet they threw for him to celebrate his return home, he seemed cold and indifferent to the warm welcome. In fact, it was like his mind was entirely elsewhere. You can picture the day well— it was the largest order of flowers you'd ever received after all.

You're glad he's settled back into Mondstadt, at least. You just never thought you'd have a chance to actually meet him.

He watches as you nervously teeter over to the edge of the statue, peering down with a nervous gulp. You relax when his hands steady you, gently guiding you to sit down in a more safe position.

"I've never been so high up off the ground!" You cry out toward the city, feet dangling over the edge of the Archon's hands.

"It's nice, isn't it? Much different than the kind of heights you feel on Dragonspine."

You take in a long breath of fresh air, as if savouring the wind at this height. "It's pretty.” You finally conclude. There's a dreamy sigh on your lips that makes him laugh.

He uncorks the bottle he lugged up with him, passing it over to you. Instead of taking it, your head tilts back and he takes the opportunity to pour the wine past your lips himself.

Silence festers between you two as he pours the sweet alcohol into your mouth, all rational thought being carried away by the wind.

He isn't sure how long you stay that way: shoulders touching, hair blowing, and feet dangling in the air. For someone who wanted to climb the statue to see the city, you sure are being shameless in your staring directly at him.

You're looking at him in a way that makes him melt— eyes so laser focused and crinkling with your smile. You look at him like he's the only person in the world. Right now, he might really be that important. His heart swells in his chest.

"What is it?" Speak your mind. Let me hear all your crazy thoughts.

"You came all the way up here with me. You came up here. With me."

You emphasize your point by extending your arms out to your sides, feeling the breeze wash over you.

He knows what’s coming next. You love clichés. And he doesn't stop you, for some reason, when you open your mouth again just as he predicted.

"I think I'm falling for you."

"I would hope not. We're pretty high up in the air."

You swat his arm with a huff, face turning a little more serious. "I mean it!"

Diluc grows quiet, looking out toward the city. His home. The place he grew up, and the place he'll spend the rest of his days. The distant sound of people chattering, water flowing from the fountain, music playing: all sounds he's grown so familiar with and yet—

"I love you."

—he never thought it could be so beautiful until he climbed up here with you.

"You love a lot of things," he muses.

"Like what?"

He looks at you softly. "Like Cecelias. Mondstadt hashbrowns for breakfast. And you say you hate the cold but I know you love it up in Dragonspine— think it looks so pretty with all the snow."

You nod, mulling over his statement before asking: "What else?"

"I know you love that orange apron; Flora's mother sewed it for you herself, didn't she? And you love Anemo slimes, think they're the cutest thing in the world even though I've seen them explode in your face multiple times before."

You're listening to him intently, watching his lips as he lists off all the things he knows about you. And he's been going for so long that you have to wonder if you've really only known him for eight months.

"You love Starfell Lake and making wishes while you blow away Dandelion seeds. You love fire seelies and tea imported from Liyue and going to charity events like this even though you don't owe the Knights any of your time."

Another silence settles between you.

"So I'm a romantic. Even then, you still won't accept that I love you?" You ask him quietly.

He hesitates only for a moment, but you still catch it. "I won't."

"What is it with you and your cynicism about romance?"

"It's not like I don't believe love exists—" He’s looking at you right now, after all: living, breathing proof that Diluc could love something. "—I just... it's not for me."

"Not for you?" You repeat back to him in disbelief. "Love is beautiful, you know. You don't even want to give it a chance?"

You're looking at him earnestly, both hands pressed against the stone of the statue beneath you as you twist to stare him down.

"It's complicated," he murmurs, tearing his eyes away from yours. In his peripherals, he can still see you facing him. He doesn't dare look at you again for the sake of his own resolve.

Love was always a messy emotion for Diluc. To love was to trust completely, to be vulnerable and open. But he's been betrayed one too many times for his heart not to ache at the idea of falling in love so willingly.

It terrifies him— to have someone holding his heart in their hands with the chance that they could crush it into dust with the snap of their fingers.

Diluc was alone for many years in the northern region of Snezhnaya. He's good at being lonely. It's a part of the air he breathes, something engraved deep into his bones, terrible and grim and consuming his flesh until he's nothing.

He hadn't even realized he had grown accustomed to it. Not until he met you. Not until you stole his heart at first sight. Not until you made him understand all those times his father would speak of his mother once she was gone. It was always easier to be alone until he met you, and suddenly you came along and flipped the whole world onto its head.

Now Diluc can't be alone— he was losing the ability to sit in solitary silence without his thoughts screaming in his ears. He was constantly thinking about you. And it was always distracting things, like wondering when he would see your smile next, or when you would ever dance with him again.

Your head falls against his shoulder, hair tickling under his chin as you rest there. As if it were a remnant of eons past, his lips find the crown of your head reflexively. And you don't pull away by any means, allowing him to be affectionate the only way he can and accepting him as he comes.

The words don't need to be said anymore. He already knows. It's a story rewritten a million times over, buried somewhere deep in his soul.

He decides that maybe, just once in this life, it would be okay to take the risk. If it was you, he would be alright.

His arm comes around your waist protectively, pulling you closer into his body as if you'd disappear with the wind if he let go. He holds you there quietly, listening to your soft murmurs.

Diluc Ragnvindr deserves to be loved, is what you're telling him.

And despite the scars littering his body and the chains wrapped around his heart, he allows himself to believe it.

Diluc loves you in the summer, in the hands of the Anemo Archon. He loves you, and it smells of Dandelion Wine and the lingering scent of sweet flowers in your hair and all the things that make him dream of you.

For the first time since he returned to Mondstadt, he doesn't feel alone.

AUTUMN

It's the anniversary.

Diluc remembers the day too well— the smell of blood and flesh and how cold a corpse is. Sometimes it's all he can think about.

He cried when his father passed, as all boys would. Then, a fire replaced the hollow sadness in his heart, something fierce and dangerous and unhinged.

Fierce and dangerous and unhinged. Descriptors that he would consider second nature to him behind closed doors of the Tavern and hidden in the grapevines of the Winery. No one would ever know the real Diluc Ragnvindr, hellbent on vengeance since he was only a boy crying at his father's grave.

It wasn't until you came along that he felt something new blooming within him— something like beautiful flowers and a heartbeat slow and steady as waves on the shore, a yearning so powerful that it displaced the ugly bitterness in his heart.

Nowadays, Diluc felt like a confusing mixture of both light and darkness— treading the thin line that separated him from living in the moment with you, and seeking revenge for the past.

He doesn't realize the conflict within him has been bubbling into a raging fire, tearing him in half from the inside out, until today.

He talked to you about his father once, over a plate of sugar-frosted slime and Liyue imported jasmine tea. It was a day like any other, with you seated across from him having an afternoon snack.

My father liked sugar-frosted slime, he told you. It was the first time he'd ever let it be known that Crepus was on his mind, ever so present. A ghost haunting him. You didn't think much of it. Diluc seemed perfectly content living through his memories.

It was coincidence that brought you here on the exact day the world lost Crepus. Or, perhaps, the nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you to get out of bed and come here.

Your son is a wonderful man, is what you first whispered to the grave. And then you couldn't stop the words from pouring out of you, rambling on and on about how he raised a good boy, and how Diluc had taken your heart the moment you laid eyes on him.

He finds you sitting there in the rain with a sad excuse for an umbrella popped up above your head. His father's grave is adorned with flowers of all kinds— a respect that no one had ever paid him before.

You don't realize how much you move him with such a simple act. He had long since lost faith both in the Knights and the citizens that once looked up to his father so much; after all, it was only he and Kaeya who ever came around to visit.

It's not until he crumbles to his knees beside you that you even notice his tears, your smile fading as he looks at you in confusion.

You're not sure you've ever seen Diluc cry before.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, head tilting into your palm when you reach forward to wipe his tears with your thumb.

"Saying hello," you respond as if it's the obvious answer.

"You... huh?"

"It would be rude to fall in love with you without at least introducing myself first."

"You didn't have to do—" Diluc gestures to the grave, "—all this."

You smile. "I wanted to.” And the truth is as simple as that.

You were too good for this world. Something beautiful in a place where only ugliness lives. He almost hates how much hope you give him.

The world was always black and white for Diluc. Recently, he's been finding it hard to distinguish the two. 

There was right and there was wrong and there you were teetering between them, balancing hope and despair. It scared him to think of all the ways he could lose you, how he could one day end up bringing flowers to a grave with your name on it just as you did for his father.

What's the point of love if all it ends with is hurt?

He's sniffling, trying to chew on his bottom lip to distract himself from the ache in his chest. You notice his sudden quietness, turning to look at him.

"Hey.” Your voice is soft, as if he would shatter if you even spoke to him wrong right now. He might. "It's just me. It's okay."

"I don't cry. I hate crying," he admits through his tears.

He can't remember when he had cried last. Was it the day he came home? Or was it longer, like during those lonely nights spent hiding away in the mountains? The only vivid memory he has with tears staining his cheeks was the day his father died.

"You don't have to be ashamed of crying," you tell him, using your thumbs to wipe his lashes. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"I'm Diluc Ragnvindr. I'm not supposed to cry."

"You're Diluc Ragnvindr," you repeat back slowly, pulling his head toward you and cradling it against your shoulder. "You're human. What's wrong with that?"

Diluc doesn't feel human. He hasn't felt human in a long time. He's been something more like a ghost wandering around the places he used to love. Memories tainted by hatred and grief, it was as if he would never find beauty in this world again.

"I'm not," he breathes. "I'm not anything."

You pry him off of you. He blinks at you through his tears.

"Do you really believe that?"

He goes quiet, only staring at you as he soaks in your earnest eyes.

"I don't know what I am. I don't know what to do in this world anymore."

He's a mess of emotions— he almost wishes he were back in Snezhnaya where everything made sense. Where his entire existence was built up of seeking retribution. To a time when he knew where he belonged.

Diluc Ragnvindr only ever knew revenge. Only ever knew how to inflict pain. Only ever knew how to break kneecaps and hide in shadows and keep his lonely body warm with his Pyro vision.

He doesn't know love. He doesn't know how to do it without fighting the fire burning in his stomach when he grieves—

"You're just Diluc. Do you ever need to be anything more than that?"

—or maybe he hasn't given it the chance it deserves. The chance he deserves.

He realizes then, what love must be. What kept him up at night, the feeling raging in his chest:

There was no corner of Teyvat he could ever call home without you anymore. He belonged here, with you.

And accompanied with this realization is something that he hasn't felt in many years. Peace. A stillness in his body and the calm in his mind which was usually racing with contemplation— something he never thought he would feel again.

And it's because of you. Only you. It would only ever be because of your love.

"Would you accept me as I am?"

You smile. "I always have."

"You don't know who I am. The things I've done."

"Are they that bad?"

"Awful."

You hum in thought, thumb mindlessly brushing his cheek back and forth. "We have all the time in the world for you to explain," you add with another soft smile, "I believe you have your reasons. I believe in you."

He laughs, exhales shaky. "You're insane."

"Am I? But I think you're falling for me anyways."

So what if he is? He can't find a single reason wrong with it anymore.

The rain has started to let up, the world around him lighting up with warm sun. And you look so radiant like this, surrounded by the fog brought in by the storm and shining in sweet sunlight.

"Do you think we have your father’s approval?"

He doesn't have to answer that. Not when you're already leaning in closer to him.

The diminishing pitter-patter of rain against your shabby umbrella fills his ears. You're so close that he swears he can hear your heart thundering in your chest. 

Diluc has always been brave; he was a terrible troublemaker of a child that grew into a body too big for a boy— some part of him that he kept locked away for the sake of living his life as his father would have wanted. If he wanted to lead an empire of a business, he would need to grow up eventually.

He's always been brave, but he was still too much of a coward to stop using his father as a way out. Because he knows Crepus would have wanted Diluc to find happiness, not vengeance.

It's about time he stopped being afraid.

"I think he wants me to tell you something."

"And what's that?" You smile.

"That in this life—" he breathes, "—in this and the next and the one after until the stars of Teyvat run out, I will love you."

You snicker. He can feel it rumbling in his own chest. "How romantic," you tease with his breath in your lungs.

He shuts you up with his mouth.

Diluc kisses you in autumn, with the golden leaves of change. Diluc kisses you warm and sweet and long. He can't remember what was filling his senses at that moment. Your bodies were too close for him to care.

WINTER

Winter was always a bothersome season.

Even in his days away from Mondstadt, in all the time he spent roaming the north, he never quite grew accustomed to the freezing temperatures and harsh weather.

When Diluc left for Snezhnaya, he left his childhood behind, too. He abandoned who he was on the doorstep of his manor, put all his funds into the hands of Adelinde with no intent of returning, and left in the middle of the night without a word.

Half of him expected to die. The other half expected to not return by choice.

For the first few months he spent adjusting to the northern climate, he tucked himself away in a hidden cavern away from the Capital where the Tsaritsa resided. He was in no condition to battle, let alone challenge a god.

He spent many days stealthily hunting down lower ranking Fatui— people that no one would miss. At eighteen years old he had enough blood on his hands to guarantee Celestia's smiting. Blood that, as he learned, does not wash off.

He had to teach himself how to travel through thick snow. Through blizzards and hail and subzero temperatures nothing alike to those felt on Dragonspine.

And when he finally returned home, battle worn and hardened and cold, he couldn't stand the snow. Every crunch under his boots reminded him of the times he had to lug around his greatsword through treacherous enemy lines. Even the sound put him on edge for incoming attacks.

It wasn't like he was ever particularly fond of the cold but for a long time, as a boy, he would simply tolerate it. He had his Pyro vision, after all, and it never truly caused him any harm.

When Kaeya received his Cryo vision, things took a turn.

The cold represented nothing but death for Diluc. It was pain and grief and sorrow— loss in magnitudes indescribable to anyone else. It was bloodshed, the terrible stench of flesh, metal on metal. It was homesickness.

There was nothing poetic or beautiful about it. It only reminded him of all the things he had lost.

He would roll his eyes when Venti sang about the first snowfall of the season. His Pyro vision would glow until the ice melted around him. It's impractical, he told you when you first met and he was guiding you back down the mountain. It doesn't do any good except make you slip and fall.

Diluc remembers quite vividly how you snorted at that. And, like always, you went on to say things that would make his head spin. Find beauty in life even where you think it doesn't exist.

He didn't heed your advice all too much, instead grumbling about how his claymore was getting heavy and that he wanted to get back to the Winery as soon as possible.

But then he found that it was hard to ignore your words. Especially when you were showing him exactly how to do it— popping frozen grapes into his mouth that were somehow a little sweeter; mixing him hot cocoa the way your mother taught you; throwing snowballs at him from behind trees and thinking you've won until he nails you straight in the face in retaliation.

Winter always brought a smile to your face. And how could he not smile when you are?

The best part of it all was that the cold made you cling to him a little closer. A little tighter. So close that he swears he can hear your heart beating in his own ears, savouring his warmth unlike anyone he'd ever met before.

"My personal fire seelie," you joked once. He pinched your cheek until you slapped his hand away and buried your face back into his chest.

Diluc is pretty certain that he hasn't been this happy in a long time. Not since before his father passed, at least. Even with the nervous sigh that leaves him, you're urging him forward.

"I can't believe you never learned how to skate!"

"It's... not something noble families would have approved of."

"But you have this whole lake in your backyard!" You gawk. He only stifles a laugh, stumbling clumsily into your arms. You catch him as if you'd done it a thousand times before.

"Show me how it's done."

"It's like dancing," you say with an encouraging grin, pulling him along with you slowly. You're half right. Some aspects of it do remind him of a warm spring night, with music playing and your laughter in his ears. On the other hand, he can't seem to keep his skates straight.

"The ice won't fall through, right?" He murmurs anxiously, nodding at the Pyro vision hung on his belt.

"If it does, I'll save you!"

"I don't think you'd be able to carry me up from the water," he deadpans.

"I'd save you," you insist.

"Really?"

"Yes, really! For as many times as you need me to save you, I will."

And you did save him. Though, that statement is better left unspoken for the sake of the heat rising to his cheeks. Instead, he leans in to press a kiss to your forehead.

"I love you," he whispers into your skin.

Find beauty in life. Another set of words he never thought he would understand. But he's staring at beauty right in its face and it smells like Cecelias. Dances like a shooting star. Loves unconditionally.

Diluc always loathed winter, until you redefined it into a thing he missed dearly—

Home.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

crossposted to ao3!

🏷️ @rintosei hi babe its up <3

++ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

[summary] wrio’s spouse winds up in prison. special treatment ensues.

[cws] gender neutral reader. fluff.

“What you did was incredibly stupid.”

“I’d like to think it was very brave, actually.” You quip back, lips pursed as you turn up your chin. “You should be proud of me, really.”

“I should be proud that you got yourself thrown in prison?” You don’t have to look up to know that Wriothesley is sporting an incredulous expression. “Did they knock your head around a bit before bringing you down here?”

“You’re acting like I murdered someone.” You finally meet his gaze, and you resist the urge to sink down into your seat at the clear disapproval in his eyes. “All I did was—”

“Break into the Opera Epiclese and destroy government property.”

“That’s such a trumped-up charge!” You huff and roughly cross your arms over your chest, eyes narrowing as you think back on the charges that had been slapped down onto you by that damned archon. “You trip in the dark and accidentally fall into the oratrice and all of a sudden you’re a criminal. Hmph!”

“Yeah, exactly. It also doesn’t help that you broke in—”

“—I left my bracelet in there after the trial! Was I just supposed to leave it behind and potentially lose it forever? The condition of the lost and found in that place is downright terrible—the guards pocket all the good stuff.”

“You could have bought another one.”

“Not like this one.” You look down to the gray bracelet encircling your wrist, and a warmth spreads in your chest as you gently twist it around, finger rubbing over the messily written engraving on the inside of it. “This was a gift.”

“Hardly.” He sighs, and your eyes flick up to watch as he runs his hands through his already messy hair. “It’s just scrap metal I bent up and welded because I couldn’t buy you proper jewelry back when I was a prisoner.” It’s his turn to look at the bracelet.

“You were so creative back then.” You smile a bit wider. “I remember you used to have something new made every time I came to visit you. What was that one thing you made? The one that we painted together?”

“The ballerina music box.” He groaned, looking a bit embarrassed, and you snapped your fingers.

“The ballerina music box!” The ballerina was a bit oddly shaped, and the box had sharp corners on one side and rounded on the other, and the song the box played was distorted and sounded more creepy than relaxing due to some disfigured cogs, but you loved it nonetheless, and had even sobbed in thanks when he had first presented the gift to you. “I love that little box.”

“It looks like a child made it.”

“A child in the throes of eleazar, yes,” you nod, and his mouth opens a bit in surprise before he huffs out a laugh. “But I still love it… because you made it.” You give him a sweet smile, and you can see him soften up before your very own eyes; broad shoulders losing that rigidness, lids lowering, crease between his dark, thick brows disappearing.

“You’re tryin’ to butter me up.”

“Mhm,” you nod. “Is it working?”

“Not at all, jailbird.” He gives you a smile of his own, and despite the clear sarcasm in it, you can’t help the little flutter your heart does at the sight. “No special treatment for you.” So he says, yet he had placed a cup of tea down for you the moment you were brought to his office, and had even tried to inconspicuously nudge the basket of cookies in your direction, pretending not to notice when you reached for one. “Spouse or not.”

“What a mean man.” You slouch down in your seat. “I treasure the gifts that my lovely, amazing, strong, handsome, and so so so incredibly smart husband gives me and what do I get in return? A criminal record and unfair treatment! I’m suing the entire nation the moment I’m free!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves his hand in the air as if fanning away the conversation, and now it’s your turn to huff. “For the few days that you’re here, you’ll be working directly with me in exchange for coupons.” He takes a slow sip of his tea, adams apple bobbing as he swallows, before gently setting the cup back down onto its small plate. “I’ll make your first job real easy to get you in the swing of things.”

“How kind of you.”

He just barely contains an amused smile. “Very. Now…” He shifts in his seat. “Give me a kiss.”

“I’m married, Your Grace.”

“I’m sure your husband won’t mind. Kiss. Now.” He taps a finger against his lips, and after a moment you stand up and round his desk, hands finding his shoulders as you bend at the waist so your noses brush.

“My husband is a very good fighter, by the way. When he finds out you twisted his spouses’s arm like this, he’ll pummel you.”

“I can handle him.” A hand snags you by the waist, forcing you down into his lap, and you only have time to let out a quiet yelp before Wriothesley’s lips are on yours. The kiss is slow, sensual, and it brings a warmth to your cheeks and covers you with a bashful cloak when he pulls back to let his eyes roam over your face. “I’ve gotta say… your husband is a real lucky guy to snatch up someone as cute as you.”

“Hmph. Seems like you’re trying to butter me up now.”

“Is it working?” He presses his face into your neck, his lips pulling into a smile against your skin, and you have to fight back one of your own.

“Not at all, jailbird.”

++ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

[summary] wrio missed his wife, and she missed him just as much. two simps in love.

[cws] fluff. fem reader -> wriothesley’s wife. reader is a mondstadt native. kissing.

Wriothesley’s cup of tea pauses halfway to his mouth as there’s a knock at his office door. His fingers tighten unconsciously around the handle, that incessant throbbing at his temples that had been dying out suddenly tapping into its nth life.

He contemplates ignoring it; pretending he didn’t hear it and indulging in his fresh brew, but he’s never been one to shirk off his work, no matter how inconsequential the task.

He sets the cup down rougher than necessary, and the legs of his chair scrape loudly against the floor as he pushes it back from his desk and stands to his feet. Someone better be dead or on the verge.

It was an unspoken rule that Wriothesley wasn’t to be bothered at this time -a quarter after five until six- because it was official tea time, a very, very important time in his day that let the inhabitants in Meropide see his most agreeable side… although he had heard talk from a few gossipy guards and prisoners that his ‘pissy attitude’ this past month had nothing to do with his interrupted tea times, but rather that his wife had gone back to Mondstadt to visit family.

“You know how he gets when he doesn’t see her after a while—downright scary. I’ve never seen a man look so enraged and distraught at the same time.”

“He put me on pipe restoration duty —don’t laugh, it isn’t funny! Worst job in the whole place, I swear— for the next six months all because my wife dropped by with a bento on my break. Apparently no one can be happy when his missus is away.”

“I caught him staring at her picture the other day, y’know the one he keeps in that chain around his neck, and sighing like some schoolgirl. I nearly thought my daughter had somehow gotten herself arrested and thrown down here when I heard all those lovesick sighs.”

It was all hearsay and speculation, of course. Wriothesley could manage just fine with you away - he was a grown man, a weathered man, a man who could function fully without the company of his wife.

That’s right, he thinks to himself. He’s been doing just fine in your absence, a bit quicker to anger than usual, but with the looming threat of being turned into a big, sopping puddle right below his feet, could you really blame him?

The door is wrenched open, strands of black and gray flying back from where they rested against his forehead due to the strong gust of wind he created.

“What is it now?” He nearly hisses out, but he manages to get a reign on it last minute, the words coming out a bit strained instead. He eyes the guard standing in front of him, their eyes flitting between the crease between his brows and the floor. “Spit it out before I—”

He stops abruptly when he hears a voice that he knows intimately well, and had he possessed any shame when it came publicly displaying the love he harbored for you, he would have been a touch embarrassed at the speed of which his frown smoothed out and the throbbing in his head disappeared, a sparkle in his eyes as his shoulders lose a bit of their tension.

“Oh? He has? Thank you for telling me, Sigewinne. I’ll get right on that.” You come rounding the corner with the small doctor at your side, a knapsack in your hands, and had Wriothesley been any less sane, he would have swore that he could feel the rays of the sunshine beaming down on his skin and fresh air filtering into his lungs when you turned your gaze to him, scornful as it was.

You’re fitted in a dress that’s customary for the women in your homeland to wear, and flowers are weaved into your hair, and the ring on your finger seems to shine a bit brighter.

“Wriothesley.” You march up to him, eyebrows knitted together, and push your finger against his chest. “What is this I hear about you acting like a tyrant?”

“You look beautiful.” He breathes out.

“And going to the Pankration ring? You know those poor people don’t stand a chance against you. That’s just bullying.”

“Let me take your bag, it looks heavy.”

“And you haven’t been eating right, either! Look at your face — you’ve lost weight!” He transfers the bag from your hands to his, and when his fingers brush against yours, he finally lets a smile bloom on his face, being met with a huff. “Don’t smile at me. I’m mad at you.”

“Can’t help it, happy to see you.” You falter a bit, corners of your lips twitching, but you hold strong, choosing to save face in front of the onlookers—always put up a good fight, especially when others are looking, is what he had told you once upon a time. “I’ve missed you so much.” It comes out in a low murmur, eyes locked onto yours and refusing to stray, even when you decide that his gaze is a bit too heavy for the setting and avert your own.

“I-well-you…just get inside your office.”

He’s nice enough to hold back a chuckle, instead stepping to the side so that you can shuffle past him and inside. Before he shuts the door, his gaze turns icy and his smile thins out as he lets his eyes sweep over everyone present. A resounding groan is heard, the unspoken promise loud and clear, and then he’s pushing the door shut and turning on his heel.

You’re on him in a second, arms wrapped around his waist as you bury your face into his chest. He returns the hug just as quick, thick, burly arms circling around your shoulders as his head dips down so he can stuff his nose into your hair and breathe your scent in.

Your voice comes out muffled as you try to speak, and he loosens his hold on you a bit, allowing you to pop your head up so you can look up at him. There’s a halfhearted pout on your lips, and his response is a reflex as he leans down to give you a peck once, twice, three times before moving on to place one on the tip of your nose.

“You were supposed to let me scold you out there, birdie. Now everyone’s gonna know that I let you off easy.”

“Let me off easy? I’d say this is the meanest you’ve ever been to me,” he gives an exaggerated expression of hurt. “You haven’t even told me you missed me, or that you’re happy to see me, or that you’ll never leave again because you couldn’t stand being away from me.”

“You’re so dramatic.” You smile despite yourself, and he kisses you again, scarred hands moving to cradle your cheeks. You part with a gasp for air, and its his turn to smile when you stretch up to reconnect your lips, the lack of air not deterring you in the slightest.

“Breathe, sweetheart…” He rasps against your lips, and you suck in a breath, eyes slowly blinking as you tug at the material of his shirt. There’s a rush of emotions that washes over him at the unspoken confirmation that you missed him just as much as he had missed you, and he lets his hands wander down to settle on your waist, fingers flexing as they squeeze at the flesh there through the material of your dress.

“Well, well, well,” he starts, and you blink out of your stupor to don a guilty expression. “Looks like you haven’t been eating right, either, hypocrite.” He lightly pinches at your side, and you squeal out a laugh as you lightly bat at his hand.

“Have I told you that I missed you, and that I’m sooo happy to see you, and that I’ll never, ever leave again because I can’t stand being away from you?” You flutter your lashes up at him, direct that heart-stopping smile up at him, and for a split second he thinks that the primordial sea has broken the seal and reduced him to nothing but a puddle at your feet.

“Careful now, words like that are liable to kill a man, and this place isn’t fitting for a sweet girl like you.”

“Oh? Then maybe I should leave earlier than I intended t—” He quiets you with a kiss, and you laugh into it, earning a gentle nip on your bottom lip. Your teasing smile settles into something sweeter, tender, vulnerable, and it mirrors him perfectly.

You both speak your next words in unison.

“I missed you.”

how would you write wriothesley needing reassurance?

x : TO LOVE A GOOD THING :*+ﾟ

in which: wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him.

warnings: 1.4k words, reverse hurt/comfort with angst, wrio being insecure sorry, gn!hot-headed!reader, reader gets into a fight, wrio patches you up.

a/n: thank u @sixosix for helping me out during my my hard times. this fic was already half written before I got this ask but then it was like the stars aligned and anon came to save a fic that might have never made it out of the drafts. anyways, idk if the writing is good, but i came, i saw, i conquered. enjoy!

Wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him.

If he voiced these thoughts to you, you’d shut him down without another breath. He can almost picture it now, the way your nose would scrunch as a precursor to all the statements you will make rejecting his. He can hear all the things you’d say, insisting ‘that’s just not true!’, and then he’ll laugh to cover up the way his chest will swell with pure adoration. 

But it is true. 

Loving you is easier than breathing. The heart that sits in his chest beats harder for you than the circulation of oxygen in his lungs, but he breathes because it keeps him alive. If he’s alive, then he gets to see you, the best thing that’s happened to him his entire, unfortunate life. 

He thinks he loves you more than you love him because you once told him your favourite flowers were glaze lilies. However, when you complained that they only bloomed during the night, Wriothesley knew that he would wrestle the sun just so the moon could shine a little longer. 

He thinks he loves you more than you love him because you linger in the crevices of his mind. Down in the Fortress of Meropide, the days may pass excruciatingly slow sometimes and the only cure for him is yearning for the one he loves most. Perhaps if he wishes hard enough, you’ll burst through those doors with a declaration of a new discovery and sit on his desk, avoiding the paperwork. 

Most times, his wishful thinking doesn’t work out. On the rare occasion it does, Wriothesley will be fortunate enough to end the work day with your palms on his cheeks, gently motivating him to finish what’s left. 

You’ll peel stickers off his body, ignorant of the fact that he saves them up just for an excuse to feel your hands on him, then he’ll kiss you in thanks, eyes fluttering closed. Near you, he can finally let his guard down, let the gauntlets and coat fall as he sinks into you. 

Wriothesley already feels bad whenever you come down to a place so unforgiving and confronting. He tries to brighten up the place sometimes, but metal can only shine so much before it rusts again. 

Is it pathetic to want to better yourself for another person? Or is it love?

Wriothesley thinks he loves you more than you love him, and he’s perfectly fine to continue living with that fact. As long as he’s the one you return to every night, he’ll be fine to live with whatever burdens you press onto him.

He just didn’t expect that one of said ‘burdens’ would result with you, Sigewinne’s infirmary, and your face littered with cuts and bruises. 

“You should have seen the other guy,” is your poor attempt at humour as your lover frets everywhere, pacing back and forth as the small nurse tends to you. His heavy boots resounding against metal floors.

“Seriously, Y/n, what were you thinking?” The warden clearly isn’t amused by your joke, the only thing keeping him back from completely lecturing you is Sigewinne and that stun gun of hers. 

A small yelp slips past your lips when she applies some balm on your sore knuckles and Wriothesley winces, as if feeling your pain. “They were talking bad about you, Wriothesley, what did you want me to do?”

“Nothing!”

Sigewinne gives him a look. He immediately shuts his mouth. “I can’t do that,” you insist.

“You can, and you should’ve. I can defend my own honour. Besides, you didn’t need to lower yourself to the level of crooks just to prove a point.”

“But-”

“-The guys you beat up were just admitted here. Normally after receiving a life’s sentence, the first name that’s slandered is mine as an outlet for anger. This is normal, Y/n, they’ll continue on to realise that the Fortress of Meropide is not their standard prison and reform. You, however, might have just set back their progress.”

Your head drops, a little in shame, but mostly because you don’t have anything to say in retaliation. Silence envelops the dim space, none of you brave enough to break the tension that came from Wriothesley’s scolding. With a few final words from Sigewinne about what medicine to apply, when, and what not to do, she leaves the room quite hurriedly, as if eager to let you and Wriothesley talk about it alone.

Immediately, he crosses the room to where you sit, closing in on your personal space. 

“The things they were saying about you were unforgivable. Meropide’s great duke may forgive, but I won’t.” 

“Nothing is as unforgivable as you getting hurt.” Care laces his voice this time when he talks to you. 

“You won’t throw me in prison for this, right?” You ask with a bashful smile, one that sends him reeling.

“Not prison, no,” he coughs. “However, I can’t not reprimand you.”

“Fine. I guess this just means that I love you more.”

He knows you’re kidding, that you’re only trying to make him feel better because the grin on your face is nothing short of mischievous. Part of him falters, cracks like an earthquake splitting the land apart and pulling him under. To stabilise himself, his rough palms find purchase on both sides of your jaw and his forehead is pressed flushed to yours.

(You don’t love him more, how can you love someone as ragged as him?)

“Impossible,” he murmurs against your mouth. 

“Really, let these bruises be a reminder,” you chuckle. His thumb ghosts over a bruise on your cheek and his heart aches at the way you wince, even if just slightly. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t be here, sat on a hospital bed with wounds he inadvertently caused.

You wouldn’t be here, in a dingy, dreary Fortress that you’re only obligated to visit because of him.

(Oh, but he hopes you never leave. The day you go and never come back is the day Wriothesley will turn all of Teyvat upside down just to search for you. Where is his place if not by your side?)

There’s a warm poke to his cheek that’s quickly followed by a damp residual. Wriothesley quickly realises that you wiped a tear away, and he curses the following few that spill. You shouldn’t waste your efforts on him: a man half-coherent, and wholly undeserving of you.

“Love, oh, love,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the bruised area. “Why did you do this?” 

“I already told you,” you hum. “Because I love you.”

“I’m not worth it.”

Your hand stills. “What do you mean by that?”

“This happened because of me,” there’s pain in Wriothesley’s voice when it cracks. “You didn’t need to harm yourself for me, I’m more of a burden than you think, Y/n, nothing good will come out of loving me too much.”

For a second, everything stills. The beating of his heart, your breathing, the dull humming of the fortress’ mechanics, it all becomes silenced. The world only kicks up again when you speak.

“How could you say that about yourself?” You reprimand, shaking his face lightly. “A ‘burden’? Are you hearing yourself right now, Wriothesley? You’re not making any sense right now!”

There’s a passionate look in your eyes. One he doesn’t think a man like him deserves.

“I do not love you for ‘good things’ to come out of them, I love you because you are the good thing, and I will do anything for you to remain the way you are.”

Oh, he might cry again. Are there tears in the corners of his eyes? How can he help it when you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him?

“Don’t write me off as some poor soul whose subjected to your love,” you whisper, but he hangs on to every word you say. “Your love is not a burden I bear, but rather, the most fortunate thing I’ve ever had the luxury of cherishing.”

Unable to hold himself back any longer, Wriothesley presses his lips to yours in an all-consuming kiss. He drinks up all of your praise and lets it settle in his gut to bloom, untethering himself from the chains that rubbed his wrists raw. You love him, you love him more than he thought possible. 

How lucky he is that you pull him closer, selfishly taking all of him.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

3 am brainrot

Soulmate, but Genshin Impact Style

Warning: angst (lots of potential to be fluff and comfort ending tho)

Vision "resonates" with each other and a thin red line connects your vision to their vision

Thin red line disappears, frays, or splits off when something is wrong with the connection or the other person

You can use their element and they can use yours. If you are the same element it provides an elemental increase.

Element exchange also stops or weakens when there's something wrong with the connection or the other person

There's a kind of "sixth sense" activated wherein you can kind of feel each other's psyche

Imagining what it would be like for power hungry Scaramouche to find out he has access to another element. Meets a complete stranger and suddenly he's stronger. Starts to keep you close only for that reason, doesn't care much about your well being in general. Then finding out that he can STILL use your element even if the two of you are far apart. You part ways rather abruptly, and he's not sure how long it had been when the red line starts to fray and his access to your element starts to dwindle. He doesn't think much of it, but day by day it gets weaker and day by day the red line disappears a little more. A sudden sense of "If that line disappears I won't ever be able to follow it back to y/n" so he starts following it. He doesn't really notice there's a sense of urgency in him, he tells himself its only because he wants the power back, but when he rouses from a short rest to find that the red line is gone... why does it suddenly feel like he's all alone again?

Imagining characters like Xiao, Cyno and Alhaitham who completely rejects using your element. They don't need yours. They are just fine and all is well using only their own. In a sense they take pride in what they have, and doesn't really care for what power you can give. They aren't interested in maintaining a relationship with a stranger either, because, what for? However, you're slightly persistent in at least getting to know a little about them. Just a tiny bit. But that tiny bit is enough to push them to tell you he's not interested in any kind of chit chat, that he's busy and needs to focus on other things. So you turn away. Out of curiosity one day he tries to use your element. It strangely gives him the feeling of warmth. Like someone's protecting and watching over them (and for someone who always does the protecting, this is a big deal). One day, the line breaks off, there's a clear split and he wonders if all is well. He follows the line back to you, and finds out that you've been spending a good amount of time with someone else. Someone who you smile at very brightly, and someone who is interested in getting to know you. What's he to do? This was his doing. So why does he feel like coming over and snatching you away?

Imagining characters like Diluc, Neuvillette and Wriothesley, astounded but somewhat pleasantly surprised by the discovery. He neither rejects you nor accepts you, but feels a sense of responsibility over you just because of the connection made. But because they have their own things to be busy with, they don't exactly actively seek you out or have the time to check in frequently. Perhaps it's a monthly thing, following the line and looking for you. There's a relationship that looks like the beginnings of friendship. A little awkward, asking questions and fumbling for more questions to ask. Still, something builds, and just when the ice is about to break between the two of you, he follows the line...and somehow ends up out in the wild. Your vision is buried next to a tree, for a moment he's struck with panic that he would find your body buried, but judging from how the red line was still intact, you were most likely safe somewhere... however, he would never see you anymore, nor know the reason why you decided to hide. All of a sudden he wished that he had more time. He doesn't know whether this situation was comforting or concerning. He has you in the palm of his hand, but never close enough to fill the empty gap.

Imagining characters like Zhongli, Dainsleif and Tartaglia, who, despite their appearances is instantly intrigued by the connection. They don't need the additional power, but they keep the connection anyway because they partly feel that destiny is something you can't change. The closeness between you two easily grows and here is when you first approach him with a favor.

"Can you help me with something?"

"Of course. Would tomorrow be a good time?"

There's a bit of a pause on your side. "Tomorrow..." and its as if you look up at him with more sparkle in your eyes than usual. "...Yeah. That'll work. Thank you," the way you say thank you is so sincere and loving it almost brings him to a joy he hadn't felt in a long time.

He woke the next day. The connecting red line was nowhere to be found.

𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃, 𝐈’𝐌 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 — alhaitham x mermaid!reader

𝓢𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼 — while alhaitham studies runes etched upon the walls of a hidden cove, your song was supposed to lure him to his watery grave but... "these earpieces are soundproof." and such begins the fateful encounter between the scribe and his mermaid

𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓻𝓪𝓵 𝓣𝓪𝓰𝓼 — fem!reader, no pronouns mentioned, reader has hair long enough to be pinned, flirty reader, fluff, friends(?) to lovers, mutual pining, light angst, drabbles but they get progressively longer

𝓢𝓽𝓪𝓽𝓾𝓼 — complete 𓇼

𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓼 — this mlist was a long time coming, i just never had the time to make a banner til now (it’s subtle, but i hope u notice all the ripples & movements in the water :3 ) altho the main story is finished, i still love this au a lot + have a few extras planned so i'll update it here accordingly ! ^^

𝓜𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝓢𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂

𝘰1. one :: a fair exchange 𝘰2. two :: first kiss 𝘰3. three :: a visit to sumeru city 彡. bonus n’sfw :: earthly delights optional but recommended. can be skipped without affecting the storyline, but helps the plot move more smoothly (6.2k wc) 𝘰4. four :: say ‘i love you’ 𝘰5. epilogue :: ‘i love you’

𝓔𝔁𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓼

fairest of them all n’sfw :: mirror sex (oct 2024)

𝓢𝓹𝓲𝓷 𝓞𝓯𝓯𝓼

ayato 彡 wriothesley - more

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

KIDS + SAGAU

Do you think the kids look up to creator reader?

Well- no.

So, the kids in Genshin impact. They definitely look up to creator reader.(at least in cult AU)

Like just imagine your parents/parental figure/guardian who has worshiped the creator for their entire life, naturally making said kid worship the creator. 

Your entire life you have worshiped the creator, and suddenly you meet them!?

Suddenly, you have the chance to meet the being your entire lineage has worshiped.

Suddenly, you have the opportunity to bask in your creator’s heavenly presence.

Suddenly, you are one of the very rare few who have met your god.

Suddenly you are one of the luckiest people to be alive. 

You were given a vision, basically recognition from the gods. Were born in the generation where the creator blessed the planet with their presence. You don’t have to experience the hardships the adults around you have endured, because the creator already fixed them!

I have yet to acquire Scaramouche, so to cope I am writing fluff. Incredibly self-indulgent fluff. 

(Sfw) In which you get sick after traversing to Dragonspine

Characters: Scaramouche, gn!Reader (neutral descriptors that don’t point to any gender, race, size, etc.)

Warnings: None!

WC: 432 words

“Tell me again how you got in this predicament,” Scaramouche muses, watching your illness-ridden body sink deeper into your bed. You had asked the Traveler to send him over to your house as soon as you felt how stuffed with snot your nose was. However, the smug look on his face was making you regret seeking him out.

The previous day, despite his warnings, you went out to Dragonspine in search of Starsilver. It is not a region that is to be taken lightly, but you promised him you wouldn’t be long and that you’d bring warming supplies like goulash and warming bottles. However, you were halfway up the peak when you realized you had forgotten to pack some warming bottles and your goulash was running low. Instead of turning back or even calling for help, you pushed on. So, it was no surprise that after spending hours in the tundra of a mountain, you would fall ill the next day.

“If I tell you, you’re going to laugh,” you whine, trying to avoid admitting to your mistake.

“If it’s any comfort, I’m laughing right now.”

“Yes, let me find comfort in my own partner laughing at my illness,” you roll your eyes, adjusting your body so you lay on your side to avoid Scaramouche’s gaze. He hums in response, crossing his arms. Truthfully, he was beyond concerned. He had an inkling you’d get sick and initially offered to come with you, but you insisted it was unnecessary. He wishes he had just gone with you.

“Do you expect me to be your personal nurse?” He bites at his tongue as he watches how fast you twist your body to look at him, hope shining in your eyes.

“Will you really?”

“As if! You got yourself in this mess.” He turns away just as you begin whining, no doubt trying to use your puppy dog eyes. “I still have my own responsibilities.”

Neither of you say anything, and he starts to think that maybe you’ve gone back to pouting silently. Until...

Sniff.

Sniff sniff.

He groans and looks back at you, narrowing his eyes as he sees the crocodile tears bubbling in your eyes and the quivering of your lip. 

“Shut the waterworks down or I won’t make you soup,” he hisses, setting down his hat on the hat hook near the door to your room. You let out a cheer, the tears nowhere to be found as Scaramouche mumbles under his breath.

He’ll never admit it but being able to dote on you and help you recover made his stomach flutter.

(Sfw) You suffer an injury and Tighnari rescues you

Characters: Tighnari, GN!Reader (non-descriptive, reader has a hydro vision and uses a polearm but it is not used)

Warnings: Cursing once (?), not proofread-- we die like men

WC: ~1k words

"You wanted to see me, Tighnari?" He looks up from the shelf of plants he was looking at as you enter his tent. He nods and turns to face you completely.

"Another withering zone was scouted and found deep into Avidya Forest. Could you go track it down and clear it?" You perk almost instantly-- it had been a while since you'd gone out and the fact that you were personally assigned this task sent you over the moon.

"Yes sir! I'll be back in no time at all."

"Just a minute, Y/N." Your smile drops a bit, dreading the next words. You watch as your officer grooms himself a bit, smoothing down a couple stray strands of fur on his ears. His tail sways slowly and stays low to the ground. He manages to catch your gaze with his, his eyes piercing through you. With heightened senses and the instincts of a Forest Watcher, he knew what you were thinking.

"I want you to bring some other rangers along. We've received reports that there has been activity near those withering zones involving Eremites and I don't want you getting in unnecessary trouble," he explains, earning an eye roll and a deep sigh from you.

"I can handle it on my own. I'll make sure to traverse undetected," you argue, and he cocks an eyebrow.

"You've never been out by yourself, Y/N. And this is not the excursion to test that out."

"Please! I can do this myself. Besides, having others may slow the process down and we don't want the withering zone expanding do we?" Tighnari watches you, figuring out that you were going to be a stubborn one today. Deciding that perhaps this will be a good test of your skills and that he could use the extra hands around the village, he lets you go on your own.

"Please be careful and observe your surroundings."

✦✧✦✧

You had kept your promise to Tighnari so far. Enticing fruits and hanging vines from the large trees surrounding you were no match for your pace. You were making great time and according to the markers that Tighnari mentioned, you were close. And you didn't need any extra hands!

Basking in your feeling of self-accomplishment, you hadn't noticed a trap set up by some eremites. In your tunnel-vision pursuit, you stepped on the false floor of leaves and fell through, crumpling upon impact on the cool dirt floor. You ignore the excited chatter from your adversaries above, focusing your energy on maneuvering your body to sit up against the wall.

"Just my fucking luck..." you hiss under your breath, wincing in pain from applying pressure on your right ankle. The pain shoots up your leg and up to your knee-- a clear sign that you weren't moving anytime soon. You look around you, taking notice of your leather bag that has its contents spilling out-- including your vision, which has a cobalt glow. Your polearm, now slightly scuffed, was impaled in the dirt next to your bag.

Biting your tongue to hold back your moans of pain, you lean forward to grab your weapon. Just as you grab the long silver pole, your weight shifts and all that pressure goes to your ankle, causing that similar shooting pain to spread up your leg. You're unable to hold back your yelp and you fall onto your bag, which softens your collapse slightly.

As you lay there, head pressed against the cool leather of your bag and the voices of the eremites can clearly be heard echoing around you, the situation dawned on you. This was your fate-- to die at the bottom of a trap due to your own carelessness. Your days of being a forest ranger, albeit short, were over.

"Y/N! Are you injured?" You hear a voice call out from above-- not one belonging to the emerites you had heard earlier. You try to turn your head and look up the hole, but your angle only lets you get a peek at a figure in the corner of your eyes. Hoping that this was a friend and not foe, you respond.

"Yes! I fell into this hole and now my ankle up to my knee hurts when I apply pressure." You position your arms as if getting ready for a push-up and do exactly that: push up. This time you're able to get a better angle and you realize who your savior is: Tighnari, the Forest Watcher. A wave of relief washes over your body and you let your hands give out so you flop back on the floor.

✦✧✦✧

When you finally get to the infirmary in Gandharva Ville and are set up to be tended to, Tighnari is quick to fall into a lecture about the importance of safety in numbers.

"I told you to come with more than just yourself! Now look at you, out of commission for weeks," he scolds, and his ears are flat against his head. His tail swishes back and forth in agitation, and you feel guilty as you feel the anxious energy radiate from your Chief.

"You're right, Tighnari. I should've listened to you and brought help to that area. Had you not shown up..." you trail off, frowning. You didn't want to think about it. He watches you for a moment, before sighing. He glances around the room, taking note of its emptiness seeing as one of the medics had stepped out to grab some materials. Slow, Tighnari's gloved hands reach out to cup your face, and he gingerly swipes his thumb on your cheek.

"You're lucky I decided to follow a few meters back. Had I not been around to help you or even hear if you needed help..." You smile gingerly at him and reach your hand up to take his hand and move it to your lips, leaving a kiss on his palm.

"Thank you for your concern Tighnari, but I will be okay. I'm a little hard to crack for good." He leans down and gently knocks his head with yours.

"Let's keep it that way, hm?"

Requests are open ✧˚~

We don't get snow where I live so I get to live vicariously through this fic

(Sfw) Playing in the snow with Venti

Characters: Venti x GN!Reader

Warnings: None, the reader is implied to be taller than Venti and strong enough to carry him

WC: 841 words

"C'mon Y/N! The snow's at the perfect thickness!"

You let out a sigh and take a moment to stop pulling the sled, instead glancing up at your lover, who's standing at the top of Starsnatch Cliff, flashing you a wide grin. The harsh winds and freezing temperatures had forced the bard to switch out his usual attire for something warmer. The hand-knitted scarf that you had wrapped around his neck was loosening a bit, letting you get a peak at his Rudolph-red nose and see his breath puff out with each exhale.

“I’m coming, I’m coming…”

You flash him a tired smile and keep tugging the sled uphill. When you manage to catch up to Venti, you take a moment to really appreciate his appearance.

The snowfall had decorated his hair, forming what almost looked like an ice veil down the strands. When he blinked, you could see the tiniest of snowflakes clinging to his lashes. The tips of his ears, just like his nose, were bright red and despite his divine powers, a shiver ran through his body.

"You're staring quite a bit, Windblume," Venti teases, knocking you out of your trance. "You can stare more later. I wanna go sledding!"

He bends down and pulls the sled up as much as possible, nearly toppling over as he reaches the steepest part of the cliff. You look back in the direction you came from, cringing at the way the environment melts into the snowy landscape the further you look.

"Are you sure this is safe? I can barely see past 20 meters," you ask, squinting to get better focus on the objects in the distance.

"Absolutely! You don't trust me?"

✦✧✦✧

Snow-covered hilichurls turn their head in surprise at the sounds of you two screaming as you speed down the cliff. Snow and ice are flung everywhere and you've long since lost your beanie due to the sheer speed of the sled that’s sending you two zooming down Starsnatch Cliff. Genuine fear for your life is plastered on your face, while Venti's screams are of excitement and joy, a smile that you swear can’t get any bigger glued to his.

You two hadn't managed to hit any obstacles, something you could probably thank Venti's anemo powers for, but that doesn't make the potential danger any less imminent.

"slowdownslowDownSlowDownSLOWDOWN!!!"

You plead, grabbing the ropes of the sled and tugging hard in an attempt to stop, or at least slow down. Instead, the action jerks both of you to the side and down another path. Venti nearly gets thrown off the sled before he can react, leaving him unable to stop you two from crashing into a giant rock. The impact forces you two off the sled and sends you flying through the air. You consider for a moment, getting your wind glider out to catch the air before you crash, but by the time you move to unfurl the wings, you're lodged halfway into a giant pile of snow. Venti is quick to follow suit, his legs kicking out frantically as his upper body gets lodged in a pile of snow and ice.

You eventually manage to free yourself from the snow pile, falling back on your boat. You shiver as the cold seeps into your bones, and you suddenly wish you had put on an extra layer of warm clothes. When Venti manages to get out of the snow pile as well, he falls on his back, letting out a shudder. He turns to you, his face red all over. You want to curse at him, scold him, or even just shoot him a glare-- but the earnest smile and the excitement melt away all your frustrations.

"Let's make snow angels next, Y/N!"

He doesn't wait for a response, immediately waving his arms and legs up and down to make the snow art. You turn to look back up at the sky, the overcast weather and gentle snowfall adding to the overall ambience of your environment.

"..yeah, let's."

You mimic Venti's actions, shivering as the snow melts under your warmer body and drips into your coat sleeves. The rest of your outing is spent filling the field with snowmen, snow angels, and other snow creations. When the sky finally darkens and the sunset peeks through the clouds, you're carrying an exhausted Venti on your back, beginning your journey back to a warm home.

✦✧✦✧

The next day, both of you woke up with a high fever and the chills. The consequences of playing all day in the snow and not stopping to warm up at all. Currently, you two were cuddling under a large comforter, with Venti laying on top of you with his limbs sprawled out. His hair tickled your chin as he lay there, dozing off. You look down at him, absentmindedly playing with his hair, and you can’t help your smile slowly growing.

Despite how stuffed up and generally gross you both felt, the extra time spent together in each others embrace made up for that fact.

Requests are open ✧˚~

(Sfw) A day with Albedo

Characters: Albedo x GN!Reader

Warnings: None

WC: 943 words

For Albedo, the mornings in Dragonspine start with him hunched over his alchemy table as the sun rises. Beakers bubble and boil as steam rises through the air. Complete solitude and quiet-- the perfect environment for experimenting.

For you, the mornings in Dragonspine start with you making your way to Albedo's lab. When you arrive, his back is turned to you, clearly focused on the mess of papers and reports sprawled all over his table. You set down the basket of snacks you brought him, carefully approaching the alchemist so as to not make a sound.

By the time you were right behind him, he had yet to even acknowledge you. You watched him at first, observing the small movements of his body. How his hair shifts as he looks around his desk, and how his coat twists with his body. Deciding you finally want attention from Albedo, you reach over and gently grab him by his waist, wrapping your fingers around and digging them slightly into his sides. He lets out an uncharacteristic yelp in surprise, nearly dropping the test tubes he was holding. He looks back, about to snap at whoever just grabbed him, but the words die in his throat when he sees it's you, flashing him a cheeky smile.

"Oh, Y/N. Hello...do you enjoy startling others who are holding dangerous and unknown liquids?" He questions, slowly putting down the tubes. You giggle, shaking your head.

"I like watching you work. It's very calming. Maybe I can finish some work today!"

Albedo nods in acknowledgment, understanding the reason behind your visit.

"If you need anything, just ask."

✦✧✦✧

You both ended up getting lost in your work, not looking up from what you were both working on for hours on end. Albedo remained by his alchemy table while you sat at the writing desk, scribbling away on some reports. You two probably would've worked till sunset if it weren't for one thing: your stomach letting out a loud growl. You stop working at once, feeling your cheeks get hot.

"Maybe it's time for a snack. What do you think Albedo?"

You don't get an answer. Assuming he was still trapped by his experiments, you turn around to ask again. You're greeted by a slumped-over alchemist whose face was pressed on the table. His cheek was squished, forcing some drool to dribble out. The sight made your chest swell-- you knew the man didn't sleep much and the fact he felt comfortable enough to fall asleep with you nearby made you feel especially elated. You didn't have long to enjoy the moment because your stomach growled again, reminding you why you were trying to get the alchemist's attention in the first place.

You step closer and lean down, gently nudging his shoulder.

"Albedo, wake up. I'm a little hungry," you try, keeping your voice low. He stirs a bit, making a low rumbling sound as he rises from his slumber. His eyes flutter open, and he looks up at you as they regain focus.

"Y/N...did I fall asleep?"

You nod, watching as he slowly sits up properly, blinking the sleep away. His hair was slightly out of place-- some of the strands sprawled on his forehead.

"I apologize. I'm sure you're hungry-- the position of the sun indicates we've been here for quite a few hours. We can-"

He stops himself when he can feel your fingers on his forehead, gently swiping the hair strands away from his face. He watches you carefully as you tidy up his hair, picking up on your quiet humming. When you're done, you pull away and offer a small smile.

"Sorry, I just wanted to get that for you. I am in fact hungry though--let's eat!" You turn and walk off to grab your stuff. "I'm sure I have my portable stove and some ingredients to cook us something yummy."

Albedo watches on, slowly bringing his hand up to his head. The feeling of your fingers on his head remains and he can't help the fuzzy sensation traveling through his body.

✦✧✦✧

After a nice warm lunch, you both resume your work. Before long, the sun has start to set-- the day was coming to an end. You didn't want to travel back to Mondstadt at night, what with the cold and darkness, so you had gone ahead and packed your things.

"Thanks again for letting me stay and work here, 'bedo! I got a lot of work done," you thank Albedo, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "Can I come back another day?"

"You're always welcome here at my lab, Y/N. You never need to ask," he answers.

And he meant it-- you were respectful of his time and his need for complete focus. You treated passing adventurers with kindness and were always patient. And when you spoke to Albedo? There was this look of adoration that was always present in your eyes. And that nickname you sometimes called him-- 'bedo. How could he not want you by him?

"Thank you so much, 'bedo!" You reach over and squeeze his hands tightly in yours, smiling up at him. "I'll see you next time!"

With that, you were off-- you started sprinting down the snowy path back down the mountain, back towards Mondstadt where your house was. As Albedo watched you leave, he couldn't help but feel...sad. While he knew you would come back, he seemed no longer interested in continuing his experiment or updating his journal. Nothing seemed appealing without your presence next to his.

No matter, He muses to himself. I'll just prepare for their next visit.

Requests are open ✧˚~

(Sfw) How you spend time with each other in the winter

Characters: Aether, Ayato, Childe, Diluc, Xiao x GN!Reader

Warnings: Ayato is strong enough to catch you (canon tbh), Childe and you kiss but it doesn't get steamy, Xiao is strong enough to carry you (extremely canon tbh)

Notes: For aether's part, let's pretend that you can make it snow in a teapot 🫣 , милая means "darling"

WC: 1.8k words total

"Here you go love," Aether says, handing you a cup of hot cocoa. You smile at him and make room on the couch for him, opening up the giant fuzzy blanket for him to get under.

Aether had done a lot of commissions in the past week, leaving you two unable to spend a lot of time together. It made for some lonely nights, with you having to entertain yourself in the teapot. Today was different-- he had cleared all commissions early and let Jean know that any requests for him were to either be redirected to someone else or have to wait until another day. Today was focused on you, his lover. And he intended to keep it that way.

Once he got comfortable, you adjust so you can lean on him, resting your head on his shoulder. He gives you a kiss on your forehead and rubs your side, causing you to melt as you feel his calloused hands through your shirt. The fireplace was ablaze, warming the entire room up as you watch the snow fall outside.

"I missed this," you sigh, closing your eyes. He nods, taking a sip of his own mug.

"I did too."

In preparation for Christmas, you took it upon yourself as the Lady of the Estate to hang up decorations. Ayato and many of the other servants insisted it wasn't necessary, but you refused to sit by.

"I've decorated my house for years with my family. This will be no different," you explained a few days ago. He wanted to push back, but he figured that there was no harm. Besides, he couldn't deny that seeing the childlike wonder in your eyes from gathering Christmas decorations made him happy for you. This brings you to where you are today.

You were currently decorating the hallways of the estate with wreaths and garlands. Servants would come in throughout the process to drop off more decorations for you to use, or to offer snacks for both you and Ayato. With you on the ladder, everyone was slightly on edge about you falling down. With Ayato there to catch you though, they said nothing.

"Babe, can you pass me a wreath?" He looks up at you and nods, reaching down to grab a wreath from a crate and hand it to you. You thank him and shuffle around on the ladder step to hang it on the pillar, connecting it to some garland. You lean back a bit to admire your work, glancing down the hallway. It's nice to see it all come to fruition slowly. At this rate, it'd be decorated right before Christmas and before families would come over.

As you move to get down, you misstep, tripping on your own feet and falling off. You yelp in surprise and attempt to grab a ladder step, but your fingers just barely brush against it before you're out of reach. Ayato doesn't miss a beat and immediately rushes forward to catch you, gathering you in his arms. You immediately cling to his body, breathing heavily as the quick adrenaline rush you got from falling runs through your body.

Ayato shakes his head and carefully sets you down on the ground, making sure you're able to stand steadily.

"Why don't we take a break?" He suggests, carefully dusting off your clothes. You nod in agreement-- now was a good time for a break.

You and Childe decided to throw a holiday party back at his family house in Sneznyha. Many of the younger kids were running around, laughing, and sneaking cookies off of various trays. The adults were milling around, catching up, and enjoying the drinks all the while gossiping with each other. The energy was high and everyone was having a good time.

You take out the Coulibiac pie you were baking-- Childe's mother had given you the recipe and you wanted to attempt to make it. The smell of spices and baked meat floods the kitchen. It was enough to drag Childe away from wherever he was.

"It smells good, милая (darling)," he comments. You jump a bit in surprise, not expecting to hear anyone, but immediately relax as you feel his warm arms wrap around your waist. You can tell he's already had a bit to drink-- alcohol clings to his clothes like cologne. You wiggle out of his hold, earning a quiet whine.

"I'm glad you think so, but it's hot. I don't want to drop it or burn myself," you gently chide him, walking over to set down the pie on a cooling rack.

"But I miss you," he continues to whine. "You've been cooped up in here all night while the rest of us are out there."

You roll your eyes and flash him a cheeky grin, taking off your apron and setting it aside. You check your reflection in a nearby kitchen, making sure you still looked presentable as you dusted off any food that may have gotten on you.

"Alright, I'll get out there then," you decide, and he cheers, walking up to take your hand. You smile and cross the doorway to enter the living room. However, you don't get far before you feel a tug on your arm and you're pulled slightly back. Confused, you look at Childe.

"What's wrong, baby?" He points up, and you follow your gaze. There was mistletoe hanging over the doorway arch. Your cheeks warm up and you sputter, trying to get words out. Childe's grin widens as he gets closer and gently cups your face between his hands.

"Cat got your tongue, милая?"

You don't get a moment to respond as he leans down and brushes his lips against yours. Instincts take over and you're wrapping your arms around his neck.

When you told Diluc you wanted to bake, he was more than happy to encourage you to do so. Adelinde was surprised but was willing to take a break and have you work on Christmas desserts. You invited Diluc to join you and he agreed, assuming that the process would be calm and straightforward-- your confidence had him believe you had done this enough times to be neat.

He was quickly proven wrong when he stopped to take a look around the kitchen after you both had been baking for the past two hours. The dough was spilled on the counters, the icing was everywhere, and raw eggs and milk were spilled on the counters and in the sinks. It was truly a nightmare.

"You know, when you said you wanted to bake, I assumed that it would be a neater process," he confessed, turning to you. You look up from the cookies you were haphazardly decorating, smearing red icing on what Diluc can only assume was supposed to be a stocking.

"I never said I was the best baker, darling. I said I love baking," you explain. He sighs, nodding.

"I suppose that's right. Adelinde will kill us both and never let us back in the kitchen after this, I'm afraid.'

You giggle, shrugging your shoulders.

"That's alright. I wanted to just do this once, for Christmas. And I'm glad I got to do it with you."

Diluc's chest swells and his face reddens, matching his firey locks. You laugh at this and wave him over, holding up a cookie for him to try.

"C'mon, let's eat some of these before Adelinde gets on our cases."

Xiao didn't often go out and about the city-- he kept to himself mostly. He only appeared to those who called out his name, or when he was at Wangshu Inn to get some almond tofu and recuperate. So when you asked him to take a wall through Liyue Harbor, he hesitated.

"I don't want to cause a commotion for you. I'm an Adeptus, Y/N," he explains. You shrug and turn to grab your winter coat.

"Many of the people of Liyue remember when you and the other Adepti helped save the country from Osial. I can't blame them for getting excited at the prospect of seeing you in person," you counter. As you adjust your coat you look over at Xiao who gives you a pensive look. "If you don't want to come that's fine. I just wanted to ask because I thought it'd be fun!"

He stands there for a bit, watching you finish getting dressed. Just as you grab the door handle to open, he grabs your hand. Surprised, you look back at him, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes?" He's quiet, almost hesitating to speak.

"I'll come with," he decides. It's quiet for a bit, but slowly a smile breaks out across your face. You open the door and tug him out of your house, laughing.

"Then let's go!"

The day is spent walking around the harbor, talking to various shop owners, and trying out the hot and fresh street food various merchants were selling. You offer Xiao to try a steamed meat bun. He denies the offer at first but at your insistence, he takes a bite. The way his eyes light up as he eats was something you'll never forget. He had gotten excited and ended up devouring half of the bun before realizing you and the merchant were staring at him in amusement. He's quick to compose himself and shove the other half of the bun in your hands.

Xiao was hounded a bit, what with people recognizing him as one of the saviors of the harbor, but it didn't lessen your fun going out and about. It was fun to see him get embarrassed by all the well-deserved praise. By the end of your journey around the harbor, you had gotten tired and passed out on a bench while waiting for Xiao to finish talking with some kids. Noticing your slumped-over figure on the bench, he scoops you up into his arms and begins his journey back to your house. He easily could've teleported back, but he found that he enjoyed holding you like this.

"I want to enjoy this feeling a little longer."

The length of the sections does not indicate favoritism-- it's just how I ended up writing the scenarios.

If you want me to do other characters, you can ask ❤️

Requests are open~!

(SFW) Security

Characters: Tighnari x GN!Reader

Warnings: A little suggestive in the beginning but nothing explicit, descriptions of anxiety (separation anxiety??)

WC: ~0.9k words

Sunlight peeked through the curtains of Tighnari's room, bringing light into the room. Vines unfurled their leaves, inviting warmth and light. As the light spreads throughout the room, it shines over your face. You groan, turning your body so you can bury your face into your lover's chest. Tighnari purrs in response, pulling you closer to his body.

The bliss is short-lived of course. The light continues to spread and soon the forest ranger is unable to ignore the reminder to wake up. He growls under his breath, slowly arching his back in a stretch. His tail unfurls from around your waist, and the lack of warmth makes you whine in dissatisfaction. You open one eye, watching the canine let out a big yawn, revealing his sharp teeth. He smacks his lips and his eyes flutter open, pupils dilating as he takes in the sudden bright light.

"Ack! Ah...'s bright," he mutters to himself, looking down. He smiles and leans down, nuzzling your nose with his. "Good morning."

You smile tiredly and tap his face in acknowledgment.

"Good morning. Are you going on patrol today?" You're hopeful for a day spent being tangled in the sheets and lazing under the sun. The sound of joints popping and sheets being rustled disappoints you as you watch Tighnari slowly sit up.

"Today's another day of scouting for me dear." One look at you and he can see the disappointment painted all over your face. He gently cups your face and leans back down to kiss your temple.

"I always return safe and on time, don't I?"

And it was true-- without fail, for as long as you can remember, he never was gone longer than predicted. If it was a daily patrol, he was back before the moon was high. If he had a trip out to the desert and he said he would be gone for a week, he'd be back seven days later, 168 hours on the dot. It didn't make his departures any less disappointing.

He thumbs your cheek and rises from the bed, revealing his half-naked form. You look away shyly, the marks from your intimate previous night still evident on Tighnari's toned back. You turn your gaze back to him, watching as he moved around the room to prepare for his patrol.

Within the hour, both of you were standing in the doorway, bidding your farewells.

"If anything pops up, I will send a hawk out. Otherwise, I'll see you by moonrise," he promises, and he raises his hand to pat you lovingly. "Don't get into any trouble, or I'll give you that nasty medicine again."

You cringe, the memory of the last time you got needlessly hurt flashing in your mind. Tighnari laughs, pleased to know his message got across. Instinctively, his tail wraps around your leg and you stumble forward a bit. He wraps his arms around you, and you reciprocate.

There you two stand, enjoying each other's warmth. It's routine for you-- it should get easier every time. It should never be long-- after all, he always made it back home. But that doesn't stop the fears from creeping into your head. From the Fatui to the Withering Zones to stray Eremites and treasure hoarders-- anything could surprise him and leave him injured. And who's to say you'd find out in time?

"I love you," he whispers, and you're pulled out of your worrisome thoughts. Tighnari's the first to pull away, offering you a reassuring smile as he holds your hands in his. You take a deep breath, squeezing his hands.

"I love you too."

✦✧✦✧

Night has fallen and the moon has risen. Robin chirps are replaced with owl hoots. Instead of hearing the ambient chatter of the villagers in Gandharva Ville, trees rustling and crickets chirping. What you don't hear is the footsteps of Tighnari approaching your shared abode.

You glance outside, noticing the high position of the moon. You hadn't received a letter from Tighnari and none of the rangers who remained had notified you of any delays. He should be home by now. Your thoughts from earlier returned, doubt swirling in your mind.

You feel your breath become shaky, your hands becoming clammy and your chest tightening. The flowers were hypnotizing and you felt yourself getting dizzy as your environment warped and twisted around you. Tighnari is never late without reason.

The loneliness is suffocating and you're brought to your knees. You clasp your hands on your head, curling up within yourself in the center of the front room. You're so swept in your own anxieties and worries that you don't notice the door opening and Tighnari's voice calling for you. Noticing your hunched-over figure, he crouches in front of you, green and brown eyes swirling with worry.

"-/N! Y/N!" You jolt in surprise as your brain recognizes him. Slowly, the tension in your body melts away as you feel a familiar furry mass wrap around you.

"Are you okay? Are you sick?" He questions, ears perked and alert. His gaze wanders around your body, looking for an obvious source of your pain. When he sees you unharmed, he looks back at you, meeting your gaze. Instantly, you latch yourself onto him, nearly sending him toppling back. He sighs in relief and hugs you, holding you flush against him.

"Apologies. I ran into some trouble and met up with Cyno and the traveler. I meant to send a hawk but it slipped my mind. I'm here now, he explains, pressing a kiss on your head. You nod in understanding, but don't move your head from his shoulder. You both sit there in complete silence, enjoying each other's presence.

Requests (both sfw and nsfw) are open~!

(Sfw) The first time you call him a term of endearment

Characters: Aether, Ayato, Cyno, Gorou, Heizou, Kaeya

Warnings: Fem. leaning nickname in Ayato's (princess), Cyno is implied to be taller than reader, reader is ticklish in Heizou's, mention of alcohol in Kaeya's

WC: 1.4k words total

Pt. 1, Pt. 3

"Aether honey, fetch me my watering pail!" You call out to him, currently hunched over the seeds you had just planted in the soil. You both were doing some tending to the garden you had just recently started in your teapot, and you had just finished the planting process.

You hear the loud crashing and clunking of metal behind you, and you whip your head around to see Aether standing there, hands at his side and gaze focused on you.

"Are you okay?!" You ask, hurriedly rising to your feet to check on him.

"'Honey'...you called me 'honey,'" he breathes out, watching you. You blink once, twice, and then nod.

"I did, yes," you confirm.

His cheeks turn pink and he looks away, pulling his scarf up a bit in an attempt to hide his face. He clears his throat and bends down to grab the watering pail.

"I-I'll just go ahead and get this filled up with water for you," he mumbles and rushes off before you can say anything.

You and Ayato were walking around Inazuma City, soldiers trailing behind to watch over you two. You wanted to see what the merchants were selling, and perhaps say hi to a few old friends.

A jewel in a nearby stand catches your eye, and you drag Ayato over quickly.

"Darling, look! Wouldn't this ruby be beautiful in a necklace?" You coo, leaning down to get a closer look at it.

He falters a bit before he responds, almost taken by surprise by the pet name. Almost. He recovers quickly and responds with his own term of endearment.

"If it pleases my princess, you can have every jewel the owner is selling."

His voice is smooth and the nickname rolls off his tongue flawlessly, sending goosebumps down your back. You look back, eyes bright with excitement while your face is flushed with embarrassment. He gives you a polite smile, as if unaware of the effect of his words on you, and turns to the merchant to make the purchase.

The moon was high, shining through the night sky and down on Sumeru City. The activity was slowed and most everyone inside their homes, save for a few that clung to the shadows, hopeful to take advantage of unsuspecting passerbys. Word spread quickly that the General Mahamatra had returned home though, and those looking to cause trouble quickly dispersed.

"Y/N, I'm back," Cyno announces as he walks inside your home.

He sets aside his polearm and takes off his headpiece, setting it aside on a nearby table. You walk out of the kitchen, wrapped in a blanket and clutching a hot mug of tea in your hand. You smile and step closer to your partner.

"Welcome back Cyno. I trust you served justice well?" You ask, already knowing the answer.

He nods and leans forward, resting his head on your shoulder. You feel the weight of his work melt off upon touch and almost fall over due to him putting all his weight on you.

"Alright love, let's get you to bed," you gently chide, setting aside your mug.

He hums-- in delight you deduce, based on the high-range sound, but makes no move to pull away.

"That's new. Instead of cuddling a bed bug, it seems you'll cuddle a lovebug?"

You groan loudly and shove him off of you gently.

"Nevermind, sleep on the couch!"

You and Gorou were helping the soldiers on Watatsumi Island move the crates of supplies around. You'd been at it since sunrise and the fatigue was starting to eat at you. You drop a crate on the ground with an unceremonious thud and groan, rubbing your back. Gorou's ears pick this up and he instantly turns to you, also grabbing the attention of his fellow soldiers.

"Y/N? Are you alright?" He asks, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

He was easy to read-- his tail sways back and forth, kicking up the dirt and anxiety was clearly filling his body. Had he pushed you too hard? You weren't a member of the Kokomi's platoons so technically this wasn't your responsibility-- you had just offered. You wave him off, flashing him a tired smile.

" 's nothing baby. I just need to rest. I'll catch up, yeah?" You explain, slowly sitting down next to one of the crates.

Gorou's tail straightens out instantly, and he's frozen in his spot. His ears are erect and his eyes widen as red spreads across his face. The soldiers are quick to pick up on their general's embarrassment and they start teasing him. You watch on in amusement but say nothing, leaving your partner to defend himself.

"Heiiiizooooou," you whine loudly as you lay on the couch.

He said that he wouldn't take too long on analyzing some reports for a case he was working on, promising to give you attention shortly. A promise that was made about 45 minutes ago. He always got sucked into his work and while usually, you were fine with that, you were feeling extra clingy today.

"Yesssss Y/N?" He matches your tone, poking his head out from his office. You huff.

"You promised you wouldn't take long. Surely your case can wait an hour or two!" He tsks at you disappointedly, shaking his head.

"Patience is a virtue, Y/N. You have to learn how to exhibit it! You wouldn't want me to let this criminal escape, would you? Imagine all the harm they could cause to Inazuma, or to you! My sweet darling lover!" Heizou mock faints, pressing a hand on his head for dramatic effect, earning an eye roll from you.

"Are you saying you wouldn't be able to take them? Getting weak are we babe?" You gripe, crossing your arms.

He stops in his place and looks at you properly, green eyes blinking owlishly.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" You ask, bringing a hand up to your cheek. He shakes his head, face cracking into a grin.

"I'm your babe, am I?" He teases, slithering over. "Am I your honey bunny too? Your baby? Your sweet love bug and apple of my eye?" With each sickeningly sweet nickname he lists off, he applies more pressure on your body as he tickles you.

You squeal in surprise, kicking your legs in an attempt to get him away. Laughter fills the room and your pleas for him to stop are ignored in favor of hitting all your ticklish spots. In all the excitement, you fail to notice the shine in Heizou's eyes and the tips of his ears turning red.

You and Kaeya had decided to stop by Angel's Share for a drink and to harass Diluc while he worked. The bartender was as curt as ever to him, not letting the calvary captain's teasings get to him. He was always cordial with you though-- never giving you a hard time. He only ever seemed to express disappointment with you when asking about what you saw in his brother.

"I'm still confused about how he managed to secure you as a partner," Diluc questions, giving Kaeya an unimpressed glance.

Kaeya faux gasps quietly, pressing a hand to his chest.

"Diluc dearest, you wound me. I'll have you know that I am a delight and it was my shining personality that won Y/N," he announces matter-of-factly.

You giggle into your cup as the two of them break into a small argument over Kaeya's character. It was nothing serious-- anyone with eyes could tell neither brother was taking the argument seriously. When their gaze turned to you, you pop an eyebrow up.

"Y/N, do tell Diluc just how lovely I am!" He begs, playing up the theatrics.

You swirl your mug a bit, watching the amber liquid slosh around.

"He's my snowdrop, Diluc. He's quite special to me, and you wouldn't know it but he secretly is a big sweetie and-"

Before you can finish, Kaeya's hand is slapped over your mouth. You and Diluc both look over at the man who is now stumbling over his words, cheeks turning dark. He was not prepared to be gifted a nickname so soon, especially in front of his brother.

"I-I think he gets the idea, Y/N," he coughs into his other hand, slowly letting the one covering your mouth drop.

Diluc flashes him a teasing smile.

"I think I do, snowdrop."

@seirenspinel & @xylerray Per your requests❤️

If you want me to do other characters, you can ask!

Requests are open~!

━━━━➳༻❀✿❀༺➳━━━━

✧•° 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒..~°•✧

║➳ 𝐼𝑑𝑜𝑙!6𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑧𝑒 : ♪ 𝑆𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ𝑒/𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑟, 𝑋𝑖𝑎𝑜, 𝑉𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖, 𝐾𝑎𝑧𝑢ℎ𝑎, 𝐴𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟, 𝐻𝑒𝑖𝑧𝑜𝑢 ♪

║➳ 𝑃𝑜𝑣: 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝑑 [𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒] 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑'𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑑𝑜𝑙. 𝐹𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑢𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦, 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑦 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑝 𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑣𝑜𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜 𝑝𝑟𝑜ℎ𝑖𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡.

— 𝑚𝑜𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑛 𝑖𝑑𝑜𝑙 𝑎𝑢, 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝, 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑗𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑦 

◤✎...◢ ʜɪ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ! ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴇɴɢʟɪꜱʜ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ. ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ,ɴᴊᴏʏ!~

·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

『✦』𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞/𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫

ᴱᵛᵉʳʸ ˢᵉᶜᵒⁿᵈ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ ⁱˢ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜᵃⁿⁿᵒᵗ ᵇᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᵃ ᶜᵒᵘᵖˡᵉ, ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᵘˡᵗ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᵒˢᵗᵉⁿᵗᵃᵗⁱᵒᵘˢ ⁱⁿᵈⁱᶠᶠᵉʳᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵃʳᶜᵃˢᵐ ⁱⁿ ᵖᵘᵇˡⁱᶜ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᵈᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵗʰⁱˢ, ʰⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢⁱⁿᵍˡʸ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ. ᴾᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵃʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶠᵃᵐⁱˡⁱᵃʳ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᶜᵃʳᵃᵐᵒᵘᶜʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ⁱˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ˡᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵘⁿʰᵃᵖᵖʸ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ʳᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢʰⁱᵖ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗᵃʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᵖᵒᵖᵘˡᵃʳⁱᵗʸ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰⁱˢ ᵉⁿᵗᵒᵘʳᵃᵍᵉ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵃ ˡᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵈⁱʳᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ ᵉˣᶜˡᵘˢⁱᵛᵉˡʸ ᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ. ᴴᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉʳᵉˡʸ ᶜᵃʳᵉˢ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʷᵉˡˡ⁻ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵃᶜᶜⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗᵃˡˡʸ ʰᵘʳᵗ ʸᵒᵘ, ᵉⁱᵗʰᵉʳ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱˢ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᵒʳ ᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ. ᴴᵉ ᵉˣᵖᵉʳⁱᵉⁿᶜᵉᵈ ᵃ ˡᵒᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ ⁱⁿ ᶜʰⁱˡᵈʰᵒᵒᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘᵗʰ, ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵇᵉᵗʳᵃʸᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᵇᵃⁿᵈᵒⁿᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵐᵃⁿʸ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ʷʰᵒ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵈᵉᵃʳ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ, ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃʳᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ˢᶜᵃʳˢ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒᵘⁿᵈᵉᵈ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒ ᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉʳˡʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʳᵉᵐᵘˡᵒᵘˢˡʸ ʰᵒˡᵈ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ. ᴴᵉ'ˢ ᵃᶠʳᵃⁱᵈ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ ᵗʳᵉᵃᵗˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵃᵈˡʸ ᵒʳ ᵃᶜᶜⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗᵃˡˡʸ ʰᵘʳᵗˢ ʸᵒᵘ, ʸᵒᵘ'ˡˡ ᵉⁿᵈ ᵘᵖ ˡᵉᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒᵒ. ᵀʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ʷʰʸ, ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵍⁱⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢʰⁱᵖ, ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵘᵖ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘʳᵃᵍᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘ. ʸᵒᵘ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵉˢᵗᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ˢᵘᶜʰ ⁱⁿᵗⁱᵐᵃᶜʸ, ᶜᵒⁿˢⁱᵈᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵒʷ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ʰᵉ ʰᵃᵈ ᵃᵛᵒⁱᵈᵉᵈ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵗᵒᵖⁱᶜ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒʳᵗᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱᵐ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᵘᵐᵖᵗᵉᵉⁿᵗʰ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ, ˢᵗᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉ ᵈᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃⁱˡᵘʳᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᶠᵘˢᵃˡˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵐᵃⁿʸ ᵃᵍᵉⁿᶜⁱᵉˢ, ᵃᵗ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉˢᵉ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ, ˢᶜᵃʳᵃᵐᵒᵘᶜʰ ʷᵃˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳʷʰᵉˡᵐᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉʳⁿᵉˢˢ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵒᵏ ᵃ ˢᵗᵉᵖ ᵗᵒʷᵃʳᵈˢ ʸᵒᵘ. ᴴᵉ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ʳᵃⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵖᵃˡᵐ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶜʰᵉᵉᵏ, ʰᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵇᵉⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵖʳᵉˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᵖˢ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘʳˢ, ᶜᵃᵗᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵍᵘᵃʳᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵃⁿᵗ ʷᵃʸ.

ᵂʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ, ʷʰᵃᵗ ⁿᵒʷ ⁻ ʰⁱˢ ᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ˢᵖᵉᵃᵏ ˡᵒᵘᵈᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ʰⁱˢ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ, ᵉˣᵖʳᵉˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉʳᵉ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍˢ, ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵘʳᵃᵍᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢᵃʸ ᵒᵘᵗ ˡᵒᵘᵈ, ᵇᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ʰⁱˢ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰⁱˢ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰᵉˢ. ᵂʰᵉⁿ ˢᶜᵃʳᵃᵐᵒᵘᶜʰᵉ ᵖᵘˡˡˢ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁱˢˢ, ʰᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ⁿᵒᵗⁱᶜᵉᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵘⁿᶜᵉʳᵗᵃⁱⁿᵗʸ, ˢᵗᵘᵈʸⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ᶜᵉʳᵗᵃⁱⁿ ᵈᵉᵍʳᵉᵉ ᵒᶠ ˢᵉʳⁱᵒᵘˢⁿᵉˢˢ, ᵃˢ ⁱᶠ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵃˢˢᵉˢˢ ʰᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁱˢˢ. ᴾᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ ⁱᵗ ʰᵃˢ ʳᵉᵐᵃⁱⁿᵉᵈ ᵃ ʰᵃᵇⁱᵗ ˢⁱⁿᶜᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵉᵍⁱⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢʰⁱᵖ ᵗᵒ ᵒᵇˢᵉʳᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒʳ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ. ᵀʰᵉʳᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ, ʸᵒᵘ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵉᵃˢᵉ ˢᶜᵃʳᵃᵐᵒᵘᶜʰᵉ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ʰᵒʷ ˢᵉʳⁱᵒᵘˢ ʰᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵒʳ ⁱⁿᵗᵉⁿᵈˢ ᵗᵒ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵃʷᵃʸ, ᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰⁱᵐ. ᴴᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇˡᵘˢʰ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ᶠʳᵒʷⁿ, ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵉᵐᵇᵃʳʳᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵗᵉᵃˢⁱⁿᵍ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵃᵛᵒⁱᵈ ʳᵉᵖᵉᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ.

ᴴᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵈᵃʳᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ᵖᵘᵇˡⁱᶜ ᵒʳ ᵖᵘᵇˡⁱᶜ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ, ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵖʳⁱⁿᶜⁱᵖˡᵉ, ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ⁿᵒᵗ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ᵒⁿ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉʳⁿᵉˢˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ⁱⁿ ᵖᵘᵇˡⁱᶜ. ᵀʰᵉ ᵐᵃˣⁱᵐᵘᵐ ⁱˢ ʰᵒˡᵈⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ ᵒʳ ʰᵘᵍᵍⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵐᵒⁿᵍ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈˢ ᵒʳ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵐᵉᵐᵇᵉʳˢ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍʳᵒᵘᵖ. ᴴⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒⁿᵍ⁻ˡᵃˢᵗⁱⁿᵍ, ʰᵉ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᵗᵃᶜᵗ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡⁱᵖˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ. ᴴᵒʷᵉᵛᵉʳ, ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵖᵉʳˢⁱˢᵗᵉⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖʳᵒᵛᵒᵏᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ⁽ᵒʳ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ʲᵉᵃˡᵒᵘˢ⁾, ʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵉᵃᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵃ ᶜᵒʳⁿᵉʳ ᵒʳ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵉᵐᵖᵗʸ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵖᵉʳˢⁱˢᵗᵉⁿᵗˡʸ, ᵖᵃˢˢⁱᵒⁿᵃᵗᵉˡʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵉᵐᵃⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ, ᶜʳᵘˢʰⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡⁱᵖˢ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵏⁱˢˢ, ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡⁱᵖˢ ʷⁱˡˡ ˢʷᵉˡˡ ˢˡⁱᵍʰᵗˡʸ. ᴴᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵃʷᵏʷᵃʳᵈ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ˢᵒ ʳᵘᵈᵉ, ˢᵒ ᵉˣᵖᵉᶜᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵛᵉʳʸ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ, ᶜᵃʳᵉᶠᵘˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃᵗᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ʷʰⁱˡᵉ, ʷⁱᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵗʸᵖⁱᶜᵃˡ ᵖʰʳᵃˢᵉˢ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱᵐ ʷⁱˡˡ ˢᵉᶜʳᵉᵗˡʸ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˢᵐᵘᵍ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ. ᴵⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵒᵖⁱⁿⁱᵒⁿ, ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡⁱᵖˢ ˢʷᵒˡˡᵉⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵃ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʷⁱˡˡ ˡᵉᵗ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳˢ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᵃ ᵛᵉʳʸ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵃⁿᵗ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ.

ᴾ.ˢ ⁻ ᴱᵛᵉⁿ ᵈᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵖᵒᵖᵘˡᵃʳⁱᵗʸ ᵃˢ ᵃⁿ ⁱᵈᵒˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵘʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢʰⁱᵖ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵉᵛᵉʳᵃˡ ʸᵉᵃʳˢ, ʰᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵒⁿᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʷᵃʸ, ᵃˡᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʸᵒᵘ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ʷᵒʳʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵃⁿˢ. ᴮᵘᵗ ᵗʳᵉᵃᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʳʸ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ˢᶜᵃʳᵃᵐᵒᵘᶜʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃˢᵒⁿˢ ᶠᵒʳ ʲᵉᵃˡᵒᵘˢʸ. ᴼᵗʰᵉʳʷⁱˢᵉ, ʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ.

『✦』𝐗𝐢𝐚𝐨

ᴴᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᶜᵃʳᵃᵐᵒᵘᶜʰᵉ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ˢⁱᵐⁱˡᵃʳ ˢⁱᵗᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ. ˣⁱᵃᵒ ʷᵃˢ ᵗᵒᵒ ˢᶜᵃʳᵉᵈ ᵃᵗ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢʰⁱᵖ ᵗᵒ ⁱⁿⁱᵗⁱᵃᵗᵉ ᵃ ᵏⁱˢˢ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ. ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ⁱⁿᶜʳᵉᵈⁱᵇˡʸ ᵈᵉᵃʳ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈʳⁱᵛᵉ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒⁿᵉˡⁱⁿᵉˢˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ʰᵃˢ ᵇᵉᵉⁿ ᵉˣᵖᵉʳⁱᵉⁿᶜⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ᵛᵉʳʸ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ. ʸᵒᵘʳ ʷᵃʳᵐᵗʰ, ˢᵐⁱˡᵉ, ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᵒᶠ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒʳᵗ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵏⁱⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵃ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ ˡᵘˡˡᵃᵇʸ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗˢ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᵒᶠ ᵖᵃⁿⁱᶜ ᵃᵗᵗᵃᶜᵏˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵗʳᵉˢˢ, ⁿⁱᵍʰᵗᵐᵃʳᵉˢ. ʸᵒᵘ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ⁱᵐᵃᵍⁱⁿᵉ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵖʳᵒᵗᵉᶜᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃˡˡ ʰⁱˢ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ. ᵀʰᵉʳᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ, ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʰᵉ ʳᵉᶠᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱᵈᵉᵃ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵉᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿ ⁱᵈᵒˡ, ʷᵒʳʳⁱᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵃᵇⁿᵒʳᵐᵃˡ ᶠᵃⁿˢ ᵐⁱᵍʰᵗ ʰᵃʳᵐ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒʳ ʰᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵏ ᵘᵖ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵃᵏᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ᶜᵃʳᵉᵉʳ. ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵃˡˡ, ʰᵉ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵇᵉⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿ ⁱᵈᵒˡ ᵍⁱʳˡ ⁱˢ ᵗᵒᵒ ᵈᵃⁿᵍᵉʳᵒᵘˢ. ᴬⁿᵈ ᵖʳᵉᶜⁱˢᵉˡʸ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʳᵒᵘᵇˡᵉ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᶠᵘˢᵉᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ, ᵇᵘᵗ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒʳᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵉʳˢᵘᵃˢⁱᵒⁿ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱᵐ, ⱽᵉⁿᵗʸ, ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʷᵒ ᵐᵃⁿᵃᵍᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵉʳˢᵘᵃᵈᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᵗʳʸ. ᴬˡˡ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ʰᵉ ʰᵃˢ ᵏⁿᵒʷⁿ ⁿᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵖᵃⁱⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵘᶠᶠᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ, ˢᵒ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ⁿᵒʷ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ʰᵒʷ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉʰᵃᵛᵉ ⁱⁿ ʳᵒᵐᵃⁿᵗⁱᶜ ˢⁱᵗᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ. ᴴᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᶠⁱᵈᵉⁿᶜᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵃᶜᶜⁱᵈᵉⁿᵗᵃˡˡʸ ʰᵘʳᵗ ʸᵒᵘ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ'ˡˡ ⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ᶠᵒʳᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵈᵒᵉˢ.

ᴬᵗ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ, ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿⁱᵗⁱᵃᵗᵒʳ ᵒᶠ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ. ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᵛᵉʳʸ ˢˡᵒʷ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ, ˡᵉᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ˣⁱᵃᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵘˢᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ⁱᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ˢᵘʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵐᵃʸᵇᵉ ᵏⁱˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ʷᵃˢⁿ'ᵗ ˢᵒ ˢᶜᵃʳʸ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃˡˡ. ᴴᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡⁱᶻᵉᵈ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵒᶠᵗⁿᵉˢˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵃʳᵐᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡⁱᵖˢ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ. ᵀʰⁱˢ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ ⁱˢ ᵃ ʳᵉᵐⁱⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ʰᵉʳᵉ, ⁿᵉˣᵗ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ, ᵃᵗ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗ, ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱˡˡ ⁿᵒᵗ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱᵐ, ᵈᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ʰⁱˢ ⁱⁿˢᵉᶜᵘʳⁱᵗʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿᵉˣᵖᵉʳⁱᵉⁿᶜᵉ.

ᴬᵗ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵖᵒⁱⁿᵗ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳᵉˡᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢʰⁱᵖ, ˣⁱᵃᵒ ʰⁱᵐˢᵉˡᶠ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ⁱⁿⁱᵗⁱᵃᵗⁱᵛᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘ, ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵃˢᵏ ᵖᵉʳᵐⁱˢˢⁱᵒⁿ ᵛᵉʳᵇᵃˡˡʸ ᵒʳ ⁿᵒⁿ⁻ᵛᵉʳᵇᵃˡˡʸ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᵖˢ. ᴴⁱˢ ᶠᵃᵛᵒʳⁱᵗᵉ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ ᵃʳᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡⁱᵖˢ. ᴴᵉ ᵒᶠᵗᵉⁿ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵗᵃᵏᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ, ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵉʸᵉˢ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ˢⁱˡᵉⁿᵗ ʳᵉᵠᵘᵉˢᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵖᵉʳᵐⁱˢˢⁱᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ ᵗʰᵉᵐ. ᵂʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵍʳᵉᵉ, ʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇʳⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᵖˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱᵐᵖʳⁱⁿᵗ ᵃ ᶠᵉᵃᵗʰᵉʳ⁻ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵏⁱˢˢ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵒʳ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ʷʳⁱˢᵗˢ. ᴵᵗ'ˢ ᵃ ˢⁱᵐᵖˡᵉ ᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ, ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ ˢᵃʸˢ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵒʷ ᵈᵉᵉᵖˡʸ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃʳᵉˢ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ. ᴬᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉᵉˡˢ ᵖᵃʳᵗⁱᶜᵘˡᵃʳˡʸ ᵉᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃˡ, ˣⁱᵃᵒ ᵖʳᵉˢˢᵉˢ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᵖˢ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘʳˢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ʷᵃʸ, ᵗʳᵉᵃᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃˢ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵉʳᵉ ᶠʳᵃᵍⁱˡᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᶜʳʸˢᵗᵃˡ. ᴺᵒ ᵐᵃᵗᵗᵉʳ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵒʳ ʰᵒʷ ʰᵉ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘ, ˣⁱᵃᵒ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ʰⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ. ᴮᵘᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵖᵘᵇˡⁱᶜ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵖᵘᵇˡⁱᶜ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉˢ, ʰᵉ ᵇᵉʰᵃᵛᵉˢ ʷᵃˢ ʳᵃᵗʰᵉʳ ʳᵉˢᵉʳᵛᵉᵈ. ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʳᵏ, ʰⁱˢ ʳᵃʸ ᵒᶠ ˢᵘⁿˢʰⁱⁿᵉ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵇᵉ ˢʰᵃᵗᵗᵉʳᵉᵈ ⁱᶠ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵘʳᵗ ʸᵒᵘ.

『✦』𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢

ᵂⁱᵗʰᵒᵘᵗ ʰᵉˢⁱᵗᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ, ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵗ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵃⁿʸ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ — ᵗʰᵉ ⁱᵈᵒˡ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢᵉᵉᵐ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˢʰᵃᵐᵉ ᵃᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ʰᵉˢⁱᵗᵃᵗᵉ ᵗᵒ ˢʰᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ ʰᵒʷ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ʰᵉ ˡᵒᵛᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘ. ᴴᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵉᵉᵏˢ ᵒʳ ˡⁱᵖˢ ᵃˢ ᵃ ᵍʳᵉᵉᵗⁱⁿᵍ, ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᵐⁱˢˢᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵖᵃʳᵗ ᵈᵘᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗʳᵃⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ, ᶜᵒⁿᶜᵉʳᵗˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠⁱˡᵐⁱⁿᵍ. ⱽᵉⁿᵗʸ ᵃˡˢᵒ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳˡᵃᶜᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠⁱⁿᵍᵉʳˢ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵇᵉⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵈᵒʷⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵖ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ⁿᵒˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘʳˢ, ᵍⁱᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᶜʰᵃˢᵗᵉ "ᴱˢᵏⁱᵐᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ". ᵀʰᵉ ʷᵃʸ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵍⁱᵍᵍˡᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ʳᵘᵇˢ ʰⁱˢ ⁿᵒˢᵉ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿˢᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳˢ ᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵃʳᵐ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᵉʸᵉˢ ˢᵉᵉᵐ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᶠˡᵉᶜᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʰᵒˡᵉ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉʳⁿᵉˢˢ, ʰᵉ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵘⁿᵈⁱˢᵍᵘⁱˢᵉᵈ ᵃᵈᵒʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ. ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ˡⁱᶠᵗˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵒᵈ ʷʰᵉⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʰᵉ ⁱˢ ˢᵃᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒⁿᵉˡʸ, ⁱᵗ ⁱˢ ᵃ ʳᵉᵃˡ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ˢᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃᵖᵖʸ.

ⱽᵉⁿᵗʸ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵗᵘᵈⁱᵒ ᵒʳ ᵃᵗ ʰᵒᵐᵉ, ʰᵉ ˢᵗʳᵘᵐˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵍᵘⁱᵗᵃʳ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ, ʰᵘᵐᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ᵒˡᵈ ᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ' ˢᵃᵏᵉ. ᴮᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ ᵃˡˡ ˢᵗᵃʳᵗᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵖˡᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵍᵘⁱᵗᵃʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢⁱⁿᵍⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ᵃ ᵍʳᵃᵈᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵖᵃʳᵗʸ. ᴵᵗ ʷᵃˢ ʸᵒᵘ ʷʰᵒ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒʳᵗᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ⁱᵈᵉᵃ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈʳᵉᵃᵐ ᵒᶠ ᵇᵉᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵗʳᵃⁱⁿᵉᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᶜᵒⁿᵗⁱⁿᵘⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱˢ ⁱᵈᵒˡ ᶜᵃʳᵉᵉʳ. ᵀʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉⁿ, ᵗʰᵃᵗ ⁿᵒʷ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵘˢᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵉˣᵗˢ ʰᵉ ⁱⁿᵛᵉⁿᵗᵉᵈ ʷᵉʳᵉ ʷʳⁱᵗᵗᵉⁿ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵖʳᵉˢᵉⁿᶜᵉ. ᴱᵛᵉⁿ ⁿᵒʷ, ˢⁱᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈʳᵉˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ʳᵒᵒᵐ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉᵛᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉˡᵃˣⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒⁿᶜᵉʳᵗ ʷʰⁱˡᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵒᶻᵉᵈ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈᵉʳ ʷʰⁱˡᵉ ʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵖˡᵃʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵘⁱᵗᵃʳ, ʷʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵉˡᵒᵈʸ ⁱˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵘᵗᵘʳᵉ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ˢⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ, ᵗʰᵉ ᵛᵉʳʸ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵉˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵉᵃʳ ⁱᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱᵗ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵖˡᵃʸˡⁱˢᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᶠᵃⁿˢ. ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃˡˡ, ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃʸˢ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵉˣᵖʳᵉˢˢ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍˢ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᵃʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ.

ⱽᵉⁿᵗʸ ⁱˢ ˢᵒ ⁱⁿ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᵒʷⁿ ᵉᵐᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒᵛᵉʳʷʰᵉˡᵐ ʰⁱᵐ ᵘⁿᵗⁱˡ ʰᵉ ˢᵘᶜᶜᵘᵐᵇˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵘʳᵍᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉⁿᵈ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶜʰᵉᵉᵏˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵒʳᵉʰᵉᵃᵈ. ᴴⁱˢ ˢᵖᵒⁿᵗᵃⁿᵉᵒᵘˢ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ, ᵇᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᵇᵘᵗ ᵍⁱᵍᵍˡᵉ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳ ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵃʳʳᵃᵍᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ. ⱽᵉⁿᵗʸ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉˢ, ʰᵉ'ˢ ᵍˡᵃᵈ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰ, ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵃˡˢᵒ ʰᵒᵖᵉˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵐᵃᵈ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ᶠᵒʳ ⁱⁿᵃᵖᵖʳᵒᵖʳⁱᵃᵗᵉ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ, ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ ˡᵒᵛᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ, ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ˢᶜᵒˡᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱᶠ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ.

ᵂʰᵉⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ⱽᵉⁿᵗʸ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵉᵖᵃʳᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵈᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ʷʰⁱˡᵉ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᵈᵘᵗⁱᵉˢ ᵃˢ ᵃⁿ ⁱᵈᵒˡ,, ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᶠᵗᵉⁿ ʳᵉᶜᵉⁱᵛᵉ ᵐᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉˢ, ᵛⁱᵈᵉᵒˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ ᵐᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉˢ. ᴵᶠ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ᶜᵃˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʳᵃⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒʳ ᵃ ᶜᵒⁿᶜᵉʳᵗ, ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᶠᵘⁿⁿʸ ˢᵗⁱᶜᵏᵉʳˢ ᵒʳ ᵃ ˡᵒᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵛᵒⁱᶜᵉ ᵐᵉˢˢᵃᵍᵉˢ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃʳᵉ ⱽᵉⁿᵗʸ'ˢ ʷᵃʸ ᵗᵒ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃᵗᵗᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ⁱᵗ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡˡʸ. ᴮᵘᵗ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵒʳʳʸ, ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐᵉᵉᵗ, ʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵉⁿˢᵃᵗᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ⁱᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵈᵒᵘᵇˡᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ. ᴬᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃˡˡ, ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ⁱˢ ᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵇⁱⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵈᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵃⁿ ⁱᵈᵒˡ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵇᵉ ᵍʳᵃᵗᵉᶠᵘˡ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳᶠᵘˡ ᵍⁱʳˡ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ʳᵉᶜⁱᵖʳᵒᶜᵃᵗᵉᵈ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵉⁿᵗ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ʷᵃʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱᵐ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ⁱⁿ ʰᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈⁱᶠᶠⁱᶜᵘˡᵗⁱᵉˢ. ʸᵒᵘ ᵐᵉᵃⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʰᵒˡᵉ ʷᵒʳˡᵈ ᵗᵒ ⱽᵉⁿᵗʸ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ˢᵘʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᵃˢ ˢᵒᵒⁿ ᵃˢ ʰᵉ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡˡʸ ᶠⁱⁿⁱˢʰᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ˢᵒⁿᵍ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ.

『✦』𝐊𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚

ᴴᵉ ⁱˢ ᵃⁿ ⁱⁿᶜʳᵉᵈⁱᵇˡᵉ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉᵐᵃⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵒᵐᵃⁿᵗⁱᶜ. ᴴⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵒᶠᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ. ᴴᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵖᵃˡᵐˢ, ˡᵒᵒᵏ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵉʸᵉˢ, ˢᵖᵒⁿᵗᵃⁿᵉᵒᵘˢˡʸ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵉᵖᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒʳ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵈᵉˡⁱᶜᵃᵗᵉ ˢᵏⁱⁿ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᵖˢ. ᴴᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵇᵉ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢⁱⁿᵍˡʸ ᵛᵉʳʸ ˢᵗʳᵃⁱᵍʰᵗᶠᵒʳʷᵃʳᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵇᵒˡᵈ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍˢ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵉᵗ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵃ ᵠᵘⁱᵉᵗ ᶜʰᵘᶜᵏˡᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿᵉᵛᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵒʳʳʸ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᶠˡⁱʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ, ᶠⁱⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᵃᵈᵒʳᵃᵇˡᵉ.

ᴾᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵃᵛᵒʳⁱᵗᵉ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ ⁱˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵖ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ. ᴴᵉ ᵒᶠᵗᵉⁿ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵘᵖˢᵉᵗ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒʳ ᵒᵗʰᵉʳ ᵉᵛᵉⁿᵗˢ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿⁱⁿᵍ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡⁱᶠᵉ. ᴴᵉ ˢᵖᵉᵃᵏˢ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᵒᶠ ᵉⁿᶜᵒᵘʳᵃᵍᵉᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒʳᵗ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ, ᵗᵃᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵃⁱˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ᵏⁱˢˢ. ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᶜᵒⁿᵛᵉʸ ʰⁱˢ ᵈᵉᵛᵒᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵉˢⁱʳᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ ʸᵒᵘ, ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ʳᵉˡʸ ᵒⁿ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵇʸ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢⁱᵈᵉ, ᵃˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ᵈⁱᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ. ᴴᵉ ᵃˡˢᵒ ʰᵃˢ ᵃ ᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉⁿᶜʸ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈᵉʳ ᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵘʳᵛᵉ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ⁿᵉᶜᵏ. ᴵᶠ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ʰᵘᵍᵍⁱⁿᵍ ᵒʳ ʲᵘˢᵗ ˢᵖᵉⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ ⁱⁿ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉ ᵖʳᵒˣⁱᵐⁱᵗʸ, ᴷᵃᶻᵘʰᵃ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒᵖᵖᵒʳᵗᵘⁿⁱᵗʸ ᵗᵒ ᵖʳᵉˢˢ ʰᵉʳ ˡⁱᵖˢ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈᵉʳ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵏⁱˢˢ. ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵘᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃ ʷᵃʸ ᵗᵒ ʳᵉᵖˡᵉⁿⁱˢʰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢᵗʳᵉⁿᵍᵗʰ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃ ʰᵃʳᵈ ᵈᵃʸ ᵒᶠ ᶠⁱˡᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵒʳ ᵗʳᵃⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ.

ᴰᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃˡˡʸ ᶜᵃˡᵐ ᵈᵉᵐᵉᵃⁿᵒʳ, ᴷᵃᶻᵘʰᵃ ᵗᵉⁿᵈˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵉᵃˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᵍᵉᵗˢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒᵒᵈ. ᴰᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵏⁱˢˢ, ʰᵉ ᵐᵃʸ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵇⁱᵗᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡᵒʷᵉʳ ˡⁱᵖ ᵒʳ ˡᵉᵃⁿ ⁱⁿ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃ ᵏⁱˢˢ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒʳⁿᵉʳ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡⁱᵖˢ, ᶜʰᵉᵉᵏ ᵒʳ ᶠᵒʳᵉʰᵉᵃᵈ ᵃᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵃˢᵗ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗ. ᴴᵉ ᵗʳⁱᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵒᵘᵗʳᵃᵍᵉᵈ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ᵗᵉᵃˢⁱⁿᵍ, ᵇᵘᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵃ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰ. ᴵⁿ ᵍᵉⁿᵉʳᵃˡ, ʰⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵘˢᵘᵃˡˡʸ ˢᵒᶠᵗ, ᶠᵘˡˡ ᵒᶠ ᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉʳⁿᵉˢˢ, ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒᵛᵉ. ᴷᵃᶻᵘʰᵃ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ˢᵒ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵉⁿʲᵒʸ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱˢ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ, ᵖᵒᵉᵐˢ ⁽ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵒᶠᵗᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˡʸʳⁱᶜˢ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵒⁿᵍˢ ᵃʳᵉ ⁱⁿᵛᵉⁿᵗᵉᵈ ᵉⁱᵗʰᵉʳ ᵇʸ ʰⁱᵐ ᵒʳ ᵇʸ ᵂᵉⁿᵗⁱ⁾ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖʰʸˢⁱᶜᵃˡ ⁱⁿᵗⁱᵐᵃᶜʸ. ᴴᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ˢᵘʳᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗᵒ ᵒᵖᵉⁿ ᵘᵖ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿ ˢᵘᶜʰ ⁱⁿᵗⁱᵐᵃᵗᵉ ˢⁱᵗᵘᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ, ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ⁱˢ ʷʰʸ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ⁱᵗ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢˡᵒʷˡʸ ʷʰᵉⁿ ⁿᵒ ᵒⁿᵉ ⁱˢ ˡᵒᵒᵏⁱⁿᵍ ᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ. ᴴᵉ ᶠᵉᵉˡˢ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᶜᵒⁿⁿᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ⁱⁿ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵖᵉʳˢᵒⁿᵃˡ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ. ᴴᵉ ᵐᵃʸ ᵇᵉ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳᵒᵃᵈ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ʷᵒʳᵏ, ᵇᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵒᵐᵉ, ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵒʷⁿˢ ʰⁱᵐ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃᵖᵖⁱᵉˢᵗ.

『✦』𝐀𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

ᴴᵉ ᶜˡᵉᵃʳˡʸ ᵏⁿᵒʷˢ ʰᵒʷ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵍⁱʳˡˢ, ᵖᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱˢ ˢⁱˢᵗᵉʳ, ᴸᵘᵐⁱⁿ, ʰᵃˢ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ˢᵒ ᵐᵘᶜʰ. ᴴⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵛᵉʳʸ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ. ᴴᵉ ⁱˢ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿᵃᵗᵉ ᵇʸ ⁿᵃᵗᵘʳᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᵍᵘˡᵃʳˡʸ ᵉˣᵖʳᵉˢˢᵉˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵃᶠᶠᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵒˢᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵃʳᵉ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ʰⁱᵐ, ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ᵉˢᵖᵉᶜⁱᵃˡˡʸ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ, ʰⁱˢ ᵇᵉˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ, ᵃ ˡᵒᵗ ᵒᶠ ˡᵒᵛᵉ. ᴴᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿʸʷʰᵉʳᵉ ᵒⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ, ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᶠ ʰᵉ ʰᵃᵈ ᵗᵒ ᶜʰᵒᵒˢᵉ, ʰᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ˢᵃʸ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡⁱᵖˢ ᵃʳᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᶠᵃᵛᵒʳⁱᵗᵉ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵏⁱˢˢ, ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ʰᵒʷ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉᵉˡˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ⁱⁿᵗⁱᵐᵃᶜʸ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ.

ᴰᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃ ᵏⁱˢˢ, ᴵᵗᵉʳ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ʷʳᵃᵖ ʰⁱˢ ʷᵃʳᵐ ʰᵃⁿᵈˢ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ, ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡʸ ᵗⁱˡᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵉᵃᵈ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵖᵒˢⁱᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᶠᵒʳ ᵃⁿʸ ᵗʸᵖᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵏⁱˢˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ˢʰᵃʳᵉ ᵗᵒᵍᵉᵗʰᵉʳ. ᴴⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᶜʰᵃˢᵗᵉ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉʸ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᶠⁱˡˡ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢᵘᶜʰ ʷᵃʳᵐᵗʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗ, ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢⁿ'ᵗ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ⁿᵉᵉᵈ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃˡᵏ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ⁱᵗ, ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ʰᵒʷ ᵐᵘᶜʰ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉᵉˡˢ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʰʳᵒᵘᵍʰ ʰⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ. ᵀʰᵉ ʷᵃʸ ʰⁱˢ ᵃʳᵐˢ ᵗᵉⁿᵈᵉʳˡʸ ᵉᵐᵇʳᵃᶜᵉ ʸᵒᵘ, ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ ᵐᵃⁿⁿᵉʳ ⁱⁿ ʷʰⁱᶜʰ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃʳᵉˢˢᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ, ᵗʰᵉ ˡᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵃᶻᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ᵈⁱʳᵉᶜᵗˢ ⁱⁿ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵈⁱʳᵉᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ — ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰⁱˢ ˢᵃʸˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ "ʰⁱˢ ⁿᵘᵐᵇᵉʳ ᵒⁿᵉ", ᵃⁿᵈ ⁿᵒ ᶠᵃⁿˢ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵉᵛᵉʳ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵖˡᵃᶜᵉ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ. ᴵᵗ ᵐᵃʸ ᵇᵉ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵘⁿᶠᵃⁱʳ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃⁿˢ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵛᵉʳʸ ᵇᵉᵍⁱⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵉ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ⁱᵗ ᶜˡᵉᵃʳ ᵗᵒ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵒⁿᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵉʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ, ʰᵉ ʷᵒᵘˡᵈ ˡᵉᵃᵛᵉ ʰⁱˢ ⁱᵈᵒˡ ᶜᵃʳᵉᵉʳ. ᴬⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ ˢⁱˢᵗᵉʳ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒʳᵗˢ ʰⁱˢ ᶜʰᵒⁱᶜᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʳᵉᵃᵗˢ ʰⁱᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵘⁿᵈᵉʳˢᵗᵃⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ, ᵈᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᶜᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢʰᵉ ʷᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵒ ᵈʳᵃᵍᵍᵉᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ᵗʰⁱˢ ᴵˢᵗʳⁱᵃ ʷⁱᵗʰ ˢʰᵒʷ ᵇᵘˢⁱⁿᵉˢˢ. ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ᵒᶠᵗᵉⁿ ⁿᵉʳᵛᵒᵘˢ, ᵃᶠʳᵃⁱᵈ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ˡᵉᶠᵗ, ᵇᵘᵗ ʰⁱˢ ᶜᵒⁿˢᵗᵃⁿᵗ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵃᶜᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ⁱˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ˢʰʸ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ᵃⁿʸ ᵖᵃʳᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ʲᵘˢᵗⁱᶠʸ ʰⁱˢ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ʸᵒᵘ ⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ʳᵉᵖᵒʳᵗᵉʳˢ ᵃʳᵉ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᶜᵒᵐᶠᵒʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʷᵒʳʳⁱᵉˢ ᵐᵉˡᵗ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᴵᵗᵉʳ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘ. ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ᶠᵘˡˡʸ ᵉˣᵖˡᵃⁱⁿ ⁱᵗ, ᵇᵘᵗ ᵗʰᵉ ᶠᵉᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵒᶠ ˢᵉᶜᵘʳⁱᵗʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒʳᵗ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ᵍⁱᵛᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱˢ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ ⁱˢ ᵉⁿᵒᵘᵍʰ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵉˡⁱᵉᵛᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ⁱˢ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᵍᵒⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ᵒᵏᵃʸ.

ᴰᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ʰⁱˢ ⁱⁿⁿᵒᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵇᵉʰᵃᵛⁱᵒʳ, ˢⁱᵐⁱˡᵃʳ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵃ ᵍᵒˡᵈᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵗʳⁱᵉᵛᵉʳ ⁽ʷᵉˡˡ, ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵍᵒˡᵈᵉⁿ ʰᵃⁱʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃⁿ ⁱⁿⁿᵒᶜᵉⁿᵗ ᵏⁱⁿᵈ ᶠᵃᶜᵉ, ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜᵒᵐᵖᵃʳⁱˢᵒⁿ, ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ?⁾, ᴵᵗᵉʳ ᶜᵃⁿ ᶜᵉʳᵗᵃⁱⁿˡʸ ˢʰᵃʳᵉ ᵃ ʰᵒᵗᵗᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵒʳᵉ ᵖᵃˢˢⁱᵒⁿᵃᵗᵉ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ, ᵉˢᵖᵉᶜⁱᵃˡˡʸ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ⁱˢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵐᵒᵒᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ⁱᵗ. ᴬᵗ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ, ʰᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ʳᵘⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵗᵒⁿᵍᵘᵉ ᵒᵛᵉʳ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡⁱᵖˢ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ˢʰᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ⁱᵗ ⁱⁿᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰ. ᴴᵉ ⁱˢ ᵘⁿᵉˣᵖᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈˡʸ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ᵍᵒᵒᵈ ᵃᵗ ᶠʳᵉⁿᶜʰ ᵏⁱˢˢⁱⁿᵍ, ᵏⁿᵒʷⁱⁿᵍ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰᵉ ʳⁱᵍʰᵗ ʷᵃʸˢ ᵗᵒ ⁱⁿᵗᵉʳᵗʷⁱⁿᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵗᵒⁿᵍᵘᵉˢ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵃⁿᵗ ʷᵃʸ, ᵖᵘˡˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᵒⁿˡʸ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇᵒᵗʰ ʳᵘⁿ ᵒᵘᵗ ᵒᶠ ᵃⁱʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃ ᵗʳⁱᶜᵏˡᵉ ᵒᶠ ˢᵃˡⁱᵛᵃ ᶜᵒⁿⁿᵉᶜᵗˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵐᵒᵘᵗʰˢ. ᴰᵉˢᵖⁱᵗᵉ ᵗʰⁱˢ, ᴵᵗᵉʳ ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ᵖʳᵉᶠᵉʳˢ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ, ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ʰᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵉᵉˡ ˢᵃᶠᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒᵛᵉᵈ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵖʳᵉˢᵉⁿᶜᵉ. ᴴᵉ ⁱⁿᵗᵉⁿᵈˢ ᵗᵒ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃᵗ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᵗʷᵒ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃ ᵈᵃʸ — ᵒⁿᶜᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵇᵉᶠᵒʳᵉ ˡᵉᵃᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵉᶜᵒⁿᵈ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ʰᵒᵐᵉ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ᵃ ˡᵒⁿᵍ, ᵇᵘˢʸ ˢᶜʰᵉᵈᵘˡᵉ. ᴾᵉʳʰᵃᵖˢ ʰᵉ ⁱˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ʷʰᵒˡᵉ ᵗᵉᵃᵐ ʷʰᵒ ʳᵉᵃˡˡʸ ʰᵃᵗᵉˢ ᵗʳᵃᵛᵉˡⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ⁱˢ ᵖᵉʳˢᵘᵃᵈᵉᵈ ᵇʸ ᵈᵘᵗʸ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵒᵘʳ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜⁱᵗⁱᵉˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵗʳʸ ᵗᵒ ᵖᵉʳˢᵘᵃᵈᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉᵐ, ᵒᵗʰᵉʳʷⁱˢᵉ ᵗʰᵉ ᵍᵒˡᵈᵉⁿ⁻ʰᵃⁱʳᵉᵈ ᵒⁿᵉ ʳᵉᶠᵘˢᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵒ ᵃⁿʸʷʰᵉʳᵉ. ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ᵒᶠᶠ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʷᵒʳᵏ ⁽ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵒʳᵏ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰᵒᵐᵉ, ⁱᵗ ᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ ⁱᵗ ᵉᵃˢⁱᵉʳ⁾ ᵗᵒ ᵇᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇᵒʸᶠʳⁱᵉⁿᵈ, ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵃ ᵈᵃʸ ᵃʷᵃʸ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʸᵒᵘ, ⁱᵗ'ˢ ᵗᵒᵒ ˡᵒⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵃʳᵈ ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ. ᴮᵘᵗ ᵉˣᶜʰᵃⁿᵍⁱⁿᵍ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ˡⁱᶠᵗˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵐᵒᵒᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠⁱˡˡˢ ʰⁱᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉ ᵉⁿᵉʳᵍʸ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵈᵉᵗᵉʳᵐⁱⁿᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ʰᵉ ⁿᵉᵉᵈˢ ᵗᵒ ᵠᵘⁱᶜᵏˡʸ ᵖᵉʳᶠᵒʳᵐ ʰⁱˢ ᵈᵘᵗⁱᵉˢ ˢᵒ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ᶜᵃⁿ ʳᵉᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵗᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵉᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇᵉᵃᵘᵗⁱᶠᵘˡ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉ ᵃᵍᵃⁱⁿ.

『✦』𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐮

ᴴⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵛᵉʳʸ ᵖˡᵃʸᶠᵘˡ. ᴴᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵗᵒ ᶜᵃᵗᶜʰ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒᶠᶠ ᵍᵘᵃʳᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵗʰᵉᵐ, ᵉⁱᵗʰᵉʳ ᵏⁱˢˢⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ᶜʰᵉᵉᵏ ᶠᵒʳ ⁿᵒ ʳᵉᵃˢᵒⁿ, ᵒʳ ᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ᵇᵉʰⁱⁿᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵃᵗᵗⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ˢʰᵒᵘˡᵈᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ, ᵒⁿˡʸ ᵗᵒ ˢˡⁱᵖ ⁱⁿ ᶠʳᵒⁿᵗ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃⁿᵈ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃ ᵏⁱˢˢ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵘʳⁿ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ. ᴴⁱˢ ᵃⁿᵗⁱᶜˢ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇʸ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵇˡᵘˢʰ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ˡⁱᵏᵉˢ ʰᵒʷ ᵉᵐᵇᵃʳʳᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵒᵒᵏ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ. ᴺᵒᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᵉˡˢᵉ ᵍⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵃⁿ ⁱᵈᵒˡ ˢᵘᶜʰ ʲᵒʸ ᵃˢ ˢᵉᵉⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵉᵐᵇᵃʳʳᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ᵉˣᵖʳᵉˢˢⁱᵒⁿ ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵒᶠ ʰⁱˢ ᵘⁿᵉˣᵖᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ.

ᴮᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ'ʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃ ᵐⁱˢˢ ᵉⁱᵗʰᵉʳ.ᵂʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗʳʸ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵇᵃᶜᵏ ᵃᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇʸ ˢʰᵒʷᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ʰⁱᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵘⁿᵉˣᵖᵉᶜᵗᵉᵈ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ, ᴴᵉⁱᶻᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵉˡᵖ ᵇᵘᵗ ʷᵒⁿᵈᵉʳ "ʰᵒʷ ᵈᵒ ʸᵒᵘ ᵐᵃⁿᵃᵍᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᶠᵃˡˡ ⁱⁿ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵐᵒʳᵉ?" ᴴᵉ ᵃᵈᵐⁱʳᵉˢ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵃᵇⁱˡⁱᵗʸ ᵗᵒ ᵒᵘᵗˢᵐᵃʳᵗ ʰⁱᵐ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗᵃᵏᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ᵇʸ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ, ᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿˢ ᵒʳ ᶠˡⁱʳᵗⁱⁿᵍ, ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ⁱᵗ'ˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵒᶠᵗᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᴴᵉⁱᶻᵒᵘ ⁱˢ ᵘⁿᵃᵇˡᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶠᵒʳᵉˢᵉᵉ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ʷⁱˡˡ ʰᵃᵖᵖᵉⁿ. ᶠᵒʳ ʰⁱᵐ, ᵗʰᵉ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ᵖˡᵉᵃˢᵃⁿᵗˡʸ ˢᵘʳᵖʳⁱˢᵉ ʰⁱᵐ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵍᵉⁿᵗˡᵉ ʰᵒᵗ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰᵉˢ, ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵒʳ ᵛᵘˡᵍᵃʳ ᵖʰʳᵃˢᵉˢ ˢᵃⁱᵈ ⁱⁿ ᵃ ʷʰⁱˢᵖᵉʳ ⁱⁿ ʰⁱˢ ᵉᵃʳ, ᵇᵉᶜᵃᵘˢᵉ ᵐᵒˢᵗ ᵒᶠᵗᵉⁿ ᵃᵗ ˢᵘᶜʰ ᵐᵒᵐᵉⁿᵗˢ ᵖᵉᵒᵖˡᵉ ᵃʳᵒᵘⁿᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ⁿᵒᵗ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ, ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʰⁱˢ ᵇʳᵉᵃᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ᶠᵃˡᵗᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ᶠˡᵘᵗᵗᵉʳ. ᴴᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰ ⁱᵗ ᵒᶠᶠ, ᵗᵉᵃˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ⁱⁿ ʳᵉˢᵖᵒⁿˢᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗʳʸ ᵗᵒ ᵈⁱˢᵗʳᵃᶜᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʰⁱˢ ʳᵉᵈᵈᵉⁿᵉᵈ ᶜʰᵉᵉᵏˢ, ᵇᵉ ᵃ ˡⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ ᵉᵐᵇᵃʳʳᵃˢˢᵉᵈ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ᶠᵉᵉˡˢ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ᶠˡᵘᵗᵗᵉʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ʰᵉ ʷᵃⁿᵗˢ ᵗᵒ ˢᵗᵃʸ ᵃˡᵒⁿᵉ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃˢ ˢᵒᵒⁿ ᵃˢ ᵖᵒˢˢⁱᵇˡᵉ ⁱⁿ ᵒʳᵈᵉʳ ᵗᵒ ᵐᵃᵏᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ ᶜᵒᵐᵉ ᵗʳᵘᵉ.

ᴴᵉⁱᶻᵒᵘ ᵖʳᵉᶠᵉʳˢ ᶠˡᵉᵉᵗⁱⁿᵍ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ʳᵃᵗʰᵉʳ ᵗʰᵃⁿ ᵈᵉᵉᵖ ᵒⁿᵉˢ. ᴴⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵠᵘⁱᶜᵏ, ᵃˢ ⁱˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵐⁱⁿᵈ, ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵍⁱᵛᵉˢ ᵗʰᵉᵐ ᵃ ˡᵒᵗ. ᴰᵘʳⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉ ᵈᵃʸ, ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃʳᵉ ˢᵒᵐᵉʷʰᵉʳᵉ ⁿᵉᵃʳᵇʸ, ʰᵉ ʷⁱˡˡ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᵃⁿ ᵒᵖᵖᵒʳᵗᵘⁿⁱᵗʸ ᵗᵒ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ ᵗʰᵉ ˢᵏⁱⁿ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡⁱᵖˢ, ᶜʰᵉᵉᵏˢ, ⁿᵉᶜᵏ, ᵃʳᵐˢ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʰⁱˢ ˡⁱᵖˢ ⁻ ᵃⁿʸʷʰᵉʳᵉ. ᴴᵉ'ˡˡ ᵏⁱˢˢ ᵉᵛᵉʳʸ ⁱⁿᶜʰ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇᵃʳᵉ ˢᵏⁱⁿ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵉᵃˢᵗ ᵉˣᵖᵉᶜᵗ ⁱᵗ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁿ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ᵃ ᵇⁱᵍ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵃ ᶜᵃʳᵉᶠʳᵉᵉ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰ. ᴴᵉ'ˢ ᵃ ᵇⁱᵗ ˡⁱᵏᵉ ᵃ ˢᶜʰᵒᵒˡᵇᵒʸ ⁱⁿ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ʷʰᵒ'ˢ ᵗʳʸⁱⁿᵍ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵃᵗᵗᵉⁿᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᵇʸ ᵗᵉᵃˢⁱⁿᵍ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ᵃ ʳᵉᵃᶜᵗⁱᵒⁿ ᶠʳᵒᵐ ʸᵒᵘ. ˢᵒᵐᵉᵗⁱᵐᵉˢ ʰⁱˢ ᵏⁱˢˢᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵗⁱᶜᵏˡⁱˢʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ʸᵒᵘ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰ, ᵃⁿᵈ ʰᵉ ᵍʳⁱⁿⁿᵉᵈ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵉᵈ ʷⁱᵗʰ ʸᵒᵘ. ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ᵇʳⁱᵍʰᵗᵉⁿˢ ᵘᵖ ʰⁱˢ ᵈᵃʸ. ᴱᵛᵉⁿ ʷʰᵉⁿ ʰᵉ ⁱˢ ᶠⁱˣᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵗʳᵃⁱⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵒʳ ᵃⁿ ᵘᵖᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵖᵉʳᶠᵒʳᵐᵃⁿᶜᵉ, ʸᵒᵘʳ ˢᵐⁱˡᵉ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵃᵘᵍʰᵗᵉʳ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵃˡʷᵃʸˢ ᵈᵉˡⁱᵍʰᵗ ʰⁱˢ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ ᵃⁿᵈ ʳᵉᵐⁱⁿᵈ ʰⁱᵐ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ᵃˡˡ ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ⁿᵒᵗ ⁱⁿ ᵛᵃⁱⁿ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ᵐᵘˢⁱᶜ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵖᵉʳᶠᵒʳᵐᵃⁿᶜᵉ ᵍⁱᵛᵉ ᵃ ˡᵒᵗ ᵒᶠ ʰᵃᵖᵖⁱⁿᵉˢˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ʲᵒʸ ᵒᶠ ˡⁱᶠᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵗʰᵉⁱʳ ˡⁱˢᵗᵉⁿᵉʳˢ ᵃⁿᵈ ᶠᵃⁿˢ.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

@ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍʏ-ᴍᴏᴏɴ-ᴄᴀᴛ • ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴘʟᴀɢɪᴀʀɪꜱᴇ, ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ! ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴅᴀʏ ~ ♡