Memories of Other Times [g.i One Shots]

Soulmates

Characters - Zhongli, Diluc

Warnings - Fluff, angst, descriptions of burn injuries/treatment

Word Count - 1296

Zhongli - (Matching Soulmarks)

Lying in bed, you snuggled deep under the covers, consciousness drifting closer as you felt warmth crawl over you bare back. As you woke up, you became aware of the roughened fingertip tracing nonsense lines over the dips and curves of your muscles.

You groaned pleasantly as a gentle fire trailed after the fingertips, causing you to shiver. "Stop it." You mumbled sleepily. "Let me go back to sleep."

A deep chuckle reverberated through the chest behind you, arms moving to wrap around your waist and pull you close, lips pressing to the bottom of your nape. "I apologize for waking you, my dear."

"No you're not." You scoff playfully, rolling over to face the one behind you.

You were greeted with sharp, amber eyes that glowed like Cor Lapis roving over your form. Long, brown hair, tipped a shining gold, was spread across shoulders and pillows like a halo, strung messily around thin, branched antlers. Broad arms kept you close and thin lips were pulled into a handsome smile that crinkled those keen eyes.

"No." He simply said, leaning down to brush a kiss against your forehead.

While he did so, your own fingers found themselves tracing. Across the plains of his chest, your fingers followed the lines of a beautiful, lithe, dragon of gold and brown scales with a wild, yet regal, mane, intertwined with a Pixiu. Curved antlers and small, feathery wings complemented its tough body and strong, deadly teeth.

Wrapped in ribbons of gold and red, red gauze and mora surrounding them, they danced with each other, and instinctively you knew that yours and your husband's beast forms were gazing at each other with eyes of love.

It was such a shame that your mark was on your back while Zhongli's got to be on his chest, where he could gaze at it so easily.

"You're ridiculous." You murmured, kissing the head of the dragon and watching with softened eyes as it glowed with subtle warmth, a sign of acceptance of affection.

Zhongli only rumbled with agreement, nuzzling the top of your head and playfully biting one of your thicker antlers. You huffed, trying to shake him off, but when he stubbornly stayed on, you flopped into his chest, closing your eyes once more.

"The sunlight is only beginning to rise. Let me sleep for just a bit longer?"

Zhongli let go of your antler, looking down at you with incredulousness mixed with mirth. "How can you be a Pixiu when you act so much like a house cat?"

"What have I to do all day but laze around? Let me sleep." You chuckle softly.

"That is by your own choice."

"And it is yours that Liyue should no longer require help from its reigning god or his spouse, therefore, I have not much to do."

Zhongli sighed, but even then, you felt, even heard, the smile in his voice. "Then you may stay in bed, and I will go make us breakfast."

You hummed happily. "What a wonderful husband you are."

"Do not tease me so early in the morning." Zhongli said, sliding from under the silk covers of your bed.

You gasp. "I was not! I was being honest!"

Zhongli only smiled and with a brush of his palm against your back, and yours along his chest, he left to go prepare your morning meal as you burrowed into a nest of blankets and early morning sun rays.

Diluc - (Matching Scars)

You sat on the edge of the tub, your hands rhythmically kneading the shampoo into his fiery, curly hair. Your pants were curled up to your knees, your legs to either side of him as he sat between your knees, his back to you.

"Arms out." You instructed gently. Diluc obediently held his arms, which had been resting on the sides of the tub out further as you grabbed the small bucket of water, dumping it over his head.

You squeezed out the rest of the shampoo before lathering his hair with a sweet-smelling conditioner. Diluc's head was pointed down, and with him facing away from you, you couldn't gauge his expression. You paused; your fingers tangled in his silky strands.

"You're rather quiet today." You commented casually. "Are you alright?"

Diluc was quiet for a moment, so still you would have mistaken him for being asleep. "I hate this." He grumbled.

You knew what he was talking about, of course. The red, flaking scars that ravaged his fingers all the way to his elbows. The scars that yours matched, in visual alone.

When they first appeared on your arms, you panicked. Scars had shown up on you before, and the first one you ever got was a momentous occasion, but never to the degree that the violent red had crawled up your skin, though they didn't hurt. You thought something severe had happened, you thought more damage would come, you thought your soulmate - one you hadn't even had the pleasure of meeting yet - would soon perish.

But scars kept coming. Along your legs and arms and stomach and in a strange way, it assured you. It at least let you know that they were still alive.

You never bothered to hide your scars, not seeing them as something shameful or disgusting. And because you had no need to care for them, you wore whatever you'd like.

That was how you stumbled into the Angel's Share on a sweltering afternoon, scars uncovered in a loose short sleeved shirt. The wide-eyed look on the poor bartender had left you deeply confused and soon anxious when his breathing picked up.

Everything spiraled from there.

And now you sat at the edge of the tub, sighing with sorrow. "I know you hate it."

Gently coaxing Diluc from the tub, you dried him off and quickly dressed him in his soft clothes to spare him the humiliation he always felt despite doing this every night since you had married. His eyes were downcast as you led him from the bathroom to the bedroom, pushing his shoulders so he sat on the bed.

After collecting what you needed, you held your hands out for his arms. After a moment of silent deliberation, he placed his hands in yours. Taking some moisturizer, you slowly massaged it into the burns, taking care not to hurt him.

He hated it. Hated being coddled. Hated being unable to take care of himself. Hated being damaged. Hated that his damage infected you. It was a sight that curled in his heart every time he saw it.

As you slid on his pressure garments, he scowled. "I hate it."

"I know Diluc. I know you do." You smiled and it melted him, filled him with warmth that only appeared with you.

You always knew what to say, how to help him. You didn't give faux sweet words of hollow encouragement and you didn't scold him for feeling down, telling him to just buck up and think positive. You were just there. A comfort. A rock. You knew how his mood dipped and raised. You knew that right now, when he's like this, he just wants you to tell him you understand.

He was brought from his thoughts when he felt a sweet kiss to his reddened cheek, still flushed from the warm bath. He looked at you, slowly getting sucked in your soft eyes as his own dropped from exhaustion.

"Let's go to bed, hm?" You whispered as you guided him under the covers, sliding him beside and nuzzling into his neck. "Maybe you'll feel better in the morning."

Diluc finally allowed the tenseness in his shoulders to drop. Curled around you, cared for, not coddled, healing, not damaged, he sighed and soon fell asleep.