Training with Diluc Ragnvindr should’ve been serious. After all, it was his idea — a way to help you sharpen your skills, to ensure you could defend yourself if he wasn’t there.

And oh, how noble his intentions had been.

But what he didn’t account for… was you.

You, with your grin that spelled trouble, and your completely unserious approach to sparring.

You, who didn’t mind breaking every unspoken rule in the name of victory — not when your opponent was a tall, brooding redhead who got flustered far too easily when you leaned in a little too close or whispered a teasing word in his ear.

Training with him was easy — so so easy. Not because he was weak. Not even close. But because you were ruthless with the one weapon he had no defense against:

You.

He lunged forward once — swift, perfect form — only to stutter the moment your hand brushed down the front of his chest just a bit too low to be “accidental.” The next moment he blinked, you had him on the ground.

“Unfair,” he muttered under his breath, red-faced and mildly breathless. But did he get up? No. Because you were straddling him, sitting on his hips like you’d just won a tournament. Which, in a way, you had.

And the smile on your face said you knew it.

Another time, you pressed a kiss right under his jaw mid-duel, the briefest distraction — enough to throw him off his stance just long enough for you to sweep his legs.

He landed with a grunt. “That doesn’t count—” You kissed him again. “Still doesn’t count.”

He said that even as his hands found your waist, even as his lips chased after yours a second time. Even as he looked up at you like you’d hung the stars above Mondstadt.

Truth was, he let you win more often than he admitted. Not because you couldn’t hold your own — you absolutely could — but because every stolen kiss, every teasing touch, every glint in your eyes that said you’re mine and I know exactly how to fluster you, was worth losing for.

He knew he couldn’t always be there. But gods, he wanted to. So if these stolen training sessions were your way of learning how to protect yourself…

Then maybe a few flirty tactics weren’t cheating. Maybe they were just your style.

And maybe — judging by the way his arms circled your waist, breath warm and chest rising beneath you — Diluc Ragnvindr loved every second of it.

Even if he never, ever admitted it out loud.