Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Amber sucked in a shuddering breath as she ran faster down the cobbled path. She was late to class, for the hundredth time that semester. Her bag was rattling against her back, and she

prayed to all the archons above that her lunch hadn’t opened and spilled inside it, soaking all her very, very expensive law textbooks. How would she explain the chicken broth smell to her professor?

’Why the fuck did I even pack soup to uni?’

She was always late to this one, specific class. She despised it, but it was a major course, so she had no choice but to take it. She was never even late on purpose. It was always a complete accident— her alarm would not ring because she had forgotten to plug in her phone the night before, or she would be stuck in traffic, etc. Maybe her brain was just trying to protect her? She had read somewhere that it could block out traumatic memories. Const. Law was certainly a traumatic experience.

The imposing campus clock tolled, once, twice, thrice. Shit. Shit. It was already three. She was supposed to be in class by 2:50 pm. Her professor was going to chew her head off. She was very meticulous about timing. Amber had once arrived at 2:52 pm, and found the auditorium closed, the professor’s voice echoing from inside, unperturbed, even though the class started at three, technically, and Amber was 8 minutes early, not 2 minutes late. She had sat outside the door the whole lesson, straining her ears, trying to make out what the woman was saying through the thick, oakwood double doors.

Panic steadily rose within her, as she willed her legs to work faster. Amber could not miss this lecture. Not so close to the finals, not when she was so so close to fucking finishing this goddamned course.

What the fuck was she thinking anyway, going to law school?

She was nineteen. The fuck did she know about her life at nineteen? For all she knew, she could’ve become a really popular streamer on Twitch or whatever, never having to go to this vexing place to earn a living.

’Fucking capitalistic, hustle-fixated, classist—“

Building H loomed in the distance before her, getting bigger by the second. She was almost there. Just a little more effort. Maybe if she begged, and shed a few tears, her professor would let her in?

’I’m already failing her class. I’m like, the opposite of her favorite student. I’m her least favorite student. No, wait— that’s Xinyan. I’m her less least favorite student? But she does hate me more than Lumine. Does she?”

As her lungs burned in exertion, and her vision blurred, she raised her head to the sky, heaving in a breath.

Naturally, because the archons hate her, and have cursed her existence since birth, but mainly because she wasn’t looking where she was going, she crashed headfirst into someone’s back, sending Amber sprawling to the ground, the poor bystander stumbling to the side, struggling to regain their balance.

“Fuck!” She groaned as she rolled onto her back, blinking up at the sky. She felt cold seep into her clothes, and belatedly realized she had fallen right into a puddle of murky, muddy water. “I’m the worst, biggest klutz, I’m so fucking sorry, Archons—“

Her words caught in her throat when she looked at the woman rubbing her back, holding onto a nearby tree for balance.

“Shit,” she breathed, as she locked eyes with Professor Gunnhildr, the older woman’s gaze decidedly furious.

“Late to my class, again, are you, Amber,” she managed between gritted teeth, something between pain and fury crossing her face.

She straightened immediately, schooling her features into her usual mask of indifference, brushing her already immaculate sleeve. The beige coat she was wearing over her black turtleneck was thankfully undamaged. Amber thanked the Archons for small blessings, because if she had to pay for its dry-cleaning, she would have to go without dinner for about two weeks.

The woman hovered above her, her usually steely eyes frosty with rage, like Amber was nothing but a bother, dirt on the bottom of her very expensive Louboutins.

And Amber had to give it to her— she had the right to look at her like that, after Amber’s nearly successful, but completely accidental assassination attempt.

Now that she thought about it, her entire class would’ve showered her in gifts if she had succeeded.

The bane of Amber’s existence raised an eyebrow at her, her eyes slowly roaming over her body. Amber remembered that she was still on the ground, her ass freezing in a puddle, her bag’s content spilling out of it, and soaking in chicken broth. The container had opened, after all.

“Did you hit your head?” The woman asked in a rare show of worry, and Amber shook her head so hard her ears started ringing. A beat of silence. Then, awkwardly, “Are you… planning on staying there?”

Oh. “Oh shit, no— SORRY— sorry, I’m—“ she had been cussing non-stop since colliding with the professor. If she had a chance to pass her final before…

Professor Gunnhildr sighed, and, as if taking pity on her, extended a gloved hand to her. “Come, you’re soaked.”

Amber blinked. This could not be happening. She had been crushing on this woman since the moment she saw her. From her golden hair always up in a meticulous, artfully messy ponytail, to her designer clothes, to her steel-blue eyes and even steelier voice ringing clearly into the auditorium, rendering mute hundreds of students watching— Professor Gunnhildr was a legend, in the university, and outside of it.

She was the head of the Law department here, at Teyvat University, and was also a Partner at her family’s law firm, Gunnhildr & Co. LLP. She was on the fast track to Supreme Justice, and maybe even Senator or Congresswoman, if she played her cards right. Everyone knew of her. The Gunnhildr family was big in Teyvat. They had a hand in every government, either behind the curtains or at the head of it. It was no secret that the youngest of the Gunnhildr family was no exception. There was talk that she was even more successful than her predecessors.

Amber and her friends were in her Constitutional Law class. It was the most boring class in existence, Amber thought, but Professor Gunnhildr had a certain effect on her students. She was mesmerizing when she taught, and what was a boring class would become interesting, essential knowledge they could not live without.

The gang had scrambled to take her class, at the beginning of the semester. She was notorious for having packed auditoriums, her classes closing before any other teacher’s. Her only other rival could maybe be Professor Ningguang, over in Geopolitics, whose classes closed maybe as fast as hers, but Amber couldn’t be sure. Xiao had told them Professor Ningguang was nice and gentle, maybe a little manipulative around the edges— nothing like their very own blonde iceberg.

Amber realized she was staring, when Professor Brick Wall cleared her throat impatiently. Right. Taking the offered hand, she was heaved upwards with surprising strength. She looked sorrowfully at her scattered stuff, and bent down to gather them, praying to all the gods the Professor hadn’t noticed the overwhelming chicken broth smell.

The trees rustled around them gently as the wind rose, enveloping the both of them in the warm scent of soup. Amber reddened as she noticed the woman wrinkle her nose in disgust. She wanted the ground to open up and swallow her. The path around them was empty, everyone already in their classes. Shit, was Amber so late? She chanced a glance at her watch, hoping the woman wouldn’t notice, and strangle her for the lateness. 3:07 pm.

Fuck.

Wait, what was the professor doing outside her auditorium at 3-something? Was she… late?

Before Amber could process the thought, the blonde nudged the gigantic, ruined pile of papers on the ground, previously known as Amber’s law textbooks, with the tip of her shoe, a mournful look on her face. Amber winced.

“I’ll buy another one,” Amber reassured her, as she gathered the soaked pages, and threw them in a nearby bin. Her heart broke at the fact that 300$ had just been thrown away, but the book was irreparably damaged.

The blonde raised a disbelieving eyebrow. She said nothing however, turning on her heels and walking towards the Law and Liberal Arts building.

Amber followed behind her, uncertain. Was she going to be disciplined? Embarrassed in front of her entire Const. Law class? There were more than 200 people in that room— she would never live it down.

Amber’s eyebrows raised in surprise, however, when the Professor passed by the auditorium, throwing a longing glance its way. They continued walking, soon arriving in front of a high, ornate wooden door.

The blonde unlocked it swiftly, and turned to Amber.

“You’re lucky I keep a change of clothes here,” she said, her voice devoid of any emotion.

Gratefulness rushed through her, making tears prick at the corner of her eyes. She could’ve kissed her. She still had two classes, and wouldn’t be home until 7 pm. She wasn’t looking forward to spending four hours soaked to the bone, in muddy jeans.

She made her way inside what she assumed to be the Professor’s office. It was well-decorated, homey yet classy, a reflection of its owner. The walls were lined with shelves full of books. There were so many books, in fact, that some of them couldn’t fit on the shelves— they piled up messily on the ground and in the corner. The desk had papers scattered all over it, as well as a few picture frames, and, surprisingly, an antique, very expensive-looking spherical astrolabe. The chaos the place was in —the papers on the desk and the piles of books, even the throw pillows on the couch in the corner, and the blanket thrown over the back of it— was organized, tidy in a way that was meticulous and precise.

The entire office had a timeless feel to it, the antiques displayed contrasting starkly with the laptop also posed on the desk, along with the cables running from under it, to an outlet nearby.

Professor Gunnhildr followed her in, rummaged through a drawer, and pulled out plaid pants, and a dark turtleneck. Amber thought the aesthetic suited the woman extremely well, but wasn’t so sure it fit her. Nonetheless, she muttered a “thank you”, her cheeks blazing red.

“Bathroom is to your left,” the blonde indicated, turning to scour through her books, nonplussed.

She… she had her own, private bathroom? Amber gulped down her remark, and hastily went in, putting on the clothes given to her. They fit relatively well, though the shirt was a little loose around the bust, and the pants were a little tight around the thighs.

She looked at herself in the mirror hanging above the sink, frowning to test the expression— the more she looked, the more she thought she resembled a brown-haired Professor Gunnhildr.

Shuddering at the mental image, she opened the bathroom door maybe a bit more forcefully than necessary, and met the gaze of the woman who somehow hadn’t murdered her today.

The woman looked her up and down, something that looked like amusement crossing her face.

Amber hugged her arms self-consciously, looking everywhere but at her.

“Thank you, Professor,” she muttered, and the blonde sighed.

“It’s quite alright. Here,” she gestured to a few books on her desk, her eyes not meeting Amber’s, as if she was just as embarrassed as the girl was. “These are yours. You can keep them— though I’ll need my clothes back as soon as you can manage.”

Amber blinked. She approached the desk warily, and inspected the books. They were copies of the textbooks she had ruined— all 300$ of them. The familiar sensation of tears returned full force, and she sniffed loudly, causing the blonde to visibly wince.

“Thank you so much!” Amber cried, throwing caution to the wind, and colliding into the woman for the second time that day, hugging her as tightly as she could.

The blonde seemed taken aback, her hand coming up to pat awkwardly at Amber’s back.

“Uh— No need to thank me,” she muttered, and Amber was delighted to see a light blush dusting pale cheeks.

She lingered a little longer than she should’ve in the hug, then gathered her books, and sprinted out of the office.

She felt the blonde wouldn’t kill her where she stood, so she chanced a “you’re late to class, Professor!” behind her back. A smile pulled at her lips. The professor was just big softie inside, wasn’t she?

—

Amber arrived to class breathless, but glowing with happiness.

“Why do you look like you just stepped out of a Dark Academia Pinterest board?” Lumine drawled at her, as she flipped through her own textbook.

Amber puffed out a laugh. “You will not believe what happened.”

Lumine raised an eyebrow, visibly intrigued, but they were both interrupted by Professor Gunnhildr, strutting into the auditorium and onto the stage, her heels clacking against the marbled floor.

“Oh dang, I thought she died,” Lumine whispered to her, as she looked at her watch. A low whistle of surprise escaped her lips. “A whole 30 minutes late. Someone must’ve died. No other explanation.”

Amber thought it was her dignity that died that day, but she didn’t comment, because the blonde had already powered up the projector, and had begun explaining.

It was later, when she was seated at her desk next to Lumine, after a long-winded lecture that shaved off at least two years from everyone’s lifespans, that she noticed the hug felt off. Like— Like there was an obstacle between them, something that prevented her from fully clinging onto the woman like she had wanted to.

“Hey, Lumine,” she whispered at her maybe-maybe-not girlfriend, who was scribbling down notes into a worn-out notebook. “Did Professor Gunnhildr look different to you today?”

“You mean after you almost killed her?” Lumine said, arching an eyebrow, her eyes not straying from her notebook. Amber puffed her cheeks in indignation, and hit Lumine on the arm, but the blonde didn’t flinch. “Nah, she looked about the same to me.”

Amber had told Lumine what had happened on her way to class, and in turn, Lumine had told her that bets started being placed at 2:52 pm, or exactly 2 minutes later than professor Gunnhildr’s usual appearance. She was always religiously on time, appearing in the room at 2:50 pm, like clockwork.

Her previous question crossed her mind. She had stumbled across her at 3 pm, on her way to class. She was ten whole minutes late, going on twenty, then thirty, after her encounter with Amber. Something was definitely off.

“Lumi,” Amber whispered, her eyes growing bigger by the second. “Is Professor Gunnhildr married?”

Lumine blinked at her, her bored expression staying firmly in place. “Yes, with three kids.” At Amber’s shocked expression, Lumine pinched the bridge of her nose. “We don’t even know her name, Amber, how the fuck am I supposed to know if she’s married or not?”

Amber nodded thoughtfully, the dots connecting slowly in her mind. The dark turtlenecks and the oversized, yet fashionable coats made it difficult to see what was underneath, but she was firmly certain she had felt it—

“I think she’s pregnant.”

Lumine spit out her energy drink.

Chapter Text

Amber and Lumine walked quietly from Building H to the cafeteria, aiming to grab a quick snack before going to their final class of the day, philosophy with Professor Minci.

"I swear to Barbatos, Lumine, I'm not kidding!" Amber whined as Lumine rolled her eyes. She had been trying to convince her (girl?)friend since the end of their Const. Law lecture, but Lumine still didn't believe her.

"Amber, babe, I love you, but you thought Headmaster Varka wore a toupee for, like, two semesters, and you almost made everyone believe your theory of Professor Ningguang and Coach Beidou fucking."

Amber groaned. "But those are true too!"

Lumine pinched the bridge of her nose, and kicked a stray pebble, sending it ricocheting along the path in front of them.

"Fine, I'll bite. What makes you so sure she's pregnant?"

Amber reddened at the question. How could she tell Lumine that she had hugged Professor Gunnhildr, unprompted, and had felt the baby bump against her?

She sputtered a quick, "she just looked like it," which earned her a raised eyebrow from the blonde.

"There are plenty of signs!" Amber gestured, frustrated. There was no way in hell she was telling Lumine about the hug. It was too embarrassing. "Her hand is always supporting her lower back!"

"She's like, 5'4" at best, and the auditorium is gigantic. Her back probably hurts from looking up too much," Lumine said, unimpressed.

Amber frowned. Fine, that made some sense. "She's been eating weird foods!" She remembered the Tupperware of salmon and greens she had seen the professor eat once, and shuddered.

"She's rich, Amber. What's she gonna eat? McDonald's, like the rest of us peasants?"

Amber sighed. "Okay, fine, yes. She's getting fat, how about that?"

Lumine looked around her sharply, then glared at Amber. "You have a death wish, dumbass? If anyone heard you, we'd be dead meat! Also, no, she doesn't look fat to me."

Amber cursed under her breath. They were almost at the cafeteria. She needed Lumine to believe her. It didn't mean much, in the grand scheme of things, but if she didn't have anyone to gossip with, especially about something this huge, she would probably burst.

"Fine! Fine, you wanna know the truth?" At Lumine's raised eyebrow, Amber took a deep breath.

"I hugged her!"

The blonde stopped dead in her tracks, turning slowly to look at Amber, terror, pure, and unadulterated, crossing her face.

"You did what?"

"I hugged her," Amber reiterated proudly, crossing her arms and puffing her chest.

"How are you not dead?"

A chuckle emerged from Amber, her hand passing through her hair. Her ego was so inflated, it could probably fill the entirety of building H.

"Turns out, she's just a big softie. She's sweet, but she doesn't wanna show it. She let me hug her because I was an emotional mess and even hugged me back! She patted my back and everything!"

Lumine looked like she had seen Barbatos himself, her eyes glowing with excitement. Amber grinned.

"How was it?" Lumine asked, hushed, like they were talking about state secrets and not hugs.

"Warm, and so comfy! She gives great hugs!" Amber was more than exaggerating, since the professor had frozen up completely, merely patting Amber on the back and trying her best to get away.

It was one of the most awkward hugs of Amber's life, but Lumine didn't need to know that.

"And so, that's how I felt it. Her baby bump." Amber finished off, and grinned wider when she saw Lumine's eyes almost pop out of their sockets.

"So she's pregnant!" She squealed, then looked around her worriedly to see if she had attracted any weird stares.

Amber squealed right back. "Yes! So fucking weird, right?"

"Right! I wonder who the father is."

Amber's grin fell at that. Right. The father.

She needed to figure out who that was.

This piece of gossip was the only thing tethering her to reality at the moment, what with finals coming up, and having so much work to do, so many deadlines to meet. She needed this.

Lumine looked like she needed it too.

"Wait, the others need to know about this," Lumine mumbled under her breath, taking out her phone, and shooting a quick text, presumably to their group chat, since Amber's phone pinged. "I feel like we just stumbled upon the worst secret of Area 51 or something."

Amber took out her phone to check the group chat reaction. Lumine had told them to meet urgently at their usual spot, under the statue of Morax in the east courtyard, after their last course of the day.

Everyone was spamming the chat, demanding to know what was going on, but Lumine seemed adamant about keeping it a surprise, and Amber followed her lead.

They were so going to have fun in Const. Law from now on.

—

They arrived at their philosophy class on time, thankfully, both with hot chocolates, and bagels.

They settled at the front of the class, like they usually did, and waited for the professor to arrive.

Lumine and Amber weren't the most eager students, so sitting in the front wasn't their usual go-to, but it was a must, with Professor Minci. The woman was just so interesting. They sat there mainly so they could have the opportunity to chat with her while the other students arrived.

As if on cue, the woman walked in, her heels clicking lightly on the marble floor. Her honey brown hair was let loose on her shoulders, and her checkered, sleeveless dress was tight, hugging her figure beautifully. The turtleneck she was wearing underneath it was white, and adorned with about five different necklaces.

She looked absolutely stunning, like she usually did, and it was another reason why Amber and Lumine chose to sit in the front so frequently: to ogle Miss Minci to their hearts' content.

She was a lesbian, too, so the fantasizing and the thirsting were so intense, Lumine and Amber barely paid attention to her class. She was just so pretty when she talked, her hair flowing back and forth, her smooth, sultry voice, thick like velvet, enveloping them both in a warmth they hadn't felt since the womb.

"Hello, everyone," she greeted in her usual enthusiasm, getting a few "hello"s back, the most eager coming definitely from the front row, where two extremely gay girls sat. "I have some extremely happy news to share with you guys!"

Another thing that made Professor Minci's class so pleasant was that she was extremely easily distracted, and when prompted, could launch into a detailed explanation of her private life. At any given moment, she could pivot from Voltaire to her wife's antics, and how she always made the bed too tightly.

At that point in the semester, Lumine and Amber knew more about Miss Minci's wife, Jeanie, than about anything relevant to the curriculum.

The class buzzed with excitement at the professor's statement. Usually, when she started the period out by talking about her private life, it could go on for a good thirty minutes before she remembered she had a class to teach, which suited the students extremely well. No one was keen on learning about Plato and his ideals, or Diogenes and his chickens.

Her smile was blinding, full of a joy so intense, so liberating, that the class found themselves smiling alongside her. It was the kind of smile that was contagious, that could replace the sunshine in the sky.

"My wife is pregnant!" She announced, her smile going bigger when the class erupted in cheers and applause.

The students were all invested in Miss Minci's relationship with her wife. They sounded so in love— it was impossible to hear Miss Minci talk about it and not become completely emotionally attached.

Miss Minci had always said how much she would love to have a child, and how excited she was at the prospect of raising one with the love of her life. Seeing her so happy, seeing that dream of hers come true, truly melted Amber's heart. It could melt anyone's heart, even Professor Gunnhildr's, who had never cracked a smile in her life, probably even when she was a two-year-old toddler.

"Is it a boy or a girl?" Someone asked from the back of the class, and Miss Minci giggled, her cheeks a delightful shade of red.

"We haven't demanded to know quite yet. We're waiting till we're ready. But, don't tell my Jeanie— I'm secretly hoping for a girl."

A collective "aw" echoed through the room.

"Did she surprise you with it in a cute way?" A boy from the back row asked, his eyes alight with excitement. "My sister hid the pregnancy test on the Christmas tree last year to surprise her husband!"

Lisa's hand went to her chest, an endeared smile forming on her lips. "That's so sweet, Lucian. Jeanie just told me. She's not one for big, romantic gestures." She winked at them conspiratorially. "That's more my thing."

The class laughed, and the professor cleared her throat. "Now then, we were finishing up a section about Plato, weren't we?"

The class went on without any issues, or distractions on Miss Minci's part, to the disappointment of the students. They were really looking forward to knowing more about the baby, especially if it could shave off a few minutes from an interminable period.

As Lumine and Amber were gathering their things to leave, Amber already mentally tallying all the gossip she was going to share with her friends later at their gathering, she was stopped by a chuckling Miss Minci.

"You look like a Brunette Gunnhildr, Amber," she said, smiling teasingly.

Amber flushed under her gaze. It was hard not to, not when Miss Minci looked like that, and smiled like that, on a daily basis.

Lumine snorted from next to her, and the brunette elbowed her in the ribs in warning, turning to face the teacher sheepishly.

"I- uh, sorta bumped into her this morning."

"I didn't know her style spread through touch. I'll be sure to keep my distance. Plaid pants are my worst nightmare," Miss Minci raised an eyebrow, her smile mischievous.

"No! Uh, I bumped into her, uh— literally."

The professor's eyebrows shot up, indescribable worry marring her usually smiling features.

"Is she alright?"

Amber blinked. That was certainly a peculiar reaction to what Amber had said.

"Uh, yeah, she's fine, I guess. I fell into a puddle though, soaked my clothes and my books, so she gave me some spares. I'm probably wearing stuff that costs double my rent," she whispered that last part, tugging almost fearfully at her sleeve.

A small smile formed on the professor's lips, though strained and weak. "Probably more, Amber, dear. Are you sure J- Professor Gunnhildr was alright?"

Amber frowned, confused. She really was worried for her. That was... Odd. Was it because Professor Gunnhildr was pregnant?

Amber nodded wordlessly, and saw some relief ease the older woman's tension.

"I'm glad," she breathed, soft, like they weren't supposed to hear her.

"Have a good day, professor." Lumine tugged on Amber's arm, dragging her out of the classroom, though the brunette's thoughts stayed fixated on the professor.

The suddenness of her relief, her expression softening completely at the mention of the blonde— Could it be...

'An affair?'

"Can't believe how we discovered two pregnancies today," Lumine sighed next to her, and Amber nodded.

"Yeah, so weird."

—

"So, Amber tells me you lent her clothes today?" Lisa asked cheerfully as she closed the office door behind her, making a beeline for the desk, where her beautiful, wonderful, lovely wife sat, correcting some papers.

Jean absently hummed, turning a paper over in her hand, and inspecting the back.

Lisa sighed. Engrossed in work, as always. Her Jeanie always overworked herself, the poor baby.

"Jeanie," she bent down and whispered against her ear, making sure her words were breathy yet sultry, a mix only she could pull off so flawlessly.

The blonde blinked up at her, like it was her first time noticing her. "Oh, hello, darling. How was your day?"

Lisa chuckled at the impulsive question. Jean was always so eager to listen, to be there for Lisa, and lend her support in any way she could. When it came to her, she could be so stubborn.

At the beginning of their relationship, she was practically a brick wall— something the students seemed to have taken to calling her, as well. Lisa used to feel lucky when Jean would smile a little more genuine than usual, when she would say she wasn't feeling well instead of hiding it and enduring it.

Now, they were married, and her wife wasn't exactly an open book, but she tried her best, and Lisa loved her all the more for it. She knew how much it bothered Jean when the students called her cold and unfeeling, when they would whisper "professor brick wall" when she passed by. She couldn't help the way she was, not with the upbringing she had, an education bordering on brainwashing, drilling into her that emotions were signs of weakness, and Gunnhildr women were anything but weak.

Lisa had been doing her best to undo all the damage, and she took it day by day, feeling pride bloom in her chest after every success, small as they were.

Jean had never been so open in her life, and had never been so openly loved.

"My day was just fine, cutie. Tell me about yours," Lisa encouraged, as she made her way to the couch she had insisted Jean buy for the office, so they could cuddle whenever they wanted to.

Jean joined her without prompting, and they settled, Jean nestled into Lisa's side, her head resting in the crook of her neck. Lisa gestured at Jean's feet, and the blonde sighed, before kicking off her heels, and bringing her feet up on the couch, curling onto herself, sighing in delight.

Lisa ran her fingers through her wife's soft blonde curls, taking them out of their up-do and letting them cascade down her shoulders.

"It was... Uneventful. I miss the courtroom."

Lisa sighed, continuing her ministration with renewed softness. "I know, love, but a break from that was much, much needed."

Jean nodded, although a little reluctant. Her last case had taken a heavy, dangerous toll on her mental health.

Lisa sometimes failed to believe that her wife had specialized in criminal law, with how much time she spent around politicians and lawmakers. She was a Gunnhildr, so the logical steps for her were congresswoman or senator, after earning a double major in law and political science. It was a family tradition, of sorts. Jean had shattered her mother's expectations when she had chosen to go into criminal law instead.

Frederica had been furious. Murderous, even, as Jean had told her one night, small and protected by the darkness surrounding them. It was when the blonde was most open, when Lisa could get the most out of her.

She had been forced to take a step back from the courtroom though, when one of her clients, a man whose name Lisa didn't dare utter, was convicted and executed. Jean was convinced he was innocent, that he didn't deserve what had happened to him, and she had worked hard to prove it in court. However, the prosecution had played dirty, and a man was dead as a result.

Jean never recovered. It was why she had resorted to teaching— because when you cannot do, teach. And Jean definitely was not able to return to the courtroom. The last time she tried, she had had a massive panic attack, that had resulted in a short, but terrifying stay in the hospital. Lisa had begged her to take a step back, that Teyvat University would be more than thrilled to have her, and the blonde finally relented, hooked up to an oxygen machine and a rapidly beeping heart monitor.

Lisa shook out the dark memories, smiling at the blonde tucked next to her.

"I saw Amber today. She looked straight out of a magazine."

She felt, more than heard, her wife laugh next to her. "She did look so cute in those clothes. I'm almost tempted to let her keep them."

Lisa's heart melted, and she squeezed Jean against her a little harder than necessary, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of love she felt for this woman. How could one person be so extremely cute? So absolutely adorable? So unimaginably selfless and loving?

"You're just a big softie, aren't you," Lisa whispered, making Jean snort.

"I am not.

She was just soaked in mud and rain, and she fell right in front of me. How could I not help her?"

Lisa rolled her eyes, her heart falling a little at the mention of the incident. "Why didn't you tell me you almost fell today?"

She felt Jean tuck herself tighter against her, her cheek brushing her collarbone, light as butterfly wings.

"I didn't want to worry you," came the whisper in a small voice, tentative, yet filled with fear.

Lisa sighed, her hand returning to the blonde hair almost on instinct. Jean seemed most calm when Lisa played with her hair, like an overly jumpy cat, or just... Someone who had been deeply traumatized over the course of their life, and yearned for any type of physical affection.

"I know, my love, but I got so worried when Amber told me. You need to be careful, remember?" A smile tugged at Lisa's lips before she could help herself. "It's not just the two of us anymore."

Jean straightened on the couch, and Lisa instantly missed her warmth against her side.

"I promise, I'm doing my best," Jean began, her eyes frantic and watery. "I'm drinking appropriate amounts of water, I stopped coffee, I'm eating healthily, and even stopped wearing overly tall heels—"

"Jean," Lisa interrupted, her hand going to cup the blonde's cheek, stroking the pale skin, relishing in its softness and familiarity. "I know. You're doing so good, my love. It wasn't your fault. These things happen! You're safe and healthy and here, aren't you?"

Jean blinked, her eyelashes shining, unshed tears pearling on them like diamonds.

"I would never blame you, even if something, archons forbid, did happen. Okay? I promise. I love you more than anything, Jeanie."

Jean nodded, hastily tucking herself back into Lisa's side with a sniffle, and Lisa suspected she wanted to cry silently, without the brunette noticing.

She sighed to herself, and just hugged her close. It was the only thing she could do, after all.

"Also, did you really lend her hundreds of dollars worth of textbooks from your personal library? You big softie."

"Shut up."

Chapter Text

The gang was indeed waiting underneath the Morax statue in the east courtyard, as per their tradition. Not everyone was there, but Amber thought the number was significant enough to get her idea across.

Xiao was going through some of his notes, looking like he hadn’t slept in 3 years and 7 months. Aether was laying down in the grass, passed out or asleep— unclear. Chongyun and Xingqiu were sitting together, Xingqiu sprawled in Chongyun’s lap, reading poetry to him or some other sappy shit they’re used to doing as a couple. Amber gagged every time. Barbara was also there, though Amber still had trouble believing the girl chose, willingly, to sit with them. She was by far the most popular girl at uni, perhaps even in Teyvat. She had millions of followers on like, every social media platform, and her singing videos averaged millions of views. Yet there she was, scrolling through her phone, sitting cross-legged on the grass next to Aether.

“Hey, guys!” The blonde had noticed them first, and like every time she talked, Amber felt this sense of familiarity overwhelm her, a weird sense déjà-vu— like she had seen Barbara’s evil twin somewhere and she had forgotten that normal Barbara was so nice.

Though the feeling didn’t remotely make sense —Barbara had no siblings, as far as Amber was aware— she still gulped uneasily, and approached the group.

“Everyone, we have news,” Lumine said, in the most serious of voices.

“Um, first of all—“ Barbara interrupted, her eyes flitting over Amber’s clothes. Amber reddened at the attention. Right. She had forgotten she usually dressed like garbage. “Who’s your new stylist? I might need their number. I have this ad for a new perfume—“

“Shut the fuck up, Barbara,” Xiao drawled from where he was, his eyes not leaving his textbook.

Barbara rolled her eyes, smiling indulgently at Amber, like she was a little chick just now learning to fly. “You look very good, Amber.”

Amber smiled back, though shakily. “Wait till you hear about my stylist.”

And so Amber and Lumine sat down, and Amber launched into the elaborate story that was the Chicken Broth Incident, as Lumine had proudly dubbed it, like the absolute moron she was. Amber still cringed every time she remembered how professor Gunnhildr had all but gagged at the smell of the soup.

By the end of her story, Chongyun and Xingqiu had let go of each other, Xiao had stopped going through his notes, and Aether was fully awake, staring at Amber like she was a walking ticking time-bomb.

“Are you absolutely out of your fucking mind?” Xiao asked, in his usual monotonous voice, which made the whole thing infinitely funnier, but Amber wasn’t gonna tell him that. He looked like he was about to murder her.

“There’s more,” Lumine continued. “If you think she’s a moron now, wait until you hear the rest of it.”

Amber blushed at that, slapping Lumine on the arm. “Hey! I thought you believed me!”

Lumine rolled her eyes. “I’m partial to your theory. I’m not sure I approve of it quite yet.”

Amber huffed. “But I hugged her, and I felt it!”

Aether looked between them, torn between annoyance and curiosity. “The banter is cute and you two should kiss or whatever— all that aside, what did you hug and what did you feel?”

Amber glared at him, her blush deepening at the insinuation. She chose to ignore it, however, and cleared her throat. Moment of truth. “I was an emotional mess so I— Well, I hugged professor Gunnhildr.”

Silence. Everyone was looking at her like she had grown two heads. Barbara, especially, seemed utterly horrified.

“Please tell me you’re joking,” The blonde superstar whispered, her hand going to cover her mouth in her growing terror.

“I’m not,” Amber replied, though she felt even less certain about saying the rest of the story now.

“It’s a wonder you’re not dead yet,” Xiao quipped, and Amber glared at him. “I swear, I’ve heard some seniors whispering about how she sends assassins after people she doesn’t like. She’s like, filthy rich or something.”

“No, that’s your beloved Ningguang,” Xingqiu countered, rolling his eyes. “She’s the filthy-rich psychopath.”

Amber pinched the bridge of her nose. Oh no.

Predictably, Xiao’s eyes flared in anger, and he sprung to his feet, advancing on Xingqiu.

“Say that again, you blue-haired fuck—“

“You heard me, punk little bitch—“

“Okay! Okay, calm down now,” Lumine intervened, ever the voice of reason. “How about you sit the fuck down? No one’s ordering hits on anyone.”

“That we know of,” Xingqiu whispered, and Chongyun hit him lightly on the arm, scolding.

“Wanna hear the most important part of the story, idiots?” Amber finally snapped, and everyone fell silent at the prospect of gossip. It was their only source of joy, as jobless, penniless university students with absolutely no future but to fall into the capitalistic hellhole that was the modern world and society.

“She’s pregnant.”

The silence that followed was predictable. What wasn’t, in fact, was how Barbara’s eyes widened like she’d been slapped. She rose to her feet, her face a mixture of fury and terror.

“What?”

Amber and Lumine looked at each other. It was no secret that Barbara wasn’t the professor’s biggest fan— in fact, she did everything to avoid her, going as far as purposefully not taking any of her courses, choosing less-than-stellar professors so she wouldn’t have to be in her class. It was actually kinda impressive, how much she hated her. Amber wished she had that kind of energy in her, to so actively despise someone.

Still, even if she hated her, it was a peculiar reaction.

Barbara didn’t give them enough time to dwell on it, however, as she picked up her bag, stomping off, her phone going up to her ear.

The gang looked at each other, and they shrugged. Everyone was silent for a while, still processing the bombshell that Amber had just dropped, then—

“Who the hell would even touch her with a ten-foot pole?”

Lumine kicked Aether.

—

Barbara couldn’t believe her ears. Her sister was pregnant, and she hadn’t even told her? Granted, their relationship growing up hadn’t been the best— Barbara had run away with her dad, and Jean had gotten, well, the short end of the stick, having to stay with her mother.

Her father had tried to take her with him too, honest, but their mother had threatened legal action, and when a Gunnhildr threatened legal action, you beg the Archons for mercy and you run. He had had to give up on Jean, if he wanted to keep Barbara.

Barbara, for her part, thought that her father was the universe’s biggest asshole. If it was her, she never would’ve abandoned her child to the hands of that monster, even if she was going to get dragged to court for it. She couldn’t even imagine the life Jean had had, living under their mother’s thumb for years. Hell, she still was. Barbara shivered at the thought.

This was partially why she wanted to become a lawyer in the first place— the fact that rich people could so easily threaten the poorer, weaker masses, controlling them for their own benefit, just because they have the means of hiring the best lawyers around. She wanted to be a public defender, so she could help people directly. She could be the good lawyer they needed, without having to pay exorbitant amounts of money. Sure, it wasn’t a very well-paid job, and her mother would certainly rather kill her than let her go through with it, but, well— she didn’t have much of a say in it, did she?

Thoughts getting scrambled together in her brain, she waited for her sister to pick up the phone, anxiously pacing in front of a fountain, not that far from where friends were gathered.

Their relationship hadn’t been the best, yes, but they had reconnected, and Barbara liked to think that Jean liked her— maybe even loved her, and would have confided in her, especially about something this huge.

Jean picked up after a while, her voice frantic and worried.

“Barbara, darling, are you okay?” Even in her state, she sounded regal and composed, and Barbara envied her for a second.

“NO. No, I’m so not okay right now.”

There was some rustling at the other end of the line. “What is it? Is someone bothering you?”

Jean, and her savior complex. Barbara sighed, and glared at the grass, imagining Jean’s face in it. “Yes, in fact. Someone is.”

She heard Jean sigh. “Who is it? I’ll take care of them.”

A part of her swooned and relished at the fact that her sister was ready to drop-kick a student for annoying her. It was sweet, and Barbara would’ve even thanked her, if she wasn’t so damn angry.

“You, Jean. You’re the bane of my existence.”

Silence at the other end of line, then a small, confused “what?”

Barbara sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re pregnant?! And you didn’t think I should know? I had to learn it from freaking Amber, of all people?”

Another beat of silence. Then, “Amber? How did— Ah, of course. Clever girl.” A small defeated chuckle, then a sigh echoed along the line, and Barbara felt irritation shoot through her.

“Bitch— Don’t change the fucking subject. I’ll kill you.”

Jean sighed, louder, more exhausted this time. “Come to my office, will you? I don’t like people yelling at me over the phone.”

Barbara felt a semblance of shame course through her. Right. She had forgotten yelling at people on the phone was their mother’s favorite pastime, especially if said ‘people’ was Jean.

“I’ll be right over,” she mumbled, too angry to mutter an apology.

Jean hung up without another word, and Barbara wondered if she had taken it too far. Maybe their relationship wasn’t that strong yet— maybe she shouldn’t have called her a bitch. Oh gods, why did she even do that in the first place? It had just sounded right in the heat of the moment. Now she felt like a tool.

’Good job, moron.’

—

Barbara arrived in front of her sister’s office minutes later, panicked, and more than a little guilty. She wasn’t sure how mad her sister was, but if she had to guess, she would say not enough to slap her, but definitely enough to stop their weekly Saturday brunches.

She knocked, a little reluctant, and a small, tired “Come in, Barbara,” was heard, muffled by the thick oak wood door.

She shuffled inside, not daring to look up at her sister quite yet. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest, and tears were welling up in her eyes. She sniffled, silently, hoping her sister didn’t hear.

“Oh, darling,” she heard her sister mutter, in a soft, loving voice, getting up from behind her desk, to hug Barbara tightly, cradling her head against her shoulder, caressing her blonde locks, so similar to her own. “Why are you crying?”

Barbara just clutched at her coat and cried some more, the tension that had accumulated in her body evaporating in her sister’s embrace. Goodness, she had been so afraid. The last thing she wanted was Jean hating her, not after everything that had happened between them, not after working so hard to restore a relationship that was stolen from them by two hateful adults.

Jean held her silently, occasionally passing her hand over her hair, smoothing down her signature pigtails. Barbara felt her tears subside, and she was guided to the couch in the corner by a gentle hand.

Jean sat her down, her eyes alight with worry, and a smidge of sadness. Oh. She probably thought Barbara was mad at her. Damn it. She really was the worst sister, wasn’t she?

“Speak to me, Barbara.” Her stern voice was the same as Mother’s, though it lacked that one utterly horrifying quality— it wasn’t cold. Worry seeped into it, warming it, taking it from stern to somewhat concerned. It made all the difference in the world to Barbara, who sniffled some more, accepting a tissue from Jean.

“I- Sorry for calling you a bitch, I didn’t mean it, I swear.”

Jean blinked, then smiled gently at her, her hand coming up to brush away Barbara’s bangs, her touch more comforting than Barbara would have anticipated.

“Forgiven and forgotten. Now, I suppose you do want to ask about something else?”

Barbara suddenly remembered why she was there in the first place, and her posture straightened, some of her earlier anger returning to her, through flushed cheeks, and a half-hearted glare.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Jean? I thought— I thought you trusted me.”

Jean’s face fell at that. She looked utterly heartbroken, like Barbara had taken a knife to her wife or personally kidnapped her dog.

“Darling, I was going to tell you over brunch, next Saturday,” Jean began, gentle, like she always was with Barbara, as if she was afraid she would break under her touch, or that she would disappear into thin air, never to be seen again.

Well, the feeling was certainly mutual. Barbara always felt like she was walking on eggshells around her big sister, afraid of saying the wrong thing. She didn’t want her to throw her out of her life, a life she so desperately wanted to be a part of. She wanted this new relationship they were building, slowly but surely.

Jean laughed a little, surprising Barbara so much she almost jumped. Her sister didn’t laugh often. “I had even bought you this really tacky shirt that said ‘the world’s best auntie’. Before you say anything, it wasn’t my idea— Lisa insisted.” She smiled, that crooked, genuine smile of hers, and Barbara felt tears well up in her eyes once more. She threw herself into Jean’s arms, her sobs a mixture of happiness, relief, and a little bit of sadness at the whole ordeal.

There was still so much distrust between them. Yet, Jean had still prepared a cute surprise for her, a way of announcing it that would’ve surely made Barbara cry just as hard, in that café they liked to go to. Jean had gone out of her way to be a good big sister. She was opening up to her, letting her into her life, without needing to be begged to.

And Barbara had doubted her, just because the news had come as such a shock.

“How far along?” She asked with a small smile, and watched with delight as her sister’s face lit up in a way it never had before.

“Just over three months. It’s an extremely weird feeling, if I have to be honest with you,” she giggled. She giggled. Her sister never giggled. “My emotions are all over the place, and I’m always tired. I can’t even begin to tell you about morning sickness.”

Barbara felt her heart soar at the casual conversation. They were sisters. Jean trusted her with this information. She was willingly rambling, unprompted. Barbara had never felt this happy.

“Is it a boy or a girl?”

Jean sighed, wistful. “Well, we don’t know quite yet. But, in all honesty, I would really like a girl. Don’t tell Lisa, though.”

Barbara giggled. She settled against her sister’s side, tucking her head underneath her chin.

“Please, tell me everything.”

Jean smiled, and Barbara felt that despite everything, despite the obvious trust issues, and the deeper things they desperately needed to discuss, their relationship had never been better.

—

Bonus:

“Hey, by the way, Amber told us you two hugged.”

Jean reddened at that, her expression frozen in shock. Barbara would’ve laughed, if she wasn’t so disbelieving. There was no way— was there?

“Jean. Was she— You really hugged her?”

Jean glared at her, and Barbara raised an eyebrow, the thought of ‘she looks exactly like Mother’ disappearing as soon as it appeared in her head.

“So what if I did,” she huffed, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. She mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like, “you and Lisa should just leave me alone,” and Barbara laughed.

“I almost didn’t believe her at first. You’re certainly not a hugger.”

Jean rolled her eyes, a gesture she didn’t do often, which was why Barbara found it so funny. Oh, she was trying so hard to seem tough.

“She was crying and she threw herself at me. What was I supposed to do?”

Barbara laughed, and Jean’s expression turned even more embarrassed, her coloration deepening.

“It’s the hormones!”

Barbara’s laughter was starting to hurt her sides. She recovered a little, taking deep breaths, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “You’re just a big softie, aren’t you.”

Jean’s jaw fell open. She tried to come up with a good counter, until she gave up, and just flopped backward on the couch.

“Why does everyone keep saying that…”