#✒️ -- cloudy writing

[written-in-the-clouds]

Hiii, I was wondering if you would be able to write this request I have. So, it's a platonic Diluc and child reader, where Diluc takes in a child, and despite his best attempts not to, he grows attached to them, and decides to train them, in order to help them keep themself safe, however, one day, he pushes them too far and accidentally scratches them with his sword during their training, causing them to run away.

Please add comfort at the end, I can't handle all angst no comfort/j!

yeah, i kinda took this and ran… child readers are difficult for me to write but i think this one came out okay! im considering making a part two!

warning for diluc + kaeya backstory, but it’s vague mentions~

The stray kid lurking around the winery had blue hair.

Diluc was suspicious, at first. But when he caught them just trying to take a few apples, nothing more - he offered them a place to stay without thinking about it. They were a child, how much of a threat could they be?

That’s what they thought about Kaeya.

Still. He had made up his mind. They were allowed to stay.

They were skittish for the first few days, and Diluc didn’t know what to do to help them be more at home. He made sure they had food and clothing, and were able to roam freely, but he wanted to be able to talk to them.

Unfortunately, he only had one idea of where to go.

—

“Kaeya.”

“Master Diluc,” Kaeya greeted, and Diluc clenched his teeth at the title. “Whatever is troubling you?”

“I haven’t even said anything yet.”

“You’re talking to me unprompted, so something must be wrong.”

Diluc sighed, then lowered his voice. “When you—“ he hesitated. Kaeya raised an eyebrow. “When you were adopted, what was the thing that made you the most comfortable?”

“…what?”

Diluc scowled and straightened up. “Never mind. It was a stupid question—“

Kaeya made a sharp gesture, and Diluc shut his mouth. Kaeya turned his face away for a moment, then said softly, “Being allowed to have my own space, but offered a spot if I wanted it.” He paused. “Why are you asking this?”

“Our dear Diluc has a child,” Venti cut in, sing-songing, and Diluc went bright red while Kaeya started to laugh.

“You—?”

“They’re not mine. They showed up around the winery, I wasn’t going to let them starve,” Diluc snapped. “We shouldn’t be having this conversation in public.”

“I’m coming over.”

“Absolutely not. They need to get comfortable.”

Kaeya blinked. “Huh, that’s actually a good point. I’ll be over in a few weeks, then.”

—

Diluc still didn’t see much of them, between working at the bar and them hiding in their room for most of the day. Every evening, he extended the offer to eat at the table, and when they didn’t, he sent the meal to their room.

On the ninth day, he walked into the dining room to see them sitting at the table quietly. He paused in the doorway, briefly surprised. It had taken Kaeya a while longer to get fully comfortable.

They turned to him before he spoke, and quickly stood up from their chair. “Thank you for letting me stay here,” they said, stilted. It sounded rehearsed. “I’ll be leaving tonight or tomorrow so you don’t have to worry.”

Diluc’s eyebrows drew together. “Where are you going?” If it turned out they had parents somewhere…

They shrugged. “Wherever doesn’t mind me. Heard Mondstadt City is a good place for strays.”

Diluc frowned. “You can stay here. Aren’t you eight?”

“Twelve,” they corrected, scowling, “and I’m not dumb. Nobody wants me around for long.” Diluc hesitated for a moment too long, and they rolled their eyes. “Come on. Don’t act like it’s not true ‘cuz it feels mean. I don’t care.”

“You can stay here,” Diluc said firmly. “I can’t let a child go alone.”

They made a face. “Sure.” They started to leave the room, but Diluc stepped in front of them.

“Do you want to have dinner here?”

They hesitated.

“You don’t have to.”

“…Okay. I’ll eat here tonight.”

—

Two days after that, Diluc catches them admiring a claymore he had left out to polish.

When they saw him, they jumped. “Sorry—“ they started, but Diluc interrupted them.

“Do you know how to use a claymore?” He paused and glanced at their smaller form. “Or a sword?”

“No,” they said, “but once I saw someone with this really pretty sword, like how your claymore is so detailed, and I want to lear—” They stopped themself and bit their lip, watching his reaction.

“Do you want me to teach you?” It was good to learn self-defense, Diluc reasoned. Besides, it would be a good chance to bond with them.

They hesitated, then nodded.

“Tomorrow,” Diluc told them.

—

They picked up the techniques fast. It was only a few days before they could properly spar. Their small size and penchant for dirty tricks nearly made up for their lack of experience. They used fake weapons, of course, and Diluc fought Vision-less. It gave them an opportunity to learn to fight properly and it gave Diluc the chance to practice fighting without his Vision and to defend against tricks he wouldn’t expect. Both of them learned from each other.

One afternoon, clouds gathered quickly above the sparring ground. A raindrop landed on Diluc’s nose. “We should stop for today,” he said. “Fighting in the rain and mud is difficult.”

“I want to try,” [Name] protested. The rain came on quick, faster than Diluc thought it should. “It’ll be fun!”

“No,” Diluc said firmly, lowering his sword and stepping towards the building.

A flash of blue hair brightened the corner of his eye, and a wooden sword swung towards him. It had been years. They were younger than Kaeya had been. Diluc was older. But the rain, and the blue-

He swung before he thought, and they hit the ground. Thunder rumbled overhead, and tears welled in their eyes. Before Diluc could react, could apologize, they scrambled to their feet and ran.

Diluc put the wooden sword away and trekked into the rain. It came down in sheets, drenching him in minutes. Thunder rumbled overhead. “[Name]!” he called, struggling to be heard over the rain. “[Name]!”

The winery was large in of itself, even if [Name] had stayed on the land. They shouldn’t be out in this storm. Hopefully they hadn’t gone far.

Suddenly, a loud caw came from the trees. Diluc startled, put his foot down too hard, and promptly slipped and fell face first into the mud.

Giggling came from a bush nearby, heard even over the rain, and Diluc looked up to see [Name] quickly cover their mouth.

Diluc sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Can you come inside so I can apologize properly, when I’m not covered in mud?”

They grinned. “No.”

Diluc pushed himself into a sitting position and tried to wipe some of the mud off of his coat and his face. The rain let up slightly, a lull in the storm. “I’m sorry that I swung without thinking,” he said. “That’s one of the things you learn not to do when you learn sword fighting.”

“Then why’d you do it?” [Name] frowned.

Diluc hesitated. “It… reminded me of something.”

“Of what?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Diluc said firmly, and [Name]’s frown deepened.

“I hate when grown ups say that.”

“I know,” Diluc said. [Name] shivered. Their clothes were soaked through. “Do you want to go inside to warm up?”

“Okay,” they agreed.

[menshusband]

tags

—stuff

#✏️ | doodle : my drawings

#📝 | scribble : my writing

#cw/tw [content/trigger] : content/trigger warning

#do not reblog/rb

#the unsilly : vents

#the silly rambles : self-shipping unrelated

#🤺queue🤺 : scheduled posts

#(cw/tw) suggestive : ns//fw

—friends/mutuals

in order of date!!

#👉🏻👉🏻 | finger guns : @/tsundere-selfship

#🎼 | colt : @/pupships

#👑 | hugest tease : @/readbyred

#💬 | a-mutual : @/dark-eyes-under-the-golden-sky

#🌙 | no more lonely nights : Bill

#🦋 | knock knock : @/blueberrysblues

#🐌 | snail brother : @/fifth-nails-blog

#⛸️ | emotional support : @/scimmy

#🧸 | sweet lady : @/dolls-self-ships

—f/o’s

romantic:

#⚰️ | aesop

#📐 | anglaigus

#👼🏻 | azi / #🐍 | crowley / #🥂 | the ineffable rivals

#🤖 | b.e.n.

#🧸 | bane

#🍵 | barbar [Barbatos]

#❄️ | barton

#💻 | benji

#⏳ | bruno

#🪦 | cage

#🦷 | caine

#🧪 | calvin

#🦎 | cami [Camilo] / #🌪️ | carlos / #⚽ | the twins

#🚆 | charon

#🪺 | chuck

#👑 | clopin

#🍰 | cloudy

#👥 | danny [Dan]

#🐦 | diaval

#✒️ | doppo

# ❔| ed [Edward]

#✈️ | eefie [Ethan]

#🔨 | felix

#💳 | francis

#💥 | fred

#☕ | gabriel adrian

#💋 | grell

#🎄 | grinch

#💼 | hank

#📼 | harrison

#💀 | héctor

#🪓 | henry

#💐 | hermes

#🗣️ | hickory

#🥁 | hi [Highston]

#🦑 | howard

#🪞 | jack

#? | jax

#🗞️ | joe

#❤️‍🩹 | john

#🥯 | spot

#🃏 | joker

#🎭 | julian

#🛠️ | the triplets [Kio + Noki + Pino]

#♟️ | king [Kinger]

#🥊 | knuckles

#🔎 | columbo

#📀 | lucifer

#🗡️ | lucio

#🪠 | gigio [Luigi]

#⚾ | luke

#🕯️ | lumière

#🎖️ | cal [Major]

#🏹 | marcus

#🎤 | mark connor

#🧠 | megamind

#🛎️ | miles

#🌘 | moon / #🌔 | sun / #🌗 | day and night

#🍋 | motojirō

#🧦 | mountain

#🧣 | mr. tumnus

#🍦 | mugman

#⏱️ | narrator

# ? | nathaniel

#🤏🏻 | ned

#🥀 | ōgai / #🐈‍⬛ | yukichi / #🩸 | fruity rivals

#🎸 | noodle [Once-ler]

#📲 | owen

#🗡️ | pasunmotdeplus

#⛸️ | patrick / # 🩰 | peter / #🕺🏻 | old sports

#🩹 | peter

#🐂 | rhett

#🎖️ | robby [Robert]

#🔧 | roy

#💰 | snake

#🎞️ | noir

#🧩 | stanley

#⚔️ | steel

#📻 | stephen

#🎤 | swiss

#🧢 | tadashi

#📦 | teddy [Ted]

#🖊️ | tom [Thomas]

#🏹 | thranduil

#🪲 | timon

#❤️‍🩹 | tin man

#🪙 | tulio / #🎲 | the gods [Miguel + Tulio]

#🎆 | v

#🎹 | victor

#🧨 | vinny

QPs:

#🎴 | asra

#🎶 | assurancetourix

#🐗 | astérix

#🎤 | buster

#🧭 | caspian

#🌚 | cheshire

#🪅 | chester

#⚡ | david courtney

#🎮 | eddie

#🐺 | hi dad [Hydrad]

#🎃 | jack

#🪚 | leroy

#👾 | levi

#🌊 | maría

#🍄 | mario

#🗺️ | miguel

#📖 | milo

#📱 | mycroft / #🎻 | sherlock / #🚭 | the smokers

#🐡 | piranha

#���� | PURR

#🛠️ | tony adam

#🪖 | tschakko

platonic:

#🔧 | audrey

#😈 | d

#🐐 | esme

#📚 | herm

#🐭 | mickey

#🪨 | obélix

#🐴 | phoebus

#🔔 | quasi

#🪺 | red

#🧠 | scarecrow

#⚔️ | the gladiators

familial:

#🌉 | the heroes [big hero 6]

#⛓️ | the prisoners [Aisha + Salim]

#🕯️ | the gifted family [Madrigal’s]

#🗯️ | the teens [teen titans]

#🛫 | top gun

#🌈 | the amazing family [Watterson’s]

#🕰️ | the redheads [Weasley’s]

//

#🧜🏼 | sea rulers [Athena + Triton]

#🎗️ | augustus

#🚘 | bill

#🤖 | space caretakers [CASE + TARS]

#🍩 | cass

#🦁 | clay

#📓 | dad [Constantine]

#🐴 | death

#🌌 | doppler

#? | duke

#🐻 | freddy

#🩻 | dad [James]

#☄️ | john

#🪐 | kalique

#🩰 | klaus

#? | carpet

#🍔 | peter

#🐐 | phil

#🐒 | rafiki

#🍴 | sarah

#🦀 | sebastian

#🐉 | soroz

#🧢 | tony

//

#🪵 | pontipee bros

#🧜🏻‍♀️ | sea princesses

#🎂 | zwerge

#🦍 | johnny

#🪽 | maleficent

#📣 | average

#⚔️ | shadow

//

#🕊️ | dove

#🎶 | miguel

#🛏️ | mike

#🛠️ | pectine

#🪀 | roger

#🪶 | wendy

//

#🔆 | grandies [Archibald + Daisy]

#🗡️ | arthur

#🩺 | greg

#🌊 | melody

#💷 | grandpa [Preston]

—crushes

#crush tag

—secret f/o’s:

#👔 | the doctor

—s/i’s

#s/i [s/i’s name]

[written-in-the-clouds]

Can I request platonic Jonathan Sims x reader who is Gertrude's grandchild? The reader is essentially working as a spy and knows that Elias is bad but dosen't say anything to not blow their cover. Gertrude has had the reader working in the archives as one of Jon's assistants, Gertrude had off handedly mentioned she had a grandchild but no one ever knew who it was, but then Jon end up finding out.

Done! Hope you enjoy! <3

╭── ⋅ ──────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ──╮

“Hey, [Name]? Can we talk for a minute?”

“Of course,” you agreed, following Jon into his office. “What is it?”

Jon sat down at his desk and pressed play on a tape recorder. The voice that came out of it was unfortunately familiar.

“Next week, my grandchild is returning from their research trip… if all goes well, they will have some interesting results. I do hope they will stay and help my successor, whoever they may be. They—” Gertrude cut herself off, and you could hear her stand up. Jon clicked the tape off.

“Okay,” you said cautiously, “so should I look for them? Do you have anything else to go off of?” If he sent you to investigate yourself, you were fairly confident in your ability to keep the appearance of a wild goose chase.

“No,” Jon replied. “I already know who they are.”

He pushed a printed-out photo across his desk, and you winced once you saw it. A social media profile of you, from a few years ago, but still clearly yours. [Name] Robinson. You force a smile. “Come on, Jon, that seems a bit stalker-ish. I haven’t used that account for years.” His paranoia is starting to concern you. Though he was right in this case, he would have had to dig for this profile. You should have deleted it, really, but it was too late for that now. You were also fairly sure that Martin had mentioned Jon had actually stalked Tim to his home. Depending on how he accuses you, you should—

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded. “You know what’s going on here, don’t you?”

You hesitated for a moment, then reprimand yourself. Wait too long, and he’ll get more suspicious. “I’m not here to help you. I have another job.” A bit harsh, maybe, but that’s how you were raised. You may be friendly with Jon, but the job takes priority. Gertrude told you to watch Elias when she was gone, and while Elias may know that’s what you’re doing, he hadn’t fired you yet. Keeping an eye on an Eye.

And, really, if you were fired, all the better.

Jon looked upset. “I know our introduction wasn’t the best, maybe, but I thought we were friends. I want— need to know what’s going on. If you know anything about Gertrude’s murder—”

“Ah, that’s what this is about,” you interrupted, rising from your seat. “Your paranoia of being assassinated. Honestly, Jon, your stalking of your employees isn’t doing you any favours. Well, I suppose it makes you a better candidate for him. You don’t have to worry about being killed when you keep pulling this.”

You knew Elias had killed Gertrude. You knew that the more Jon attached himself to the Eye, the more he continued to dutifully work for Elias, the more useful he was. You should have interfered earlier. Maybe this would be a wake-up call for him.

—

It only takes a week of you and Jon awkwardly avoiding each other for Martin to start preparing tea and Tim asking what happened this time. Somehow, you both end up in the break room alone. You give it about an sixty-five percent chance that this was planned, and a seventy-eight percent chance that Tim is eavesdropping.

You broke the silence first. “I apologize for blowing up like that,” you started, “but your paranoia is becoming a problem for all of us.”

“I hardly think finding an old social media profile indicates paranoia.”

“Sure, but you stalking Tim home is.”

Jon paused for a moment, then said, “I suppose that is true.” He sighed. “You are right, I suppose. Though, what ‘job’ were you talking about?”

You shrugged. “Can’t tell you that one. Call it a side gig.” It’s one thing for Elias to know what you’re doing and turning a blind eye, and another to admit it outright.

“Alright.” Jon sighed. “I apologize for… sneaking around.” He raised his voice slightly: “To you eavesdroppers as well.”

Tim slammed open the door and strode in. “Excellent, now we can go back to dealing with our regular spooky bullshit.” Martin followed in behind him, and Sasha not long after that.

Speaking of Sasha. Something is off about her. You can feel it, a vague sense of something wrong. You haven’t been able to confront her yet. Maybe that’ll be next on your list.

“You know,” you say, “now that you all know I’m Gertrude’s grandchild… There are some things I should explain to you all.”

They would be more successful if they knew what the Fears were, too.

╰── ⋅ ──────── ✩ ────────── ⋅ ──╯

[written-in-the-clouds]

being best friends with Xingqiu and working on an essay together...

can you guys tell what i'm procrastinating... sorry if xingqiu is a bit ooc i tried my best <//3

“Hear me out,” you said, sitting upside down on the bed, “what if I didn’t write my essay?”

Xingqiu dropped a bag of chocolates next to you, and you scrambled upright and grabbed the bag, only for Xingqiu to snatch it back. “These are for rewards, not to snack,” Xingqiu scolded, and you groaned.

“But it’s chocolate…”

“Precisely why it is the perfect reward,” Xingqiu said, sliding your computer towards you. “Time to get started. I have the same essay to write, you know. Let us work on it together, beginning with the outline.”

You muttered a few complaints, adjusting your position with your laptop on your lap, as Xingqiu opened his own laptop at his desk. You talked over the prompt for the essay, and began typing out an outline.

After a bit of silence, Xingqiu said, “Let us take a break.” He lowered his laptop screen and tapped on his phone. As he stood, music began to play: a playlist both of you had created, with both of your favorite songs. He looked over to you, still squinting at your computer, and poked your shoulder. “How much have you completed?”

“…Half of the outline,” you muttered, irritated with yourself. You were struggling to focus, even with the promise of chocolate once you finished.

Something hit your arm, and you glanced down to see one of the promised chocolates. “But I haven’t completed anything,” you protested.

“You’ve made progress, and deserve it.” Xingqiu said, opening his own chocolate and popping it in his mouth. “Take a break.”

You hesitated for a moment, then sighed, pushing your laptop to the side and standing. The chocolate was slightly melted from the heat of summer, but still delicious. The playlist switched to one of your songs, and you mumbled the lyrics under your breath, stretching out your limbs. Xingqiu smiled at you.

When the song ended, Xingqiu turned off the music. “Another twenty minutes of writing,” he said, “and then we’ll take another break.”

Working together with Xingqiu, the essay feels much more manageable. And when you’ve finished everything, he tosses you two chocolates with a grin.

[written-in-the-clouds]

notes: teen intern at the archives; just a random short scene i thought of bc im being normal about michael..

“Why do you stay?”

You exhaled, and slowly turned around. A familiar blond figure stood, illuminated by a street lamp. He looked almost normal, almost like the quiet Michael Shelley from the photo you found in the back of the archives. Then you saw his reflection in the empty store window, and reminded yourself what he is.

“Stay where?” you asked.

“The archives,” he said, “after everything. You’re an intern, you’re free to leave. And yet…” He trailed off, expression expectant.

You looked down to your feet. Michael did not move. You met his gaze again, the faint spiral etched in his eyes spinning idly. Not mesmerizing, just nausea-inducing. “I don’t think I can leave now. If I leave… there’s a whole other world that I’ll miss, you know? It’s—“ you broke off, frowned, then grinned. “It’d be lonely, knowing about everything and not being able to tell anyone. And, um… I’m curious.”

Michael giggled. “Of course you are.” He tilted his head. “Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

“And satisfaction brought it back.”

Michael’s laugh hurt your ears, but you stayed still, grinning back at him. It finally tapered off and the streetlight flickered. “Perhaps,” he mused. “But somehow I doubt it. That’s the nature of the Eye, after all… never satisfied.”

“I don’t intend to become an Eye avatar,” you said, and Michael grins like you’re joking.

“You work at the archives.”

“So did you.”

Michael’s grin grew further, splitting his face in two. “You’re… amusing.”

You mock-bowed. “I try my best.” Your eyes darted to his reflection again. “What do you really want, Michael?”

“Nothing, really.” He paused. “To know why you stay, despite it all. You aren’t bound like the others. And I suppose I have my answer.”

You still waited, and he grinned. “I’m not lying, you know. Unless you’re waiting for a door…”

You didn’t have to look to know that one had appeared next to you, and you snorted. “No, thanks.” You turned away. “See you around.”

The last thing you heard was Michael’s laughter ringing in your ears before the street light above him flickered and he vanished.

[written-in-the-clouds]

i’m alive! and here with a fantasy high fic! platonic fig x bard!reader :) (takes place at some point mid-freshman year)

There's a new girl in your class.

You recognize her, you think — rumors about her party flutter around the school. Words you're not quite sure you believe, of defeating a monster made of creamed corn, or killing a tiefling on a motercycle. Still, they're infamous freshmen nonetheless.

And now one is standing in your class, leaning against your desk.

She's the half-tiefling, her horns barely reaching the top of her head and red splotches coloring her tan skin. She doesn't seem to notice she's blocking your desk, laughing at a joke another student tells. It's fine, ultimately. Dance Battles 101 isn't a class that requires much sitting. You just need to set your bag down, but you don't want to interrupt.

You settle for hovering awkwardly, hoping she'll just move, eventually, and then she glances over to you. She beckons you over and you exhale, then walk over.

"Clay—" she gestures to the earth genasi— "said that this was your desk. I didn't mean to block it, sorry!" She finally shifts to the side, and you set your bag down, but she still stands near you. "I'm Fig."

"[Name]," you reply. "I don't think I've seen you here before."

"Well, I thought this was a fighter class. But hey, I'll take it."

"Oh, you're a fighter?"

"No, actually, I'm a bard. But I like to keep my options open, you know."

You snort, and Fig grins. The teacher calls for the class to settle and you slide into your seat. Fig sits on the floor beside you and you frown in confusion. She gestures to the rest of the desks, full, and you shrug. The teacher spares one glance and apparently decides that it isn't her problem. She reviews the moves from last class and then lets you begin to spar.

The music is upbeat and bouncy, and you rock on your heels, scanning for an opponent. Fig climbs to her feet and grins at you.

"C'mon," she says, gesturing to the open floor. You walk over, the class spreading out, and you face her, feet sliding into position, breathing steady. Fig is looser, not used to this style, but that's an advantage. You're prepared to fight against other dance fighters, not beginners like her. Still, you have the practice. "You know, my party once—"

The music swells, and you swing and kick, twirl and leap, the music filling your bones. Fig keeps up, for the most part, though she doesn't know how to counter the more complex moves. She catches you off guard with a few tactics that you aren't prepared for. While the battle leans towards you having the upper hand, she's doing well for someone who has quite literally never taken this class before.

You can't help but smile. Dance fighting is one of your favorite styles, and while it's just as fun to spar against your other classmates, there's something different with Fig. She has a natural flow to it. The music is as much a part of her as it is a part of you.

The music ends with a triumphant note and you pin Fig to the ground.

She laughs brightly. "Wow, you're good."

You step back, helping her up. "So are you," you say.

The teacher calls, "Switch!" and you turn to your next opponent. It's only five more rounds before you're up against Fig again, her expression now confident despite you having seen her get knocked on her ass twice already. You pull on your headphones. While the teacher plays music, she does allow you to bring your own as well, and using your own music only aids your magic. You hit play, and strike.

By the end of class, Fig is improving. She even knocks you off your feet, once, beaming as she helps you up. The teacher offers a few tips, but seems approving.

After the final spar, you head back to your desk to grab your bag. She leans on your desk. "Good fighting," she says. "I might bring a few of my party next—anyway," she says, interrupting herself, "I wanted to ask if uh, you wanted to get ice cream or something? You seem cool, and whatever."

You blink and frown slightly. "Like, on a date..?"

"Oh!" Fig flushes. "No. Just like. As a friend, yeah."

"Oh," you say. You shoulder your bag. "Sure," you say. "Yeah. After school?"

"Yeah!" she grins. "See you at Basrar's."