#✦ genshin impact.

[nc-vb]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

In advance, I apologize to those who have already seen this post. I’ve had to transfer it to a new blog thanks to a seemingly permanent ban on my former main blog, @niicevibe. So this is just copy & paste from there. Sorry! This is part one of a two-part series, formerly a drabble! This part is sfw, while its eventual part two will not be!

pairing -> diluc x fem!reader

warnings -> minors dni, slightly suggestive at the end; reader is too forward for diluc to handle; not beta'ed.

character mentions -> kaeya, fatui

word count -> 1.46k

In feeling a pair of eyes on him as he worked, and in sensing a knowing smirk coming from the same source, Diluc sighs, lowering a freshly polished glass back down on its rack and turning your way.

“You’re staring again,” he tells you, as if you weren’t aware you’d been doing it.

“Can you blame me?” you ask him from the furthest seat of the bar, leaning your chin into your palm where your elbow rests against the bar rail. “You’re just much too pretty not to be stared at, Master Diluc. Haven’t you looked at your reflection lately?”

Clearing his throat into a gloved hand, you note the catch in his voice, and the slightest pigment of red on the apples of his cheeks, and smile.

“You’re really not used to hearing this kind of thing, are you?” you muse to him, failing to stifle a giggle when he sighs brokenly again. “Hehe.”

“When it’s coming from someone like you, _______? No. Not particularly.”

“Someone like me?” you repeat, feigning being offended by his words by placing an innocently poised hand over your heart. “Whatever do you mean, Master Diluc?”

“I mean, you’ve been hanging around Kaeya too much lately, and it’s somehow translated into you enjoying teasing and taunting those around you.”

“Not everyone,” you disagree. He raises an eyebrow. “Just you.”

“And whatever did I do to deserve such a thing?” You laugh lightly, a breathy sound that makes Diluc turn his attention down to checking on the garnishes – unfortunately for him, they’re all full; nothing to distract himself with or to excuse himself briefly from the bar area.

“Okay, well, perhaps those Fatui jerks staying at Goth’s, too, but they’re such easy targets.” Diluc doesn’t bother to repress a snort of amusement – it’s true, he agrees in his thoughts, they are. “But you’re a smart man, Master Diluc. Surely, you’ve… at least… noticed the difference?”

The difference?

It became a grand habit of sorts, you entering the Angel’s Share on the days he comes in to relieve Charles. He’d always wondered about you– is she stalking me? How in Teyvat does she know when I’m here every time? – until he'd discovered your apartment to sit adjacent to the bar when he’d notice you making your return there from the end of your shift. You’d waved to him once after that, calling his name from your balcony while he bused away empty glasses from the patio tables, something that’d startled him into nearly dropping one that had a sharp, minty fragrance settled in a pool of green at the bottom of it. But he would return an awkward raise of his hand in greeting back, anyway. And from then on, your visits became too ever-present, never ordering an alcoholic beverage, but something sweet while speaking sweetly to its maker from your coveted end stool.

Some days, you would be joined by his brother Kaeya who, after realizing you frequented the bar slightly more often than he did, took it upon himself to rub off on you. On his days at the Angel’s Share, he noticed Kaeya in you, in the way you teased him; another frustrating feat his adoptive brother managed to achieve. Yet somehow, eventually, the effect that it had on him changed. Eventually, the teasing didn’t make him heave his sighs, or have him switch with Charles when maybe, you became too much to handle on top of Kaeya. Eventually, he looked forward to whatever witty comments you threw his way so he could dish his own back, clever enough that they would have you both chuckling from the end of the bar.

So, isn’t it that you’ve become good friends? Or, at the very least, good acquaintances?

“You’ve never shied away from being an honest person, Miss _______,” Diluc finally says, his voice quiet though still audible over the noise circulating through the bar. “It’s one of the many qualities you have that I enjoy. At the very least, you seem to favour me more than most others I’ve seen you interact with.”

Your entire body pauses, lips parting in response to his words.

“What?” he says, eyebrow raised. Frustrated, you aggressively gesture at him, startling the man, from unable to form the words resting on the tip of your tongue until you realize you don’t have a choice.

“Apparently, I haven’t been honest enough,” you gripe, “if that was your reaction.”

“_______—""Because the difference in the way I mess around with the Fatui stationed in Mondstadt versus the way I like to tease you, stationed here in your bar, or on the streets, is that I don’t harbour romantic feelings for the Fatui.”

In the shadows his bangs cast, Diluc’s eyes widen, the red of his irises suddenly burning like the flames he controls. His mouth opens and closes at you like a fish out of water several times, the only sounds escaping him being ones of utter speechlessness and complete shock.

“Diluc…” Face propped up against your hand, your soft smile squished by your palm pressing your cheeks into it, and suddenly, looking at you, Diluc’s cheeks fill with the same shade of rouge as his hair, and once more does he avert his eyes. “I only tease the ones I love.”

Diluc huffs, shaking his head down at the bar top and wearing the smallest of smiles you think you may have ever seen. Content, you polish off the remainder of your non-alcoholic beverage and slide out of the stool, sliding the glass along with you on your way to where Diluc stands, only to abandon it and lean over the counter, unsuspecting to the other regulars. His throat tightens by your closeness, and to combat the pressure building in his chest, he clutches the underneath of the counter, fingers digging painfully hard into the wood in the hopes it would keep him grounded.

“I think I’ve bought enough juice here over the past year to have established myself to you,” you say, speaking quietly enough that the incoming patrons don’t overhear but at a volume that only Diluc could hear you. He swallows. “But if you care to want to reciprocate things, well…” And you chuckle breathily, your warmth hitting his already burning cheek. “You know where I live.”

© nc-vb/niicevibe 2022-2023 please don’t repost! reblogs & comments are always appreciated.

(i lowkey can't wait to get into writing the part two to this lol.)

[heartiella]

[ffluv]

My small Harbinger series!

[ikimaru]

memes in sumeru 👌

[uchihaculture]

[nomohmoss]

meet the archons

better quality

[zillychu]

AS I WAS SAYING!!!!!

[danijaci]

Isn't he just dreamy!!

[viria]

if I'm not gonna get it, I'm gonna draw it🥲

[fenkko]

a new little penguin has joined the huddle

[erabu-san]

K'uhul Ajaw

[nc-vb]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧

note -> pls accept this little Scaramouche/gn!reader blurb from last year as an apology for being bad at updating? it was part of the original version of Heartstrings, but the plot has since changed anyway, so... ya.

warnings -> none; takes place after the delusion factory chapter in Inazuma; reader is a Fatui executive under Scaramouche with a vision that can heal...

words -> 1.9k

“You…” Your hands having risen instinctively at his appearance, you swallow thickly awhile trying to come up with a not-so-suspicious greeting. “Lord Scaramouche, sir, I-I… What are you doing here, sir?”

Arms crossed, chin raised, and eyebrow cocked, “I’ll have you answer that very same question for me. What business did you have at the Grand Narukami Shrine after dealing with the Traveler?”

“Er… being in Inazuma has left me feeling more spiritually inclined than normal, sir, so… I-I’ve decided to take up on religion,” you mumble flatly, immediately inwardly cursing at yourself for spouting such a shitty lie.

“Funny. Try again.” You sigh at him.

“I’d heard once… that you had ties here in Inazuma,” you start, your tone quieter than usual. “Rather than bother you with my questions, I… initially came here to check on the Traveler’s condition, but then… I ended up… speaking with Guuji Yae, but…”

Scaramouche shuffles his hands to his hips, looking almost pleased by the idea of you being turned away. “Oh, the fox woman wouldn’t tell you?”

You shake your head. “Not exactly. When we started speaking of… other things, I decided I’d rather chance waiting for you to want to answer me, yourself, if I ever asked them. If you ever wanted to answer me.”

Scaramouche’s hard gaze seems to linger on you from beneath his hat, something that leaves you warm, cagey, and a little concerned that just maybe, he doesn’t believe your ignorance to be false, after all.

“I simply… was worried about you,” you add.

“Worried,” he parrots, sounding almost offended. “Why would I need you to worry about me?”

“If you’re suddenly seeing things as if I’m making you out as weak or as looking down on you, that’s not what’s happening here, sir.” Past him, you look to the cliffs you knew would eventually bring you to a lesser shrine but a moment after feeling the sharp crawl of electricity creep up your back. “Could we walk and talk, sir? The Electro energy the mountain channels is starting to fry the hair off my arms…”

“… fine.”

And so, you lead the way, trapped between the quiet of a promised conversation and your nerves, unable to speak and walk at the same time. It’s a surprise to you, just how patient the Balladeer is being. Perhaps in your constant busyness, with your typically need to leave your Harbinger stress-free from these menial duties, you’ve never truly noticed just how differently the man walking beside you treats you. How much more patience he has for you versus the rest of his underlings. It didn’t even have to do with you being his second-in-command, because if it were anybody else in your position, this conversation might not have gone so non-aggressively. At the very least, what’s mutual knowledge between the two of you is that your relationship has always been one of respect, and not one drowned for fear of him like the others have so easily admitted to.

Finally, having descended the rest of the mountain, now far away from the crackling and sizzling of its natural Electro pond, you lead the Balladeer to the front of the abandoned shrine, to sit at its steps and take a large breath. Scaramouche remains standing, arms at his sides, eyebrows now pinched.

“S-So… I just… recalled,” you clear your throat, eyes flitting up to meet his briefly before flying back down into your lap, “that you had a look on your face when the Tsaritsa gave the order to have us come out to Inazuma. I remember you once saying that you were from here, and I was only wanting to be prepared to help you in any way I could. And then, the next look on your face when you were given the Gnosis by Guuji Yae…”

“And so, your first choice of preparation was to go and gather intel on me from that fox envoy?” he queries.

“I-I suppose,” you murmur. “I didn’t want to overstep or… um…”

“Or what?”

“… or make you sad.” You finally look up at him, not in sudden confidence, but of the pure desire to simply look at him. As per usual, his impassiveness shines clear as day in the night air, illuminated by the lanterns glowing along the shrine’s engawa. “Lord Scaramouche, Lady Guuji Yae did not tell me of your history by my own request. Instead, she helped me reach a certain point of clarity of myself regarding you… That the reason I sought her out to speak about you was more b… because…”

“You’re burning the midnight oil, here, ______.”

You huff at him. “It’s because I’ve grown extremely fond of you,” you finally blurt. “Romantically, if that wasn’t clear. I-In other words, I believe I’ve fallen in love with you, Lord Scaramouche.”

… there is a moment of silence that leaves your heart aching. At the very least, you’d expected a retort, or a comment of disapproval for bothering him with something that might’ve seemed so trivial to a man like him, but in his wordlessness, he simply stands before you, eyes trained hard in your direction.

Throwing his foot up against one of the steps to your left, you find yourself suddenly trapped between him and the railing, the air in your chest swirling. And everything happens all too quickly – his hand finding the crown of your head to tilt it toward him; his gaze rising and falling between your widened eyes and your parted lips; his subtlety in wetting his own dried lips, tongue darting carefully past his teeth to soften them, before leaning into you and pressing them firmly against yours.

You can’t control the noise that escapes you, nor your instinct to brace yourself against your surroundings — the porch, the step beneath you, the railing, his chest — in your attempt at registering the Sixth Harbinger’s actions.

He is unmoving in them, indigo eyes half-lidded as he studies your face, your reaction to him. When he just barely moves his mouth upwards, his lower lip slotting between the two of yours, and carefully moves his hand to fall to your nape, he catches your flinch of surprise, feels your fingers tighten around the sleeves of his shirt. In pulling away, he hears your small noise of disappointment, and takes in the heat resting upon the apples of your cheeks.

“L-Lord Scaramouche,” you pant, and from the corner of your mouth, you lick away the bit of saliva that remained. Was it yours? His? He’s not sure he cares.

“What?” he says, tone accosting. “Wasn’t that the definition of the “love” that you desired from me? You and I have worked together for long enough to know that that is an undeniable impossibility, and yet you still decided that the best course of action to take would be a confession?”

“I-It’s not so simple like that!” you argue, and you push his leg off the step and stand up, now an extra foot or so taller than the man. “A confession – my confession to you – is not something so fleeting; it’s not some passing emotion I’ve suddenly started feeling because I spoke to Guuji Yae. This is something I know I’ve felt since the first days I began working for you, something I’ve tried to ignore for both our sakes, and for the longest time, it worked. I managed to be good at keeping our relationship professional.

“And you’re right— we have worked together long enough that I could feel safe in telling you my truth. All I could hope for was maybe some understanding, and in a long shot, maybe a bit of reciprocation. Either way, I’d at least have something off of my chest.” You glare down at the man, fingers twitching— “A-And just so you know, I’m going to be kissing you again after that, because speaking frankly, sir, you… are an awful kisser!” – before reaching for his shirt with them and tugging him up and toward you.

He jolts, thrown off by the height difference the staircase offered and by your sudden bravado, gripping at either railing of the shrine’s staircase. Your lips, as warm as the heat that seemed to radiate from you, as soft as he’d experienced them to be the first time he’d touched them, press against his. You can only dare in closing your eyes that he wouldn’t retaliate, but you still half-expect him to push you away and scold you, something said in his flavour of retaliation and ridicule. But his hands give rise to where your hands stretch out the material of his shirt, skinny fingers wrapping tightly around the bones of your wrists to spin you off the higher step and onto equal ground.

Pulling away from you, a smirk crawls onto his visage. “And who gave you permission to speak frankly in the first place?” he asks. You can’t tell if his tone is serious and taunting or humoured and teasing. You swallow when he leans further into you, your heart racing, his lips pausing just before your ear. “Insulting your superior officer,” he whispers to you, a dry chuckle escaping him a second later when he returns to face you. “That’ll get you places.”

Taunting and teasing, you decide shakily.

To your surprise, the Balladeer leans into you once more, his glistening, parted lips slotting between yours, hands slowly moving to take hold of your cheeks in his attempt at keeping you close. It’s sloppy, teeth clacking together at times, and a little wet, but your heart threatens to burst with joy and relief at his effort, his reciprocation being something you wouldn’t have expected him to put any into.

A hand of your own raises to take the smooth curve of his jawline into your palm. He mumbles against your murmurs, and grunts at the wet, wriggling sensation invading his mouth. Their tongue? he realizes, doing poorly to mask his shock at how pleasant he finds the feeling to be. Unpredictable as per his usual routine, he returns the gesture, his own joining with yours to swirl and dance in the space between you. The softest of moans escapes him, and he tears away from you, embarrassed and breathing sharply, his pale cheeks tinted with the softest of rouge and lips tainted by your mixture of saliva.

Your laughter is faint as you lick away the liquid gathered along your own.

“So…” Scaramouche glances at you from beneath his newly summoned hat, barely having time to recover when you’ve shot him a look unfamiliar to him—it’s startling, how warm it makes him feel; how unfocused his mind is when your gazes lock; how impossible he finds it to begin stringing words into a sentence after what he’d engaged in – dazed, your eyelids flutter on incident at him, and in that starstruck, awestruck daze, “Did any of that get me anywhere with you?”

— until these words exit your mouth, that is. Your flippant attitude was not something he’d accounted for in the aftermath, and even worse, you’d caught him in a moment of vulnerability and weakness and decided to deliver them before he could collect himself.

“Something like that,” he says, tone breathy with exasperation, his eyes having rapidly widened at you. You chuckle nervously in response, daring to reach forward and adjust his slightly tilted kasa. He turns on the spot when you’re finished, clearing his throat, and beginning the rest of your descent down from the base of Mount Yougou. “Come along, then. We’ve got work to do.”

© nc-vb/niicevibe 2022-2023 please don’t repost! reblogs & comments are always appreciated.

[kurusketch]

Neuvillette's lovely day off with his daughters

[whichzwitch]

🫧🪸🐟

[ikimaru]

really? right in front of my macarons?