#Genshin Impact Oneshots

[rukkiya]

didn’t mean a thing

˚✧ ﾟneuvillette x reader, wriothesley x reader (separate) ˚✧ ﾟ

(they say something mean to reader when reader tries to surprise them)

━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━

neuvillette

The chief of justice often feels the pressure of his role. Lately the cases have been weighing heavy on him, more so than usual.

The amount of unattended cases and trials to come up only makes the judge more anxious, more stressed, and worst of all more irritable.

He hasn’t been taking care of himself, often prioritizing his job over his health and it breaks your heart. You’ve caught him taking naps in his office when you’d stop by to visit so you thought of making him something to help him during his times when he sleeps.

You're a local seamstress, but you have a good hand for crocheting as well. You often make small crochet plushies for the orphans and melusines so you thought a small pillow would work wonders for nevi when he takes naps in his office.

The iudex is sat at his desk reading over one of the many cases piled up next to him. His migraine forms as he sighs, taking a sip of cool water in hopes to somewhat ease it.

He hears a soft knock at his door and ignores it at first. The people he works with know not to bother the chief when he has this much work to do. but the knock is heard again making him sigh, putting the documents down.

“Come in.” He calls out, seeing your head peek in, a soft smile already playing on your lips.

“Hello love!” you beam, you love visiting your husband at work. You don’t get to see him home too often, you take any chance you get to drop by.

“Hello,” he greets back, mouth forming a straight line. “Is something the matter?” He asks, wasting no time.

“No, I just wanted to drop off something for you.” You smile, feeling how off he was right away. He must be so drained you think, trying to dismiss the uninterested tone in his voice.

You pull a small bag from behind your back and walk up to him, holding it out for him to grab.

His face remains neutral and you feel small under his gaze, regretting interrupting his work.

It’s strange though, he usually always welcomes you with a warm smile, ushering you in to spend time with him. Today was different.

He begrudgingly moves his chair back and eyes the bag.

What’s so important that you have to interrupt his work?

He grabs the bag from you and you pull your hand back as he peeks in, moving the wrapping paper aside.

His hand comes up to the bridge of his nose when he sees a small pillow with blue and white lace trimming at the edges in the bag.

He doesn't know what he expected and he doesn’t understand why he feels so bothered but he can’t help it.

“Is this all?” He asks, putting the wrapping paper back on top, handing you the bag back like it was something that made him upset.

“I made it for you. You often take breaks and sleep in your office so I thought-“

“That’s the problem you know.” He cuts you off before you can finish, making you step back a bit.

“You think, what you do will make things better for people or you know what people need.” He brushes off the small gift like nothing.

“I just wanted you to get proper rest, you look tired. I know you haven’t been getting much sleep because of all the cases and-“

“And you’re the one stopping me from finishing them right now, right? I don’t need you always checking up or stopping by when you feel like it. Some of us take our jobs seriously. It’s suffocating having you stop by everyday. I need space and time to do my own job alone. Thank you very much.” He’s almost out of breath by the end of it, his eyes narrow at you, you feel what the verdicts of the cases feel when he judges them.

You don’t know what to say. You feel small under his gaze and he doesn’t even flinch, after all he’s said he stands his ground.

“Forgive me for worrying in the slightest, it won’t happen again.” Your voice falls flat, you dig your nails in your palm to stop the sting in your eyes as you turn to leave.

Reaching the door you half expect him to stop you, apologize or something but it never happens. You step outside and feel your tears drop, lowering your head from gazes around you.

You head to your home with a heavy heart. You feel utterly stupid. You should’ve seen the signs, you knew he was on edge because of work and you walked right into it like a spider's web.

You reach your house feeling drained. You slowly make your way to your room to continue working on small plushies for the orphans to take your mind off the harsh words you hear earlier. Throwing the small pillow you made into the trash before you get to work. He doesn’t want it and neither do you.

Neuvillette lets out a content sigh. He’s done his work, more than half of the cases he’s reviewed and he feels better. Enough to call it a day and head home somewhat earlier than normal. Maybe he can catch a meal with you, something he hasn’t done in ages.

He opens the door to your shared home and takes note of how quiet it is. Is it usually this quiet when you’re alone?

The living room was dim, the only source of light was flooding the from the cracks of your shared bedroom.

He hangs his coat and makes his way to your shared bedroom. He wants nothing more than to spend time with you.

You hear your bedroom door creak but don’t bother to turn around, already knowing who it was. You made a promise to yourself to stop being overbearing with him, he told you it’s suffocating, you never want him to feel that way with you.

He feels his lips tug upwards a bit at the sight of you. You were stitching some plushies, your work always so beautiful and delicate.

“Hello my love.” He speaks softly, he knows he acted out of place earlier but he wants to make it up to you. He knows you only care, that just the kind of sweet genuine person you are.

“Hello.” You welcome him barely above whisper, not looking up at him. You lay in bed crocheting a small plushie.

“Are you going to drop those off at the orphanage tomorrow?” He asks, heart filling with utter adoration at the sight of you making your beautiful plushies.

“Yes.” You answer, nodding your head as you cut the end of the yarn off.

“Would you like me to assist you?” He asks, you feel like it’s a trick question. After all he has told you today he asks this?

“No need. You have work, I can go with Navia.” You decline, he stands there for a second before clearing his throat.

“Why of course, please send my regards when you stop by.” He asks and you nod.

What’s wrong? You’ve never declined his offers of helping you. Were you not feeling well?

“I’m going to wash up dear, afterwards I’ll make us something to eat.” His voice is much softer than earlier. You don’t understand what he wants anymore. It’s confusing.

While Neuvillette was showering you warmed up his portion of the dinner you made, setting it up on his bedside table. You were hurt by his words but you still want him to eat.

After preparing his meal on his bedside table, you grab your pillow and an extra blanket heading to the living room couch. As much as his words hurt you, you still want to hold him, talk to him and have him close but he doesn’t want that. He made it more than clear in his office.

After Neuvillette’s shower, he’s greeted with a meal on his nightstand. He looks around the room and notices you're not in bed anymore. He catches sight of your plushie on your nightstand and thinks you went to use the other restroom.

He gets changed and smiles at the meal you made for him. Always helping him when he knows you work just as hard as he does, if not even harder than he does. You’re passionate about your work and he adores that side of you.

He buttons up his shirt and sits in bed, looking at the clock. It's been over 15 minutes since he’s gotten out. Why weren't you back in bed?

He stands and walks over to your side of the bed where the plushie lays on the nightstand. From the corner of his eye a blue and white lace trimming catches his attention and he looks down at the small bin next to your side of the bed.

He reaches in and pulls out the small pillow you had brought to his office earlier that day, he feels his heart sink. Remembering his harsh words and how he gave it back to you without a second thought. He feels guilty.

You threw this beautiful pillow away because of his foolish outburst. He feels like a fool for talking to you in such a way. Your guarded attitude made more sense now that he realizes it.

He clutches the small pillow in his hold and looks to your side of the bed, noticing your pillow missing.

His legs move on their own, opening your room door greeted with the dark living room only a candle being your source of light.

He can see you laying on the couch and he feels his eyes burn.

As he nears you he hears you crying and his heart tugs at the sound.

He wouldn’t dare let you sleep alone, ever.

He says nothing as he turns to you and you quickly turn away to hide your tears.

He kneels down a bit. Arms circling under your legs and head, picking you up with ease as he grabs your pillow before making his way back to your room.

You feel more tears spill. What was all this? What does he want?

He stops in the room after closing the door behind him. The only sound to be hard was your sniffling before you heard rain, rain droplets hitting your window.

He holds you closer, tighter in his hold.

“My love, I’m terribly sorry for my words that have caused you to feel the need to distance yourself. I’m sorry I disregarded your gift for me. I will cherish it forever.” He whispers, his legs moving once again making his way to your side of the bed.

He softly lays you down before standing again, you see the pillow you thee away on your nightstand and feel more tears spill.

He turns, he knows he should give you space, give you time alone and as much as he wants to hold you he has to respect your boundaries.

Before he can get too far he feels a hug in his wrist, he feels his own tears spill.

Your heart, which is too kind and forgiving, knows him too well. He truly doesn’t deserve you.

“Please don’t leave.” You whisper, he only nods, who’s he to say no? After all he’s done today he’d be a fool.

He climbs into bed, arms immediately grabbing you, laying you on top of him as the rain outside gets louder.

“My love, I apologize for my actions. Please find it in your heart to forgive a fool like me, not right now but when you can.” He can only whisper, if he speaks any louder he’s scared he’ll cry more.

You nod your head as it lays on his chest “yes my love, I do.” you hug him, if he didn’t care, he wouldn’t be here right now you tell yourself. The fact that he’s here right now shows so much.

You hear his heartbeat steady and the rain outside subside. Knowing he’s calmed down, feeling your eyes grow heavy. Neuvillette holds you closer, making a promise to himself and you to never act out of place like that again. Not with you, who’s so caring and giving he’ll cherish you forever along with the pillow you made for him today.

wriothesley

The duke is in charge of many things, running the fortress of meropide is one. Dealing with troublesome inmates to make sure they know their place and meetings that consist of various things for him to arrange.

Wriothesley was making his way back from a meeting with Neuvillette. He has asked him about an inmate, asking him to bring him up for further questioning, giving him the inmates name and number before he left.

Neuvillette had given him a small paper with the number and name. Wriothesly had memorized it just after a few glances at the small paper. But during his busy day out he has misplaced it. And as the day went on he was worried he’d forget.

He didn’t want to trouble Neuvillette with another meeting to give him the number again so he’s been repeating it while making his way to his office.

You decided to bring Wrio some food and tea. Upon arriving at his office you found it empty and decided to surprise him for when he comes back. Sitting on the small couch by his desk, setting up his meal for when he comes.

You often have one or two days out of the month where you catch up and eat lunch together in his office. It's one of the ways that you get to see him more besides when he comes home to sleep.

No one dared to stop the duke as he made his way to his office, the look on his face alone was screaming don’t approach me right now.

You hear his office door open and hear his footsteps echoing up the staircase, you stand up and wait by the edge of the stairs happy to see him.

He doesn’t even look your way when he reaches the top, instead he brushes past you. Mumbling some numbers under his breath.

“Wrio.” You call out softly, making him whip his head back. He didn’t even notice you were here, let alone see you standing right by him.

“What’re you doing here?” He asks, it comes out harsher than he intends.

“I brought you food! We haven’t had lunch in a while, I made your favorite too. It’s been sometime since we’ve sat down and had a home cooked meal.” You beam, smiling at him and pointing to his desk behind him where you set up the food.

“That’s great, but right now isn’t the time.” He brushes you off. Walking to the cabinet where all the inmates' files are repeating the number in his head still.

“I'm not trying to tell you what to do, but you tend to look over your health because of work. This can help you focus on your work more! I even brought your favorite tea to go with it.” You walk to his desk and pour the hot tea into his favorite cup.

“Just take a second and eat, take care of yourself and-“

“Do you ever stop?” He feels his grip on the cabinet tighten as he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

You stop talking and look over at him.

“I’m sorr-“

“I have an office to do my work, for peace and quiet as I do so. No one has the right to waltz in here and think they can have a tea party and talk their heads off while I work.” He slowly turns to you.

You only swallow, not knowing how to respond.

“You know I have more important things to do than have a meal with you. You talk so much, too much sometimes and you don’t know when to stop and it’s bothersome. Learn how to stop at times and not bother people when they’re working, yeah?” He scolds, roughly shoving the cabinet closed.

You look down at the desk, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes.

You feel like you’re glued to the floor. You can’t move.

“I’d like to get back to work, I don’t have time for all this. I’d be best if you went back to work as well.” He sits at his desk with a file and you feel your eyes sting.

Leaving the food on his desk and grabbing your bag. Walking downstairs and away from his office that felt suffocating, you should’ve just minded your business.

You walk out of his office, closing the door softly as his words ring in your head.

Seigwinne sees you, walking up but stopping In his tracks when she sees your solemn expression. She’s studied humans enough to know that the emotion you were feeling was sadness.

You make your way home, stepping inside and locking the door as you feel the first tear run down your face.

You know how much you talk, you know many people don’t like it but Wriothesley never said anything about it. He’s always listened to you, saying it helps him relax. During work he’s often doing the talking so hearing you talk, it brings him peace. He also loves your voice.

When did he start getting annoyed? Has it been a while? What if he’s been tired of hearing me this whole time? You question yourself. Coming to the conclusion that you need to stop. Stop talking so much and taking up his time. It’s for the better.

When Wriothesley ends the meeting with the inmate he finally feels some tension release from his shoulders. He’s been running around all day and he hasn’t had time to sit in peace.

From the time on the clock he sees it reaching seven pm and decides to call it a day. He’s done the most important task already. He can attend other matters tomorrow.

As he cleans up his desk he notices the food and tea, remembering you stopped by earlier to chat with him. Remembering what a jerk he was and how he told you to leave.

He sighs when he notices what you made. You have a habit of putting others' priorities before yours and he feels bad for how he responded. He packs up the food to take it back home, to reheat and eat with you like you wanted.

When he arrives home, he notices how quiet it was inside. He pushes the door open and is met with a small lamp in the kitchen and spots you sitting on the couch, book in hand.

“I’m home darling.” He calls out, seeing you turn to him, giving him a small smile then turning back to your book.

His eyebrows draw together, he loves coming home and seeing you. Always so excited and giddy asking him about his day and telling him about yours but you didn’t even respond to him.

“I brought the food you made back home, I wanted to reheat it and eat with you. We haven’t spent time with each other in a while.” He speaks up, pulling his tie down a-bit as he still sees you reading your book.

Why weren’t you responding? He thinks, you’re never this quiet.

“Have you eaten?” He pushes, trying to get something out of you, anything.

“Not hungry.” You answer, simple and quick. Not even looking away from your book this time.

He feels nervous. He feels something off.

“I’ll heat it up, if you want some please eat.” He sighs, the tension is heavy but nothing happens. He knows something’s off with you.

In silence the duke eats alone on the table, sending you glances as you continue to turn the pages of your book. Not indulging him in your ranting he’s come to grow ‘annoyed of’. He made it clear earlier.

“The food is delicious, thank you for making this.” He tires again, this time you look up. He smiles a bit but you do something that makes him believe something is off, you only send him a thumbs up in return.

He finishes his half and saves you yours for when you get hungry, putting it away and making his way to you.

“Y/n darling. Is something the matter?” He asks, making his way closer to you. Seeing you shift uncomfortably from where you sit.

“Nope.” You shake your head, not daring to look at him. You can feel him coming closer.

He kneels down, inspecting you. The corners of your eyes were a bit red, but nothing else seemed off. Were you feeling sick?

His hand reaches up to feel your forehead but you move away.

“I’m not sick.” You speak up as you dodge his touch. He feels his hand freeze.

“Use your words, what’s wrong? Why aren’t you talking to me?” He asks, placing hands next to both sides of your legs caging you in.

“I’m not one of your inmates, don’t order me to do things.” You speak up, still not daring to look up at him, you can feel his piercing eyes on you.

He’s taken aback at your response.

“I’m not ordering you y/n, I’m just worried.” He sighs, pulling your book down to get you to look at him.

“I said I’m fine, can I get back to reading?” You glance up at him. Trying your best to not let anything slip though. You don’t want him to see how much his words hurt you.

He decides to stop, for now. He knows something’s wrong. You’re too stubborn to tell him though.

He walks into your shared bedroom and into the bathroom to shower, racking his brain to think of what possibly could have made you so upset. The whole time he spends in there he can’t think of why you’re refusing to respond properly.

It’s already later when he gets out, the steam from the bathroom becoming visible when he opens the door.

He sees you in bed and he can help but feel at ease. You came to bed at least. He walks over to the closet eyes you as he does, a small smile making its way onto his lips at the sight of how you look.

He starts changing and notices you’re faced away from him. He quietly steps around and sees you hugging a pillow and he feels this heavy feeling in his chest again.

Did he do something?

He lays down next to you, you feel the bed dip and try your hardest to not turn around. You’d probably hug him and start talking and annoy him again. He probably doesn't want that.

You feel like such a fool. All day his words have been affecting you. You’re too scared to speak again.

You hug the pillow closer to you and feel your eyes burn once again. Hearing those words from him hurt more than anything. You don’t want to show him how much it hurts you though. He doesn’t need to know. He said what he said and what’s done is done.

He lays there for a bit, the tension still surrounding you. He’s unsure of what to do. He wants to hold you, pull you in but what if you move again.

That’s when he hears it, the small sound of sniffing. He freezes. His heart drops making him stand.

You feel the bed move and hear him stand, you think the worst. Maybe he’s leaving because he’s annoyed. He doesn’t want to deal with this. You don’t know why you’re crying but it won’t stop. He just told you something that bothered him and you took it too personally. You’re both hurt and upset and you don’t understand why.

It’s quiet for a few seconds but then you feel a firm hand gently grab your arm, lifting you off the bed effortlessly.

You try to hide your face but Wriothesley has had enough of this.

“Hey hey, look at me.” He softly calls out.

You try to hold it in but you feel more tears run down. Placing your hands on his chest and pushing him away but his sturdy frame doesn’t budge.

“I’m fine, j-just tired.” You try to sound convincing despite your voice cracking. Struggling against his hold, pushing him a bit harder to move.

You resist in his hold and he feels his heart break even more.

“Y/n what’s wrong?” He grabs your hands, stopping your struggle and you look down, not wanting to look at him.

“Nothing, I’ve talked enough today. I don’t want to anymore.” You try to sound convincing, trying to pull your arms out of his grasp.

He’s taken aback, talked too much? You haven’t even talked at all. Where is this even coming from- oh.

oh

He stills, eyes boring into your head as you avoid his gaze.

“I didn’t mean it earlier y/n. I didn’t mean anything I said earlier. It doesn’t excuse if I was mad or busy telling you that wasn't something I ever meant. I love hearing you talk. I love your voice. Don’t ever think that I want you to stop.” He explains, knowing he was the reason for it all now. What a jerk he’s been.

He drops his head, resting it on yours. He waits a bit seeing if you’d pull away but you don’t. “Darling, I’m sorry. From the bottom of my heart I am. I miss hearing you talk. The house is eerily quieter without your beautiful voice and laughter echoing through these halls.” He speaks softly, hearing a small sob escape your lips.

You move back a bit, looking up at him and taking a breath. “But you told me- I don’t want to annoy you.” You hiccup, finally letting more tears fall. It’s been eating you alive. It hurts. It hurts so bad because someone you love told you.

“No no, you’d never, and you never ever had. Do you understand?” He makes it clear, seeing your pretty eyes filled with tears he grabs your face.

Your behavior makes sense now, how could he have been so mean to you? He truly is such a fool.

His hands slowly lift to your face, testing the waters to see if you’d pull away, but you don’t pull back. “Please talk to me. Don’t hold back or hide your voice dear. Scold me, tell me what I did wrong.” He pleads, the look in his eyes desperate.

You nod, wiping your tears when he brings your head to his chest hugging you close. “Please forgive me.” He repeats, squeezing you tighter when you let out a small ‘yes’.

He holds you close, and though you said you forgive him. He can’t take you for granted, not when you’re the best thing to ever come into his dull life. So he repeats it over and over, until you both fall asleep.

_________________

authors note: hello my lovelies HIIIIII!!! (/^▽^)/ it’s been a while but I come with a gift ANGST!! hehe neuvi and Wrio are such sweet men this was kind of a rough one but them with them seems so AMAZING! I hope you all had a lovely holiday and you’re all taking care! Hope I enjoy yet another angst with comfort! take care loves, bagel miss u all mwahhh <33 ^~^! (DISCLAIMER!! this was not edited or looked over, apologies for any misspelled words or incorrect grammar!!)

[kanroji-san]

Neuvillette: I've never had a friend.

Y/n: I can be your friend!

Neuvillette:...I’ve also never had a girlfriend.

[adiluv-moved]

✦ : ❝ 𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐞 !

꒰synopsis꒱ in which you’re hurt, and it affects scaramouche far more than he’d like to admit. 1165 words.

꒰warnings꒱ angst, non-graphic mentions of injuries and blood, scaramouche needs a hug and a hot cup of tea ꒰as a treat꒱.

꒰adi moment꒱ literally cannot stop naming my fics after songs! genuinely so fun! anyway, it's been a while since i've written any angst, so here's an attempt at writing some for mr. mouche! i hope you enjoy! ໒꒰ྀི..◜ᴗ◝..꒱ྀི১

Bright lights, foreign machinery, gloved hands, white fabric stained red. The oppressive stench of antiseptic weighs heavy in the air, tainted only by the faint hint of something metallic, and were his mechanical body capable of accomplishing such a fear, Scaramouche is certain that it would’ve caused him to faint.

Pushing past patients and staff alike, he comes to deem the hypothetical preferable. A mercy, really, one that his creator was much too cruel to bestow upon him, one that he knew the Doctor would loathe to bless him with. What he wouldn’t give to lie back down on that cold vivisection table, gears and wires jutting out of porcelain skin. To have been in the right place at the right time, to have been attacked in your stead, to see you carrying on at one of the many other Fatui camps, none the wiser as to the tortures he’s endured. For your sake, no less.

꒰Because he could handle it. Because those wounds would heal.꒱

Scaramouche doesn’t think he’ll survive a fourth betrayal. 

He bumps into a particularly rowdy patient, then, catches himself as she’s sent stumbling into a wall. The coat of her uniform, worn proudly atop her medical gown, looks more akin to something out of a Fontainian horror film than official garb, ripped up and stained to an almost unrecognizable state. One of the injured, clearly. One of the other soldiers by your side. So why was it that she could walk around just fine?

The blood drains from her face as she whirls around to confront him, a look of abject horror taking the place of her previous scowl. Static wells up in the air, and she quickly kneels, though her body seems to protest the sudden movement. Insults swirl around in his mind, and Electro gathers at his fingertips, yet he finds himself paralyzed before her, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted as she trembles. Like a leaf caught in the midst of a hurricane.

Somewhere out in the Inazuman countryside, a child plucks one off a branch, bright red pressed against his cheek to match his dutifully applied eyeliner. An abrupt gust of wind rips it from the tiny hand, whisking it away to someplace neither can follow. The boy tries anyway. The puppet finds that he can’t keep up.

꒰The boy slips out of his sight entirely.꒱

The pit within his chest grows impossibly larger, the bāchīs attached to his hat colliding with her figure as he turns around. She breathes out a sigh of relief, and he hears somebody rush over to help her up. He’d deal with it later.

Save for your unconscious body, your hospital room is empty when he arrives. A small table sits before your bed, and a bouquet of unbloomed flowers obscures the view of your face, droplets of water condensing on the surface of the clear vase. This is not done for other patients, he knows. A small part of him can’t help but wonder whether the gesture was for your sake or his.

He’s hardly in control of his limbs as he enters the space, closes his eyes only to see glances of a golden feather and fire and blood dripping out of an ornate, handheld box, and—His fingers curl around the top rail of a chair, pulling it to your bedside. A small, shaky, pathetic noise escapes him as he sits, a hand shooting up to readjust the hat sitting atop his head. The bells attached to it mock him. It takes an embarrassing amount of self-restraint to keep from throwing it across the room, though he eventually settles for laying it onto the floor beside him. 

Scaramouche doesn’t think he’ll survive a fourth betrayal.

There is something fragile, foul, and bloody resting inside of your chest. Like a winding key, almost, he remembers the blacksmiths telling him, a tool that powers humans, not unlike the electricity that powered him. A heart. 

He had wanted one of his own, once, back when he was young and stupid. So he could feel, just as humans felt. So he could love, just as humans loved. So he could be, just as humans did. But he was smarter, now, outgrown the foolish name he’d been given, the banal traditions taught to him, the disgusting emotions that they’d once defiled his hollow chest with. And only now, in some sick twist of fate, was his childish dream finally realized.

꒰What have you done to him?꒱

His fingertips tentatively graze over the middle of your bandaged chest, almost as if you were made of glass, almost as if he feared that his touch might shatter you. He could shatter you, really, if he wanted to; would, even, if it were anybody else lying before him. You’re lucky in that sense, he muses, yet it seemed that not even luck could lessen the extent of your injuries. You were human, after all. Inherently weak. Easily breakable. Why you so foolishly chose to rush into battle rather than wait for his return, he doubts even the Goddess of Wisdom would be able to understand.

꒰He could’ve protected you. Why didn’t you let him protect you?꒱

You don’t stir as he moves his chair closer, wood scraping against wood until his legs are pressed uncomfortably against the side of the mattress. Although he refuses to worship any God, he finds himself praying that your eyes don’t suddenly shoot open to witness him in such a demeaning state. You’ve never taken your wounds seriously, after all, and he doubts he’d be able to handle your asinine nonchalance. More than that, however, should the pain overwhelm you past your limit, he knows he won’t be able to handle your grief.

He sucks in a breath, unnecessary as it is. Then another, only to find it catching in his throat. His hands tremble, and he bows his head. He, the Balladeer. He, the son of Baal. He, a discarded puppet, lays his head directly atop your heart, hangs onto its every beat like a devout, and sullies your bandages with the tears of a failed creation.

You’re here with him. Unconscious, but breathing. It is not enough, but it will do, at least for the time being. Because you’ll wake up. Because you have to. Because he loves you, like a fool, like humans do.

Because Scaramouche doesn’t think he’ll survive a fourth betrayal.

A nurse enters your room the next morning, golden rays of light streaming through the window and onto your bed. The Balladeer sleeps alongside you, hands clutching desperately onto the fabric of the thick coat now carefully draped over your body. His makeup is smudged, red eyeliner streaking down his face, the gorgeous strands of his indigo hair splayed out messily around him. They consider waking him, though the thought is quickly abandoned. Even they know to choose their battles wisely. 

꒰A tear slides down his cheek. They close the door behind them when they leave.꒱

[sakkiichi]

ON WATERS SO INVITING.

Because tonight, neither of you can hold back from tasting the honeyed tea directly from each other’s lips.

ft. Wriothesley x gn! reader.

cw/genre: fluff, romance.

what’s this? aya finally posting a fic? insert dramatic gasp. anyway, dedicating this one to @bunny-rambles @https-furina and @dearemilia <3 to my favorite wriothesley lovers, I hope you enjoy this, mwah !

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

Notes of an herbal aroma fill the dim lit room.

Down here, it is sometimes difficult to keep track of time or the seasons, but the one constant that oftentimes keeps you sane are these meetings.

You are aware they take place once every week, just between him and you.

Steaming mugs are set atop the table separating you two.

Lately, you’ve started wishing the distance of it wasn’t there at all.

Softly clearing your throat, you place your hands around the warm cup. You take a moment to inspect its pattern, seeing how you had yet to encounter two identical sets.

You bring the liquid to your lips, taking the chance to briefly stare at the man before you while he focuses on some documents.

Unruly ebony strands stick out in different directions, somehow still managing to fall flatteringly over his face; sharp eyes, the color of starlit icicles scan over the pages, sharp jawline set, lips a taut line; your gaze travels lower still, helplessly getting lost in the contrast of black leather bands over the pale scarred skin of his neck.

Bitter. The tea you just tasted, but also the fact you have to pretend you two are just coworkers.

Although, sometimes, you thought he played you intentionally.

“Honey?” You ask, putting down your cup, beginning to stand up to get the honey jar from the adjacent shelf.

“Yes, dear?” Is the answer uttered in his baritone.

You scoff, frowning, as you place your hands on your hips.

“Wriothesley, I meant if you want honey for your tea.” You explain, tone pointed.

The warden puts down his paperwork, leaning back on his chair, that chilling gaze of his landing on you as his lips half curl into a devious grin.

“No, that won’t be necessary, thank you.” He says, that slight smirk still on his face.

You nod, returning to your seat, jar of honey in hand.

As you start mixing the thick golden liquid with your not-sweet-enough tea, you can still note his eyes on you.

It’s not that the feeling of the shiver his actions send down your spine is unpleasant per se, but you’ll start having trouble maintaining the composed facade if he keeps this up.

“Did you find anything interesting regarding the investigation?” You inquire, stirring your beverage.

Wriothesley leans a little forward, his own tea, untouched.

Strange; he was always the one to suggest you have some, after all.

“Yes to something interesting.” He states, resting his cheek on one of his hands. You swear those fingerless gloves of his are too distracting. “But it’s not related to the investigation.”

You raise an eyebrow, sipping on your finally sweet tea.

“Care to enlighten me, Your Grace?” You tease, as your honeyed lips tilt up in a grin.

The man chuckles, standing up from his seat, rounding the table towards where you are.

“I can enlighten you alright, if you’re willing to offer a little collaboration.” The Duke whispers, from behind you, lips almost brushing the shell of your ear.

You swallow, putting down your drink in fear you’ll end up spilling it with how fast your heart is hammering against your ribcage.

“Alright.” You choke out.

“Good.” He approves. With a swift move, he takes your hand, making you stand up too.

“Wriothesley, what are you doing? Your tea is going to get cold…” You try for a serious tone, but your voice comes out smaller than you would have liked.

“Hm? What was that? If I remember correctly, you wanted to know what I found, no?” Is his response, as he brushes some flyaway strands away from your face, his calloused thumb softly brushing over the pink of your lower lip.

“Wriothesley…” You utter, breathless.

“Shhh, don’t say a thing now, sweetheart.” He tells you, his face tilted to the side, one of his hands holding your chin, guiding your gaze to his, as the other cradles your cheek.

And those frosted sky eyes.

You may not be able to see the light blues painted by daylight every dawn from down here, but, right now, you’re pretty sure you prefer the shade of His Grace’s stare.

Who could blame you, for your next actions, when the distance between you suddenly vanishes and he’s reciprocating them?

You stand on your tiptoes.

And then, your lips collide against the Duke’s.

He kisses you back, more gentle than you would have expected.

Bitter and sweet flavors mingle in the annihilated space between you, as your fingers tangle in his dark hair and his hands grab your waist.

Wriothesley kisses you as if he’s drinking in the sunlight he’s been deprived of for ages; sweetly, tenderly, as if he was afraid this gold rush would disintegrate right before him; searing, the burning sensation of raw ice on bare skin.

And you can’t have enough of it, of him.

Months of yearning, of dreaming awake, finally realized in the burning of your lungs at the lack of air when his lips envelop yours.

Alas, his enlightenment only went so far for today, for the next thing you know, he’s pulling away, that same grin on his features once again, as you chase after the fading kiss.

An index over your lip’s cupid’s bow stops you, though.

“Found it interesting?” The man that currently has you on the palm of his hand questions, amusement laced through the lilt of his voice.

You reach a hand out, delicately running your thumb over the scar beneath his right eye.

He takes ahold of your hand, planting a lingering kiss on the back of it.

“Let’s find out more about it tomorrow, shall we?” The Duke utters, as he starts towards the door of his office. “By the way, that honey is very good.” Are his last words before he exists, eyes flitting from the jar to your lips.

And so, you stand there, alone and lovestruck, both your hands holding your burning cheeks as you contain a squeal.

Tomorrow can’t come fast enough.

[x-z-x]

INTIMATE MAGIC

Lisa x Fem!Witch!Reader

Synopsis: Lisa guides her only apprentice through unconventional magic lessons.

Words: 1.1k

Warnings: Smut: Bondage + Magical Penetration / Fluff.

Request: Yes.

Inside the Knights of Favonius building was the main library, where, in the basement, there was a door that was always kept closed. No one knew what it concealed, but they assumed it must be a storage room or a section with forbidden readings. Few dared to ask, yet when they did, Lisa maintained the mystery with playful words and a beautiful smile.

On the other hand, the few individuals who knew the secret played along, as it was nothing more than a personal study. Books on magic, potions, and ingredients filled the spacious and orderly room, which during the day was occupied by her first and only student. Everything the young mage needed was available, so no one saw her come or go during working hours. However, at night, the locks would be undone for the librarian, who would enter to teach and check on her progress.

"All this time, you've done very well," Lisa said with a smile, her legs crossed as she rested in a plush purple chair. "It's understandable that you'd want to advance and explore other areas."

"P-But I didn’t mean this," came the flustered response, her hands bound at the wrists, floating in mid-air.

"Did you not ask to learn unconventional magic?" Lisa’s voice was calm, her gaze knowing and steady.

"This isn't learning. You're just applying it to me and... Ah!"

The translucent smoke surrounding her made her choke, as it seeped under her clothes and began to tease her nipples.

"It's a small sample so you can understand what you could do if you expand your power," she downplayed.

Tilting her head, she admired the unfolding scene and appreciated every detail of the person with whom, just a few months earlier, she had begun a physical relationship. Giving her pleasure became a great way for her to study, as the reward was eagerly awaited thanks to the chemistry and desire they felt for each other from day one.

"Lisa," she called, immediately flinching at the blatant rubbing.

"You've got the ability, haven't you? Try to escape."

Without needing to move a muscle, the most distinguished graduate of the Sumeru Academy enveloped every corner of the vulnerable body and enjoyed giving or taking as she saw fit. She slid past the pants and caressed the moist entrance while, on the lower abdomen, she applied a gentle pressure that made her see stars.

"Please, Lisa," she gasped tearfully.

"You keep calling me without specifying what you want. How can I comply like this?" She placed a hand over her face, feigning concern.

"R-Remove the binding."

"That would delay your training. You're not yet skilled in gesture-free magic, so this is an incredible opportunity to improve yourself."

A loud moan cut through the conversation, and the young woman writhed before a sharp flash of pleasure.

"I long to be near you," she confessed, a tear escaping as she blinked.

The teacher's heart pounded and her head spun at the spark of tenderness amidst such sensuality. She suppressed the exultant emotion and uncrossed her legs to pull her closer, gently causing her to stop floating and straddle her.

"How could I refuse?" she sighed dejectedly. "You've endured enough. What I do next will end the class."

"What is it?"

Lisa smiled mischievously and kissed her, calmly taking her time tasting and caressing her. In the midst of this, the apprentice began to feel pressure, as if she'd been placed on top of an existence that shouldn't be there.

"Magic can take many forms..." she murmured, pulling away a few millimeters. "Will you let it be inside you?"

"How?" She wrinkled her brow, the thought that emerged seemed impossible.

"You won't even have to undress," she continued, a hand slipping in and testing whether she was dilated enough.

"I d-don't understand," she stammered, then noticed something pushing against her privates. "What?!" she exclaimed, realizing it wasn't Lisa's slender, delicate fingers entering her.

"Today, magic will unite us like never before," she promised as she kissed her breast.

Entering her patiently, she held her from behind to prevent her from slipping. She could feel the heat and the pressure, the witchcraft transmitting the sensations and causing her to tingle with pleasure.

Slowly and unhurriedly, she began to move, though it was truly an illusion, as she didn't need the swaying of her hips to stir her own energy. She closed her eyes and dropped the large purple hat to rest her face on the young woman's neck, who couldn't close her mouth due to the uncontrolled moans that were pouring out.

"Oh, there! Right there," she whimpered, tensing her still-tied wrists.

"You're beautiful," she murmured, pleased as she squeezed her waist.

Illuminated by the soft light from the room's lamps, Lisa took advantage of her natural state to savor every inch. For the first time, she could explore her in depth, and the satisfaction that filled her with every friction threatened to transport her to another world. Ecstasy seemed imminent, and with less control, she held her tight, lightly digging her nails into her, while she gazed at her face. Her closed eyes and facial contortions revealed the inner chaos, and on impulse, she suffocated her in a kiss, intensifying the effect of the magic.

The orgasm arrived in an unprecedented burst of delight, both of them almost screaming as their lips danced. Wetness stained each pair of thighs, and Lisa released her restraints to allow her to embrace her, immediately appreciating how she held her between electric spasms. They breathed heavily and rested against each other's cheeks, stabilizing after a few long minutes.

"That was... crazy," the victim confessed.

"Did you like it?" she asked, caressing her under the shirt in the process.

The young woman distanced herself and looked into his green eyes, wearily appreciating all the affection they sparked.

"You know I did," she replied, still trying to steady her breath.

"Was it too much?" Lisa tilted her head, noticing as the other clicked her fingers and levitated the hat from the floor.

"Do you think I wouldn't have fought back if I hated it?" she raised an eyebrow as she placed the accessory on Lisa. "I may be your student, but I’m not weak. Besides, it was certainly a good lesson. I really didn’t know we could do... this."

Lisa smiled mischievously, allowing herself to relax completely. Still dizzy from the experience, she leaned in and gave a gentle kiss on the lips, the brim of her hat unintentionally enveloping them in darkness.

"That's why I'll always be the best—and only—teacher you'll have."

[lazywriters-blog]

I'm writing fluff... Yes, I don't think I'm okay but voluntarily writing fluff instead of dark grim D E A T H... Is concerning.

Lyney is the friend who can't walk straight especially more when beside his crush, because he wants her hand on him, to catch him from falling and help him up when he leans too far and ends up on the ground.

Lyney can't stop playing with her fingers and comparing her hand to his when he's not getting any attention, it's his pass-time. Sometimes he'd bring them to his face and just imagine so he wouldn't irritate his darling.

Lyney clings to his darling like an infant and hides behind her whenever Lynette is chasing him for eating her last slice of cake.

Lyney who will pretend to faint just so he can be in his darling's arms and stare into her eyes with a smug smirk, he'll be sure to wrap his hand around her neck and smile.

Lyney who will pester and annoy his darling till she gives in to his whims and complies.

Lyney, who'd willingly make his darling fall so they both can be idiots in love.

Lyney who will tease the living daylights out of his darling and walk around with a little too many loose buttons.

Lyney will make inappropriate sounds when his darling is upset and irked, that way maybe the anger can be shifted into something else.

Lyney who is giddy when his darling accidentally touches his thighs brings her hand back to his knee and lets her squeeze him.

Lyney who makes subtle dirty jokes.

Lyney who likes to hide his face in his darling's neck and hug her from behind, his hugs are warm and tight.

Lyney who will get you gifts every day or if he's unable to, there's always a rose.

Lyney who wants his darling to hold him close and near and allow him to be the small spoon because it's not every day he gets to be with her.

Lyney who helps her comb her hair and braid.

Lyney who is a little bratty but fully obsessed with his darling.

[love-note-musings]

diluc x reader | captured by fireflies

inspired from prompt list: 🐇 | partaking in grievances

Diluc was a night owl, but not by choice. It was almost as if the moonlight captured him like a moth to a flame, entranced by beams of light that glittered across the water’s surface. And trapped in those rays were his own musings; dull, bland, utterly horrendous, traces of a life long past that could pass you in the blink of an eye.

Lounging outside the dawn winery was peaceful because the night was still, there were no documents laid out for him to attend to, there were no such urgencies that required immediate attention, no mismatched and ugly vases that made him equal parts abashed and shameful. Softened and keen. Because over the expanse of time, he had softened quite a bit.

And as he sits there in the night, he is unable to pull himself from those thoughts. He sits there with them, festering as if the words would exalt themselves from his voice without his free will. Uncomfortable as if there were a gigantic rock caught in his throat.

There is the quiet screech of the hinge from one of the estate's backdoors and he whips around with adrenaline only to see you in a robe holding a kettle.

"I figured you might want some tea," You sat the kettle and mugs down onto the table. "It's chamomile to help you sleep."

"I sleep just fine," Diluc tried to argue, but the look you gave him as you began filling up his cups convinced him to hold his tongue.

You pulled the chair closer to Diluc until your knees were almost touching, leaning in as your hands were warmed from your cup. "You have a lot to think about, I understand."

He bumped his knees into yours as his body relaxed. "I know, I'm simply thinking because-"

"You don't need to explain yourself to me. We can just sit here, drink our tea and enjoy the night, and then we can go back inside and fall asleep in our bed."

Who knows how many times you've drifted off to sleep without him by your side. And who knows when midnight tea became your new tradition. Diluc grazed your cheek with his hand, running his thumb over your dimples. You were always coming along and saving him from his mind. "Thank you."

You planted a soft peck on the back of his hand.

[raiphoria]

Mine, and Only Mine | Scaramouche |

"Lord Balladeer," a stern, but calming voice spoke up causing the named male to veer around his attention over to the one that had called out to him.

Scaramouche's eyes narrowed up a little as he watched a male with (H/l) (H/s) (H/c) locks. He knew who this male was and grumbled lowly under his breath.

"More paperwork?" Scaramouche scoffed out as he watched the Fatui member enter his room with several files of paperwork that he'll be working on.

The male, (Y/n), nodded his head at the Harbinger's words as he walked over to the desk and placed it beside where all the other untouched files of paperwork lay.

Scaramouche stared blankly at the Fatui member, his personal servant, for a few moments before grumbling quietly under his breath.

"Stay," he ordered, stopping the (H/c)-haired male from leaving his office.

(Y/n) turned toward the Harbinger, wondering why he wanted him to stay.

(E/c) eyes shimmered in amusement as their owner watched as Scaramouche walked up to him.

Scaramouche came to a stop in front of the taller male and stood right in front of him with his arms crossed.

"Is there something that you need, Lord Balladeer?" (Y/n) asked, looking down at the male.

Scaramouche scoffed lowly as he snatched the front of (Y/n)'s uniform, and forcefully pulled him down to meet eye contact with him.

"Where have you been?" He rudely asked.

(Y/n) hummed lowly. "Lord Tartaglia wanted a fighting match with me, seeing as he lost last time." He explained.

Scaramouche rolled his eyes, annoyed at the fact that Childe had taken the other male from him again for a short while.

"He does know that you belong to me, right?" Scaramouche asked as he caressed the (H/c)-haired male's bottom lip with a thumb.

"He does," (Y/n) answered.

Hearing this caused the Harbinger to scoff. "Well, if he does... He sure as hell doesn't act like it."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened as he was pulled into a quick kiss on the lips, which softened as he quietly chuckled.

"You are mine, and only mine, got it?" Scaramouche asked, narrowing his eyes at his personal servant.

(Y/n) smiled in amusement as he nodded his head. "Only yours," he repeated.

[vikkirosko]

🌪 Wanderer x Reader Oneshot Searching for lost memories 🪶

You haven't been sure about your memory lately. You couldn't fully understand the reason for this, but you had a strong feeling that you had forgotten something very important. Perhaps in another situation you would have stopped paying attention to it, confident that you just imagined it. But you started having strange dreams. In these dreams, events happened to you that had already happened in your life, but there was someone in them whose face you couldn't see. You heard his voice and in your dream you felt that he was dear to you. But you couldn't figure out who it was and, most importantly, where it went. It's been bothering you. This feeling of anxiety did not leave you and you tried to find a way to find those memories that you had lost. That's why you went to Sumeru. You were hoping that there you could find a way to get your memories back. Perhaps one of the scientists could help you. You've come a long way and you weren't going to back down when you were so close to your goal. At least that's what you wanted to believe. Your dreams didn't stop and you realized more and more that you were looking for that very voice. You understood that his source was important to you and you wanted to find him. But no matter how much you searched and no matter how much you tried to find someone who could bring back your lost memories, nothing worked. You felt your faith begin to fade. You were planning to leave Sumeru, and that's why you were packing supplies for the road. But when you were walking through the bazaar, you heard a voice.

"And why should I do this at all..."

You turned sharply to the source of the voice and saw him. You could have bet anything that it was him. His clothes have changed, but you'd recognize that voice anywhere.

"It's you..."

He stopped when he heard your voice and turned around. Looking at his face, you realized that he recognized you. You felt your heart stop for a moment, but you weren't going to lose it anymore, not when you finally found the one whose image had been coming to you in your dreams for weeks.

[rosepeta1z]

A slice of sweets

A/N: this is a very very late happy birthday fic to Wanderer/Scaramouche. Fluff, you call him Scaramouche, small tiny tiny mention of throwing up and gagging. I think that’s it.

Word count: 853 words

Scaramouche hates sweets, but for you, he’s willing to suffer and try.

Today was Scaramouche birthday.

It was just another normal day for him. To him, there was no reason to celebrate his birthday. It was no big deal, especially to him. It was just a waste of his time. He had other things to do. If anything, he just wanted peace and quiet for the whole day.

That would be his birthday wish.

So, why were the students in the akademiya bothering him and trying to give him sweets and cake?

He almost gagged when a poor student went up to him when he was just hiding out in the wild and gave him a small sweet. Anyone could tell it was so sickeningly sweet. He simply gave the sweet a grimaced look and shook his head, giving her the small sweet back.

“I don’t do sweets. Take it for yourself, I don’t need or want it.”

The girl that was trying to be nice gave him a sad look, simply nodding her head and walking away seemingly embarrassed.

Maybe he was a bit too straightforward, but he just couldn’t stand sweets! There was nothing in the world that could make him eat them.

Hours passed by, and the same thing would happen over and over again. People from the akademiya would somehow find him and offer him the same thing over and over again.

Sweets, cake, sweet, cake. He felt like throwing up just by how many times he had to smell and look at the sugar filled stuff they gave him. That, and the fact it was starting to really annoy him now.

—-

After all of that, he finally found a place he could sit and just relax. It was a big tree that gave a nice shadow that cooled him down a bit. It was refreshing and relaxing. This, was his birthday wish.

….

Or was it really? He laid his hat on the side and stared at the sky in deep thoughts.

Were birthday wishes even true? I mean, sure, peace and quiet seem nice. But that’s not his actual wish.

His actual wish was to spend more time with you. You were one of the students in the akademiya, and he was quite fond of you. Unlike the others. You talked a lot, but you didn’t talk a lot where to the point you would blow his ear off from how much you’d talk. You talked the perfect amount, your choice of words fascinated him, the way you talk, the way you look when you talk. Everything about you was perfect to him.

He chuckled at his own thoughts. When did he start thinking about stuff like this? He wasn’t used to it.

Right when he was deep in thought, he heard a branch crack near him. He glanced around him before his eyes laid on a figure. It was you? How’d you find him? Before he could collect himself you walked up to him with a sweet smile on your face. The smile that he secretly loved to see everyday.

“Hey, Scaramouche! Happy birthday, I heard from the other students that you were around here so I thought I’d stop by to give you my own little gift for you!”

You presented him a small case of a slice of cake. It seemed sweet. Too sweet.

But how could he give up a cake you gave him? There’s no possible way that he could.

He stared at the cake, then at you, then at the cake once again. He cleared his throat and managed to crack a small smile before raising his hands to take the cake from you.

“Oh, cake? …Thanks. I’ll be sure to eat it. Though, you really didn’t need to do this much for my simple ‘birth’. It’s not necessary one bit.” He muttered, he bit back what he wanted to say about sweets and how much he hated them. But for you, he’ll accept it. But, don’t expect him to actually eat it. Nope.

“Nonsense, I did it because you’re my friend and I care about you! So much so that I made a cake for you. How about you try it? I wanna know what you think about it.” You happily said as you took a seat down right next to him. You seemed more happier than him for his birthday.

“Eat? This cake?” He so desperately wanted to say ‘absolutely not’, but…for you.. he guesses he could make an acceptation just to see you happy. Even though he hated sweets with a burning passion.

He didn’t want to waste any more time stalling, so he quickly took a bite of the cake and swallowed it as quickly as he could so he couldn’t get that taste of awfully sweet sugar. He almost gagged but put on a straight face for you.

Your eyes sparkled when you saw him try it and give a thumbs up. He knew it would be worth it.

At the end of the day, he did managed to spend more time with you and form a stronger bond. It turns out, birthday wishes do come true.

[kalliyen]

‘Till I Met You

I never knew what love was.

neuvillette x gn.reader

genre: angst (sorry if it’s bad, it’s my first time to write full on angst huhu 🥲)

Monsieur Neuvillette, The Chief Justice, The face of all the court of Fontaine.

Had no idea how to love.

Yes, he’s seen a copious amount of romantically involved couples in Fontaine every single day, but he rarely had the opportunity to participate in such humane activities.

For Neuvillette, all he knew how to love was the game of the court. His life, His purpose, to serve and bring justice to his fine nation.

But soon, Neuvillette would learn how to love,

With someone the court did not want him to have.

You. A subordinate of The Knave.

It was completely against his moral, to be loving someone on the other side, but his heart had been hammering in his chest ever since he’s laid his eyes on you.

He and you, you and him. Is all he could think about. Thinking about the what if’s, what if, you truly both loved each other? what if, you were both willing to leave your monotonous lives, just to love each other? what if, it would all be worth it?

Private. That is what your and Neuvillette’s relationship was bound upon. The privacy you both treasured, behind closed doors where status meant noting behind them. Where you could be your true selves behind them, not having a care what all the others would say.

Slow-burn. You both wanted to take your time. Don’t rush it, you’ve got all the time in the world, how blind you both were, blinded by the eyes of love.

Neuvillette now understands, why he never made an effort to have a relationship with mortals.

How could you do this? How could you betray him?

He’s given you all the love he could, was it not enough? Was it all going to slow for you? Did you want something more? Was he not enough for you? He would never know.

“Thank you, Neuvillette, for the 2 months, 5 days, 6 hours, and 47 minutes you’ve allowed me to love you.”

It rains. Rains continuously. For 2 months, 5 days, 6 hours, and 47 minutes.

That is how long he allowed himself to mourn, at the loss of you.

His greatest, and only love.

How different would it have been, if he never let you go?

This is what he contemplates, while sitting at the very top of his throne, judging the very person he’s been aching for.

fin.

[rukkiya]

forget me not

(kaeya x reader)

he promises to take you out to dinner, but he never shows.

“Would you like to place an order now hon?” The waitress asks softly, making you look from your empty wine glass up to her soft eyes.

“Ah, if I can order another glass of wine that would be nice! I’m still waiting,” you look outside the big window next to you, seeing the sky much darker than when you first sat. “I’m sure he’ll arrive soon.” You turn back to her smiling, repeating the same thing for the fourth time for the past two hours trying to convince yourself more than her that he’ll show up. He always does.

“Of course, I’ll be back with the bottle in just a minute.” She nods, turning to get you more of what you requested.

You don’t remember the last time you drank, heck you don’t even drink much to begin with but it’s all you can do to kill time. You don’t want to eat without him and spoil your appetite, he will show up soon.

You know he’s busy, he’s the Captain of the Knights so it’s expected. When he proposes the idea of going out you couldn’t hide your excitement. Anything to do with Kaeya was your favorite.

You arrived at the restaurant the time he told you to be there, at 7pm. The clock reads 9:30 now but it’s ok, it’s understandable. He’s the captain of the Knights after all.

The lights surrounding the small restaurant eliminates the busy nightlife in Mondstadt. You eye the people who are passing by, smiling at the elderly people who walk with their significant others, the parents holding their children’s hands as their laughter fills the air. But your eye catches something from afar.

The familiar head of blue hair among the people walking by. Your stomach erupts with butterflies seeing him finally. Walking down the stairs to the main shopping area in Mondstadt. But as he inches closer you see he isn’t alone. He’s walking with someone, no. He’s holding onto someone who’s leaning on him.

Your eyes squint a bit, trying to see if what you’re seeing is correct. But you see him smiling with the woman next to him mixed in with everything else and your heart goes heavy.

You see his smile much clearer now that they both are closer, he has his arm hooked around hers, almost as if he is holding her upright to keep her from stumbling and she’s giggling at him, eyes wide looking up at him leaning into him as much as she can.

The two walk past the restaurant and down towards Diluc’s tavern, Kaeya didn’t even glance at the restaurant you were currently sitting in waiting for him. Not once, he kept his eyes on the girl the whole time.

You reach for your pocket watch with a heavy hand and flip it open, seeing the time 9:45 pm. Almost three hours, three whole hours and he’s with someone else. He forgot.

You quickly finish the last of your wine and blink. Did he actually forget?

You wave your waitress down when she passes you, making her stop.

“Actually, can I purchase a whole bottle of wine please?” You ask her and she nods, her smile falling a bit at your expression. Your eyes look glossy.

He promised you a night out after so long. You’ve both been so busy with work this sounded so nice but it was too much to ask for apparently. He had more important matters.

Diluc makes his way down the street to his tavern and spots you sitting alone in the restaurant. Glass of wine in hand and solemn look on your face.

His eyebrows furrow. “Why are they out alone right now?” He thinks.

Part of him wants to stop and check in, but part of him knows to not get into people's business. He doesn’t want to sadden you further by making you talk about it. But if he makes another run in a while and still sees you in there, he'll stop by.

Diluc pushes the door to his tavern open, his eyes fall on Kaeya and Amber helping a woman who is belching into a bag, Amber is rubbing her back and Kaeya is holding napkins for her. This makes Dilucs mouth from the line. ”What's going on?” he thinks.

“I got her from here. I’ll take them Barbara just in case.” Amber helps the woman up to her feet and walks to the door, Diluc holds it open for them.

“Thank you, I'll make sure to check in with Albedo and Jean tomorrow.” Kayea waves her off, eye falling on an unamused looking Diluc.

“Your plus one got sick?” Diluc speaks up, making Kaeya’s smile drop.

“Not my plus one, a subordinate.” Kaeya answers flatly, not even laughing at such a dumb joke.

“Why bring one of your knights here?” Diluc asks, taking his coat off, rolling up his sleeves.

“They were exposed to a potion in Albedo’s lab, he suggested bringing them here. He said grape juice might help sober them up, where else would I go to get it when you sell the best.” Kaeya shrugs, making Diluc hum.

“You’re not drinking?” Diluc raises a brow at Kaeya when he realizes there’s no alcohol in front of the captain.

“Nope, I already feel like I’m forgetting something, if I drink I really won’t remember. I’d rather not.” Kaeya sighs, a looking out the window.

“I saw y/n on the way here.” Diluc brings you up, at the sound of your name Kaeya looks at Diluc again his eye brightens. His focus now is on what Diluc has to say.

“My darling? Did you talk to them? What are they doing out this late?” Kaeya smiles, though he’s confused. You’re never out this late.

“They were in the new restaurant down the street, they were drinking.” Diluc clears his throat at the last part.

Kaeya tilts his head. “Alone? What do you mean by drinking?” Kaeya asks

“They had a glass of wine in their hand, they were sitting alone at-

Kaeya tries to think of why you’d be out so late, you don’t have any appointments this late. You didn't tell him you were meeting anyone. His eye catches the calendar behind Diluc and feels his heart drop when he notices the date.

“What time is it?” Kaeya cuts Diluc off.

Diluc pulls out his pocket watch and sighs. “Just hit 10pm” he shows Kaeya and sees the color drain from his face.

“Oh no.” Kaeya stands up in a flash. Before Diluc can question him he’s out the door.

His legs don’t stop. It’s so dark out and you’re alone. How long have you been waiting?

Kaeya sees the restaurant come into view and sprints faster, throwing the door open the instant his hand makes contact with the knob.

The restaurant goes quiet, the few customers and waiters in there stare at the Captain who seems to be out of breath.

He ignores the stares, his eye scanning the vicinity for one person and one person only.

But it's strange, you're not here. He walks further to the back and sees an empty table with a coat that looks familiar.

He sees a waitress clearing empty wine bottles from it, quickly making his way to your coat.

“Excuse me,” Kaeya greets the older waitress and she smiles at him.

“Hell- Captain Kaeya hello! What brings you here?” the waitress smiles.

“I'm looking for someone. Do you know if the person that was sitting here left?” He asks, seeing the waitress’ smile drop a bit.

“Why yes. They were here for a while but they left not too long ago. They had drank a lot of wine and ordered no food. I offered to walk them home since they seemed a bit off balance but they said it was ok. I realized they left their coat a bit too late. I had gone out to tell them but they were already gone.” She explains, feeling sorry for you.

Kaeya feels his chest tighten.

“Thank you. If you don't mind, can I take the coat with me? I'd like to give it to them myself.” Kaeya asks.

“Why of course how sweet of you.” the waitress nods her head, gesturing with her hands for him to take it.

“Thank you.” He quickly thanks the waitress before turning around.

“Wait.” She calls out, making him turn around.

“If I can bother you to check on them right now, I'm worried. If you do stop over there please take this.” she walks past him to the front counter, grabbing a bag.

“I had intended to give this to them since they didn't eat the whole time. They refused, however.” The waitress hands Kaeya the bag of food and he nods.

“Of course, I was planning on stopping by. Thank you for your concern."He thanks her, turning to leave the restaurant. The waitress can see how uneasy Kaeya was from his face, she knows that you were waiting for him all along. When you got up to leave, in your drunken state you told her to tell Kaeya you went home and not to worry.

Kaeya steps out and the cold night air hits him. Did you walk home without your coat? It's freezing. Kayea feels even worse.

His legs walk at such a fast pace, not daring to slow down.

Did you make it home safe? Are you ok? Why did you leave alone?

He starts to run, almost sprint. His mind is racing with the worst.

He turns the corner to your house and stops in his tracks. He sees you. However, you’re not inside the house. You're sitting on the porch leaning on the wall. It's freezing.

His legs move fast again. He drops to his knees when he makes it to you. Grabbing hold of your arms to wake you.

You're freezing to the touch.

“Darling? Hey.” he shakes you a bit and you stir from your sleep, blinking your eyes.

“-ts so cold.” you whisper.

In seconds you feel a coat draping over your shoulders, then a soft fabric around your neck.

Your vision clears and your eyes make out who's in front of you.

Your eyes immediately begin to burn.

“Hey hey, love I’m so sorry please don't cry. I promise I didn’t mean to forget my love, things just happened and it slipped my mind.” He pulls you in when he sees your eyes glossy. His own eyes start to burn.

“Archons, why are you sleeping outside? Do you understand how dangerous that is?” He questions, pulling back a bit seeing you now refusing to look at him.

“I-it was so embarrassing. I sat there while so many people walked in and out. I saw you with someone else and it looked like you were having fun. I was a-alone for hours. I left the restaurant and I left my k-key in the coat of my jacket.” You feel your lip tremble a bit, you’re trying your absolute hardest to not cry but he’s standing right in front of you looking so guilty it hurts.

“That person you saw with me was a subordinate, I wasn’t doing anything else with them while I was out. I was ordered to take them to the tavern to get grape juice to get rid of the effects from a potion they had gotten exposed to. Love, please.” He explains, tone serious as his hands run up and down your shoulders, making you feel warm again.

“It wasn’t my intention.” His whispers, hand coming up under your chin making you look at him.

“Never ever walk home alone again. Not in this state.” He pleads, face full of concern, his eye scanning you making your own eyes burn more.

You notice his white scarf is gone then look down, realizing that’s what he put around you when he found you here.

“I just wanted to s-spend time with you.” You hiccup tears now freely falling down.

He leans in, kissing your cheek, then your other one, up to your forehead, your nose, your chin and stops in front of your lips. You feel his warm breath fan over you and you relax at his simple touch.

“My love, please don’t cry.” His eyes close and he takes a deep breath. He was so worried but you're in front of him, you’re safe with him.

“You have me, I’ll spend as much time as you want until my time is due I promise.” He leans back abit, opening his eye taking you in.

You look tired, you drank and you never do. He put you in this state and it pains him.

“You promise? You promise me i-I’m not thinking the worst, that you still want me and you’ll stay with me?” You ask.

Kaeya doesn’t respond, he leans in, placing a soft kiss on your lips. Hands holding you softly as he gives you another one, and another and another until you're out of breath.

“I swear to the archons above that I want nothing more than to call you mine alway and forever if you’ll allow me.” He pulls back, thumbs wiping any remaining tears that threaten to spill from your eyes.

And they do, more spill out. Having your doubts and feeling insecure gets to you often but Kaeya is so patient, so understanding. Him assuring you, being here right now, apologizing proves he meant no wrong. And you believe him, you trust him. You know he wouldn’t do that now, him being here proves so.

“Darling, let’s get you inside, it's freezing.” He stands, holding his hand out to help you to your feet. Placing his hand on the small of your back when you wobble.

“I’ll explain everything better, in full detail of what happened today once you're inside, once you eat, I promise love.” He assures you still holding onto you, not wanting to let go just yet. You nod, holding his hand abit tighter as he unlocks the door to your shared house, ushering you to walk in first. Seeing him this worried, him running here when he realized he forgot. He found you and immediately checked on you. You have doubts often, but seeing him right here cleared any doubts about today. You will listen to what he has to say and believe him because he’s here that’s all that matters right now. Kaeya is here, he’s yours and you won’t doubt him. Not when he looks at you with such loving eyes and holds you so gently, not when he cares so much. He’s here and that’s all that matters now, but most importantly Kaeya didn’t forget.

_________________

author’s note: hiiii lovelies!!! :D it’s been ages since I’ve posted UGH IVE MISSED WRITING SM! :( I’m sorry for the small hiatus. I wasn’t ok but it’s better now, I notice when I feel the most hurt or pain I write the most it helps me convey what I feel and I love writing, you all giving feedback and enjoying them makes me love writing too! I hope you enjoy, I hope you’re taking care and all in good health MWAHHHH IVE MISSES YOU ALL SO MUCH!^~^<33! (ALSO THIS ISNT EDITED so sorry for any errors!)

[kanroji-san]

Lynette: Y/n, you're under arrest.

Y/n: Wait, what? Why?

Lynette: For stealing my brother's hearts.

Lyney and Freminet:...

Freminet:...Did you just hit on Y/n for us?

Lynette: I'm tired of WAITING,guys.

[adiluv-moved]

✦ : ❝ 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞'𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚 !

꒰synopsis—wc꒱ in which he cares for you, in his own ways; 2565 words.

꒰warnings꒱ akademiya roommate wanderer, pre-established relationship ꒰mutual pining꒱, reader is an amurta scholar, lightly edited.

꒰adi moment꒱ here's my little love letter to roommate wanderer, because i fr love it! might write more for this since i've got a ton of ideas that didn't make it in here! the reader is very briefly mentioned to wear glasses btw, though you can just ignore it if you don't use them—doesn't have any impact. hope you enjoy! ໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১

i.

“Boring.”

“Unsubstantial.”

“Confusing thesis.”

“Oh, and look.” He flits the paper over in your direction, tapping at the short paragraph you’d written on it. “This one’s missing a thesis entirely.”

Your eye twitches at the blatant snark within his final remark, gaze focused on the Wanderer as he lets out a sigh, dropping the stack of papers in his hands to rest on his lap before lazily leafing through them once more. He doesn’t seem to be any more pleased by this second inspection than he was the first, gorgeous features contorting into a frown as he glances up at you.

It’s almost impressive, how much effort it takes for you to maintain your amicable expression, biting the inside of your cheek to an almost painful degree and praying that the ever growing darkness in your eyes doesn’t expose the extent of your frustration. To say that your hands were aching would, at this point, be a heavy understatement.

Perhaps it was simply foolish of you, asking for his assistance and deluding yourself into believing that he might aid you without any traces of his usual sass and impudent attitude.

Perhaps you should’ve expected him to hold you to his unbelievably high standards, refusing to allow you to move onto the rest of your paper before you’d presented him with an absolutely perfect introduction—which, in your mind, still makes no sense considering that your papers aren’t expected to be nearly as perfect as his—field work of more importance for an Amurta scholar like yourself.

And, perhaps, your mental well-being would be in far better condition if you’d simply decided to try and complete everything yourself. ꒰… Though, it was hard to deny the sneaking suspicion that he still might’ve involved himself had you not gone to him first—meddlesome as he is.꒱

You half-expect him to return the parchment to your hands, demanding that you rewrite them for the nth time before seeking out his judgment once more—but he doesn’t. Instead, he pulls one of your drafts from the stack, slapping the rest onto the empty space beside him in order to give the chosen sheet a once-over. He nods, holding it out to you, and allows you to take it from him before he speaks once more.

“This is the most tolerable.” The Wanderer begins, and you’ve lived with him long enough to understand that it’s a compliment, “Just cut out some of the filler, and it’ll be usable.”

There are practically tears in your eyes as you reread it—fingers having suffered numerous cramps in the efforts of producing a favorable outline—and the extent of your reaction certainly isn’t lost on your roommate, who’s taken to eyeing you as though you’ve gone mad. He scoffs, raising an eyebrow at you.

“You’re looking at that thing like you’ve completed the entire paper.”

“Honestly?” You laugh, though it comes out sounding slightly strained. “I’ve got half a mind to submit this introduction alone and just be done with it.”

He narrows his eyes at you, lips thinning, as if trying to figure out how serious you’re being. There’s a beat of silence before he finally responds.

“Don’t."

ii.

While beings can survive in a Withering Zone, the effects are extremely harmful to humans, who require a Vision to simply resist its power. Even brief exposure could cause serious effects…

Withering Zones are initially created as a… Nascent Zone which attracts a small amount of monsters and begins to corrupt the surrounding area…

Something, something, Fetid Boughs… branches… tumors, affect people…

..!

You don’t even realize that you’d fallen asleep until your face collides with the surface of your desk, eyes snapping open in a panic as you frantically peel yourself away from the wood. The entire world feels as though it’s spinning, senses dulled by exhaustion, hands sliding beneath the frames of your glasses ꒰and surely smudging the lenses, though you hardly had it in you to care anymore꒱ before sliding down the length of your face in an exaggeratedly annoyed motion.

The Akademiya was going to be the death of you. 

Annoyingly enough, the information within your stupidly thick textbook seemed just as foreign to you as it had when you’d first sat down for the evening, a simple fact that stranded you somewhere between a mental breakdown and full-blown insanity. The life of an academic truly was far more trouble than it was worth. 

The flame contained within your lantern flickered, almost tauntingly so ꒰though perhaps that was the lack of sleep getting to you꒱, besides you.

At this point, you longed for nothing more than to cast aside your studies for the night, lay down atop your tantalizingly soft mattress, and go to sleep—abandoning your problems and forcing your future self to deal with them in your stead.

As things often are, however, making such a decision would be incredibly troublesome, the scholar responsible for your agony having already declared his intentions of quizzing you the very next morning. An awfully strict man, well in on the years, and he didn’t seem nearly fond enough of you to extend any sympathy towards your plight—something that you ꒰regrettably꒱ couldn’t help but understand, seeing as you’d been given a full week to prepare and foolishly chose to wait until the very night before.

Throwing your head back, you blankly stare up at the ceiling, vision swimming in off-which as you attempt to reel in your concentration. It wasn’t working—though you hardly even expected it to—past instances of your procrastination having left you well aware of the outcome.

You’d stay up all night, reviewing and reviewing and reviewing—as though your life depended on it—pass out an hour or so before you’d have to get up for the day, regret every single one of your life’s choice while rushing out of your room, swear off ever procrastinating again… and then repeat the cycle in a month’s time when the lesson wore off.

The sound of your bedroom’s door creaking open is enough to pull you out of your thoughts, though you make no effort to face the intruder until you register a sharp flick on your exposed forehead. Your body jerks, and you turn towards the Wanderer with a sudden start, about to scold him for the ludicrous amount of strength that he always puts into the gesture before you notice the bowl that he’s placed directly in front of you.

You blink. He says nothing, instead choosing to remove the pen from your hand and slot a spoon into its space, and you reminisce to the time where he’d attempted to teach you to use chopsticks only for you to spill soy sauce all over yourself.

“... Hat Guy?” You murmur, slightly softened ꒰gorgeous꒱ features cringing as the nickname escapes your lips. 

“Call me that again and I’ll eat this myself.”

“Really, you’re no fun at all, Wanderer…” Your tone is lighthearted, mirth within your tone as he rolls his eyes.

He chooses not to respond to that statement, and you choose not to try and stretch out the conversation, instead leaning slightly towards the bowl in order to get a better look at its contents. Shimi Chazuke, his favorite food, as you’ve come to find out, pieces of eel piled atop the rice to an almost shocking degree—considering his habit of hoarding all of it whenever he went through the effort of making the dish.

Seemingly dissatisfied by your hesitance to dig in, he decides to offer some explanation for the gesture. “I made this in order to encourage you, yet it seems as though you won’t even be able to keep your eyes open long enough to properly enjoy it.”

“You did all of that for me?” You ask, brain having already turned to mush and doing absolutely nothing to stop tears from welling up in your eyes—donning a dopey smile as you stare up at him. A flash of red paints his features, and without his hat, he turns away from you to save face.

“... The eel is good for brain function, so you should at least eat that. Perhaps it’ll give you the intellect to curb this foolish habit of yours.” You giggle, and he huffs, the lack of bite within his statement clear to the both of you. “Throw out the rest if you don’t want it. I don’t care.” He does, but you choose not to mention it. 

“And here I was thinking you were going to be fully nice to me.” You tease, taking a bite and savoring the taste. The Wanderer lets out a scoff as the entirety of your body relaxes, though the increased intensity of his blush betrays his true sentiments of the matter. “... Thank you, though. It… It really means a lot.” You continue, trying to be as earnest as you possibly can when you’re a moment’s notice away from collapsing into the bowl.

“Don’t mention it.” He grumbles, lips pressed together, and it’s enough for you to decide that you won’t be following that command. “... And take a break. The human mind isn’t good at processing information while deprived of sleep.”

“Pfft—You say that as if you aren’t a human yourself.”

He pauses at that, and for a split second, his expression shifts into something somber. At least, that’s what you assume, because the very moment that you can comprehend the change within his mood he’s already turning his back towards you and walking out of your room. “... Take a break.”

The door closes before you can respond. And with steam wafting from the bowl, contents still too hot for you to indulge in, your torturous study session is made the slightest bit more tolerable.

iii.

As it turns out, leaving your umbrella within the confines of your home while the sky is violently gray outside was ꒰regardless of the fact that you only had one lecture that particular day꒱ an absolutely terrible idea. Deciding to run through the storm pouring over the Akademiya instead of simply waiting it out was an even more foolish course of action, clothing completely soaked through and body dripping wet by the time you stepped into the safety of your abode.

… In hindsight, you probably should’ve just gone back for the damned thing when you’d noticed Kaveh—notorious for forgetting them—walking around with one in hand. At least then, even if you might’ve been a few minutes late, you wouldn’t be missing a full day of academics in order to recover from the sickness you’d come down with. Nor would you have been placed beneath the Wanderer’s surveillance, your ‘beloved’ roommate having insisted ꒰for some strange reason꒱ on staying home to keep watch on your condition.

It was sweet, at first. Oddly domestic, considering just how emotionally constipated the man is, almost always attempting to convince you that he didn’t care for you in the slightest—even when his actions made it clear that he didn’t think as lowly of you as he insisted.

But by the Archons was he attentive. Too attentive, really, confining you to your bedroom and feeding you medicine so bitter that you’d had to pinch your nose closed in order to keep from gagging. Reminders that his actions were for the sake of your own health did little to reassure you, did nothing to lessen the sting of annoyance that pierced your chest whenever he pushed you back down onto your mattress or pulled your blanket from your shivering form, berating you for making your fever worse despite the chills you felt running through your veins. 

And you, being the stubborn thing that you were, would simply go through the effort in reuniting it with your body, lounging in bliss until he next returned to check in on your condition.

Like right now, for example.

“Would you stop covering yourself already?” There’s a rag in the Wanderer’s hand as he opens the door, a deep scowl tugging down at his lips as he walks over to you—long strides, like he’s in a hurry—before the duvet is unceremoniously stripped away. While he’d previously contented himself with placing it on the other end of the bed, he takes things further this time, mink bunching up between his fingers and pattern distorting as he pulls it away from the bed entirely. You don’t even have the chance to protest before he continues talking.

“Do you even know how hot you are right now?” And if you were in better condition, and if he didn’t already appear to be so irritated with you already, that would've been the perfect opportunity to mess with him. “It’s almost as if you’re trying to die, you know that?”

“Not my fault I feel like I’m freezing.” You retort, knowing full well that it… technically is, pouting as you watch him drop your salvation to the floor, now nothing more than a useless heap. Although there wasn’t anything that was physically retraining you from getting up in order to reclaim it once he was busy doing anything else, the lightheadedness you were experiencing certainly didn’t make the option seem all that appealing. He seemed to realize that, too, placing it in the furthest corner of the room.

Smart, yes, but dreadfully annoying.

“Oh,” his tone is practically dripping with sarcasm as the sound escapes his mouth, “so I should believe the person who looks halfway to the grave?”

“... Maybe?”

He slaps the rag onto your head with a loud smack, wet and cold, a shiver running through your spine as your hands instinctively shoot up to remove the offending object. He catches both of your wrists without so much as a word, barely having to battle your weakened self in order to lower them back down to your sides, grip lingering for a few seconds until he’s entirely certain that you won’t make another attempt to take it off. And perhaps you’ve simply become delusional in your feverish state, but you find yourself missing his touch once he finally moves his hands away.

You’re saved the embarrassment of admitting this, however, when he speaks—pools of indigo scrutinizing your movements as he straightens up.

“The lavender melon soup I’m making is almost done.” He informs you, and your weary mind stews in confusion for a few seconds before remembering that they originate from Inazuma, practically all the way on the other side of Teyvat.

While the abolishment of the Vision Hunt Decree made it possible for merchants to import the fruit, it was still considered a novelty within Sumeru, prices too stupidly high for you to justify the purchase. You frowned, unsure of just how much mora he had to shell out in order to buy them. “... If I come back and see you with that blanket again, it’s not going to be the illness that ends you.”

You laugh at the threat, and he sighs, mumbling an 'I mean it' before retreating into the kitchen. You decide not to test him any further.

… And, apparently decide to find another source of warmth, because you wake up the next morning atop the couch with your fever broken and your face buried in the Wanderer’s chest. There's nobody around to tease the both of you for the compromising position—this time—though you still end up turning up to your classes totally red-faced, mute against the concerned inquiries of your fellow scholars.

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[sakkiichi]

AUGUST.

Glimpses of the departed month go by as you reminisce by the sea.

ft. Kaedehara Kazuha x gn! reader.

cw/genre: fluff, romance.

I honestly don’t know how to feel about this piece… definitely not my best work, but I wrote it, so I’m posting it. I hope someone still likes it.

if you enjoy this, reblogs and comments help more than likes !

Blue.

Said alone, the word might have had a tendency for melancholy, cold, turbulence.

However, if anyone were to ask you right now, you’d deny every negative connotation the color might have ever been related to.

Because to you, blue was dusks by the sea; moments right after the last coppery rays had hidden behind the expanse of an ocean you could only wish to unveil all secrets of.

And perhaps, you liked this moment of day because the infinity of blue before you mirrored the feelings in your heart at ease.

Feelings of unbridled affection, boundless love.

For him.

Fair hair falls over his shoulders, like silk weaved out of stars, its tips illusory rose with the fading daylight. His eyes are closed against the marine breeze, flecks of moondust clinging to his lids, casting enchanting shadows over his cheeks. His shirt has been discarded, droplets sliding down his bare torso, as if he had bathed in a pool of starlight. A black leather cord rests against his tempting collarbones, a vibrant scarlet maple leaf charm dangling tantalizingly over his chest.

A dreamy sigh escapes your lips, mingling with the sounds of foamy waves lapping at the white sand.

Kazuha.

He was always nothing short of ethereal, but something about him in the dimming light of a late summer’s nightfall, felt inherently magical.

“I’m going to miss this, Kazuha.” You finally say, resting your chin on your boyfriend’s shoulder.

He gently leaves a kiss to your forehead, his hand finding yours over the towel you’re sitting on. Scars jut like jagged rocks against which waves break, in the same way lightning snuffed out a life dear to him all that time ago.

And yet, the smile on his lips is almost palpable when he says:

“We’ll be able to come back, my dove.” His thumb runs soothing circles over the back of your hand. “Before we realize, summer will greet us again.”

You chuckle. Kazuha had such a poetic way of approaching things; even when the sun went pitch black, he would forever remain a beacon of hope to you.

“I know, I know…” You clarify. “It’s just… I wish I had more free time to spend with you like this during the year…”

As much as autumn brought found memories and your beloved’s birthday, September always had a tendency to leave you yearning for the long days of summer.

Echoes of August replayed behind your eyelids every time you closed them, reminiscent of stolen instances held in the brief minutes in which the sky was dyed in shades of neither day or night.

Those eyes that held the suns of a million dawns focus on you. Starlight from constellations that will sleep soon seem to frame them, those long lashes fluttering in tune with your heart.

“I know, my angel…” Your lover utters, as he delicately tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’d like to stay with you like this, for all eternity…” His stare of gentle embers takes you in.

His muse, his perfect love, his forever.

The samurai’s free hand reaches to cup your cheek, his touch, a dove’s first flight in its tenderness.

Beneath the darkening skies, you were the brightest star. Every lash, every pore and freckle, the everglow that fueled his verses.

“But we’ll always have the weekends,” He reassures, those fingers that penned the most romantic eulogies tracing your jawline, the column of your neck, your exposed collarbones.

Dilated pupils stare at his lips, images of kisses coated in ice cream and cocktails flashing through your dazed mind.

“And every summer after that.” The poet adds, noses mere millimeters away now, separated only by salt air and dying sunlight’s rust.

“Every summer.” You repeat.

Then, the magnetic force of both your desire-ridden lips reigns over, his kiss, an intoxicating collision.

Your hands lock behind Kazuha’s neck, pulling him closer. The droplets of sea water on him feel cool, flecks of stardust tattooing your skin in every place your bodies touch.

The wandering samurai’s lips are an expanding sunrise, and you, the tsunami that desperately reaches for his light-tinted heavens.

One of his hands sets on the soft sand, keeping him upright, while his scarred one tenderly cups your cheek. Your lean against him is soothing, healing, clear August skies, birdsong written in between retreating clouds.

Behind the undulating horizon, gold dyes silver.

Constellations begin to waltz far above, the lovers by the sea, their directing lyrics.

It’s a symphony about a season that will never die, its score inscribed in indelible blue ink in the heat of yours and Kazuha’s fervent kisses.

[toko-tuesday]

Don't Forget Your Keys (Diluc x Reader)

For definitely not the first, but probably not the last time, the Darknight Hero had overestimated himself. After yet another encounter with the Abyss Order, Diluc found himself dragging his feet through the streets of Mondstadt in the middle of the night. He winced as he covered the bleeding wound on his side with his gloved hand. Despite the pain, Diluc continues on, making his way towards Monstadt’s gate. He’s praying to every Archon above that he doesn’t get spotted.

But eventually, he feels too weak to continue on.

“I won’t make it to Dawn Winery in this condition,” he thinks to himself, leaning his back against a wall as his chest heaves.

His break is short lived as he hears the sound of what would possibly be the eighth Pyro Abyss Mage he’s seen tonight. He swears quietly as he begins to walk again, hoping the monster hadn’t seen him already.

His breath hitches as he remembers something. Your house was nearby. In fact, you had given Diluc your spare key just in case he needed it. He silently thanked the Archons for giving him such a caring and thoughtful partner before he made his way to your doorstep. He leaned against your door as he reached into his pocket to grab the keys you gave him. His blood instantly runs cold when they aren’t there.

He defeated sigh rolls off his lips. Your bedroom was on the top floor of the two story house, meaning he would have to knock loudly to get your attention. With the area still being compromised by the Abyss Order, he wouldn’t want to knock and risk being found by them in his weakened state. Plus, he would feel guilty about waking you. The pain from his battle wound courses through his veins like lighting as he thinks, causing him to groan.

He looks around for something, anything, that could get your attention without making too much noise. His gaze falls upon a nearby flowerpot. He sighs, rolling his eyes at the pathetically cliche idea that’s formed in his head. He quietly shuffles over to the flower pot, reaches into it, and pulls out a few small stones. He shamefully shakes his head to himself before looking up to the window of your bedroom.

One by one, he begins to weakly throw the stones. They each bounce off your window with a rhythmic “wa-pap!” sound. He pauses for a few seconds between each one, just in case you wake up and open the window. He begins to lose hope as the pain from his wound becomes more intense with every throw. He looks down at his hand, eyebrows furrowing as he realizes that he’s quickly made it to his last stone. Though he doesn’t believe in it, he kisses it for good luck before throwing it at your window… maybe a little too hard.

The sound of shattering glass jolts you awake. You’re practically panting from fear as you sit up in your bed. You turn your head to identify where the rude awakening came from, only to see your bedroom window has been broken. You light the lantern on your bedside table, and begin to investigate. You make your way over to the window, careful to avoid stepping on any of the glass shards or the small stone lying amongst them.

You cautiously look out your broken window and see a familiar silhouette. You rub your eyes to make sure you aren’t dreaming, but doing this only makes your vision clearer. There, in the middle of the street, stands an embarrassed and extremely guilty looking Diluc.

“What the fuck, Diluc?” you whisper-yell, not wanting to wake up your still sleeping neighbors.

A string of apologies fall from your partner’s lips before he explains, “I forgot my keys, love. I was just trying to get your attention, but it… backfired.”

You sigh and roll your eyes as you make your way downstairs. You unlock your door and motion for Diluc to come in. He quickly enters your partially shared house, quickly shutting and locking the door behind him like he’s running from something. “Diluc?” you begin to ask, surprised by the redhead’s out of character behavior.

He doesn’t meet your concerned eyes, his chest rising and falling heavily as he leans his back against the door.

By now all the color has drained from his face. The bangs of his fiery red hair are stuck to forehead by the cold sweat streaming down his face. Your eyes trail down to his gloved hand which has been firmly planted against his side since you saw him. He winces as you gently intertwine your fingers with his, slowly pulling his hand away so you can see what’s wrong. You gasp upon seeing the long, heavily bleeding gash on his side.

“Archons above,” you whisper as you look up from Diluc’s wound to meet his eyes.

Thankfully, you look up just in time to see Diluc’s eyes flutter shut. You brace yourself as his body becomes limp and falls towards you. You use every ounce of your strength to keep him from colliding with the floor. You begin to slowly guide him to the living room couch.

“‘Mmmsorry…” he mumbles as he slowly starts to regain consciousness.

He groans as you help him sit down.

“Stay here. Don’t move a muscle,” you say, before making your way to the kitchen.

“Couldn’t if I wanted to,” he replies quietly, his half lidded eyes following you.

From your cabinet, you pull out a small box of medical supplies, along with a white cloth. You set the supplies down on your living room table before returning to your kitchen. You then grab the loaf of bread you made earlier, cutting off a slice for your wounded partner. You bring it to him with a glass of water.

You sit down beside him on the couch, bringing the glass to his lips. His head falls back as you help him drink the water. After a few sips, you move the glass away as a drop of water rolls from Diluc's lips. You gently wipe it away with your thumb. You sigh with concern at how weak he's become. 

"Let's get these off of you," you say, tugging at his heavy leather jacket. 

You're pretty much puppeteering the crimson eyed man as you stand in front of him, helping him out of his blood soaked gloves, jacket, plethora of belts, and his disheveled white vest that was now stained red in some spots. He reaches his weak, trembling hands up to his neck to undo his tie. You gently push them down into his lap, sighing as you remove the fabric for him. 

Now for the most emotionally taxing part. You slowly undo the buttons of his torn undershirt, silently praying that Diluc’s wounds wouldn’t be as bad as they seemed once you could see them better. Your prayers unfortunately fall deaf upon the Archons’ ears as Diluc’s shirt rolls off his shoulders. Apart from the bleeding wound, his whole torso was littered with fresh bruises and cuts. Your hand flies to your mouth at the sight.

“Diluc…” you say, barely above a whisper, “Honey, what happened?”

He turns his head to avoid looking into your worried eyes.

“Abyss Order,” he mumbles, causing another sigh to escape your lips.

You grab a small vial of medicine from your box of supplies. You pour a moderate amount of it on the white cloth before gently pressing it against Diluc’s wound. He hisses at the contact.

“So, is it safe to assume that the Darknight Hero got his ass handed to him tonight?” you ask as you carefully swipe the cloth over the gash.

Diluc “hmph!”s in response before saying, “Well, maybe someone has to get a little roughed up to keep this city safe from the horrors of the night.”

He winces again as you continue to clean his wound.

“This isn’t ‘a little’, Diluc,” you say, matter-of-factly.

With help from the medicine and applied pressure, the wound has stopped bleeding. Now that you can see it clearly, it isn’t awful. Still pretty bad, but not awful. 

You give him the slice of bread you had cut for him. He quietly takes small bites out of it while you begin to tend to his smaller cuts and bruises, placing small drops of medicine and bandages over them. You then reach into your med box once more and pull out a roll of bandages. You position yourself so that you’re now straddling Diluc’s lap. You place his aching arms on your shoulders. They rest there as you start to wrap the bandage around his waist, covering his now medicated wound. 

“You know,” you begin as you continue to doctor your partner, “It seems a little unfair that the safety of Mondstadt is on a single man’s shoulders when we already have guards and whatnot.”

For the first time tonight, Diluc turns to face you. He studies your face, taking in how focused you look while trying to secure the bandages around him.

“Mondstadt wouldn’t need me to protect it if the Knights of Favonius weren’t so damn incompetent,” he retaliates, his voice coated in annoyance.

You scoff at Diluc’s comment as you give the bandage wrap one last tug before securing it.

“Oh, so proving you’re better than the Knights is worth more than your own life?” you ask sarcastically, your eyebrows furrowing in frustration.

“Absolutely. Without a single doubt,” he sternly replies through gritted teeth.

You groan so loudly that it practically comes out as a scream. Before you know it, you’re off of Diluc’s lap and pacing around your living room, while he continues to sit on the couch with his arms crossed over his well bandaged torso.

“I just don’t understand it, Diluc,” you say, stopping in your tracks to face him, “I know you don't see eye-to-eye with the Knights of Favonius, but risking your life every night isn’t the way to go about this! Why do you insist on dancing with death for the sake of proving a point?”

You feel your face become hot with anger when your question is met with silence. You fight back tears as you watch Diluc continue to avoid your gaze by staring at the wall.

“You are so fucking stubborn. Would it be too much for you to just consider your own well-being for once?”

The tears that you’ve been fighting begin to make themselves known as they stream down your face.

“Because you aren’t being careful,” your words become broken as your sentences turn to sobs, “And I’m tired of being scared that you won’t be able to see tomorrow if you step out that door.”

You don’t know how you ended up there, but you find yourself kneeling on the floor, sobbing loudly into your hands. Before you can even process anything else, Diluc is on the floor with you, holding your trembling body against his chest.

“I’m sorry… I’m so so sorry,” he whispers over and over again, “I never intended to make you cry.”

His large, warm hands cup your face as he wipes away your tears with his thumbs. He places soft kisses on your forehead as he continues to apologize to you until you’ve calmed down.

“I… didn’t realize how much this was affecting you,” he says, quietly.

“Clearly not, asshole,” you mumble, but he still hears.

He lets out a soft chuckle at your brutally honest reply.

“Then, I’ll make you a promise. After tonight, the Darknight Hero will no longer make nightly appearances. You’ll only hear about him when the city needs him the most. And I’ll try to be more cautious. Okay?”

You tilt your head up upon hearing Diluc’s proposition. You scan his face for any hint of deception. His tired crimson eyes look back at you, filled with nothing but honesty. Nevertheless, you hold up your pinky, never once breaking eye contact with him.

“Are you serious?” he asks, laughing softly at your childish gesture.

You don’t say anything. You reply by raising your eyebrows and waving your pinky in a slow circle.

Diluc sighs, wrapping his pinky around yours before bringing your hand to his lips to place a soft, apologetic kiss on it.

Soon, waves of exhaustion crash into you, reminding you of how late it’s become.

“Let’s go to bed,” Diluc says as he pulls you into his lap.

He brings you as close as he possibly can to his chest before standing with you in his arms. His weak legs shake as he tries to gain his balance. “Don’t push yourself,” you say, gently placing a hand on your shoulder.

He replies with a soft kiss on your nose as he begins to make his way up the stairs to your, and sometimes his, bedroom.

Once in the room, he’s reminded of how he woke you up in the first place as he gently sets you down on the bed.

“I’ll make sure that gets fixed,” he says, referring to your shattered window.

“I sure hope so,” you reply with a yawn.

He carefully makes his way to the other side of the bed, trying to avoid stepping on any of the glass shards still on the floor. He kicks off his boots before getting underneath the duvet covers with you. You bury your face into his chest as one of his arms snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to him. The sound of his heartbeat and shallow breathing begin to slowly send you back to sleep.

But suddenly, you and Diluc hear a sound that makes both of your bodies tense up. It’s the familiar sound of a lone Abyss Mage still roaming the streets of Mondstadt.

“Shit,” Diluc whispers, recalling the monster he hid from moments before coming to your house.

He gives you a pleading look, knowing he won’t be able to sleep if he doesn’t take care of the problem now.

You sigh, giving Diluc an affirming nod. He gives you a small, thankful smile before he pulls you in for a kiss. He kisses you slowly and longingly, like he’s apologizing for having to leave again.

“Don’t forget your keys,” you mumble sleepily against his lips as he continues to kiss you.

He chuckles softly, thanking you for the reminder.

“I’ll be back before dawn. I promise,” he says as he slowly begins to shuffle out of bed.

He begins to rummage through your wardrobe, searching for some of the clean clothes he’s left behind. He settles on a white button up.

“What else do you promise?” you tease, as you watch him button up his shirt in the moonlight.

“I… promise I’ll be careful?”

“And?”

“And… I promise your window will be fixed first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Atta boy.”

You roll over on your side, snuggling into your warm pillows with a sleepy smile. Diluc hums softly as he makes his way back to you. He plants a gentle kiss on your cheek before saying, “I love you”. You hum back in response, already being pulled back into another dream. Diluc smiles as he makes his way back downstairs. This time he makes sure his keys are in his pocket before leaving the house. He’s going to need them if he genuinely intends to keep his promises to you.