#No Surprises
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you shall not cause yourself to wither, not in my embrace, not while i still hold you
(and not forever, not even after death)
"It is I who cherishes those hands and holds them with my own. Happy birthday, my darling. I am immensely proud of you." i dont know how this ended up as my birthday fic, but here we are <3 maybe its all the years of growth im grateful for, and here i am.
diluc x reader
wc ⸺ 8.4k
cw; hurt/comfort â implied abusive ( ? ) family â afab! reader â self indulgent (appearance mentioned - dark hair, dark pupils) (personality - heavily implied introvert mainly, adhd and traumatized if you squint) â implied trauma (nothing too explicit. just vague details.) â depression/anxiety â tw self harm (/other mildly suicidal themes) â established relationship (husband and wife. uses of 'husband' 'wife') â once again self indulgent â reader with questionable parents (abusive, overbearing, narcisisstic...etc) â reader is mainly feeling numb due to emotinal trauma catching up w/ them â somewhat melodramatic (in my eyes at least) â mention of pills/medicine â terms of endearment â kissing and holding as always â any and all backstory is mostly vague this is for my broken souls who suffer because of others and are not kind to themselves. pure comfort from here on out. needless to say that it is strictly sfw! hopefully, im not forgetting any other warnings or missing something, if so please reach out! <<<<
synopsis; to cherish someone is to ache for them, more so as they ache. you've hurt yourself and diluc's heart aches deeply. you dont deserve it you both know it - and yet there it is, the stubborn ache that your husband will conquer (even more so stubbornly) and replace with a loving, gentle ache of tenderness instead. - in other words, diluc ragnvindr, comes back home to the manor to see his wife anguished by the troubles of her mind and other factors playing a part in doing so. he takes care of you with nothing but devotion and protectiveness and worry for the night as he will tenaciously every single day of his life no matter how much you think you dont deserve it.he'll show you how beautiful you are.
 Diluc drew in a shaky breath of air as soundlessly he stepped into the stillness of your shared chambers.
His eyes rove over your figure, laid upon lavish crimson sheets with your head burrowed into the soft pillows and fast asleep. Dark, black locks of hair tousled, splayed in contrast stark against the gentle white of the pillow. You were huddled by the comfort of the bed he had always lovingly arranged for your every nightâs rest, sleeping soundly. You were safe.
His shoulders relaxed as he made his way forward to your sleeping figure, taking a closer look at your tired form. For now, he wanted to push any worries present aside and focus himself on you. He tugged at the tips of his glove, each finger until it was made easy to pull out. Then wearily making move to cast the leather fabric aside to the dresser, bare and calloused hands reaching out to you and gentle fingers coming down to weave through your soft hair. Another breath leaves his lips.
You were safe.
⸺⸺⸺
Just this morning, you were with him ââ happily chatting away by the coffee and snacks table as the two of you shared a pleasant breakfast prepared by no other than Adelinde. You had a small cold too due to the yearly season so the head maid made sure to whisk up a warmer, nutritious meal than usual, suited to ease the strain and drain of your sickness.
Unexpectedly, later, the moment was interrupted by a particularly probing businessman who unabashedly demanded the masterâs attention from the distilleryâs staff. To say Diluc was vexed with the sudden incident â no less while the two of you were peacefully enjoying yourselves â was to put it mildly. It took about an hour just to deal with the man and another to shut him up completely and shoo him away until he disappeared from the Windwail Highlands itself.
the moment he returned, however, he failed to catch sight of you anywhere in or near the Winery. He questioned his staff and most of them only had short, uncertain answer. But you were gone, this for sure.
You didnât tell him, or anything. The maids were already done cleaning up along with your much hardly eaten breakfast, discarding away the leftover food as they washed the plate in the sink, simply going about their usual duties. It was nothing all too surprising; you usually tended to skip this meal of the day and in consequence heâd chide you for the lack of care you hate for your wellbeing sometimes. But today, he had gotten you to sit down and eat with him. Despite all the food he set onto your plate, perhaps all you had eaten was a small bun or so. Did the incident with that snob put you off? If so, he had barely constrained himself on throwing his fists at the bigot before lest youâd disapprove of his actions, but heâd most certainly like to punch him now. You were often wary of social attention and the attention he got as Duke of Mond certainly didnât help.
He looked around the walls of the manor, searching for you with soft yet urgent calls of your name only to hear no reply. No reassurance. You must be in your shared room, yes? No. By his desk, sitting in a position that was very likely to strain your neck later as you draw fond sketches of him? No. Outside. You must be outside. He didnât check outside yet.
���Master Diluc.â The head maid cleared her throat gently, a trace of concern etched onto her features.
Diluc halted his aimless pacing around the Winery by the doorway of his office, with a solemn expression. âWhere is my she, my wife? Iâm looking for her.â He stated forthright, eyes searching hers for an answer.
âWhere is she?â
But the way the older maid averts her gaze slightly, an ounce of hesitation weighing her silence makes his chest tighten.
âShe hastily left just half an hour ago, saying something about taking care of or accompanying her parents somewhere. ToâŚlunch, I think.â Dilucâs eyebrows furrowed but Adelindeâs expression remained flat. âShe did not inform us where as she scrambled to the door last-minute.â
âParentsâŚ?â Diluc echoed quietly with a tone that could only be identified as a mix of caution. Anyone with eyes good enough could tell that he didnât like what he was hearing. âDid she take her coat?â Mondstadt would only get windier by nightfall. Your cold would worsen.
âNo, I donât believe so.â
A pause.
âAnd you did not attempt to make me aware of this?â His jaw ticks.
âShe had advised us not to bother you.â
An exasperated sigh left his lips gruffly the moment her words reached his ears. He simply turned, marching towards the hanger by his office, snatching the coat off it roughly by the collar as he sloppily slipped his arms into the leather sleeves.
âYou shouldnât have listened.â
That was all, he abandoned the conflicted maid and strode urgently and purposefully away from the winery, off to Archons knows where and hopefully catch sight of you.
⸺
Dilucâs thoughts were scattered. Partly because of his concern and frustration, for good reason too. He was sure his jaw would tense up painfully later from how much he was clenching it. Your faring with your parents wasâŚstrained, to put it mildly. Generously, too. He could not bring himself to trust them around you. He knew he was being stubborn, to not take your reassurance when you tell him you are able to handle things on your own. But how could you not even inform him of your departure? Heâs more than just concerned; he feels mad and a little hurt. You always, always if called outdoors on any occasion, leave him with a sweet kiss of goodbye and a âIâll return safely, dearâ that the man was always accustomed to.
And today, you had not just disappeared onto any happy occasion, but you were with your parents. Your parents. People who never failed to repulse him by endangering you emotionally or physically by their selfishness, unresolved conflicts and troubles and own lack of understanding.
Then thereâs you, with a benevolent heart with unfathomable empathy that hidden away in its core. And the Ragnvindr could never quite bring himself to understand how on Teyvat you could still care for them at times. Heâs had his own fair share of family drama; or mayhap more than just what can be considered a âfairâ share but he knew for sure and in clear, unforgiving black and whites that anyone who do not even had a shred of decency and respect towards you simply doesnât deserve to be in your presence.
He could never ensure your safety around them. He trusts you, truly he does, but heâs not a fool. He doesnât trust them. Ultimately, Diluc only seeks definitive reassurance from you, the fact that you are indeed safe.
⸺
Hours later, and heâs restless. Heâs scoured half of Mond and not even a knight dare question him, not wanting to be met by the scorching glare in the Ragnvindrâs red eyes. Caught up by a few pig-headed noblemen on the way or a few drunkards by the tavern who seemed to be causing their daily trouble who delayed him. He knows he shouldnât prod like this in your affairs but your affairs with them were nothing but trouble.
Your husband remembers the many times youâve been alone with your parents and then when you finally return to his arms, you donât tell him about your stay with them. Itâs always a vague answer. If he asks you what happened, itâs always âweâre doing goodâ âitâs fineâ and he could never shake off the unease that crawled up his back at those words.
Only when he was met the outriderâs words of reassurance that she had seen you heading back to the Winery much later did he give up on his search. He breathed a soft sigh of relief, more than eager to get back home to youâ
âMaster Diluc, a fight has broken out in the bar between two knights! No. Wait. Three.â Charles panted, running towards Diluc the moment the barkeep spotted the Master in view. â- drunk knights.â
The Ragnvindr gritted his teeth, silently seething. âThoseâŚimbecilesâŚâ Charles panicked slightly, with a slightly confused expression on his face.
Diluc just sighed deeply, reigning in all his frustration as he pinched the bridge of his nose. âThereâs no use talking about it. I will tend to them shortly.â This was taking much, much longer than he could ever be pleased with.
⸺⸺
Dusk had fallen. He hadnât expected you to sleep so early, not when you always wanted to hang by his side all night alongside him as he did his paperwork. And were it not for the mishaps of his day he wouldâve arrived home to you earlier so.
However, his frustration melted away seeing you safely tucked into the sheets as his heart beats calm down significantly in relief. He had scarcely been able to focus on anything but you. It really, really wasnât like you to sleep early. You must be tired if youâre not going to stubbornly push yourself to stay awake. Shrugging off his coat, he slowly sat at the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight. Any questions he had can wait for until after youâve had your rest.
The truth is youâve been uncomfortable for days now. Weeks. Only recently had you been progressing well. There's a hollow look in your eyes. No matter how hard you try to feel okay and how much ever his heart aches at the sight, it's as though a fragment - a delicate, precious fragment - of you is missing. His darling.
And the thought of you ever being sad or disoriented destroys him.
Diluc tries not to let the weight of his sinking heart be the focus of his mind now. As soon as he refreshed himself, changing himself into a loose set of nightclothes â a flame flickers and dances at the tip of his finger as it lights a candelabra that stood gracefully on the nightstand, the small flame soon burning down from the top of the wick. He set aside the ornate on the nightstand, along with his vision. His movement were deft as a hunterâs as he carefully reaches out a hand to check your temperature. Your foreheadâŚfeels warm. Not too warm. A soft sigh escapes him. He hopes youâve at the very least eaten when you got back and taken your nightly medicine. Though, noting the stiff outdoor apparel that still clung to your skin as you slept, he knew you would have likely done neither.
At one glance itself, it was easily to tell you had mostly collapsed into bed the second you had returned home.
âYou must be tired...â he murmurs quietly, voice barely above a whisper. His gaze is still stuck to you, red eyes swimming with concern as they drift over your figure while he carefully sat against the headboard, mattress sinking slightly under his weight. âyouâve worried me, dear.â
Worried is an understatement.
His arm comes to wrap around the side of your waist and pulling you closer to his side to which you unconsciously lean into his warmth, seeking his presence even in your sleep. Roughened fingers come down to caress the softness on your cheeks, only to feel almost something wet brush against his skin. His brows knit together as he felt damp tears against your cheek â a clear sign you had been crying.
You avoid crying. Resent crying. You didnât like crying in front of anyone. Even in front of him, sometimes. Just as he was physically strong for you, youâve always wanted to be his emotional rock in turn and perhaps to a fault. His protective instincts kicked in, alarm bells sounding loudly in his brain as he wipes away the dampness with a warm finger and strokes your hair, trying to soothe you in your sleep. He whispered your name softly, with a mixture of tenderness and worry. He wanted to wake you, ask you what was wrong, hold you but he didnât want to disturb you.
His mind raced with possibilities at what couldâve caused such an emotional reaction from you at this. He was sure, without a second thought, that it had something to do with your family. He was sure of it. You disappear in the late morning, donât inform him about a word of your departure, when heâs back youâre in bed early and thereâs tears staining your cheeks. The very thought of you crying alone in bed only makes him bristle in more than just one protective instinct. Such nightmares you of all people should not have to endure. And yetâŚ
He struggles to shake out of the darkening thoughts that start to cloud his head and tries to focus on your breathing. He couldnât help but wonder just what had caused you to cry. Was it something that happened while you were out? Yes, he could be wrong, but his intuition was nagging at him badly. Mind racing with a million possibilities, he forced himself to push the same thoughts that haunted him and lurked at the back of his mind earlier this same day.
You still had your cold. He knew the best thing he could do right now was let you rest and recover as much as you can. He hesitated for a moment and decided to watch over you until you were awake again, leaning down to press a gentle, lingering kiss to your forehead as his heart aches with a mixture of concern and affection.
Feeling his warmth, you shudder slightly. A welcome contrast to the cold your body feels right now. Despite his best efforts of keeping, you undisturbed, you couldnât help but stir awake as your body recognizes his presence and awakes your senses. Though he wasnât too surprised when he felt you awake.
His heart stills as your eyes flutter open, momentarily frozen in his movements.
âoh, youâre back..â his heart clenches when he sees your hand discreetly try to wipe any tears you thought was there, only to feel your cheeks warm and dry. A flicker of realization passes through your expression. You donât look at him directly.
âwhy didnât you wake me? I was wondering if youâd be concerned about my sudden disappearance.â You murmured quietly, watching his brows furrow slightly. Thereâs a pang of guilt in your heart. Of course he was worried.
âYouâre exhausted.â He frowns slightly, his tone firm but caring âNeedless to say, your cold. Why would I wake you up?â âAnd I was half mad all the day, not knowing where you were or if you were okay.â He withheld a sigh, feeling you snuggle up against him. But when you coughed into your fist, he felt his fists clench involuntarily. You shouldâve rested. You shouldâve informed him, or something... He normally wouldâve rolled up his sleeves and give you a stern talking to but you didnât even seem all that fully awake.
However, you felt his frustration melting away as you gingerly laid your head on his shoulder, only making him hold you tighter in a protective embrace. âWhere have you been, my love?â he continues, his tone softening as worry whelms any other emotion he feels right now. âWhatâs happened, hm? You did not even care to inform me? You should know youâre not inconveniencingme by something as plain as that, darling.â
âbesides, youâre still sickâ he stresses, a hint of sadness creeping into his voice.
You stiffened at his gentle scolding, though you knew it came from a good place. A protective place that wants to keep you safe. Though, it was not out of fear nor anything alike, but more of guilt. You could be reckless sometimes, you knew that. But this time, it was more than just recklessness. You knew that and that made you feel guiltier.
âMy parents had called for me-â you reasoned weakly, as though an important excuse. A proper justification. âThey donât like it when I turn them down. You know how they areâŚâ averting your gaze, your own tone softened much more âwith me, with usâŚâ
Your eyes drifted to the wall across, a sort of dull white. A thoughtful on your face as you recounted the incident with them.
What was supposed to be a pleasant lunch with them quickly turned sour. The food sat in your stomach uncomfortably the whole walk back home, your guts churning with the need to just shrink away. It was pathetic, really. You were supposed to be strong. And yet,
âThey get suspicious quickly.â
You felt another cough coming on, stifling it to no avail as you bring your knee to your chest and your husbandâs worried gaze doesnât relieve at all. The way you said it, it makes him stomach churn. He knows how they are. But he knows you too. Youâre being vague. A little too vague than usual.
Though hearing you excuse their overbearing behavior simply because theyâre your parents makes his jaw tighten. âThey do not own you like that, my flower. You shouldnât have to drop everything and run to them whenever they call. Especially when youâre unwell..â
He pauses, his gaze studies you as he tries to get a read on your expression. Your eyes are still, not so subtly, avoidant of him. He could see the weariness in them, the obvious pallor in your cheeks. It didnât help that you were trying to hide the effects of the cold from him either.
âYou have to take better care of yourself, my love.. And you need to set boundaries with your familyâŚyou canât let them keep guilt you into things like this. I wonât.â
He reaches out and pulls the blanket over the lower half of your body, feeling your faint shudders and shivers.
âI knowâŚI do, I just...â your voice falters and you feel your words failing you. It wasnât just this situation and you know it. How to describe the tumultuous rage of emotions in your heart when your mind violently blocks all your feelings? Itâs stuck in your throat; itâs almost choking you and you hate it. You also hate that he can see it, that itâs worrying him, deeply.
(oh if only you knew where his worry was coming fromâŚ) albeityour doubts and fears were the most stubbornest things about you and you loathe it.
And how can you reassure him when itâs so clear that in your eyes a spark is missing, a spark heâd do anything to reignite until they smile and shine so brightly yet softly as though a sea of stars were poured into the darkness of your pretty pupils.
His heart hurts. Gods, youâre usually so talkative. He loves listening to every word that falls from your lips, music strung by your pretty voice. But now youâre awfully silent and he doesnât miss the way your lips tremble every time thereâs but a syllable on the tip of your tongue. Albeit the silence is unnatural in every aspect, he doesnât push it.
It hasnât just been weeks and both of you know it, pretending will only get someone so far. Itâs been months and it hurts. It hurts him as much as it hurts you. The past few weeks were only more prominent, the numbness stronger and more palpable compared to the days before that. Youâre falling apart and he keeps picking you back up, with gentle and nonetheless steady hands. For Archonâs sake, youâve even demanded him why. Why didnât â couldnât â he just give up on you already? What makes him so patient, so kind, so caring? To stay by your side with the softest of smiles and go to the point of exhausting himself to keep you safe and cared of. Loved. Was he even tired at all?
Instead, you snuggle up just a little closer to his side and Dilucâs expression softens a tad bit more. Both arms now come to wrap around your smaller figure, as if protecting you from the world, from your fears. He turns to face his body to you somewhat, his chin propping itself right above the top of your head as he takes in your scent to ground both you and himself.
âI missed you..â you breathe and his heart clenches at how timid it sounds. No matter how much you may try to conceal your emotions or hide your thoughts from him, sometimes its as thought he knows more about you than you do about yourself. And in times you forget who you really are, he is more than happy to remind you.
âIâve missed you more, mein liebe.â whispers he in return, his voice a little more quieter.
âwe will take care of this laterâ he promised, pressing his lips to your right hand with absolute reverence. âfor now, let me take care of you..â
He felt you shuffle nervously in your place, your left-hand stiffening under the blanket. His brows furrow, alarm bells sounding in his head as he sensed you were conscious of your movement, intentionally keeping it away from him. He knows sometimes you avoid his kisses out of your own insecurity but never quite deliberately and without being aware of what you were doing.
He felt his stomach sink as his hand searched yours underneath the soft blanket.
âDarling-?â he caught your hand in his fairly quickly, concern immediately etching onto his face as he feels you tug away from him.
âWhat are- â you tugged your hand again as you hid the upper half away underneath, and he saw the panic rise in your eyes like urgent flames with only one instinct in mind.
âitâs nothing.â There it is. Your tone, it was uncomfortable and you cursed yourself for it. âCan you not do that- â
Your efforts were to no avail. You watched in helplessness and panic as his fingers brushed against a rough scrape with your broken and abrased skin around it, his blood going cold as he felt his heart lurch with ripples of shock electrocuting it so - on your ring hand no less where a red rose carved diamond rests on your ring finger. His heart dropped to a million pieces as he felt you quick, desperate protests, flying out of your mouth instinctively.
âW-waitâŚDiluc! D-donâtâŚ. I didnât-â To hide this from him. His eyes darkened.
âWhat have you done?â
The words sound strangled in his throat; each syllable being forced out as though it were he was forcing out pointy daggers out of his esophagus instead. His held your hand firmly but gently â the last thing he ever wanted to do was cause you more pain.
âI-â but the words were strangling you, too. Each cutting through your throat as you tried to force out your own set of daggers. You werenât as strong as him. Not that you could find a coherent word in your head to word anyway. You had caused yourself harm, again.
His thumb silently traced across the scratches, cut deep but not too deep. Perhaps just deep enough for it to sting in the cold air, for you to wince at the touch and gentle tracing of his finger â for it to leave a small scar behind and to swell around the edges. The sight were knives twisting at the guts of his heart, hurting him more than it could hurt you. He slowly rubs against the slight swell, feeling your hand tense under his touch. One cut just below your pinky, another on the opposite side of your wrist and one in the middle, below them.
Those were three cuts.
He felt a wave of despair and anger wash over him, a roaring fire that burned furiously in his eyes, with emotions too loud to identify and some he couldâve even name. Hopelessness and sadness mixing alongside it. His grip on your wrist tightens slightly and you know you canât escape even if you wanted to. His eyes trail over the self-inflicted wounds, swimming with anguish and then slowly but inevitably - unshed tears. He grits his teeth.
âI donât understand.â His eyes search yours, and it almost seemed as though you didnât understand either. âI thought you were doingâŚbetter.â
Youâve hurt yourself. Did you see that? Feel that? And yet, the only thing that seemed to be your main concern now was the fact that you were caught. Not the fact that you slit open your delicate, petal-like skin. Skin thatâs soft, so perfectly in contrast to his callous ones. He has scars and he hates it. And If anyone ever dared to scar you or do so much as lay a fingertip on your body in the wrong way, heâll do away with them. Severely. Anything the poses as a threat to you or any danger that stalks you, heâll have absolute zilch hesitation in obliterating them completely. Heâs all too familiar with the dangers of this world and whatâs to come. But the thought of you being the one to hurt yourself, to wound your undamaged skin and treat yourself in ways he would kill were it anyone elseâs hand scarring yours was torment to say the least.
âWhat have you done...â he pleaded, pulling you impossibly close and eliminating any space between you as though even a gap would be enough to stop his breath. ââŚto yourself...?â Your breath hitched and you were at a brilliantly pathetic loss for words.
"I was sure you were long past..." he paused, the words choking on his throat. It felt like poison in his tongue and he could neither spit it or swallow it down. "self-inflicted injuries..." "I'm sorry" you shivered against his chest "I'm sorry, I'm sorry...I just.."
Sorry doesn't cut it and you know that, you should. You don't miss the way he seems to tremble too, as if he was also scared just as you are. Red eyes that can't tear its burning gaze away from the various self-inflicted cuts on your wrist and forearm. Red eyes that swim with frustration, worry, concern, sadness, and fear all at once. Red eyes that seem to be fully set ablaze now.
âI didnât mean to repulse youâŚ. or anger you.â No, of course not. If anything, you meant to demean yourself. The thought made him feel all the more helpless, yet more protective.
âNo, angel. What youâve done has done more than just repulse me. Itâs hurt me.â He lets go for a second, scrutinizing each cut as his heart swelled in muddled and screeching emotions. âYouâve hurt yourself.â
Your tears finally fall, the weight of his words pushing the droplets down your cheeks. Now you see. You have given into those urges again. Something you have both fought tooth and nail to shake yourself away from. Something he thought heâd succeeded in doing but as your stomach churns do you slowly realize whatever pain you endure hurts more than whatâs just. Because he cares, cares beyond what would be fathomable.
âYou donât deserve this.â His thumb gingerly hovers over the wound, his heart heavy and mind unable to focus on anything but the weight of his suspicions made reality. More so than what his initial anxiousness was for. He doesnât understand. He simply doesnât. You donât deserve even a fraction of this. âCome here.â
Your shoulders slumped slightly. Youâve sliced open your skin because no one would care and you could feel the thrill of pain and numb all emotions. Whereâd you get this from? When had that ever become reality? Was it the moment you had fought with your parents again, when they overlooked you and your efforts and you felt all that hurt all over again?
"Sshh..." he coos, despite yourself. Despite himself. He encircles his arms around your waist, and you can really feel it. His heartbeat was stuttering. He really is trembling. "...my darling..."
Your eyes sting with more fresh hot tears at the hardly stifled crack in his voice, the way he tries to stay strong for you. But just as your cuts bleed, his heart bleeds more at the sight of it all.
A hand makes its way to the back of your head, holding you tightly and keeping you leave locked in his desperate embrace. Weary red eyes flutter close. Fingers thread through your hair again and Diluc holds you a little tighter - just to ground himself. Just to remind you and himself that the both of you are here, together.
He tries to let it sink in, that you had gone and does this to yourself again. You didn't in the past year. And he wasn't there beside you. He's frustrated, mad at himself. He wasn't there to shield you, to protect you and he could've. If only you told him, if only he....
Your spouse lets out a slow, unsteady exhale. He pulls back to look at you more clearly. Dark circles under your mildly bleary eyes and your nose flushed red from crying. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he feels your shoulders loosen slightly. His hand comes down, tracing the back of your wrist, along your pinky to your forearm. His frown deepened slightly, heart squeezing when you winced. The bruised skin have swelled up around the marks. His chest tightens as he inspects it closely.
"My darling..." He breathes, bringing the mistreated hand up to his lips as he peppered the most featherlight kisses. Right below every cut, above and all around as if to make them disappear with his lips alone. "Who made you do such a thing?â and did I fail you? But he dares not speak the questions that plague him, itâs on the tip of his tongue though â not so steadily balancing itself if it werenât for him biting his own emotions back.
Because more than anything, Diluc is scared. He is really a scared, worrying lover of all things, trying to take care of you with all he is capable of (and oh so much more) and protect you with all he is. All he wishes is for you to let him.
Feeling the way you tensed up at his questions, as if your senses were on high sensitivity, he backtracked. His hand moved to your soft, silky hair that cascaded down the front of your shoulders messily as he stroked the stray locks tenderly. âWhy? You donât have to pretend with me, I love you more than words can articulate.â
You looked up to his eyes again, taking in how soft such a hardened gaze can become for you. This time from a slightly different emotion. You know what he's asking, pleading for.
âLet me in. Talk to me. Please.â
"I'll try.." You can't promise him. Not this time.
"No." But he won't let you.
âI think you need to understand this clearly. Everything will be okay sooner than youâll know it, I will make sure of it. No matter what happens, Iâll always be beside you.â he sucks in a breath through his teeth and his eyes flicker to your hands once more. The right one, unscathed while the leftâŚwas the opposite. His heart contracted.
âWherever I am, whenever. You have me. Iâm yours, my love. And I want nothing more than to keep you happy and safe. To see that precious smile of yours.â
A shaky breath leaves his lips as his sternness cracks and overflows with emotion. "Because I can't bear to see you like this, my sweet..." Diluc brokenly whispers. He tries to swallow down his sadness, but it's painfully prominent in his eyes. He doesn't mean to make you feel guilty, it's not his intention at all. But he needs you to understand just how much he cares about you; he cares more than what he can handle sometimes and it hurts.
It hurt to see his dearest hurt herself.
"Whatever did you do to deserve such pain, such...hurt?" he demands in a broken whisper, gently cupping your cheeks up to him. "hm? Was it ever your fault? Your wrongdoing?"
No. No, no it wasn't. It wasn't. Your heart breaks along with his and all you can manage this moment is a strained sorry - a word he shakes his head at.
"Don't apologize." His jaw clenches slightly. "Don't apologize to me."
Your hand gingerly reaches his at his distress, you squeeze it as it rested atop your cheek. "For all the pain I've caused you." You murmured, watching his eyebrows knit together.
"It's only my pain because you've caused yourself pain." He interjects roughly, his hand quickly interlacing with yours as he kisses your knuckles gently. You sigh deeply.
âDonât you understand?â you breath hitches as he pulls you impossibly closer to him with his eyes full of ache. âEverything I do, I do for you. You deserve so, so much more sweetheart. IâmâŚscared.â
Your hand comes to instinctively wrap around his and you hold onto it firmly. âWhat, why?â
âI canât lose youâŚâ His fingers dig into your hips lightly and your press your lips against his chest, right atop where his heart is. âNot to pain. Not to grief. Not to sadness. Not to doubt, not to paranoia. Not to death.â
âYou wonât. I promise you wonât.â you assured with the same desperation as him, looking up at him with apology âI donât even know what I was feeling, it justâŚ.it just happened.â
âI know. I know you donât.â His heart swelled from the kiss and he felt ache tighten his chest again. âI know its hard but you can tell me, come to me if thereâs if thereâs anything even remotely bothering you. Iâm here, sweet darling, and Iâm solely here for you. You know this, donât youâŚ?â
You let out a heavy sigh, averting your gaze. ââŚnot always.â
âThen I would remind you.â A finger delicately tilted your chin up, bringing your eyes back to your husbandâs burning gaze. âI know not always. But itâs alright. Iâm your husband â not just anyone. Your lover, yours. I want to be there for you. Itâs my duty, my honor and privilege.â Burning with conviction and firm love. âYou have to let me.â
Your throat constricted with unvoiced words, too many of them. All jumbled up. But he didnât force a reply out of you, didnât force a promise out of you no matter how much he wanted a conclusive reassurance from you.
âYou donât have to promise me that you wonât do this again. Just tell me youâll let me take care of you.â his voice dropped to a delicate whisper; the next words fragile as they were precious. ââŚmy love?â
So were yours. âIâllâŚlet you take care of me.â You reluctantly muttered and that was all he needed. His lips found your own, and no matter how many times heâs kissed you, he could never be prepared for how his heart sings, soars and swells all over again.
Whatever happened will be discussed once youâre in a better state of mind and ready to talk. For now, all you need is rest while your husband dearly takes care of you.
⸺⸺
The fireplace lit the dark manor, its halls illuminated in the warmth of its light and heating up the distillery to a comfortable temperature. It was silent, not too silent, just perfectly silent. Maybe it was the rare quietness in your mind that made you feel this way. Calm, oddly enough. Your thoughts not screaming at your emotions for once, your head not heavy on your shoulders.
The only sound was the crackle of the firewood or the broth boiling small bubbles in a pot over in the kitchen. Or Dilucâs disapproving hums and soft take of breaths as he carefully unfolded the dressing pad of the square bandage and gently pressed it atop the streak of your swollen wound. And never mind your barely stifled coughs from time to timeâŚ
The smell of classic chicken soup wafted in the air; broth filled with luscious ingredients that Diluc lovingly prepared for you. Your cold was still mild and you couldnât even feel it in the tranquil of the moment. When everything else faded out and it was just you and your husband, while your head rested on the cool mahogany table and left arm stretched out for him to examine, to take care of. To put to rest what pain youâve inflicted because of those who hurt you. Were you to allow it, heâll find them later, strip them of everything they hold dear were it not for your patience.
âDoes it hurt?â
You felt his fingertips caress the top of the bandage; eyebrows knit together with a hint of lingering frustration you knew he wouldnât be able to shake off that easily. âNo, it doesnât.â
He hummed, somewhat distracted. Your eyes wandered around for a bit, before you finally lifted your head up to properly get a light read on his expression. Heâs been quiet for some time.
âSoâŚ. arenât you going to say anything?â
He sighed deeply, squeezing your wrist gently as he looked you firm in the eyes. âPlease donât take this lightly.â
His eyes trailed over your wounds once more, his eyes stuck on the same spots. The ointment he had applied was cooling to your skin, the burning tinge of the scrapes fading away from your skin. He holds it, tenderly, holds it. In his own scarred hands, more scarred than yours, bloodstained even but he holds it with a reverence that shines in his gentleness, his care.
Carefully, he lifts your petal soft skin to his lips and lets his faintly chapped lips brush against your knuckles just delicately enough. You still, heart pounding in your chest as he peppers them along your wrist to the very last mark below. Itâs times like these, your heart to scream âHe loves you.â And he does.
âThank you.â at your whispered words, he looks at you and brushes your cheek with the softest smile. âfor what, my sweet?â
âFor taking care of me!â You exclaimed with a hint of defensiveness for his playful innocence, knowing he only wanted to lighten your head up a little. âYou know thatâŚâ
âI know.â He confirms as you clasp your hand, a more serious expression on his face. âBut thatâs no such thing to thank me for.â
His feels your hand squeeze his and his eyes soften again with a soft grumble following afterwards. ââŚbut you can thank me by letting me in more, hm, baby?â
ââŚright.â Your face flushed a soft red immediately, a shy smile twitching at the corners of your lips immediately and his gaze only softens more at the sight. His fingers brush against yours as he slowly pulls away â turning to the kitchen. The air smelled good. The soup must be ready.
âYou need to eat now.â He grabbed a black catlike-shaped bowl (one he specifically bought for you at the market, telling you how it reminded him of you). Catching your pout however, he shakes his head lightly with a fond smile. âDarling, you had barely touched your food at breakfast today. As for lunchâŚwell, I want you to forget about lunch. And then; your cold.â He said with a pointed look. Your cold wasnât even that of a big deal. âJust sit there and look pretty, Iâll be done here soon.â
Your pout soon turned into a soft, somewhat bashful smile and his heart skipped a beat. He really knows how to worm his way into your own heart, and youâve come to trust it with fondness. âAlright, fine.â
Soon, he placed the bowl of steaming chicken soup along with a silver rose engraved spoon. It was that pleasant, comforting warm color that the broth held â along with the perfectly diced vegetables and meat in it. Looking at the food only did you rather surprisingly realize how hungry you were. Skipping meals were a norm for you, something both your and the head maid would highly disapprove of. But something was different. He wanted you to eat. He wanted you to enjoy the taste of the food, thus the carefully homemade meal. It wasnât cooking for another for the sake of it. He wanted you to love even the first bite and thus the effort. That felt different from the begrudgingly cooked meals you were given from your mother in the past. It was her responsibility. This was different. This was Diluc and he wanted you to eat.
âWhat going on in that head of yours, my love?â He inched it a little closer to you before his hand came up to gently pat your head, pulling you away from your thoughts. He lifted your chin, eyes carefully scanning if you were hesitant. When he found none, he let go. âdonât keep yourself waiting.â
âI was justâŚthinking.â You dismissed, shaking your head lightly in reassurance, taking the spoon in your hand while he dragged a chair closer to you and sat beside you; offering silent company.
Every spoonful made your heart and stomach feel full and warm. It tasted so good. So good. The flavor invaded your tongue, the spice a small comfort to your now weakening cold. He rubbed your back the whole time, just silently staring at you with concerned care swimming in vermillion eyes, making sure you were okay. Additionally, also making sure that youâd finish the bowl completelyâŚmaybe have seconds. No, definitelyâ he silently added to himself as he stood up from his seat, abruptly deciding to brew you some warm ginger tea as well. Now that he thinks about it, there were some fine assorted dark chocolates in a cabinet, too.
⸺⸺
âLetâs get you into something comfy, yeah?â
You hummed softly in response to your husbandâs words, your eyelids already drooping with the weight of sleepiness and tire. The warmth of the food seeped in too close to your heart like a comforting flicker of flame, spurring sleep. Everything was slowly but surely catching up to you â most prominently â exhaustion.
Your eyes flickered across his figure, moving diligently as he rummaged through your closet for your night clothes. The warmth of the food felt oddly lingering, lulling in a way. The pillow that helped your back rest was fluffed to your satisfaction, only more soothing to your weariness.
Once you saw him reaching for your clothes, an idea came to mind. âCan- can I wear your shirt?â
Your voice came out unsure, your heart jumping, albeit he had sternly taught you to be nothing but open with what you wanted with him.
Diluc froze, short-circuiting for a second at the unexpected request. He paused in his rummaging; he was surprised but pleasantly surprised nonetheless. He turns to look at you with a soft smile.
âYou want to sleep in my shirt, my love?â
Your eyes flicker elsewhere hesitantly before returning to his again, then to his smile. It was almost as though he was proud of you of voicing that aloud, despite the shyness that seeped into your tone. Well, if anything, it only made him further smitten with you.
âUhm, yes?â You confirmed with a nod, waiting for his reaction. His shirt alone and the soft fabric wrapped around her body along with his arms would be enough healing needed right now.
A warm, tender smile stretched out on his lips instantly as you confirmed your words, his heart aching with happiness at the simple request.
âOf course, dearest. My shirt is yours to wear.â
Instantly, he moved to his side of the dresser, rifling through his clothes and uncaring about the mess heâs making through the neatly folded clothes. He pulls out a soft, well worn-shirt. He makes his way back to you, the clothing clutched in his palm as he hands it to you.
âLet me help you.â before any protests could come flying out of your mouth, he gently helped you remove your top. Your heart calmed at the sight of his beam, relieved by his eagerness and enthusiasm.
âthere now, careful...â he focused softly, making it certain that the bandages do not disarray as he pull the top over your head carefully. You let him take your top off tiredly while he set it aside to the laundry and you trying not to disarray the bandages too much over your injuries as you slowly donned the shirt.
With that he gently laid you down into bed, grabbing the covers to pull over your legs. His eyes raked over your figure, hugged loosely by his much larger shirt. He was suddenly made aware of how small you were compared to him. With a gentle kiss to your nose, he whispered âbeautifulâ â reveling in your soft giggles afterwards.
Then he grabbed both of your hands in his gentle hold, pressing his lips onto every inch of the skin from your wrist to each of our fingertips. Just to feel your hands in his, hear your laughter for a little longer before sleep. It took his breath away every time he absorbed the fact that your hands â smaller, softer than his could ever be, chose to held his. It was definitive heâd protect them without question just as heâd protect your heart and soul. He just wanted you to be happy, he simply wanted you to beâŚ
âComfortable, sweetheart?â
You smiled contentedly, tucked back in into the comforts of the soft sheets. âyeah. Comfortable!â
âNow lay down, my love.â But despite your sleepiness, you really didnât want to. You wanted to stay awake beside him, even for a few minutes. But knowing Diluc, he would use his vision to warm his hands to an impossibly unavoidable sensation of comfort, rubbing your back soothingly until sleep lures you into unconsciousness.
Your husband couldnât stifle the smile that stubbornly clung to his lips as he gently pushed you into the mattress again when you tried to sit up once more, lifting your hair back and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. âIâll sleep with you.â leaving each other was the last thing on the both of your minds.
âYes, you will.â You happily smiled as he climbed into bed beside you, wrapping a protective arm firmly by your waist as he brought you close to his chest. âbut not yet...â you cheekily added, making his smile widen reluctantly.
He cocked a brow at your words but before he can even part his lips to speak, heâs suddenly met with a plethora of kisses to the lower half of his face and you trying to squirm out of his hold
âYouâre tired. Stop that.â He chastised gently when you tried pushing his hands away with a small frown on your rosy lips. Diluc adores your kisses and he, the uncrowned king of Mondstadt himself, was nothing more than your darling lover and more with every kiss you pressed unto his lips and body. But you needed your rest now and Diluc was also a stubborn man in that fact.
âBut I didnât kiss you all that much today.â You sighed, slightly muffled as you pressed more kisses to his cheeks and jaw. He blushes so very easily and his pale skin doesnât do the man any favors either.
âYou can kiss me plenty, tomorrow.â He cupped your face in place, squishing your cheeks together gently as he chuckled at the adorable sight of you, followed by a reluctant sigh. âAfter youâve had your rest, my love. Go to sleep.â
âFine-â you grumbled slightly but he booped your nose, making you laugh softly again. âHey!!â you clasped his hand in protest, holding it in your smaller one.
âdonât be mad at me, mein liebling. I just want you to have a good nightâs rest after everything.â Lifting your hand up to his lips, he brushed a kiss against your knuckles. He swears itâll be the last kiss but he canât seem to get his hands or lips off you all too much. Despite his playfulness, the sternness in his eyes are clear and no doubt heâs still worried about you. He would be worried about you for days until he truly felt you better yourself both mentally and physically. But a few laughs spilling from your lips every now and then was the only thing that felt like it could ease the heaviness in his heart.
For now, he wanted you to have a good nightâs sleep. To simply close your eyes and rest.
âI know, Iâll sleep..â you sunk deeper into his embrace he held you, no more fighting the pull of slumber. With a tired smile, Diluc tightens his arms around you gently, feeling your breathing and heartbeat steady against the rise and fall of his own chest.
âgood girl. I love you. I love you so much.â His lips met yours once again and tonight, you couldnât doubt him or that he was yours to love as you were his to be held. Your eyes flutter close. âI love you too, Luc. I love you very much too.â
Hands that were once soaked in unfathomable volumes of blood, hands that are calloused and far too roughened to lay skin to skin upon soft, silken ones such as yours, hands marred with scars big and small, some faded, some deep. Hands that run over yours gently feeling the ring that sits on your finger before reaching up and raking gingerly through your hair, lulling you to slumber. The only next thing that falls from his lips is a soft âgoodnightâ as you teeter on the edge of unconsciousness, failing (and successfully so, in your loverâs eyes) to the bear the brunt of catching sight to see the tears that quietly forms in your loverâs eyes as his thumb brushes once more against your wounds. Only as you slip into the deep slumber your body and mind longs for does the tears slip from the desperate grip and grasps of his restraint.
Your skin does not deserve to be marred. Not like his, at least not like his. Not like this. Heâll show you how beautiful you are all over again, no matter what. How utterly darling you are. Heâll remind you so.
a/n: im not sure if i wouldve finished it without you, aurora. i know you're dyslexic but the emotion in this fic could not exist without being dedicated to you first.
#the library#diluc#diluc x reader#diluc ragnvindr x reader#genshin diluc x reader#genshin x reader#i am terrified just by the cw itself i am making it sound like i wrote a whole serial killer film (newsflash: yeah! thats right! i didnt.)#i just wanted to make it very and i mean very clear to let the reader know what they are reading#no surprises#genshin impact x reader#diluc genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin x female reader#tw self h4rm#diluc x you#diluc ragnvindr x you#diluc angst#genshin impact x you#diluc fanfic
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You know, without knowing the context, this is a slightly weird thing to see someone say under a video of a live musical performance.
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some radiohead collages i made on my pinterest
feel free to use!!
#radiohead#a moon shaped pool#in rainbows#there there#no surprises#ok computer#fake plastic trees#thom yorke#phil selway#ed o'brien#colin greenwood#jonny greenwood#kid a#amnesiac#pablo honey#creep radiohead#I LOVE YOU THOM YORKE#collage#free to use#sulk underrated#let down underrated
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Told myself I was only going to post artwork but I quite literally made the best thing and needed to share it
#dethklok#metalocalypse#metalocalypse toki#skwisgaar skwigelf#nathan explosion#toki wartooth#mtl fanart#dank memes#meme#radiohead#no surprises#metalocalypse skwisgaar#metalocalypse meme#mtl meme#pickles the drummer#william murderface#brendon small#adult swim#mtl family#mtl fandom#jiggle jiggle skin#meow
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A little spoiler for the next chapter of No Surprises. đ
#will delete this in a couple of hours#jenna ortega#jenna ortega x reader#jenna ortega smut#no surprises#scream movies#jenna ortega x you#scream
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No Surprises EP CD and packagingÂ
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, please
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#no way he said this#radiohead#torchwood#captain jack harkness#jack harkness#ianto jones#no surprises#something borrowed
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arriving as John to Horseshoe Overlook feels like
such a pretty house and such a pretty garden
no alarms and no suprises
because those times, when we left the cold mountains full of hope of lying hope, of getting drunk in Valentine, of just living, getting to know everyone, hunting and picking up herbs.
#it's that type of night guys#red dead redemption 2#rdr2#rdr#red dead redemption#red dead redemption memes#notsofriendlyfriendlyreminder#john marston#rdr2 john#rdr2 epilogue#such a pretty house#such a pretty garden#radiohead#no surprises
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My edit đŤśđť
#criminal minds#bau#jennifer jareau#elle greenaway#aaron hotchner#derek morgan#spencer reid#jason gideon#no alarms and no surprises#no surprises#radiohead#criminal minds edit
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Ok sorry to bother you but this is a thought that I had at 1:33 am so it might not make sense I couldâve probably posted it in my main but I donât really have the courage to do it bc Iâm scared that Iâm gonna get bashed by ppl but if you listen to âno surprisesâ by Radiohead you see that itâs kind of Hilson coded, soo
If you look at the lyric âsuch a pretty house, and such a pretty gardenâ then you could think that House would be the house (surname) and wilson would be the garden
if the garden is pretty then the house looks prettier as well, house and Wilsonâs personalities are polar opposites, especially at first glance,without diving into the complexities of their characters. Houseâs rudeness makes Wilson seem even kinder
also, if we think about back gardens/backyards, and how some houses look completely different on the front and the back, and if we say Wilsonâs the house and house is the backyard then we can say that house sees a completely different version of Wilson to everyone else (also that house is looking at Wilsonâs ass)
lastly, if we think about a garden, like a really big one, then those can often seem sort of mazelike, just like houseâs personality. It seems simple to figure out and leave behind, just saying that he is an asshole all the time, but deeper you dive the harder it is to understand and find your way through
If we think about Wilson as a house then yeah. He seems sturdy and unchanging, but if you look inside youâll see rooms, and rooms can look completely different from one another. These rooms could represent wilsons thoughts, and how different they can be. Iâd like to think thereâs a big one dedicated to house
in summary, house is Wilsonâs garden and Wilson is Houseâs house lmao
Anyways thanks for coming to my ted talk
(srry again for ranting in asks im probably not allowed but idk)
i have not a clue who you are but HOLY SHIT MAN/GIRL/WHATEVER THE ENBY ONE IS
this is actually impressive like what
it would also make sense for the time no surprises is ued in the series (please tell me youve finished house or are passed this bit, if you aren't dont read past this or do, idk you might not care for spoilers đ) because like, when house is in the physc ward, he well obviously misses wilson as its shown he doesn't visit. so yeah, he could be thinking about wilson.
but that whole analysis ON ONE LINE MIGHT I ADD, ONE LYRIC TJATS MENTAL is sososo impressive, if you wanna rant in my/our dms please feel free as I WANNA HEAR MOREEEE
but please dont feel that way about posting on your main, this was actually incredible and it should be posted on your main!! nobody will think less of you, if more, because this was KKWBSKSB /pos
#house md#james wilson#gregory house#hilson#no surprises#im so honoured to have this in my asks no way#radio head
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Gaspode, tears pouring down his face, gave Death an apologetic grin.
"Pathetic, isn't it?" he said hoarsely.
I WOULDN'T KNOW. I'VE NEVER BEEN THAT MUCH OF A DOG PERSON, said Death.
"Oh? Come to that, I've never liked the idea of dyin'," said Gaspode. "We are dyin', ain't we?"
YES.
"Not surprised, really. Story of my life, dyin'," said Gaspode.
Terry Pratchett, Moving Pictures
#gaspode#DEATH#laddie the wonder dog#moving pictures#discworld#terry pratchett#dogs#afterlife#near death experience#life#meaning of life#introspection#no surprises#dog person#story of my life
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A heart that's full up like a landfill A job that slowly kills you Bruises that won't heal You look so tired, unhappy
#radiohead#no surprises#bir gĂźn daha bitti#doÄum gĂźnĂźmĂź kutlayan arkadaĹlara teĹekkĂźr ederim#Spotify
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