#anya writes ᝰ.ᐟ

[yuoimia]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ HEY, HANDSOME

summary: you’re shameless with your antics, and he hates loves it. characters: kinich & wanderer notes: fem + flirty reader, relationship is not established, but you’ve known each other for a while, wanderer’s is super short and messy bc i didn’t know how to execute my ideas well, wc: 580

kinich

“Are you free next week?”

Kinich glanced up from the base of the tree to where you sat casually on one of the thick branches. Sunlight streamed through its delicate leaves, spilling onto your hair, casting a familiar shadow he breathed in the first time you two met.

He raised a skeptical eyebrow, eyeing you with suspicion. “What do you mean?”

“What does she mean!? Are you STUPID-“

A momentary flash of yellow and green materialised for a split second, not without the usual explosive expressions, before being promptly booted with the irritated flick of Kinich’s right hand.

“Stop smirking,” he sighed, not coming out nearly as stern as he intended. “Out with it, and come down; my neck is starting to hurt,” he continued, turning away, trying to seem as composed as possible. Not now; he cannot be succumbing to nerves and sweaty palms. Why was his mind so foggy? Absolutely no helpful excuses formulated in case he faltered any further.

You let out a disappointed huff. “Fine,” Kinich could almost sense the roll of your eyes from the back of his head. “Make sure to catch me.”

“Wait-“

It happened in a split second, his arms subconsciously reaching out as you slipped down with no hesitation.

Almost instantly, words of disapproval (which included his typical empty threats that he seemed to forget within the next ten minutes) bombarded your ears as one arm held you from the back of your knees, another supporting your back. “Imagine if I didn’t catch you…you need to think before you do things…”

“But you did either way,” you shrugged nonchalantly at his frustrated face, enveloping an arm around his neck to rest your chin on his shoulder. “So…you free next week?” you whispered conspicuously, adjusting yourself to face him properly. “I’m running out of ideas for commissions, you know?”

And you swear you’re hallucinating. You swear you might actually be delusional.

“What if I told you,” he mused at the intimacy of the shared closeness. “That you never needed the commissions for my attention in the first place?” he responded, holding back a smile.

wanderer

“You look terrible.”

The unexpectedly rash comment causes him to jolt his head upright, his eyes instantly meeting the owner of the familiar voice and malicious remark. A strange feeling washes over his body as he relaxes his posture almost completely, careful to avoid seeming too relieved.

“Likewise,” he countered, scanning you with a look of supposed disinterest. Except he wasn’t disinterested at all, thoroughly noting down your appearance and mannerisms. Loose ends of your braid had fallen out of their original position, a vibrant rosy blush below your cheekbones, likely from exhaustion the way your chest rose quicker than usual.

“…likewise?!” you gaped incredulously, seizing a mirror from a pocket of your jacket.

You’re the one that told me I looked terrible.”

“You know I didn’t mean that at all.”

“And you know that, too.”

“You’re supposed to say that you’re tired and hungry,” you muttered disappointingly, fixing your braid in the matter of a few quick movements.

Confusion flooded his mind at the sharp diversions in conversation topics. “Why would I need to say that?” he replied slowly, surveying your face with greater interest and intent, as if thinking that if he stared hard enough, the deepest secrets of your mind would be magically revealed.

A victorious smile and wink adorned your face as you extended a hand. “So I can offer you lunch, handsome.”

[yuoimia]

50% YOU AND ME

summary: you two as parents

characters: alhaitham, diluc

notes: gn! reader, fluff, diluc is noted to have a daughter (alhaitham one isn’t specified), wc: 600.

alhaitham

unknowingly spoils his child. both behaviour-wise and financially. which, perhaps, makes the sentiment even more sweet. his tender actions don’t match the sharp words of warning that frequently spill from his lips, diminishing like a blown candle from faltering disappointment. no, he’s most definitely not smiling, let alone smirking from behind his palm!

the one to wake up your child through the late hours of the night to give them a dose of medicine when they’re sick, despite his preference for getting a full eight hours of quality sleep. “i don’t want to deal with your grumpiness in the morning,” he claims when you volunteer. it’s half true, but wouldn’t it be a thousand times more efficient and straightforward if he could just say that he just didn’t want to see you disturbed from your beloved sleep? overworking was something alhaitham could not easily allow.

(also because he knows considers himself a little more lenient than you when it comes to parenting…hearing with an argument at 1 in the morning in the next room about how disgusting the medicine tastes for twenty minutes would be far worse than sacrificing five minutes to reach a more successful outcome)

with love comes discipline, knowledge is important, but happiness is too. to maintain equilibrium between the two is his greatest rule. nights will roll past, not finished without a book or two, a few questions, answers, and inside jokes, ending with a secret snack in the dim light of the kitchen when he checked you had certainly fell asleep (he can’t be caught for a third time, surely? he had just made it up to you..)

alhaitham is handsome. you are ethereal. of course, it’s practically guaranteed from the start that your child would be devastatingly beautiful. at least twice a day, he’ll catch himself completely awed. is that child really 50% of him?

diluc

diluc is a gentle father, his love is like the walls of crimson blossoms blooming all year, around the cobblestone edges of dawn winery’s manor, tendered so they remain exquisite and flowering, but left to their own winding paths and bonds alongside the golden honeysuckles.

morning adventures worthy of trailing journal entries, when the air outside is still crisp and fresh, the swatches of condensing clouds brushed across the pale blue sky. plates of homemade breakfast arranged on the table, your voice reverberating through the quiet halls as pairs of footsteps patter down the stairs.

“will i be able to take a bit of the clouds to put in my box?” your daughter asked, eyes wide and sparkling with the same alluring tint of carnelian as her father. excitement fizzed from her eyes to the tips of her brown boots, now jubilantly kicking the air under the table. from the satchel thrown around her shoulders, she pulled a rectangular box, approximately the size of your hand, decorated with sprawling doodles and glitters. “will it fit in here?” she questioned again, sneaking an apprehensive glance through the arching windows, now biting her lip.

“what are you planning?” you suddenly muttered anxiously, just loud enough, unaware of his previous promise. “you know she can’t actually grab a cloud.”

diluc smiled, facing you with a pleasant expression of satisfaction. “dandelions.”

celebrates the smallest achievements. they aren’t anything short of monumental to him; a significance in their life is just as important to be engraved into his. he keeps a diary of sorts, nothing too extravagant, occasionally entries with the date, maybe a few polaroid pictures, but overflowing with tender dreams, memories and hopes. and his greatest hope of all—that one day, the two people he loves most will be able to read it.

[yuoimia]

I CAN’T SAY ANYTHING TO YOUR FACE!

summary: they think you’re too pretty for your own good, really.

characters: wriothesley & alhaitham

notes: gn! reader, lighthearted fluff n teasing, wc: 800.

wriothesley

Does he think he can trick you again?

It’s almost funny, you muse to yourself as he routinely leads you through the fortress’ weaving labyrinths, the delicate wafts of Fontaine’s finest decadents alongside the sweet, slightly floral mist of Earl Grey tea increasing in strength with every step, naturally forming a semblance of a smile before you quickly regained your composure with a disappointed slap to the forearm.

Focus, you reprimanded to yourself. Stop thinking about cakes.

“What’s got you scowling like that?” Wriothesley lifts a curious eyebrow, surveying your face as he lightly closes the door behind you. “Pick a seat; I bought some new cushions since you complained last time that they made your back sore.”

He enunciates the complained with an air as if dealing with a petulant toddler’s meaningless tantrum.

Wriothesley notices how you don’t take a seat.

“Thank you,” you answer, prodding the rounded corners of the flowing material. It’s your favorite color, your favorite fabric.

He gazes up expectantly from his seat, taking a small sip from his teacup, swallowing with analytical attentiveness. “You know, it’s considered impolite to just stand and stare.”

“Wriothesley,” you interpose, crossing your arms behind the chair in front of him, examining his presence with a contemplative look. “What are you getting at?”

You continue theatrically spurring points when met with only silence. “Private teatimes? Customised cushions? Sigewinne’s stickers of you on my clipboards?” You take a generous breath and step, zeroing in on him over the tiers of desserts and frothing drinks, arms encasing his frame over the table. “If I didn’t know better,” you slyly whispered into his unblinking eyes. “I’d assume that you like me.”

The tension was hazardously electrifying, eliciting a sense of exhilaration with the mere possibility of a confession concocting itself into reality.

Wriothesley lets out an animated mixture between a sigh and a chuckle, dropping his head into his hands, before raising his head once more.

“You’ll need to repeat a few points again,” he muttered, smiling to himself, sounding almost disappointed. “Preferably with your back turned to me.”

“Why?” You furrow your brows; each second spent with Duke brought you with an ever-growing list of concerning questions to answer.

“Seeing you that close was quite dangerous,” he replied breathlessly. “I’m surprised you’ve never been labeled guilty.”

alhaitham

Alhaitham was stubborn. Yes, he admits, he could be fairly hardheaded and temperamental, but in comparison to you? Well, he considers that a new territory entirely.

“Birds of a feather,” Kaveh had nonchalantly shrugged at Alhaitham’s situation, nearly trickling an onslaught of sarcastic enquiries about this and last month’s missing rental payments and his growing apprehension towards Kaveh’s financial management, but that, alas, would just prove his point further. Alhaitham would rather have three meals of soup a day than let his agitating roommate emerge victorious in a verbal debate.

Thoughts surrounding soups reminded him to check in if you really had gone to bed after dinner, as you had reluctantly agreed, though not spared a wry roll of your eyes when you thought he had turned away.

It was common knowledge that if a person was sick, they should take it easy, rest often, and avoid strenuous activity and demanding tasks. While you were eager to comply with doing practically nothing all day, when the pedestal of stars rose above the fallen west horizon, so did your desire to defy anything Alhaitham suggested. And this part he fully blames himself, although grudgingly, that it was arguably a hundred percent his fault ninety-nine percent of the time. The factors? This he’s comfortably justified to alleviate restless nights—decisions were almost always influenced by bias, no? It was human, and Alhaitham was nothing but a human with human cognition.

The deliberate turn of the door handle, languid and surprisingly unlocked (what sort of scheme could you be possibly planning now?) has Alhaitham nearly stumbling out suppressed laughter of incredulity.

“What are you doing? Didn’t you promise me you'd go to sleep?” he gapes, the expression bearing comparable similarity to a blown-up pufferfish, not that you’d tell him that.

“Watching a movie. Would you like to join?” you push over blankets and pat an empty spot next to you. “I’m about halfway done so far. I’ll warn you, the protagonist is absolutely insufferable sometimes.” You release a long, suffering sigh, rubbing your forehead as if the character’s choices were causing you great distress. “Honestly-“

Alhaitham sits himself on your bed, much closer than you anticipated, cocking his head at your rapidly stumbling words.

“You’re so stubborn,” Alhaitham scowls, gently wrapping your waist with the loosened blankets. His voice carries no trace of malice, rather weaved with soft fondness. “Come on, let me see this protagonist that is causing you so much grief.”

[yuoimia]

OUR SUMMER DREAM

summary: beneath the radiance of cloudless skies, a summer memory is tied between the two of you. days with them - summer edition!

characters: wanderer, xiao, diluc, alhaitham, neuvillette, kazuha, ayato, zhongli

notes: gn! reader, soft and sweet, fluff, teasing, wc: 1.3k

soft splashes of aquamarine waves, sparklers in hand, the flash of a digital camera - wanderer, xiao.

“don’t wander too far.”

“oh c’mon,” you exasperated, tugging his arm a bit harder again, letting a humoured laugh escape from your lips. “if you’re so scared of getting lost, then you should hold my hand-“

“i know what you’re planning,” he replied knowingly, lightly elbowing your side with his free hand, a fierce gaze reflecting the flickering embers of the sparkler in his other hand, twinkling and incandescent with matching ferocity that was rapidly dissipating.

you sighed and shook your head with a tut, accompanied with a lazy gesture towards the horizon, now swallowed in breathtaking shades of rich indigo and navy, streaked with the last ribbons of daylight.

the waves tumbled one over the other, idly lapping at the golden shore sprinkled with pearly shells and tangled seaweed, each swash permeating a stinging scent of salt.

“i promise i won’t push you into the water,” you nodded solemnly, pulling him and his skepticism closer. “i promise,” you enunciated, putting on what seemed like a confident expression of benevolence before refocusing your attention on the smooth sand delivered by the ocean.

“that’s not what i was worried about,” he muttered under his breath, making his way down to where you were, seemingly inspecting something in the sand, two newly lit sparklers in his hand, softly illuminating a golden path.

“cute, isn’t it?” you grinned, smiling adoringly at the red crab, crouching down further. “look!”

he looked, trying to find what was so amusing, only releasing too late the trap he had fallen into.

“say cheese!” you exclaimed, pulling something out of your bag instantly recognisable by the quantity of cat stickers and its signature flash.

double cuteness. an upturned crab and a certain wide-eyed person illuminating them both with the light of burning stars.

low whirrs of a running fan, windows thrown open, a bowl of freshly cut watermelon between the two of you - diluc, alhaitham.

any agonising second now, you’d pathetically melt into a miserable puddle on the cool vinyl floor.

any second now, you’d make a suffering groan, thrust the electric fan closer, and aimlessly stab a fork into the bowl of perfectly cut watermelon and momentarily delight in its juice before staring disinterestedly through the sheer curtains of the opened window, hugging your knees with your arms. there wasn’t much to do on an afternoon in one of the most insufferable summer heatwaves ever.

“why does it have to be so hot,” you complained to nobody in particular, patting your cheeks and forehead. there’s hasn’t been a single breeze in the last five minutes.

“you should find something to do,” a voice swept from behind. snapping your head backwards. you revealed a look of contempt in his direction. “it’s too hot to move.”

he examined you from where he was dusting the bookshelf, his fingers tracing the books with great care. “you’re moving your mouth.”

“even talking makes me exhausted,” you turned to shove another bite of watermelon, a ghost of a pout resting on your lips. it wasn’t as cool anymore, but rather unpleasant now that it had reached room temperature.

“with a mind like yours, i’d expect you to be able to easily entertain yourself,” he cooed, now sitting on the end of the bed, just above where you sat. further tilting his head downward, he brushed the loose strands of your hair, eyelashes fluttering in your peripheral vision. “unless…” came a soothing whisper, “you wanted my attention all along?”

when met with no reply other than your tentative gaze and deep breaths, he laughed, removing his hand from your hair and sitting back on the bed. “i was just joking.”

from our favourite spot for sunsets, ice creams in hand, wistful thoughts and eyes - neuvillette, kazuha

if you could, you’d polish this memory until it was clearer and brighter than any bygone jewel and store it in a small box sealed within layers of dreamy clouds, tied with a chain of love.

away from the ambience of the blaring city, out into the forgotten outskirts that always looked so far away, hidden under vine-covered overhangs, between the sharp scent of evergreen pine trees, cold and invigorating. through blooming meadows and woods of delicate wildflowers, sometimes met with a plain of deer and foxes. up here, up high, breathing in the quiet beauty, the rays of sunset hugging you both in a comforting embrace.

“it’s been a while since i’ve done something like this,” he whispers before releasing a fond laugh, his face tinged with the slightest pale hue of cherry, spreading from the apple of his cheeks to the line of his jaw, either from the bountiful crispness of the fresh breeze whipping through the windswept grass you both laid on, adorned with dandelions, and the hum of the last hardworking bees.

“hm, really? we should do this more often,” you acknowledged warmly, turning to lie on your side, propped up with an elbow. pushing a loose strand of hair from his face, you watched with no particular intention but to just look. not in an uneasy way, something more unattached, more open for thoughts to run free and connect once again.

he smiled at the linger of your touch, bringing a hand to lock yours in place just below his ear, between his neck. “you always come up with such wonderful ideas,” he murmured, the gentleness far from innocent, chuckling at your sudden rapt attention. “your ice cream is melting.”

vibrant vivid lights, screams and smiles, the delicious aroma of buttered popcorn - ayato, zhongli.

one might assume that he was enjoying this more than you were.

“don’t you think it’s time to give up?” you proposed, eyeing him and the fluorescent vending machine with profound disapproval when he had simply sighed, the glass reflection exhibiting his contemplative face. “it’s been nearly half an hour, you know.”

he turned briefly to raise an eyebrow, his hand still on the joystick. “didn’t you say you wanted the panda?”

he’s concerned about that? you feel a sudden urge to burst into laughter, or maybe even slap his hand, still stuck onto the motionless joystick.

“i’ll be fine without it,” you shook your head, rubbing your forehead with a smile towards the ground. winning or losing, the earnestness with which he took your previous offhand comment made the butterflies in your stomach soar a bit too high for such a casual night.

for a few seconds, silence simmered in the cool air, your eyes scanning the striped tents, the constellations of bubbles drifting behind the faces of happy children, the cheerful vendors and their tied bags of coins, landing on a particular cluster of food stalls beneath an arched entryway lit by twinkling amber fairy lights, failing to notice the inconspicuous set of eyes still fixed on you.

“do you want to eat something?” he finally asked, easily noting your prolonged attention at the bustling entryway. he intertwined your hands together, before faintly tugging you forward, tightening his hold as you began to navigate the busy lane, stopping at the first stall.

“there are so many things i want to try,” you breathed, bending down to analyse the chalkboard menu with a cursive title reading: specials.

but which ones to pick? you chewed over it, edging closer to the list. which one..

“are you finished?” came a hushed voice behind your ear. “we need to find a table before they all get taken.”

“what do you mean? i haven’t-“

standing above to your left, he smiled with a small sense of pride, his hands filled with the menu of specials.

[yuoimia]

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