#winery guests: moon

[suguwu]

MOON EATER I THREE

"But truly, Master Diluc—why am I here?"

"I would wed you," he says, flexing his hands in his lap. "If you are amenable to it."

minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

masterlist

pairing: diluc ragnvindr x f!reader

notes: i've been sitting on this chapter for a while, so i'm excited to send it out in the world!

content: marriage of convenience, politics, some manipulation, pining, jealousy, some jeanlisa if you squint.

wc: 4k

The winery is almost entirely empty when Diluc steps inside after you. Jean is corralling the few stragglers, giving quiet orders to the remaining knights, her blue eyes as gentle as the summer sky. She’s in ceremonial wear and it hones her; he thinks of a sheathed blade. 

“Jean,” he says. “You don’t need to do that.” 

She turns to face him, a soft smile curling up on her lips. There’s a faint blush on her cheeks, the color of the pearly dawn. It’s the one she gains when she’s caught doing something she knows she shouldn’t.

(“Father,” Diluc said, innocent as a newborn fawn as Jean and Kaeya shifted at his side.  “You wanted to see us?”

His father eyed them with a raised brow. “I don’t suppose the three of you know anything about the pie that went missing from the kitchen.” 

Kaeya fidgeted with his sleeve, his slender fingers working at the cuff of it. Diluc elbowed him in the ribs subtly. “No, Father,” he said.

His father studied each of them carefully. Out of the corner of his eye, Diluc saw the blush rising to Jean’s cheeks, a soft pink that was slowly darkening. 

“Jean?” his father asked.

“I’m sorry!” she cried out, and Diluc groaned.)

“I was just helping—”

“Jean. You don’t need to help.” 

She bites at her lip and Diluc softens. He’d forgotten how much she needed to feel useful. But this close, he can see the bags under her eyes, the deep blue-gray of a stormcloud. “My staff has it under control,” he says. “And you’re a guest.” 

“But—”

“Go home and rest.” 

“I can still—”

“Jean.” 

“Alright,” she says quietly. “I just need to give a few more orders, that’s all.”

He nods and starts to step away.

“Diluc?”

When he turns to face her, he takes a sharp breath. There’s something like sorrow shining through her expression, something bone-deep carved into the curve of her mouth.

“Is this really what you wanted?” she asks. Her voice is gentle, but she’s watching him carefully, her gaze a comet streaking through the sky, the blue of it cutting through the heavens’ tender underbelly. It cuts through him, too.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says after a moment.  

Jean smiles, starshine at dawn, a slow fade of light. “I thought you might say that.”

Diluc stays quiet, meeting her gaze steadily. 

“You’re as stubborn as ever,” she says, shaking her head, but her voice is fond. 

“Master Diluc? Stubborn? Perish the thought,” Lisa says as she joins them, wrapping her shawl around her pale shoulders. 

Jean heaves out a beleaguered sigh, but she can’t quite hide the twitch of her lips.

Lisa laughs, light and tinkling, looping her arm through Jean’s. “Come on, darling,” she says. “Let’s let the newlyweds have their night, yes?” She throws Diluc a bold wink. 

Heat scorches across his cheeks, a supernova burn. He’s able to disguise his choke as a cough at the last second, though from the glimmer in Lisa’s jade eyes, he hasn’t hidden it well enough. 

“Lisa!” Jean scolds.

The mage laughs again. She’s every inch the cat who got the canary, her lips curling into a delighted little smile. 

“Goodnight, Diluc,” Jean says, all but dragging Lisa away. Lisa lets herself be led, snuggling in close to the blonde as they leave. It smushes some of the roses in her hair, but she doesn’t seem to care that she’s leaving a trail of petals behind. Diluc sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Sorry about her,” you say as you join him. “She’s a handful.”

“I’m aware.” 

You laugh, picking a cecilia out of your hair and rolling the short stem between your palms. The bloom whirls with it, a ballerina’s tulle skirt, a light dusting of pollen floating down from it to tint your fingers gold. It catches the light as you raise your hand to cover your yawn.

Diluc frowns. “You should go to bed,” he says. “It’s been a long day.” 

You hum. “It has been,” you say. “I don’t suppose you intend to sleep soon?”

“I need to speak with Adelinde.” 

“Alright,” you say. “Good night, then.”

“Good night.” 

He watches you go upstairs, the hem of your dress flowing behind you, a silken spill of moonlight. 

You don’t look back. 

He turns on his heel. Finding Adelinde is easy; she’s in the midst of giving orders to some of the staff. She hands off a mostly-empty platter of tiny, delicate golden-brown pastries to Hillie when she sees him.

“Master Diluc.”

“Adelinde,” he says. “How is the clean up going?”

“We’ll be done with the food soon. The rest can wait until morning, I believe.” 

“Good.”

Adelinde pauses. She looks at him for a moment; her jade eyes have a knife’s edge to them, her gaze an autopsy cut. Her lips draw tight, a wound of a mouth. “You mean to go out tonight.”

“Yes.”

“If I may, Master Diluc,” she says, “you now have a wife.”

“That has no bearing in this. The Knights will be lax tonight, lulled into complacency by the celebration. I heard a few mention continuing at Angel’s Share after they return to the city. I cannot leave Mond unprotected.” 

Adelinde does not frown. Instead, her face smooths out into an impenetrable mask, porcelain breathed to life. “Very well,” she says. “At least wait until she’s asleep.” 

“The sooner I leave—”

“At least wait until she’s asleep,” she says, voice sharp. “It is your wedding night.”

“When she’s asleep,” he allows.

Adelinde nods. “Goodnight, Master Diluc.”

“Goodnight, Adelinde.” 

He goes upstairs quietly. There’s a soft light filtering from under the door to your room. He sighs and heads into the master bedroom, settling at the small desk in front of the windows. He lights the candles with a flick of his wrist; the flames devour the wick, leaping high before settling into a low, sweet glow. He’s just beginning to shuffle through a few papers when one of the hallway floorboards groans, a warning song.

“Diluc,” you say from the doorway. The candlelight barely reaches you there; it casts you into shadows, a new moon’s outline against the velvet of the sky. “May I come in?”

He stands. “Yes,” he says. “What is it?”

You step inside. The cecilias are gone from your hair, but you’re still wearing your dress. Your smile is a bit sheepish, but there’s a secret tucked up in the corner of it. “My dress,” you say. “The maids are all so busy. Can you undo the top few buttons for me?”

“I—what?”

“It’s hard to undo them from this angle,” you say. “Please?”

He takes a breath. “Alright.” 

You turn as he steps closer, the delicate train of the dress swirling at your feet, a whirlpool of silk. It exposes the line of buttons marching down the back of your dress, rigid against the soft flow of the fabric. 

The buttons are tiny things, pearls that shine like little moons even in the low light. He bites back a curse as they slip against the leather of his gloves. He tries again, gently tugging on a button, but it refuses to come out of the loop holding it tight. He changes the angle, but it’s no use; he runs afoul of the slick surface again and again. He huffs in annoyance and bites at the tip of his index finger to peel off his glove, letting it drop to the ground.

He tries again and finally, the button slips free of the little loop. The fabric separates. His fingertips—rough, heavy with scars from burns and blades alike—brush against the cool slope of your back, skin against skin. He goes still. 

You glance at him over your shoulder. You’re still shadow-kissed, but your eyes gleam in the dim.

(“Forgive my forwardness,” you said. “But there is the small matter of lovers.”

Diluc coughed. He glanced at you and saw no hint of a joke. “I beg your pardon?”

“Lovers,” you said, that rosebud smile rising to your lips, petals yet unfolded. “If you should take one, I only ask that you be discreet. I would do the same, of course.” 

Something in Diluc’s chest went cold. It was bone-deep, as if the Dragonspine winds were cutting through him. “You would take a lover?”

“I do not know the future,” you said. “But if I should, I would be discreet, as I said. Is that alright?” 

Diluc took a deep breath. “If you wish it, I would hardly stop you.”

You inclined your head to him with a little smile. You moved on to another topic like a river current, slow but inexorable. Diluc barely heard any of it, your voice muffled, as if you were speaking underwater. He only came back to himself as you gathered your things and bid him farewell. 

“Master Diluc,” you said at the door. He glanced up at you, your features softened in the light streaming in through the windows. “I should mention that I would not mind you in my bed instead of a lover.” 

Diluc choked.

By the time he recovered enough to speak, you were already gone.)

He undoes another button. Then a third, and a fourth, each little pearl slipping from its loop with ease. His thumb traces over the salt of your skin until it slips just beneath the fabric. He pulls just enough for the gap between the fabric to widen. He drags his thumb along the crescent moon sliver of revealed skin; a callus catches against you. You take in a sharp breath.

Diluc pulls back as if burned.

“There,” he says, clearing his throat, his cheeks hot. He knows they’ve gone scarlet, that there’s a deep flush painted over his whole face. “They’re undone.”

“Thanks,” you say, glancing over your shoulder once more. Your lashes catch the shadows like a spider’s web. It only serves to better illuminate your eyes. He swallows. 

“You’re welcome.”

You study him for a moment before you smile, as soft as the breaking dawn. “Goodnight,” you say.

“Goodnight.” 

The door clicks shut behind you. Diluc listens as your quiet footsteps fade away; there’s a distant thud as the door to your room closes too. He sighs, leaning down to pick his glove up off the floor. He slides it back on as he crosses to his closet. The night is still young and he knows what he must do.

When he’s dressed, he opens the secret compartment to his desk. He stares down at the owl mask that’s ensconced there. It gleams in the low light, the severe point of its beak a wicked hook. Diluc tucks it away under his cloak before he opens the window. 

With the lush vines clinging to the winery walls, it’s an easy climb down. He looks up when he reaches the bottom. There’s still a light glowing faintly in your window. His chest aches, as if a ribbon is tightening around it, but he ignores it and slips on the mask.

He has work to do.

—

Morning comes far too soon.

Diluc’s room is still steeped in blue, but the promise of morning is apparent on the horizon where golden fingers of light are reaching into the sky, scraping their way through the darkness. The birds are just beginning to stir, their chirps still subdued, a few plucked notes before the melody. 

It feels like Diluc has just only collapsed into bed, but the stars that had been watching over him when he stole back into his room have gone out, fading beneath the dawn. He sits up and scrubs a hand over his face, wincing as it pulls at the fresh set of lilac bruises blooming on his right side. He prods at them carefully. 

The ache sinks its teeth in as he brushes his fingertips along the biggest of them. It’s still darkening, a galaxy caught under his skin. It remains tender as he gets ready for the day; it takes effort to not compensate for it in his movement. 

By the time Diluc heads downstairs, the winery is already stirring to life. A few maids scurry past him; he can hear the vineyard workers starting to make their way through the vines, checking them after the harvest. But most of the activity is centered in the heart of the winery, where the remnants of your wedding reception are. He watches as two of the servants unhook a floral garland from the rafters, petals raining down beneath them. The petals whirl through the air like snowflakes, thick and white, and Diluc brushes one off when it lands on his shoulder. He’s in the middle of plucking another out of his mass of crimson hair when the floorboards whisper your arrival. 

“Oh,” you say. “They’re taking them down already? A shame.”

He glances at you. “I am sure Adelinde would be open to keeping them up, should you wish it.”

“It’s fine. I just thought they might keep them up a little longer while they’re fresh.” 

“I see.” 

You reach out and let a petal drift into your hand. It’s a little bruised at the edges from being shaken loose, but you don’t seem to mind. 

“Do you think I could have a few for my room?” you ask.

“A few—”

“Flowers,” you say. “I’m sure many of them are still intact even after the garlands are taken down.”

“Of course. Any that you would like.” 

“Thank you.”

“No thanks needed,” he says, adjusting his cuff. “It’s—this is your home too, now.” 

You pause. When you look at him, he can’t quite make sense of your expression. “Yes,” you say quietly. “I suppose it is.”

“I hope you will be comfortable here.”

You smile, the slow rise of a crescent moon. “I’m sure I will be. Though I intend to return to Liyue soon.”

“Of course. Do you know when?”

“I expect that I’ll return within the week.”

“Oh? That’s later than I expected.”

“So eager to be rid of me?”

Diluc flushes, the heat of it spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “No, I—”

“I’m only teasing,” you say. “I haven’t been back to Mond in a while. There are some things I should handle in person.” 

“I see.”

You examine him for a moment. Whatever you see must satisfy you, for you glance back at the workers, still diligently undoing the reception decor, autumn come indoors, the flowers stripped away to reveal bare wood. A petal flutters down into your hair; Diluc thinks of the gentle fall of snow. He starts to raise his hand to pluck it out but you shift and the petal drifts to the ground. He halts before tugging at his glove instead.

“Now,” you say, turning back to him, “I need something to eat. Will you be joining me for breakfast?”

Diluc shakes his head. “The vintners asked for me today,” he says. “The earlier I can speak with them the better.” 

You hum. “Okay. Have a good day.”

“You as well.” 

You flash a small smile before inclining your head to him. “Husband,” you say. You dart off before he can respond. He watches you disappear, the moon dipping below the horizon. 

Husband, he thinks. 

He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to that.

—

The days roll by. Diluc buckles down to work, caught up in the hubbub of the end of the harvest season. He oversees the grape crushing, the little fruits popping beneath the press until they’re must, all pulp and juice. A few small buckets of grapes are set aside for the children of the workers; they’ll stomp them to their hearts’ content, their chiming laughter drifting through the vines as they cling to each other for balance, their little feet dyed dark.

(“C’mon, Luc!” Kaeya cried, already scrambling towards the tub filled with ruby-red grapes. His eye was shining, starlight bright, a grin spread wide across his face, his usual reticence washed away. Diluc knew it was his favorite time of year; the other boy loved every moment of the harvest season and all that came with it.

 “Hurry up!” Kaeya called. He had already rolled up his pant legs and stepped into the tub, his face lit with joy, a summer sun in the autumn chill.

Diluc huffed but climbed in after him. The grapes popped beneath his weight, squishing up between his toes, a pulpy mess of skin and seeds. He stomped once, twice, and felt more of them burst. 

Kaeya reached for his hand; Diluc twined their fingers together and held on tight as the scrawny boy started to jump in place. Kaeya laughed wildly, the sound picked up by the wind and carried away like seeds. He jumped again and almost slipped. Diluc caught him at the last minute, hauling him up with a giggle. They joined hands again and began to twirl in a circle, stomping away as they went.

They laughed as they spun around together, holding on tight to each other as juice started to gather beneath their feet. Their skin went purple with it, a galaxy splashed up to their calves. The golden afternoon sun shone down on them; sweat gathered on their brows. But they kept going and going, unrelenting until the last of the grapes had burst beneath their feet.

They panted as they climbed to the side of the tub. Kaeya sat on the edge of it, swinging his feet as the maids went to gather towels for them. He was incandescent with delight, a shooting star streaking across the night sky, and Diluc grinned. 

“Good work, boys,” his father said, coming down the path. He’d clearly met the maids halfway; there were towels slung over his broad shoulder.

Diluc puffed up with pride; next to him, Kaeya smiled, shy but pleased. His father handed them the towels and watched as they wiped their feet clean.

“Ready for the next step?” his father asked. 

Kaeya nodded eagerly, but Diluc balked.

“Can’t we stomp more grapes?” he asked.

His father laughed, as warm as the sun. “Maybe later,” he said. “But now you need to learn what happens next.”

Diluc sighed.

“C’mon, Luc,” Kaeya said, bumping his shoulder against Diluc’s. “There’s always tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Diluc said. “There is.”)

Diluc sighs, nodding to Connor as he takes his leave. He heads back to the winery; a few of the workers call out greetings, but no one tries to stop him.

Adelinde appears as soon as he steps inside the winery. She inclines her head to him, her hands clasped in front of her. “Master Diluc,” she says.

“Adelinde,” he greets. 

“Is everything in order?”

“Yes,” he says. “Everything is ready for processing. It was a good harvest.” 

“That’s good to hear.”

“I’ll take some of Elzer’s work with the Wine Guild so he can concentrate on processing. If you see him, please let him know.”

Adelinde purses her lips. “Master Diluc, Elzer is perfectly capable of handling both. You have enough on your plate.”

“My decision is final, Adelinde.”

She examines him for a moment, her jade eyes sharp, a flaying gaze. “You don’t need to make amends for your absence,” she says. “That is the past.” 

Diluc flinches. Adeline watches him steadily, her face impassive, but her eyes have softened, have crinkled around the edges, sweetly fond. He flexes his hand, searching for words, but his tongue is leaden in his mouth.

Adelinde takes pity on him. “The vineyard workers are starting the fertilization process today and tomorrow,” she says. “Is there anything you wish to let them know?”

“No. I trust them.”

“Good.”

Diluc adjusts his cuff. “Is that all?”

She smooths her hands over her uniform skirt, as if erasing wrinkles that aren’t there. “Your wife’s travel arrangements are complete. She means to leave tomorrow.” 

He nods. “Where is she now?”

“She went to the Dandelion Sea, I believe.”

“By herself?”

“She has an escort. One of the knights. Though it is my understanding that the knight would not be able to return with her due to a patrol.” 

Diluc rolls his shoulders, trying to loosen the broad line of them. “When did they leave?”

The corners of Adelinde’s lips creep upwards, an ivy tendril curve, barely noticeable. “A few hours ago.”

He nods curtly. “Thank you, Adelinde.”

“Of course, Master Diluc.” She disappears, light on her feet despite her heels, barely a whisper of sound to accompany her.

Diluc leaves the winery to head to the stables.

—

The Dandelion Sea stretches vast, the flowers rippling in the breeze like waves lap at the shore. The sun is high in the sapphire sky, a halo burning bright, the dandelions stark white under its kiss. There are seeds floating through the air, faintly glowing, scattered like falling stars. 

Diluc ties his horse to a tree, leaving her to graze on some long grass, and begins to make his way into the Sea. More seeds come loose, dancing around him like snowflakes; they settle into his mane of hair, the crimson of it bleeding to something darker against the soft white of them. They catch on his jacket, too, dotting the ebony cloth until it’s a glittering night sky. 

It doesn’t take him long to find you. He can see faint figures at the edge of the Sea, where the trees cast shadows, a sweet pool of shade. He heads towards you as the breeze picks up. It carries a peal of laughter to him, bright as the sun, swirling around him. 

“Oh,” you say as he draws close, standing up before he can stop you.

The knight you’re with comes to attention—far too late. “M—Master Diluc,” he stammers. 

Diluc clicks his tongue. The knight goes shame-faced, glancing away from his thunderous visage. 

You smile, a glaze lily unfolding under the moon’s tender touch. You touch the knight’s vambrace lightly before turning to Diluc. His gaze stays on where you’re touching the knight still, your fingertips lingering against the metal of his armor.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” you say. “Is something wrong?”

Diluc blinks, vermilion eyes flickering back to you. “No.”

You pause, as if waiting for something. Diluc blinks again. Your smile flickers, a guttering candle. The knight shifts in place.

Diluc turns his attention to him. “You can go,” he says curtly. 

“But—”

“You have patrol soon, don’t you, Anselm?” you ask. “You should head out.” 

Anselm glances at you. “Oh. Of course.”

“Thank you for accompanying me today,” you say. “It’s appreciated.”

The knight nods, a slight flush rising to his cheeks. He gives you the Ordo’s salute. “Let the wind lead,” he says before turning to leave.

Diluc doesn’t bother to watch him go; he keeps his gaze on you. That rosebud smile blooms on your lips again, as inevitable as the sun’s rise. “Poor Anselm,” you say. “You have quite the scowl, Master Diluc.”

He doesn’t rise to the bait. “Was he going to leave you here alone?”

You sigh. “It’s perfectly safe here.”

“So he was.”

“You’re here now,” you say. “So it hardly matters.”

Diluc bristles. “It matters to me. The Knights have their duties—”

“They cannot attend to every single civilian. The roads to the Sea have been clear for weeks, anyway. Or did you see something on your way?”

He furrows his brow and sets his jaw. “No.”

“The Knights aren’t as incapable as you think,” you say softly. You peer at him through the fan of your eyelashes, the shadow cast by them soft against your cheeks. “And besides, as I said, you’re here now. I know you’ll keep me safe.” 

Diluc takes in a sharp breath. He tugs at his glove and glances away.

You don’t seem to notice. Your attention has returned to the Dandelion Sea. The meadow sways gently in the wind, a honey-slow shiver. You trace a finger over a dandelion; it stays whole despite your touch, the Anemo energy holding it together brightening for a breath before it fades again, a firefly glow.

But when you flop into them, the dandelions puff up, the seeds scattering like starfall. They yield to you like a blessing, giving you everything they have. The seeds catch in your hair, your clothing, your eyelashes. You turn your face up to the sky, the sun bathing you golden.

It strikes Diluc that you are pretty. 

(Burnished by the light, you were lost amid the golden leaves of the sandbearer tree. You climbed and climbed until you were shining bright in the cerulean sky, a sun all your own. Diluc watched from the ground, mouth agape.

When you glanced down, the shadows crossed your face in bold strokes. It softened you, blurred the edges of you. Except for your smile. Your smile cut through the shadows like a single stark slash of a sun-bright knife.

Diluc looked up at you, at that smile, and suddenly, he knew what pretty meant.

It meant you.)

It’s not the first time he’s realized it, but it feels new. It’s in the curve of your back, a cathedral nave of muscle and bone; it’s in the way the sun filters through the leaves to touch you like a lover, a stained-glass kiss. The dandelion seeds catch on your eyelashes like moonlight, and it hits him again: you’re pretty. 

And you’re his.

He pushes the thought away. You might be his, but it’s in name only. He knows better than to assign meaning to it. There’s nothing between the two of you aside from a certificate with your signatures upon it. 

But that’s fine.

That’s all he needs it to be.

[stickseascn]

hey, isn’t that JOSEPHINE “JOEY” DAVIS-SCOTT, who looks a little like ALYCIA DEBNAM-CAREY? i hear SHE is a THIRTY-TWO year old CIS WOMAN who works as CO-OWNER OF THE CRYSTAL RIDGE WINERY who has been in town for HER ENTIRE LIFE. they ARE a member of one of aspen creek’s founding families. you can usually find them at WILLOW STREET or CRYSTAL RIDGE WINERY. if you ask me, they remind me a lot of LEATHER JACKETS, SOFT SMILES BENEATH HEAVY EYELINER, AND A HEART THAT’S TOUGH BUT EASILY BRUISED. just keep an eye on them & see if their true colors shine through!

basics

full name: josephine davis-scott nickname: jo, joey age: 32 years old date of birth: august 21st, 1992 zodiac sign: leo sun, cancer moon, aries rising gender & pronouns: cis woman & she/her sexuality: bisexual occupation: co-owner of crystal ridge winery; manages social media for the winery and the davis-scott bed & breakfast; photographer; painter

family

mother: evelyn davis-scott father: james davis-scott sibligns: tba davis-scott, tba davis-scott, harlow davis-scott, penelope davis-scott nephews: alice reeves, teddy li, tba, tba, tba

personality

mbti: ESFP-A (the entertainer) moral alignment: chaotic neutral temperament: sanguine parallels: jess o'brien (chesapeake shores), pacey witter and jen lindley (dawson's creek), brooke davis (one tree hill)

about

she’s the youngest child in the davis-scott family and often felt a bit out of place among everyone -- her older siblings, nieces, and nephews, many of whom were born just a few years after joey herself. her house was always bustling, whether with family or the guests at the davis-scott bed & breakfast, where she spent most of her childhood and teenage years.

despite her outwardly extroverted nature, joey often felt lonely. that’s part of why amara has been so important to her ever since they met in kindergarten. the two girls have been inseparable ever since, navigating middle school, high school, and college in raleigh together, then amara’s pregnancy, and ultimately opening the crystal ridge winery side by side.

spotify wrapped

stick season - noah kahan

dirty little secret - the all-american rejects

don't tell me - avril lavigne

thnks fr th mmrs - fall out boy

the middle - jimmy eat world

hanging by a moment - lifehouse

the best of me - the starting line

disease - matchbox twenty

she will be loved - maroon 5

love song - sara bareilles

i'm a slave 4 u - britney spears

like a prayer - madonna

come clean - hilary duff

bleeding love - leona lewis

like a boy - ciara

since u been gone - kelly clarkson

i hate this part - the pussycat dolls

wanted connections / plots

exes: someone from high school or college. ideally, i’d love a dynamic similar to pacey and joey from dawson’s creek -- where jo takes on the pacey role lol. they’ve disliked each other since childhood, but things started to shift when they entered high school, and something romantic developed. however, it all abruptly ended before college. now, they've crossed paths again and are trying to convince themselves they can still be friends, but it's not easy being friends with someone you once loved.

work-related plots: people joey has worked with before, or is about to collaborate with. she’s a photographer and a painter with an impressive portfolio. she photographs events, weddings, parties—basically anything. in addition, she teaches a few free art and photography classes, particularly for kids.

some kind of enemies: joey is known for her abrasive personality. she’s outspoken and isn’t afraid to defend her ideas, no matter who she’s talking to. maybe your muse doesn’t like how blunt she is, or they have opposing views. it would be fun to have an enemy in such a small town. this conflict could be something recent or something that dates back to their school days.

[a-lovers-remorse]

Descent Day

(Aka, the Creator’s Birthday!)

To think that on this day, so many moons ago, Teyvat was blessed with the most unexpected surprise- the arrival of you, their beloved Creator! A most joyous day, and since their calender doesn’t quite line up the same as this world’s calendar, you decided to accept it as your new birthdate. Getting isekaied counts as being reborn, right? To avoid a multinational war of nuclear proportions, the birthday is a 1 week long celebration with you visiting every nation for 2 days. So how does each nation choose to celebrate their distinguished guest?

Mondstat

You didn’t think anything could weird you out after waking up in a videogame that you had adored for years, but waking up under the soft glow of stained glass to angelic singing from a choir sure made a lasting impression.

Noelle made you breakfast in bed and together with Klee guarded you through a walk from Mondstat, to the Dawn Winery and back, while preparations were underway for the party.

Mondstat’s celebration is hosted by the knight of favonius and held near the archon statue at the base of the cathedral. Gifts were left inside of the cathedral near your shrine, with tables of games set  up around the grounds. Bards take turns singing and leading dances near the archon statue, keeping the energy happy and light. The dawn winery and Cat’s share collaborated just for today to provide the drinks, the bartenders switching off on shifts so they could all enjoy the celebration as well. Each food vendor had their own stand around the edge of the venue and served food until nightfall when they could join the party, exhausted but ready to celebrate. 

Officially speaking, the knights-of favonius were keeping guard for unruly behavior. Truthfully, Rosaria, Diluc, and Kaeya were doing most of the outer city patrolling, with Lisa, Jean, Barbara and the nuns from the Church of Barbatos keeping things organized and under control. 

The gift table was overflowing with flowers- individual stems, to crowns and large bouquets. Windwheel asters were popular, but there were also large batches of other flowers that were commonly considered windblumes. Small boxes and bags, notes of well wishes filled with dandelion seeds also decorated the table.

Lisa, Jean and Noelle collaborated together for your gift, designing an entire outfit from scratch, with matching shoes and accessories.

A bottle of Diluc’s finest cider was expected, but the carved wooden falcon wine stopper was a lovely surprise. 

Kaeya’s gift to you was a moment of respite. The whirlwind of dancing and crowds, people endlessly chattering and touching or petting you was making you weary after a few hours. He snuck you away from the party for a walk along the city walls, content to simply walk alongside you in silence.

When you’re next free, Bennet, Razor, and Fischl come to take you on an adventure. Everyone is still busying recovering or cleaning from the night before, so you follow them out of the city. They don’t often have a chance to see you if you don’t seek them out, so they take the time to regale you with stories of their most recent travels. They gallantly protect you from any monster that dared wander too close, and before you could become tired from the walk, they show you the small waterfall they found. Fischl pulls out a picnic she had been hiding, and spend the next few hours playing in the lake until Barbara and Rosaria come to fetch you all.

Albedo comes down from Dragonspine only to seek you out, he doesn’t have much interest in staying for the afterparty. He gifts you a bottle with a flower inside. It’s petals shimmered and seemed to move, and he promised it would never die. He pretends to act surprise when you mention it’s your favorite color.

Mona calls on you in the early afternoon, welcoming you to her home for tea. She pulled a few favors with The Steambird, offering a few extra columns and exclusive advice, to get you a custom art piece with the alignment of the stars from the night of your descent. She’s nervous, and warns you that she will not make this a routine thing- but if you so wish, she will do her best to look into your future, even if it may be outside of her scope. 

On the morning of your departure, Venti woke you with a soft ballad, beckoning you to the window. He snuck you out of the cathedral and across the roof, guiding you with a steady hand that caught you every time you almost slipped off. 

Venti uses his wind to glide you two over to the archon statue, both of you taking a seat on the hands to watch the sun rise. The sky lightens, as you begin to warm in the glow of the sun, Venti sings a ballad he’s composed specially for you. 

“Happy birthday your Grace!” 

[aestheticvoyage2023]

Day 148: Sunday May 28, 2023 - “Missouri Wine”

I never really thought Id ever wander back into this place that I spent so many sunny days in my previous lifetime, but with a long overnight in St Louis, and the afternoon wide open, we rented a car and hit the winding roads along the Missouri River to visit Augusta wineries and spend the afternoon together as a family at Montelle.  We tasted the Missouri Wine, and picked Audrie’s favorite where paired with good live music, a gluten free pizza, and a buzzing holiday weekend crowd, made for an enjoyable day. A great surprise for Audrie and I was glad that she got a chance to come out here and see it.   I was surprised that they cut down so many trees that used to give this place good shade.  But that was about all that had changed.  And since we got to enjoy our adult beverages, William was treated to some mama milk too, and I sat back thinking that this has got to be one of the top ten views he’s ever had while enjoying the nipple and I wonder how foreign the green grass and big green trees must feel to him, just as they feel so close to home to me.  Willam enjoyed wandering around and meeting new friends, even dancing with the ladies out on the patio.  Out overlooking that great view of the Missouri River valley below, I even got him to smile normal for a picture for the very first time ever - just briefly, before he stuck his tongue out off to the side. Memorable photos from a memorable day - one last birthday present for Mama.  I hope she feels loved and appreciated as she turns 38.

Song: Zach Bryan - Songs To The Moon

Quote: “THE soul should always stand ajar, That if the heaven inquire, He will not be obliged to wait, Or shy of troubling her. Depart, before the host has slid The bolt upon the door, To seek for the accomplished guest, -- Her visitor no more.” ― Emily Dickinson

[greensparty]

Stuff I'm Looking Forward to in October

Can't believe it is now Q4 of 2023! In addition to Columbus Day (Oct. 9), Indigenous Peoples' Day (Oct. 9) and Halloween (Oct. 31), here is what's on my radar this month:

Movies:

The Exorcist: Believer

Using the same approach as 2018's Halloween, which was a direct sequel to the 1978 original, the same director David Gordon Green is doing a direct sequel to the 1973 horror classic The Exorcist. I would call myself cautiously optimistic (2018's Halloween rocked, Halloween Kills was bad, and Halloween Ends was somewhere in between), but with original star Ellen Burstyn back, hopes are higher than the past Exorcist sequels, prequels and TV series. Opens 10/6.

The Royal Hotel

In 2020, I was lucky enough to interview Kitty Green, director of The Assistant. Now she's back with a thriller with her Assistant star Julia Garner. Opens 10/6.

Killers of the Flower Moon

Martin Scorsese's 3.5 hour epic about the FBI investigation into murders in the Osage Nation in 1920s Oklahoma is THE most anticipated movie of 2023. Hands down! Opens 10/20.

The Holdovers 

An Alexander Payne movie is always a big deal, even when the movie is a letdown (i.e. Downsizing). Here, he reunites with his Sideways star Paul Giamatti for a dramedy about a New England boarding school in 1972. I'm there! Opens 10/27.

Film Festivals:

IFFBoston Fall Focus

My favorite film festival is Independent Film Festival Boston, which takes place in the Spring. IFFBoston’s mini-fest Fall Focus happens in the Fall to showcase some of the Fall festival darlings before they get released during end of the year Awards Season. This year's Fall Focus is from Oct. 19-22 at the Brattle Theatre in Harvard Square.

Music:

Ringo Starr Rewind Forward

In the last few years Sir Ringo Starr has been knocking out killer EPs including 2021's Zoom In and Change the World (both were included on my Best Albums of 2021 list) and last year's EP3 (read my review here). Now he is back with a new EP that features a collaboration with his former Beatle bandmate Paul McCartney! EP drops 10/13. (Review to come).

Chris Shiflett Lost at Sea

In addition to his "day job" as the guitarist for Foo Fighters and his Walking the Floors podcast, Chris Shiflett has released some solid solo albums. I was lucky enough to see him do a solo show at City Winery in Boston in 2018 (read my concert review here) and review his 2019 album Hard Lessons. His new solo album drops 10/20. (Review to come).

The Rolling Stones Hackney Diamonds

The Stones are releasing their first studio album since 2016 and first of original material since 2005. Expectations are high and the good news is they did some recording with Charlie Watts before he died in 2021. Special guests include former Stones bassist Bill Wyman, Paul McCartney, Elton John and Lady Gaga. Album drops 10/20.

Dhani Harrison INNERSTANDING

I was a big fan of Dhani Harrison's 2017 album IN//PARALLEL (read my review here) and after some soundtrack work and overseeing Dark Horse Records (started by his father George), he is back with a new album. Digital release on 10/20, and physical release coming 2/9/2024.

Nirvana In Utero 30th Anniversary Super Deluxe Edition

Last month marked the 30th anniversary of Nirvana's third and final studio album. Back in 2013, I picked up the 20th anniversary edition. Much like the 2021 edition of Nevermind, they aren't just re-releasing the same reissue, they are re-releasing the In Utero album remastered along bonus tracks and some live selections, a Dec. 1993 concert in L.A. and a Jan. 1994 concert in Seattle (not to be confused with the Live and Loud concert from Dec. 1993). Various editions drop 10/27.

Books:

Nelson and Alex Demille Blood Lines

My good friend Alex DeMille collaborated with his father who happens to be Nelson DeMille on 2019's The Deserter. Now they are back with a new book due 10/10.

Bob and Erin Odenkirk Zilot & Other Important Rhymes

Speaking of parent and child book collaborations, one of my favorite actor/writers Bob Odenkirk has written a children's book illustrated by his daughter Erin. When I covered Bob Odenkirk's Hasty Pudding Man of the Year Award at Harvard University earlier this year, he briefly mentioned this. Book release on 10/10.

TV:

John Carpenter's Suburban Screams

John Carpenter hasn't directed a movie since 2010's The Ward (written by my pals the Rasmussen brothers), but he's been keeping plenty busy making music with his son Cody and Godson Daniel Davies (read some of my reviews here). Now he is directing an original series premiering on Peacock on 10/13.

DVDs:

Alf: the Complete Series

The folks at Shout Factory are releasing a definitive DVD collection of every episode of Alf (1986-1990), the Alf Animated Series (1987-1990), Alf Tales (1988-1990) and the 1996 TV movie Project: Alf (read my recent blu-ray review here). For fans like me, this is very exciting and they even have some bells-and-whistles in various editions being released on 10/17.

[dawndelion-winery]

To Lord Harbinger,

How have you been, My Lord? I hope you are well. I haven't veen visiting you for a while now, I apologize. I would like to thank you for all the fics/drabbles/hcs you had sent my way before. They were truly magnificent. It makes me so happy that you would honor my request to be added to your taglist and answering my asks back then even though I haven't been addressing you properly. I apologize for being so impudent.

My Lord, if it's alright with you, would you be so kind to grant me another request of mine? May I ask for a fic on AcademyStudent!Dottore x UnhingedProfessor!Reader who always indulging him on his curiosity and acting as sort of enabler to his experiments? I wonder how he would react when something happened that caused them to take the fall of something he did...

I would be honored you will answer my request this time as well, although I would understand if you don't. I hope you have a great day, My Lord!

Sincerely,

The Victorious Moon

I tried my best, I'm so nervous, ur so cool uuhhhhh

Hdjakwifjfjs the way you wrote a whole paragraph i- 💞💞💞💕💞💕💞💞

Here, I hope it's close to what you had in mind?

Tysm for the support ily<3

[luxebeat]

Exploring Nebraska's Unique Sights on Scenic Byways

Exploring Nebraska’s Unique Sights on Scenic Byways

Flying into Denver International Airport, I met some friends to drive together through the Northwester region of Nebraska. The 37th state admitted into the union, offers some surprising sights and spectacular evening stars. Known as a ‘flyover state’ (people fly over while traveling from coast to coast), we discovered friendly people, historical sights, natural wonders and a diverse culinary…

[ddarker-dreams]

Aftertaste II.

Yan Diluc x F!Reader x Yan Kaeya.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, implied past drugging, manipulation. Word count: 4k.

CHAPTER II OF III // The Master.

You dream of a memory once thought to long be sealed away.

In it, you are young again, a child naïve to the ways of the world as all children should be.

You played with your two dearest friends, Kaeya and Diluc, from sunrise to sunset. It was the last full day you’d spend together for some time — your parents were due soon to pick you up following the conclusion of their Adventurer's Guild work. You feasted upon pancakes that towered high for breakfast, finger sandwiches for lunch, and sticky honey roast for dinner. The hours were spent in leisure. You read the fortunes of your friends. They sparred — Diluc almost always had the edge — until Kaeya claimed you promised to be his wife and he faltered. Afterward, Diluc asked you to pinky promise that you’ll marry him instead.

“What if I don’t wanna get married at all?” You asked him, indignant, your cheeks puffed out.

“I’d be sad forever,” Kaeya grumbled, always the first to speak his mind.

“... Me too,” Diluc added not long after. “You don’t mean that, do you?”

“I dunno. Maybe I will if you two don’t quit arguing.”

The two boys exchanged glances, nodded, and promised to do just that.

Later on, they showed you an abandoned building Master Crepus no longer saw fit for use. You amused yourself by examining all the grownup memorabilia laying about the place, from broomsticks to buckets to pots and pans. You were so preoccupied that you failed to notice your friends were nowhere to be seen. Without warning, the door to the abandoned building slammed shut. Dust flew from atop the unattended surfaces and made you cough. You swatted it away, and when it finally cleared, you realized you were alone.

“Diluc…?” You called out, tentative. “Kaeya?”

No response.

You tried to open the door, yet it refused to move so much as an inch. You swallowed thickly and examined your surroundings for any way out. There was no other exit to be found. You were alone, trapped, and scared. You remember the helplessness best of all. How the walls felt like they were creeping closer. Your panicked whispers for your two friends turned into cries, then escalated further into yells. The moon hung in the sky but the stars were obscured by clouds, you couldn’t count on them for guidance.

After some time passed, your father unlocked the door, and your mother ran to help calm you down.

You refused to let her go in fear of being abandoned again.

Master Crepus later came and apologized to you personally for the behavior of his sons, who followed suit, their heads hung low. They didn’t want to make you sad, they really didn’t. They just didn’t want you to go. If you couldn’t leave, then you wouldn’t. How it would make you feel to be trapped didn’t occur to them. They apologized again and again and again, until their throats were sore and their eyes went red from the tears.

In the end, you decided to forgive them.

After all, they were your dearest friends. And everyone makes mistakes, don’t they?

Your younger self certainly thought so.

…

The room you wake up in is not your own.

You’re slow to rise, a steady pounding in your head like that of a drum nearly debilitating you on your first attempt. You clutch your temples and wince. You’ve been hungover before, as you were from Mondstadt, after all. However, this felt different. Infinitely worse. There’s slight nausea and sensitivity to the few streams of sunlight that sneak past the drawn drapes. Grimacing, you successfully manage to hoist yourself up. You take in your surroundings through eyelids that remain stubbornly drooping.

This room is one of the many guest suites found in Dawn Winery. In fact, it’s the same room you used when you slept over as a child. The decor hasn’t changed, down to the gilded lamppost by the vanity which always tilts slightly to the left. How many years has it been since you’ve slept in here, you wonder? It must’ve been since before the passing of Master Crepus. Still, the most pressing question remains: why exactly are you here in the first place?

Tempting as it is to lay back down and sleep off your vicious headache, you twist yourself over the bed’s edge. It’s then that you notice your current garments — a white nightgown extending past your knees — that you most definitely have never seen before. You frown, shivers wracking your body from head to toe. There has to be an explanation for this, for everything. You’ll find out soon enough, you reason while approaching the door. It’s a story that you’ll have a laugh about somewhere down the line, a favorite at dinner parties.

Hey, remember that time I got wasted and crashed at your mansion, or something to that effect. You’re almost chuckling just thinking about it. Your bare feet are cold against the ground, yet the doorknob is colder. So cold, in fact, that it seems unwilling to budge. That’s fair enough, you’re still waking up. Your strength needs a moment to come back. So you try again, this time with more force behind the twist.

Why isn’t it moving? Are you actually locked in here?

Your accelerating heart makes itself known in your chest. You take a deep breath, refusing to let irrational fear ensnare you in its talons. Surely, this is a misunderstanding in the making. The possibilities were infinite. A new maid didn’t give a second thought to locking the room as per her nightly routine, or the staff was being extra cognizant of your safety. You squint, looking closer at the doorknob. It’s odd — you swear everything else in this room looks the exact same, as if not a single item had been touched in years — yet this doorknob has to be new. A version that locks from the outside. From what you recall in your current hazy state, that didn’t use to be the case. You’d dutifully lock it on your side to keep yourself safe from ‘roaming monsters’, as per your parent’s instructions.

Pursing your lips, you weigh your options. It’d be terribly embarrassing for you to start pounding on the door like a madman and demanding to be let out. At the same time, with how vast the manor is, you can’t count on waiting to hear footsteps before requesting help. Is there some middle ground you could arrive at? Maybe gently knocking on the door to get someone’s attention?

What were you supposed to do today, anyway? You don’t have to worry about earning your boss’ wrath, since you’re no longer working in anticipation of…

You cover your mouth with your hands in horror.

Sumeru. The Akademiya. Your caravan. The Eremite in charge told you that they’d be leaving at the crack of dawn, regardless if you were there or not. They had all of your belongings in anticipation of the move. Not to mention, the fee for their services was steep and nonrefundable. You had used most of your savings to afford the trip. Could you still make it in time? You sprint over to the drapes, pull them back, and squint as the sun pierces your eyes.

It’s high in the sky — late afternoon is your most generous guess.

You almost get sick right then and there.

Fortunately, your ears catch the distinct sound of a doorknob jingling. When you turn around, it’s Adelinde you see, a keyring in her hands.

“Thank the Archons you’re here, Adelinde,” you don’t bother trying to hide your exasperation. “Sorry to be rude, but, um, what is going on? I’m kind of at a loss right now.”

“Good morning, Miss [First]. Everything’s alright, but I feel it’d be best if Master Diluc explained the situation to you in its entirety himself. Just know that he’s asked for you to stay within Dawn Winery’s limits until he’s returned. In the meantime, I’ve drawn you a bath and brought some water.”

You blink and dumbly accept the glass into your hands. You’re capable of processing her words on an individual level, yet fail to comprehend them in their entirety. Diluc wants you to stay within the manor? Doesn’t he know how important this trip to Sumeru is for you? It would set a poor precedent for you to arrive late when the Akademiya is renowned for being strict. Whatever is at play here must be serious for him to have made this call.

“Everything’s alright though, you said? Then why can’t I…?”

“Master Diluc received some concerning reports about activity in the area,” she motions for you to drink up, which you do. “I understand you must be worried about your trip, but please know he didn’t make this decision lightly. All we can do for now is wait. You know he has plenty of connections, I’m confident he’ll be able to smooth matters out on your behalf.”

You can’t help but frown at that. While she isn’t wrong, you loathe the thought of using Diluc for anything you couldn’t accomplish yourself. That’s what almost everyone sought to do in one form or another. It makes you feel gross. At the same time, considering the alternative would be giving up on your lifelong dream, you suppose exceptions can be made. Your anxiety would curl your stomach from the inside out if not for the comfort this thinking provides you. Hopefulness is a choice whereas despair arises from inaction. 

It’ll work out. Everything’s going to be fine.

You’ll clean yourself up, get some food in your system, and talk things through with Diluc. He’s always been your anchor. Knowing him, he’s likely already thought through multiple solutions for the problem. He’s never been the type to sit still when he knows the people he cares for are in need.

It’s with this in mind that you manage to start getting a handle on your frayed nerves.

Adelinde confirmed that rationality always prevails. Those pesky, unsubstantiated conclusions you were tempted to jump to earlier were waved away in a few minutes. You almost feel silly for entertaining them at all. The issue with the locked door was likely a safety concern and Adelinde was closely attuned to know when you were awake. These were the people you grew up with, for heaven’s sake. They had nothing but your best interest at heart.

However, there is one question you have yet to fully grasp. Adelinde had given a perfunctory overview of what she was apparently at liberty to discuss, yet she hadn’t so much as mentioned why you were here to begin with. 

“What happened to me last night, exactly?”

At this, Adelinde gives an enigmatic smile.

“I’m afraid you just had a little too much to drink.”

-

You almost drop the porcelain teacup in your hands.

“I’m sorry, could you please repeat that?”

Presently, you sit beside Diluc in the drawing room, who you immediately sought out upon his return. His body language immediately clued you in that something is wrong. He had been struggling to look you in the eye and continuously fidgeted with his hands. Though he kept his voice face impassive, he couldn’t cover up the rest of his tells from your trained eyes. You knew that whatever news he had, it couldn’t bode well.

You’ve never hated being right more than you do now.

“All travel is currently being discouraged by the Knights until Stormterror has been dealt with,” Diluc gently takes the cup from your hands and puts it down on the coffee table. “I went and confirmed it myself. Trust me, I didn’t want to take their word for it. There haven’t been any casualties, but that could always change. There’s been an increase in Abyss activities as well. I can’t let you leave until all of this has been sorted out. It’d be irresponsible of me.”

He pauses so that you may offer your input. When you remain silent, he places his hand on your shoulder. “I’ll replace whatever it is you’ve lost. And I’ll personally reach out to the Akademiya to explain your situation when communication goes back to normal. [First]... I know what today meant to you. I’m sorry. But this isn’t the end. Don’t let yourself be discouraged.”

“There’s something bothering me.”

He blinks, weighing your words for a second before responding. “... And that is?”

“You said that you can’t let me leave,” you point out while narrowing your eyes. “Shouldn’t that be my decision to make? I am an adult, after all. It’s not like you can just hold me here against my will.”

It’s strange, the look he’s giving you right now. You’ve seen many expressions engraved upon his face in the countless hours you spent together. Unbridled joy when his father complimented his swordwork. Frustration whenever you joined in with Kaeya to tease him. Total revulsion when the Fatui were mentioned, even in passing. You’ve seen the good, the bad, and the ugly; but you’ve never seen this.

“If you understood the full scope of the situation, you wouldn’t be saying that,” he speaks to you slowly, as if you were missing something glaringly obvious. It serves to irk you further. “I want to protect you. Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I do, but—”

“Then I don’t see the issue.”

“Let me finish,” you stand, suddenly finding the weight of his hand on your shoulder oppressive. It’s subtle, but he shifts himself, like he was ready to get up the moment you did. You move back to further increase the space between you. Why is he acting like a predator ready to pounce? “I just— there haven’t been any casualties, you said so yourself. I did multiple divinations to decide the best day to travel, and every time, the stars chose today.”

“Didn’t you once tell me that the future is not always set in stone?” Diluc asks.

“It is possible for certain fortunes to be unclear, yes,” you agree, finding yourself uncertain why you need to defend your area of expertise. You don’t go around questioning how he makes his wine. “The scrying method I used is known for being extremely reliable — there was no other way to interpret the reading. Today is safe and conducive for travel.”

You’re glaring down at him, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each labored breath. You almost feel unreasonable by how calm he’s acting in comparison. He might be stern, yet he isn’t being pushed and pulled every which way by his emotions like you are. Instead of soothing tensions, you find his composure off-putting. It gives the impression he prepared himself in advance for every rebuttal you might have. His word choice is a puzzle piece that won’t fit the rest of the picture.

“I don’t want to argue with you, [First],” he stands to his full height and closes what little distance existed between you. “I understand that you’re upset. I’m only trying to help you. Please… please let me.”

Before you can give a response, he’s pulling you flush against his chest. Every muscle in your body goes taut. Diluc is hugging you, entirely unprompted? Since the moment you woke up, you’ve been thrust into a whirlwind that refuses to ever let you regain your balance. You shiver when his hands run up and down your back, in what you assume to be a comforting motion. Who exactly it was meant to comfort, though, you couldn’t say for certain.

“These past few years… I’ve lost a lot that I once held dear,” he buries his nose in your scalp. “Some have died. Others are dead to me. The world I thought I knew kept on changing. I couldn’t keep up, no matter how hard I tried.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle that pulls your heartstrings painfully. “And then there’s you. Always so focused on the stars, that you fail to pay your surroundings any mind. During my travels, you were all I thought about. I realized I took those days we spent together for granted. I wish I had just… stopped and slowed down to appreciate each second. I know it’s useless to lament over the past. I’ve come to terms with that. But… what I can’t accept… no, what I refuse to accept…”

His arms tighten to the point it’s a struggle to breathe. 

“Is any future of mine without you in it.”

You feel like you’ve plunged into a volcano ready to erupt. It’s warm, near sweltering, and you don’t know if the heat is coming from you or him. There had never been a time where Diluc opened up to you about anything he experienced since his father’s death. You tried to encourage him to talk, if not with you, then with someone else; but you’re certain he never did. His words are heavy, you can feel every ounce of grief that attaches itself to each syllable. He holds you as if you’d disappear the moment he let you go. Somewhere in the recesses of your mind, you recall the sheer panic that comes from thinking you’re all alone. Abandoned.

Gritting your teeth, you decide to swallow the arguments burning hot on your tongue — for now. Until you can take a step back and detangle everything that’s been unceremoniously dumped on you. Getting to the truth is at the core of astrology, unseemly as the truth often is. The welkin above reflects what it witnesses and reveals secrets unseen.

Secrets can’t always be kept. Not from you, at least. What remains lurking in the dark will be illuminated eventually. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Diluc,” you tell him with a sigh. You’re too emotionally exhausted to give him anything more than that. The awful fogginess left behind by your somewhat subdued headache isn’t helping either. Fatigue is an underrated menace, you long to tuck yourself beneath the comforter and hibernate until everything magically fixes itself. 

Apparently, your halfhearted reassurance is enough to sate him. He finally relinquishes his grip on you and allows you some much-needed space. His ruby eyes burn with emotions unknown, the flames unyielding. 

“I know.”

-

Notcua roughly takes the form of an owl.

Though you often struggled to make out more than that, its shape is the one aspect you’re most confident in. The stars that makeup Diluc’s constellation are usually almost blinding. You’d force yourself to look, enduring the excruciating pain, earning a few crumbs for your efforts. Slivers of what might come to pass. No other constellation gave you so much trouble aside from Kaeya’s. While you might be better at interpreting it now compared to when you were younger and inexperienced, you still didn’t want to get your hopes up for a clear reading. You didn’t have any of your tools on hand. It’s possible the stars might make you wait for their timing instead of your own.

This thought is shoved to the wayside mere seconds after you begin to scry.

There’s discontentment. Gnawing worry that eats away at him from within like maggots would a corpse. Shame. Dishonesty. Guilt. Oh, the guilt is most apparent by far. Mire and muck sticks to him. He’s trudged through it for so long. Each step is a battle. He can barely move forward, but he must. He can’t stop now.

He’s gone too far to ever turn back.

What is it he’s trying to reach? What panacea could be alluring enough to entice him through this hellish landscape? Why would he willingly submerge himself further into such filth when it’d be far easier to remain clean? More questions arise for every potential answer, perpetuating the infinite cycle.

You cannot see far ahead enough to know for certain.

What you do know, however, is that he has been lying to you. You have plenty of guesses about what.

“Are you alright, Miss [First]? You’ve been spacing out for some time. Should we go back inside, perhaps?” Hillie, the maid who has been acting as your shadow asks. You glance at her in your peripherals. She reminds you of a mouse, her words coming out like squeaks, and her movements akin to a nervous scutter. She must not be entirely comfortable with whatever job she’s been assigned. If you had to guess, she is probably the one tasked with preventing you from ‘leaving the protection of Dawn Winery’. Diluc must’ve thought it’d be too heavy-handed to assign guards to breathe down your neck for a simple walk.

His reluctance to fully commit is an advantage you can’t pass up on. Who knows how long it’ll last. You need to act now, while you still can.

“Actually, Hillie,” you turn to face her in an unsteady motion, keeping your voice low. “Something doesn’t feel right. My head…”

You stumble around clumsily to give your act further credence.

Hillie is beside herself, her complexion taking a pallid hue. “Oh, um, well, okay, what’s the best way to deal with this… here, use my shoulder. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

“I-I don’t think I can walk.”

She inhales sharply through her nose. “Are you sure you can’t?”

You give her the most delicate nod in response.

“Alright,” the severity behind her proclamation belies any pretense that this is normal. “I’m going to go get help and be right back. Stay here.”

She takes off running in the direction of the manor without further delay. You eye her figure growing further and further away, still adhering to the act in case she decided to look back. When you’re confident she’s far enough away, you sneak toward the nearby foliage. The grapevines aid in concealing you well. You don’t have a plan — or the slightest clue of what it is in your best interest to do — but you know something is seriously awry here. If it turns out Diluc was telling the truth all along and the dishonest reading wasn’t about you, then you’ll offer your most ardent apologies for doubting him.

The well-maintained trees alongside the winery fade into the wilderness. You’re familiar with the area, having played alongside the outskirts plenty in the past. You navigate through the overgrown trail, scratchy bushes, and low-hanging branches with ease. An unwanted little voice makes itself known inside your head.

And if it turns out Diluc was lying to you all along? It jeers. What will you do then? How can you explain away the unexplainable? 

You shake your head to do away with these thoughts that stubbornly persist, making themselves at home in your psyche. The Diluc you’ve known has always been a righteous man. He was brought up to prioritize those around him, in the same way Master Crepus was known far and wide for his benevolence. His methods could be unconventional at times, since he was disillusioned with championing justice through official channels like the Knights. That only meant he had to work ten times harder to ensure peace prevailed in Mondstadt by using his own resources.

Could this be an elaborate joke that you weren’t let in on? It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense.

You’re so invested in your chaotic thoughts that you fail to notice a silhouette approaching languidly from the side.

The sound of a twig snapping warns you of its advance. You’re no longer alone. You freeze in place, hesitant to discover what other potential perils await. It wasn’t like you were being hunted… right? You aren’t a fugitive on the run from the law. You’re simply trying to gain your bearings in a world that’s growing progressively perplexing.

Swallowing thickly, you turn to face whatever or whoever it is that tried sneaking up on you. Recognition is instantaneous. You want to feel relieved, and maybe you eventually will, depending on what direction this interaction takes.

It’s entirely dependent on him.

“... Kaeya?”

[littlepadika]

The Devil's Cup (1) l Hades!Pedro x F!Reader

Summary: You meet the devil one stormy night and he makes you an offer you can't refuse

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: fem!reader, innocent reader, hades!pedro, devil!pedro, immortal!pedro, vague powers, getting lost in the wood, thunder and rain, dark elements (stalking, voyeurism), ghost sex, m & f masturbation, yearning✨, modern day greek gods, magic and supernatural elements, no use of y/n, reader is a bit of a damsel in distress

Series masterlist

Chapter 1: Taste this and be henceforth among the gods

Roudy jeers and whines of pleasure echoed around the dark cave, licking up the sides of the stone walls like flames. Figures clothed and unclothed. Tangled sensually. Wine flowed like water, tinged with something the patrons could only describe as divine. Yet deep in his keep, Pedro felt nothing but dissonance and gnawing resentment in his chest. Over the thousands of years he roamed the Earth he had taken many names: Hades, Lucifer, El Diablo. He was a god. How far he had fallen…. He wasted, abandoned on this plane, posing as the wealthy reclusive owner of a club and winery called The Devil’s Cup. The club was the ultimate hedonistic escape for demons and half bloods, other fallen angels abandoned just like him. It used to be his pride and joy. It used to enough. Now it get hollow and foolish. He shut himself off from the mortal world, guarding the souls of their dead as he was tasked to do.

Perhaps this melancholy, this loneliness, was an inevitable progression of his immortality. Old pleasures no longer afforded the same release. His mind focused on the past when he was free to show his powers and earn the admiration of mortals. People still set out incense and made shrines to their ancestors, remembering the time the devil would release their loved ones to return home for one night. People dressed up in mockery of him with plastic horns and pitchfork tails. If only they knew his true form. He should make a show for them, remind mortals of his existence and his power. His brother in his heavenly kingdom could not punish him more than he already had. His poor persephone… His self hatred grew. Though he mourned the loss of his Persephone, he still wished for a companion. He longed for someone to share this life with yet there was no equal on this earth. Someone who would submit to his dark desires with tenderness the way he craved in his immortal age. However, should he ever find such a being would they submit to a life of darkness?

Yes. On this Hallows eve night he could not find any merriment in the festivities and laughter of his guests above. He had not for quite some time. He cloaked his human form; brown hair, a hooked nose, a strong build. He dressed in a black robe spun with gold thread. The fabric seemed to float on the ground like smoke rather than silk. With the snap of his fingers, the candles burning in his den went out. He ventured up to the party, hoping to see his dear friend Oberyn. As son of the god of wine and ecstasy, Oberyn was a worthy partner to run The Devil’s Cup and the only other divine being still on Earth. Though he would never admit it, Pedro was thankful for Oberyn’s optimism and constant reminders that there was still a zest to life. As expected, as Pedro rounded the staircase into the main hall, he saw Oberyn in the center of all the chaos covered in hands.

“My friend, you are out of your cave at last!” He called to Pedro with a grin. “Come, the water nymphs have graced us with their presence tonight. It is truly a miracle.”

Pedro merely rolled his eyes, walking over to the golden buffet covered in fine food and of course wine. Oberyn had truly pulled out the stops this year. The ivory chalice gleamed, the goblets shone, and a cherub figurine was enchanted to pour wine from its hands. He pulled back a heavy red curtain to stare into the night. There was heavy rain and a full moon. He shut his eyes, his mind extending his powers out. Souls. So many souls flooded his senses. Merry souls, miserable souls, souls in love, souls in mourning. Souls being born and souls on the brink of becoming his. An old woman in hospital who was taking her last breaths. A man driving recklessly who will never make it home. What a burden to know their stories.

“You do not wish to join the fun, lord hades?” Oberyn interrupted his thoughts, bounding over in a golden robe loosely tied around his waist.

“Do not address me so formally, old friend." Pedro raised his glass.

"Alright then, Pedro." Oberyn filled his own cup offering a cheers. "But you should enjoy yourself. You brood too much."

"Are you sure you saved anything for me?” Pedro smirked at the hickies covering his friend’s human form.

“There is always more pleasure to be found... though, your mind seems to be somewhere else. You can talk to me.”

“I grow tired of this charade.” Pedro admitted taking a sip of wine. “This day is no longer what it used to be. It feels... hollow. I do not wish to distract myself or lose my head.”

“It is natural to miss her. It was on this very night five centuries ago you lost her. Merriment does not have to be distraction.” Oberyn consoled. There was a crack of lightning drawing both of their attention. “Quite the storm. You will have many new souls tonight.”

Pedro thought he saw something moving in the dark. The flash of lightning showing a human form in the trees. Perhaps it was his imagination. Perhaps it was his memory of Persephone that warped his perception. Still… he opened his powers once more, searching but found nothing.

“Perhaps you are right.” Pedro downed the rest of his wine. “I should enjoy this night. Winter will be busy.” Everyone died in the winter. He eyed the shimmering curves of a water nymph. She beckoned to him, her blue eyes sparkling in all the red and gold of the room.

Before he could advance there was a loud knock on the wood door. He frowned. Who could it be? All his guests had a key. There was another knock and over the loud rain he heard the coo of a dove, “Please. Let me in. Anybody?”

And something in him responded, moving him to the door. He pushed it open, looking down at your crumpled form. You were soaking wet from the rain, shivering in the cold. Your heart beat was loud in his ears. Your smell. Mortal. How did a mortal find this place?

“Please, sir.” You called again, sniffling up at him. Your eyes swam with hot tears. He frowned at your attire. A white dress soaked through and streaked with mud. A ridiculous costume halo misshapen over your head. You seemed to be losing consciousness, eyes drooping shut.

“What is this?” Oberyn grinned behind Pedro’s shoulder. “Food for our demons?”

“No.” Pedro snapped. He knelt down scooping up your cold form into his arms. He felt his clothes become equally soaked but he cared not. You hummed into his chest, slipping into a light sleep. You were so small. So cold. You smelled of human but there was something more there. Floral and feminine. He turned back into the hall, pushing past Oberyn. The smell of human filled the room instantly, calling the attention of every demon and gargoyle in the place. Their yellow eyes found your body instantly, excited and hungry.

“What the hell are you doing? We can’t have a mortal here.” Oberyn glared. “You know the rules.”

“Back off.” Pedro hissed, his eyes flashing red and Oberyn took a step back in submission. Pedro held your body closer to him protectively. He glared around the room at the demons who had slunk closer. Each looked away when they met his hard red eyes. “Make sure I am not disturbed.” He grunted to Oberyn before descending back down the staircase to his den.

You were cold. Too cold. He could reach out and felt your soul dangling precariously between life and death. This could not be your time. You were far too young and pretty. He snapped his fingers and the fireplace roared to life. He laid your body out in front of the fire atop soft goose down pillows, pulling a thick sheep pelt over you. In your hypothermic delirium you whined at the loss of his arms, reaching for him.

Pedro watched this pitiful behavior with a strange tugging in his chest. Quite unnatural. He felt some primal desire to protect you. To make sure you would live. A belly curling reaction to you reaching for his arms. It was feeling so foreign to him after all these years, one tangled in grief and betrayal. This could not be a mere coincidence. You were quite pretty for a mortal. Soft skin and curves. He hadn’t felt anything so strong since his dear Persephone. And you were so like her. Innocent and pure of heart. This could be some cruel trick from his brother to taunt him with another sweet thing he could never have. Or it could be more nefarious. A spy in sheep's clothing.

He fetched some water from a pitcher, warming it with flames made from his hands.

“Drink, girl.” He held the cup to your lips. You did as he said, your vision focusing thanks to the warm drink. You could see him now. His rugged features were so human but his eyes were strange. You had trouble looking into them but once you started you couldn’t look away. Something seemed to move behind them.

“Th-thank you, sir.”

“We must get you out of these wet clothes.” Pedro frowned as you shivered violently.

“N-no that’s ok.” You looked down shyly, pulling the sheep skin over your shoulders.

“You will freeze otherwise.” He grunted, standing and turning away from you in a show of respect. However, he only heard your frantic breathing. “Do you want to die?” He growled.

“Okay.” You squeaked, pulling your soaked dress over your head and quickly covering your body with the sheep skin.

“Better?” He asked, still with his back turned. His ears perked listening to the sound of your pulse slowing.

“Yes.” You scooted closer to the fire, drinking the rest of the warm water from the cup. You took in your surroundings. From the outside you thought you found a castle, seemingly ripped from a medieval story book. Strange it was lit up, voices coming from inside. You didn't care who was there so long as it was warm and dry. This room… so dark and lit only by candles must be the dungeon. There was a mahogany desk and plush red chair but little else. And the man who had brought you here was just as mysterious. He wore strange clothing, opulent but out of date. His brown hair was mused and curled perfectly. Too perfectly. And his voice… his voice gave you shivers of a different kind.

“How did you find this place, girl?” Pedro demanded, turning around to face you.

“I- I got lost.” You blinked back another round of tears just thinking about going back outside. You shrank under his hardened gaze. His earlier sweetness had turned bitter. “I was trying to get back to my car.”

“And you parked your car in a forest?” He scoffed.

“No! The forest it- it sort of appeared around me. I can’t explain it.” You covered your face trying to remember the details. You were walking down the street and then trees started popping up around you. “I know it sounds crazy but next thing I knew I was in a forest with no idea how to get out.” You huffed not enjoying having to explain yourself to a stranger. He scanned your face for what felt like an eternity.

“What is your name, girl?” His eyes swept down to your exposed shoulders and back. Your modesty barely intact as you held the wool to your front. You swallowed harshly at the flash of hunger in his eyes but it passed with the blink of his eye.

“What is yours?” You countered, pulling the cover more securely over your breasts. “Maybe you’re a serial killer who drugged me and this is all a hallucination?”

He chuckled at that, his handsome features brightening. Serial killer? In a way that was true, he thought to himself.

“I have no plans to kill you tonight.” He smirked. His voice turned into pure molasses.

You swallowed harshly, feeling the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Was he teasing you? It was hard to know. You heard the thumping of someone coming down the stairs and you curled up under the blanket in fear.

“I said don’t disturb me.” The man growled, baring his teeth. He waved his hand towards the stairs and there was a yelp, quite like an animal, and the stranger retreated back up the stairs. You swallowed harshly. Did he do that?

“I’m sorry for my guests.” He turned his attention to you, eyes going from scarlet to sorrel. Or was that just your imagination? He approached slowly, reaching for the cup next to you. “More water?”

“Yes p-please.” You handed it to him, eyes darting to the opening of the staircase.

“No one shall hurt you.” He promised and you felt your heart immediately slow at his reassurance. He poured water from a pitcher and only when the cup was in his hands did it begin to steam. When he handed it to you, you stared at the contents trying to understand. He fought back a smile.

“Drink.” He ordered gently. The force of his gaze compelled you to take a sip with shaking hands. His eyes followed your lips as they traced the curve of the cup.

“Are you injured?” He asked, looking down at your body covered in sheep wool. You hadn’t let yourself think of it. Running for so long, you were numb to the pain. But now…

“My ankle.” You winced, pulling it out from the wool. It was purple and swollen, obviously twisted. He dropped to his knees beside you and tsked under his breath. You made a small sound of protest when he pulled your leg into his lap, the blanket drooping dangerously close to your groin. “Um.. what are you-.” Your eyelashes fluttered and you felt your face heat up. Your foot looked tiny in his large hands, laying over his thighs.

“Hold still, sweet one.” He cooed, caressing the bruised skin with a feather light touch. For a moment you feared he was going to bite the area with how he was staring so intensely. But then he did something more surprising. He brought his hand up to his mouth and bit into the flesh enough to draw blood. How you did not know, because the wound was a single puncture. Much too small for human teeth to have made. Before the blood could spill down his hand, he placed it over your injured flesh. It burned on your skin and you tried to scoot away but he held you firm. “Shh shh it’s okay.” You gawked as the bruising subsided, the swelling reducing. All from his blood. How?

“Who- who are you?” You whispered, your own blood running cold. You tried to put the pieces together in your head, arriving at only one terrifying conclusion.

“You first.” He smirked, his hands still tracing your exposed leg.

You whispered your name and watched his lips curl further. He liked your name.

“Now- wh-what’s yours?” You clenched your toes as he moved his fingers up your calf. You bit your lip hard. Now was not the time to be aroused.

“Pedro.” He told you in his low timbre voice. You didn’t expect that. Such a short and simple name for a man dressed in a black robe, living in a large castle with unexplained healing powers. Yet you had no choice but to believe what your senses were telling you. His hand was nearly to your inner thigh and in his hypnotic gaze you didn’t tell him to stop. You should-

“Thank you, Pedro. I feel much better.” You muttered, finally pulling your leg away from his touch and back under the wool. “I should be getting home. I won’t take up too much of your night. Do you have a map I can use to find my way back?”

“Sleep. All will be well in the morning.” He lay a warm hand over your forehead. As soon as he touched you, you felt your eyes begin to droop and exhaustion overtake you.

“Wait-” You garbled, fighting against sleep. You tried to pry his hand off you and in doing so you tore a patch of fabric from his sleeve.

When you awoke you were back in your own bed. Your car was parked in front of your apartment like you dove home like. I thing happened. You briefly thought it was all a dream. The handsome stranger. The haunted castle. The things you read about as a young girl. You were teased when you got older for holding onto such childish notions like princes, princesses, witches, and wizards. You always wanted to believe it was true. The world was too miserable and dull without the hope there could be more. But now clutched in your fist was proof. Black silk torn from his sleeve. The scrap was softer than anything you had ever felt and it smelled smoky like him. Last you remembered, he forced you to sleep. You thought you’d be dead. That he would eat your flesh or strangle you. But he did neither. You were pristine. Untouched. You were almost disappointed.

You hopped in the car, still in your pajamas, and drove to where the party was last night but the street looked completely normal, safe, no sudden forest anywhere. Frustration burned hot in your chest because whoever that man was, he somehow found where you lived, dressed you. He was kind enough to save you but not brave enough to see you home safely? Why the need for such secrecy?

“You don’t believe me… It’s fine.”

“I always believe you but this… this is very difficult to imagine.” Your mom sounded sympathetic over the phone in contrast to your frantic rambling.

“Ugh. It happened, mom. I know I sound crazy but it really happened.”

“Honey… this sounds dangerous.”

“No, he was kind. He took care of me and protected me.” You chewed your lip nervously, butterflies in your stomach at the thought of seeing him again.

“And you’re sure you feel okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine.” You ran your fingers over the scrap of black fabric finding comfort in the softness. You gave up trying to explain yourself. “You’re right. It was probably just a dream.” You knew it wasn’t. “Now what did you want to tell me?”

“Nothing.”

“What? Oh that’s mean!” You sighed exasperatedly. She was the one who called you. Now you felt bad for derailing the conversation with what your mother probably believed was her daughter going crazy.

“I’ll tell you later.”

"Okay. Bye mom. Love you." You sighed.

"Love you more. Get some rest okay?"

For the rest of the day you were hunched over your computer. Not many people were as easily convinced of supernatural or magical powers as you were. You weren’t foolish. You were smart. Smart enough to know in this vast universe some beings had to be more powerful than humans. You did research on google trying to see if anyone had similar experiences with a forest suddenly appearing or meeting some supernatural like figure who could heal people with blood. Unfortunately that led you down a rabbit hole of wacky naturopaths and astrology blogs until you stumbled upon a text on Hades.

Something about the character seemed familiar to you. The image of the cloaked man on a black chariot. A three headed dog? Definitely not! you shook your head. You scrolled down further seeing a painting of Hades carrying Persephone. The look of possession written all over his face. She looked so helpless in his arms. Your stomach lurched. You read beneath the picture with almost a sense of jealousy. His undying devotion to her was something you’d never experienced.

The storm you were caught in last night returned again today. The harsh rain and thunder pulled your focus. You thought of him again. His hands. His enchanting eyes. You wished you hadn’t squandered your opportunity to speak with him by being so cold and afraid. Pedro…

Miles away, he flinched. He could feel you. You burned bright and incessant in his mind. He didn't even need to extend his powers to feel your soul. Feeling turned to curiosity and he closed his eyes. He could see you vaguely. In your home, brow furrowed in concentration. Searching for him. You called for him. He should never have told you his name. This was too tempting.

He had come to the conclusion last night as he took you home. He could not walk this road again. He must rein in that monster inside that purred for you as it lacked rational thought. Times were different now and Zeus would not tolerate another act of selfishness. Fucking hypocrite, Pedro snarled internally.

Still... he longed to see you. The party goers had all flown back to their hideaways. Loneliness bared down on him. It wouldn't hurt just to see you, perhaps hear your sweet voice up close.

“Cerberus.” Pedro called his guard dog, tapping his scepter on the stone floor. The massive and three headed dog, bounded into the hall like a puppy. Pedro chuckled at his pet, standing from his throne and scritching the dog’s three chins. The dog's head moved wildly as all three heads tried to look at its master. “I need you to keep watch for me, boy. There’s something I have to do.”

He would have to cloak himself so as not to be seen. His helmet of invisibility was dusty but with the sweep of his hand shinned anew. Time to fly…

You retreated to your bed earlier than usual, flinching at the rumble of thunder overhead. Storms didn’t used to frighten you but now it only reminded you of how hopeless and lost you felt last night. You knew in your heart you’d be dead if not for Pedro. You were grateful and still fearful. You wanted to understand what happened to you but at the same time you knew it was dangerous. You didn't know if you'd like the answer. You kept the lights on as you slipped under the covers. You held the scrap of black cloth, rubbing it along your cheek. It soothed you. You hardly notice the cool breeze that slipped into your room from the cracked window. You didn’t feel the eyes on you, watching as you ran that tiny piece of cloth down your chest. Over your nipples. You didn’t see his Cheshire cat smile.

Well this was a pleasant surprise.

The cloth began to pulse between your fingers, and you gasped, pulling it off your body and looking around the room. Were you imagining this? Perhaps it was a pulse in your fingers from your own heartbeat. Arousal tugged your lower stomach and heat crawled up your neck further. Could you really be pleasuring yourself after such a terrifying 24 hours. But you wanted to. You needed to. The face of your rescuer flashed in your mind. His broad form would completely cover you. Swallow you. Everything that happened, it couldn’t have been a dream because if it were then he wouldn’t have just touched your leg. In your dream it would have been so much more.

You kicked down your pajama pants moving the cloth to your throbbing clit. The buttery fabric grew wet with your arousal, continuing to pulse to its own rhythm.

“Oh…” you gasped quietly bucking your hips against it. “Oh fuck…”

Filthy little girl, Pedro thought to himself. He clenched his hands into fists to keep from touching you. His cock sat rock hard under his robes. He could be devious and scare you, make you cum on his invisible cock. He could drive you further into madness. But he wouldn't dare subject himself or you to the scrutiny of Zeus.

And then you kicked off the covers and Pedro bit his lip at the sight of your wet cunt on display. It's like you knew he was there. You wanted to give him a show.

Your breathing sped up, your free hand slipping a finger into your heat, the other still busy holding his robe to your clit. Pedro's eyes were so trained on you he didn't realize he was stepping closer until he was pressed against the foot of your bed. He licked his lips, casting a small spell. Just a little fun…

And you gasped, sitting up to the feel of warm breath on your legs. You only saw your bedroom wall yet you knew someone or somethign was in your room. Then suddenly the piece of fabric closed around your clit like a pair of lips pulsing and sucking.

“What-“ you removed your hand but the piece of cloth remained flush with your heat. It felt so good, just the perfect amount of pressure. You whined, eyes fluttering closed and thighs shaking. You came suddenly, snapping around your own fingers. “Oh god…oh-” Your vision swam and for a second you could swear you saw him standing over you.

Pedro glided back to The Devil’s Cup a grin fixed to his face. He left you unnerved and naked still looking around your room for him. He was a ghost in your life now. The moans of your pleasure still echoed around in his head.

He bounded down the stone staircase to his den where he had stowed your dress. He held the thin fabric in his fist and lifted it to his nose eagerly. He could smell you on it. The mix of sensory information proved to be too much because soon he was hard again.

He fell back into his ornate chair pulling open his robe and fisting himself harshly. His human form fell away revealing his horns. With larger hands he could touch himself more effectively. He conjured the image of you, lying on the floor like you had last night. You called to him with a sweet smile, opening the wool blanket invitingly. Your eyes were red like his. He lifted your dress back to his nose inhaling again.

With an inhuman roar of your name he came, streams of iridescent seed covered the bust of the dress, the stomach, dripping down to the hem. He crumpled it in his hands sliding the now damp material over his quivering length.

He hardened again throwing his head back and starting the cycle all over again. He regretted he did not shove his cock into your mouth while he was invisible, cumming down your throat and tying you to him forever without you knowing why. Zeus have mercy, he was sick.

He knew madness would befall you both unless he found a way to make you his. To sate whatever gnawed at you both. He wanted you and not just to fulfill a physical desire. As you lay shivering, recovering from an earth shattering orgasm he had placed a hand on your bed, warming your blankets. He had tapped your cold mug of tea on your bedside table making it steaming hot again. He felt both a wave of longing and a wave of sadness. It was as if he already lost you. His hands scooped up the remnants of his seed from your dress and he stared at it, thinking.

"One drop and you'll be mine forever." He muttered.

He could slip blood some into your tea or better yet he could make you drink him from a different source. His cock twitched. He liked that idea but- no... his expression turned sour once again.

The chemical rush subsided and the cold solitude of his home settled around him with cruel intimacy. He wanted you. But he would not take as he did before. He'd have to be more clever. He shut his eyes, finding you back at your computer searching for him. He grinned. Perhaps you would be the clever one this time.

You were coming for him and he could not wait.

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[blzzrdstryr]

Midnight chatter

Yandere Diluc x gn!knight!reader

Wordcount: 2385

CW: Yandere, drugging, kidnapping

This was a third week after his return and fifth day of the tireless fight with winery work, when Diluc received an unexpected guest. During his travels across the world, the winery business fell into disrepair and almost collapsed, so once he learnt the state of the wine industry he decided to settle in his office and try to battle the endless reports about necessary expenses and small profits all on his own.

He started to work with the first rays of sunlight well into the night, squeezing every bit of energy his body had, not only because financial issues could affect him personally, but also because of the night vigilante of Mondstadt title he took upon himself.Due to the increased workload he couldn’t find time to patrol the dark streets and alleys of the city, while experience and conscience didn’t allow him to thrust the safety of ordinary citizens into the hands of bumbling, cowardly and lazy knights.

The day soon turned into the late evening, and dawn winery workers started to go home, when someone knocked on his door. It was Adelinde.

Her steps were faster than usual, her stoic face shadowed by the note of concern. Diluc wanted to say that no, he won’t go and have a rest, but she spoke first.

“Master Diluc”, she stopped before his desk: “we have a guest, a knight”.

He lifted his head shifting the eyes from the report to the head maid and pondered - despite his long absence, a lot of people in the city had a general idea how much he dislikes the Favonius Order and so a rare knight would actually dare to bother him, unless… Unless, they were acting out an order from someone high-ranking, like Jean or Varka for example.

Apprehension that his former colleague somehow learned of his nightly escapades sent an unexpected wave of shivers and vague feeling of unease, but he didn’t let it get to him.

“Ask why this knight is here and if it’s something unofficial tell them to leave”, he ordered, at which Adelinde blinked, slowly and tiredly, as if she was looking for the strength to tell something incredibly upsetting or scary.

“The thing is, master Diluc, that I already let them in”.

“Without my permission?”, his eyes widened at that, and the heart started to pick up the pace. What if this knight was really sent here by Varka or Jean? If it was true, Adelinde, unknowingly set him up to fail.

She was looking after him from his earliest childhood, so she was allowed to do and say more than any other of his staff, yet this perceived audacity was unheard of before.

“They were badly injured and said that they needed to stop for the night and once it’s over they will travel to the city with the first sun rays. We helped them to patch up their injuries and offered a room for guests, yet they declined and remained to sit on sofa”, the maid explained absolutely unfazed, after noticing Diluc’s dissatisfaction and then added : “If you are that displeased, master Diluc, I can tell this tired and battered knight to get out from here into the dark night”.

Her voice remained even and emotionless as usual, but even like that young Ragnvindr could hear a light mocking in her words. And to think about it - he got so freaked out over some silly coincidence - the knight stopped here because of the injuries, not some insidious scheme.

“Alright”, Diluc admitted defeat: “they can stay… and offer them some food and tea”, he added just as Adelinde’s hand touched the doorknob.

“Will be done”, she replied before exiting the office. The corners of her mouth slightly moved and crept upwards.

***

Despite his earlier goal of finishing as much work as he can, Diluc couldn’t do anything. Small digits and letters started to float and dance before his eyes while the long lines fused together, when he tried to analyze the state of wine business in naught. But the worst thing was the fact that his thoughts strayed to the topic of mystery knight again and again and Diluc lost count how many times he caught himself thinking who this person is.

He sat like that for a while, until the cinnabar of dying sky got replaced by the darkness and pleasant chill of the night.

Diluc scolded himself for his uncharacteristic indecisiveness, standing up from the desk and locking the office, when this thought, loud and persisting, knocked into his head again. Wouldn’t it be nice, he wondered, to learn who this night is, and finally decided. After all the thoughts about them pestered him for a long time.

Quietly and carefully walking through the unlit corridor of the winery, he confirmed that all servants and workers had already left for sleep, some into the rooms of the main building designated for them, some into the cabins around it. All in all, he was confident that there’s no one except him, the knight, Adelinde and a couple of other maids.

His steps were quiet and slow and not even a single board in the wooden floor creaked under his weight as he knew the winery like the back of his hand. With a bated breath he made his way downstairs, making out vague shapes of the familiar objects. Moonlight pouring out through the windows illuminated only the silhouettes, but even with that he quickly noticed the unknown frame.

The person was half-sitting half-lying on the sofa, and their sword and armor were placed nearby the furniture, reflecting the pale light of the moon. They weren’t moving, seemingly asleep. Diluc couldn’t make out their face even after making a coming closer, so he decided to take the risk and summoned a small wisp of flame.

The dancing light illuminated everything in a small radius and what he saw made him jolt and take a step back. You were the mystery knight.

Why are you still a knight? Where were you? Who injured you?

Still shocked by the previous revelation, Diluc accidentally knocked over the breastplate with his foot and it fell on it’s side with a loud thump.

You woke up.

“What… Who?”, you stirred and half sat on the elbow: “Ah, it’s you” and saw him :”What are you doing here?”.

Caught red handed, Diluc didn’t find any words - it was so sudden and unusual to be caught unaware, and because of that doubly unpleasant.

“This is my winery and I am free to do whatever I want”, he decided to hide the awkwardness behind the faux annoyance.

“Easy, easy” you half smiled, half yawned: “I just managed to fall asleep”. You yawned again and blinked at him with sleepy tired eyes.

“I have sleep medicine if you want some”

You got surprised and touched by his sudden responsiveness: “Thank you, but I think painkillers would be better. My body is aching and that’s the main problem”.

Maybe because of the trembling, dancing light or maybe because of the recent sleep you imagined worry and pity twisting his facial features.

“I have it too. Wait here”, he quickly replied and vanished into the dim darkness of the winery, not giving you any time to answer, as you were left to sit and wait for him. Diluc, to your own surprise, happened to be extremely stealthy, able to move without producing a single sound.

“Here”, you first heard and then saw him,as Diluc used pyro vision to light the nearby candlestick and then opened the medicine vial he brought and handed it to you: “Drink it all”.

“Thank you”, you whispered to him, taking the painkiller before making a big gulp. The taste was horrible, so horrible in fact that you almost immediately started to violently cough. Well, if it’s as effective as foul, then I will be good as new in no time, you thought to yourself, suppressing the urge to throw up.

Diluc stood nearby and observed your reaction, his hand extended on his own when the coughing started as he awkwardly tried to pat your back in the gesture of comfort. “I will be here with you until you fall asleep”, he stated once the fit stopped and then, seeing your highly raised brows explained further: “Painkiller takes time to work. Tell me if you won’t feel better”.

You nodded in response, and closed eyes, listening to the sensations of your body. Your injuries still burned and screamed and throbbed, yet a strange numb sensation started to slowly surround you. Just like Diluc said, medicine would need time to fully settle in.

“If you're here can you talk with me?”, you decided to shorten the time in conversation: “Ijust wanted to talk with you. For a really long time”.

“About what?”, he allowed himself a shadow of the smile, Diluc that you used to know peeking through the gloomy facade, like a long awaited sun or it’s reflection on the tranquil mirror of the water surface. Next words stuck in your throat, bitter and acidic and totally unfit, and you had to force them out through your own hesitance to destroy this calm.

“What happened that day? The day before you left. I asked Jean and Kaeya and other knights who were present with you, yet no one said anything”, the water surface bubbled and the visage of that old, sunny Ragnvindr shattered into thousand pieces. The person before you adopted the same cold facade of annoyance and indifference.

“Why do you need to know it?”, he answered the question with another question and you sensed barely buried hurt and grief.

“You leaving hurt. A lot”

“That’s why you are still a knight?”, you quickly nodded at that.

A minute passed by and he still stood, without saying a single word, thinking what to do. On one hand, he didn;t want to open up, the story of his eighteenth birthday was incredibly painful and personal experience to be shared so freely, on the other hand he yearned for your understanding.

"Alright", he broke the silence:"Let's make a deal, you answer my questions and I'll tell you the whole story after. Deal?"

"Deal".

Diluc looked at you again, looked at the bruises and cuts, still peeking through the bandages and for a second his mind lit up with one thought alone: what disgusting bastard did that to you. He suppressed the rapidly rising rage, deciding to start from the most important.

"Is my leave the only reason why you decided to stay?" his heart picks up the pace again, he needs to know the answer.

"Basically yes, you knownI didn’t do it for my parents… I just.. That tragedy, I know it's not my place, but… I always wanted what happened to you. I asked this question to myself everyday and night, and I missed you terribly".

His breath hitched and he lowered his gaze. For some reason you always managed to fluster him with the words alone, even if it wasn't your intention.

"Your parents must be happy", h e changed the topic, stifling the heat in his heart.

"Yeah, they're ecstatic that I stopped being difficult and made their aspirations real. Hm, do you have any other questions?"

"What happened to you? ",he pointed at the bandages covering most of your body.

"Ah, catching treasure hoarders does that to you, usual stuff", you dismissed his concerns and Diluc started seeing red from the way your voice remained so calm and unbothered. Usual stuff? Usual stuff?!

"Grandmaster could send anyone else", he snapped:"Favonius Order has more than plenty of vision holders, they should've sent one, instead of you! You could die!".

Diluc’s sudden explosion left you speechless, but soon your own weaved words of irritation:"Ordo Favonius doesn't consist of Jean and Kaeya only. We can't let them handle all the hard and dangerous business all the time. Ordinary people like me can still help, even if the gods didn’t favour us. Don't think of me as some helpless idiot just because I have no shiny vision to show off"

Your heated response seemed to work and Diluc turned red from embarrassment, realizing how annoyed you got, despite the worry for your health and still present anger at the other knights for letting you get hurt. He also didn’t like how you looked at him, reprimanding and disappointed.

"Alright, sorry", he cleared his throat:"where were you before? I haven't seen you anywhere"

"City gates aren't the only thing that needs guarding. I was sent to the Liyue border, to make sure that no treasure gang crosses it. I think I will get sent there again, once I fully recover".

Diluc got angry at that too, yet this time he suppressed unpleasant feelings, already knowing how you will rebuke and reprimand him again. There's no convincing to be done, as you won't change your opinion. You left him no choice for what he was going to do.

"Alright, you answered all my questions", he said before changing topic again:"Did painkillers start working? I have another".

Being so engrossed in the conversation you forgot about the ache, yet once he mentioned it your body started to hurt with a renewed strength.

"Yes, I would like one", you decided and Diluc vanished in the unlit hall yet again.

"Here", he handed the small bottle to you already opened. The new substance was different, sweet and viscous. You managed to take two sips before your eyelids started to feel up with lead, and soon even lifting a hand seemed like a highly arduous task. Whatever the thing that Diluc gave you wasn't a painkiller.

"What…", you uttered, before your body relaxed and you fell asleep once again. Diluc bent over, looming over your unconscious form, as his hands carefully took the bottle away. He didn’t want it to somehow fall and injure you

This is a necessary measure, Diluc assured himself, before making a plan of actions. He would need to fake your disappearance and forge enough leads to direct investigation into the completely opposite direction, but now he needed to wake Adelinde up and ask her to prepare the room in the basement. He didn't want you to be uncomfortable in your new home.

[pluviophile-imagines]

Like The Dawn

in which a month after moving to mondstadt, you finish the prettiest damn ballgown you've ever made. and it'd be a shame not to wear it out—but you're still awfully new in town, and you're pretty sure your coworkers don't have invitations to the fancy gala being held by that elite winery just outside the city

luckily for you, it's a masquerade

diluc ragnvindr x reader

word count: 9.7k genre: fluff, modern au, vague cinderella vibes type: one-shot reader: neutral (no pronouns, neutral terms, fem clothing) warnings: mention (but no consumption) of alcohol, eat the rich note: this is a bday present for @tay-is-writing​, and will likely be the only genshin fic i ever write. big thanks to @venexus​, @megan-oppa​, and @bluewritesmha​ for beta-ing

“you snuck into this gala, didn’t you?”

okay, that’s a reasonable assumption to take from that. he says it confidently, firmly,  like he knows he’s right—yet he doesn’t sound accusatory at all. rather, his voice is full of that endeared tone, and he’s still struggling to keep back that big smile.

“maybe,” you reply coyishly, moving your leg subtly under your dress if only to watch how his eyes, as if he can’t help it, are drawn to the sparkle beneath the fabric and the teasing glimpse of your thigh. “You gonna tell on me?”

those eyes dart back up to you, mouth slack like he’s dazed as he leans back against the wall behind him. “no, I don’t think our host has to know.”

You find out about the masquerade a week after you move to Mondstadt.

“And nobody was going to tell me that there’s a masquerade happening next month?” You ask the question rhetorically as you enter your new apartment after work, flouncing in to greet one of your two roommates where she’s making dinner in the kitchen.

She glances back at you from the stove. “What, that gala that Dawn Winery puts on every year? Forget it, it’s invite-only, and the only people who’re gonna be there are the rich bastards that live down by the western harbor. The guest list’s hand picked by Diluc Ragnvindr. You can’t get in, and I don’t see why you’d want to, they can’t make for good company.”

Reaching over her shoulder to grab a raw cherry tomato from the strainer she’s keeping them in, you pop it in your mouth and then turn away. “I like parties, though. Big fancy parties where you have to dress up… I’ve got that gown I’m working on, you know.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll get turned away at the door if you show up in a homemade gown. Not that I think your dress is poor quality.”

You hum slightly, neither an agreement nor a denial. “You haven’t seen it. Besides, getting into events like that is easy—you just put on a pout and look a little disheveled, and tell the bouncer that your date’s already inside. A masquerade’s even easier, they won’t even know my face.”

“Do you even have a mask to wear?”

“Nope!” You grab another tomato, leaning over the simmering pasta dish that she’s cooking to smell it. “I’ve got a month to make one, though. I’m thinking I’ll do a night sky theme, with a moon and stars and stuff. The dress is blue and silver, I think it’ll look nice.”

“You’re already determined to do this, huh?” Your roommate sounds exasperated. You only shoot her a grin.

“Oh, completely. It’ll be fun. I can make you a mask, too, if you wanna—”

“Absolutely not,” she interrupts you, causing you to cackle. “You’re on your own with this.”

That, you think, is a challenge if ever you’ve heard one.

You’d been making the dress for over three months now, which is a long time to be working on one project even for you. In your defense, you’ve been well preoccupied with the move from your small hometown to Mondstadt, the largest city in your region. It had been, admittedly, a bit of a rash decision, but one of your oldest friends happened to be looking for a roommate and you’d been accepted to a master’s program at your university’s downtown campus, so it seemed like a natural choice.

In the process of packing up all your things and moving out of your parents’ home for the first time ever, the dress (your magnum opus) was pushed to the background. Now that you’re settled in, it’s quick work to finish it off with enough time to spare to make the matching mask.

The dress is stunning. Made from layers and layers of midnight blue chiffon overtop a silver base, it fits your body perfectly and almost feels as if it’s made out of some magical material like stardust or seafoam. The bodice cuts across your chest with a single cape sleeve on your right arm, long and elegant, the same deep blue chiffon as the billowing skirt. The whole effect makes you feel like fairytale royalty.

Over the three weeks between your initial discovery of the masquerade and the event itself, you find suitable accessories with a combination of thrifting and modification—a statement sapphire pendant to bounce off of, a silver ear cuff and then a collection of dainty necklaces lacking in adornment some of which you use to decorate the ear cuff and the rest of which you connect together into an elaborate yet subtle body chain for your left thigh, visible through the dress’s slit as you walk. The look is completed with a pair of strappy silver stilettos, surprisingly comfortable to walk in. Altogether, you probably haven’t put more than $100 into the whole look, with the majority of the expenses going to the dress’s fabric (of which there is a lot).

The mask took you about a week to finish. You’re careful with it, allowing a bit of the perfectionism that you typically beat back to shine through knowing that pretty much every other person at the dance will have specially ordered their masks from Venice or something. Yours is made with papier mache around small-gauge hex wire that you’d asked your roommate to mold against your face and then trimmed to the proper shape; it fits you nicely, doesn’t hinder your eyesight too much, and you paint it to match the celestial theme of your dress—deep midnight blue speckled with silver stars and a matching crescent moon curving around your left eye, accented with slightly darker swirls. You finish it off by backing it with inky black fabric, attaching two matching ribbons made from the scraps of fabric left over by your dress, and by the time the paint has dried it’s impossible to tell that the thing is made with old newspapers and glue.

When you step out of your room on the night of the masquerade, your roommates and a friend are there to see you off. Your mask is already on, a small silver clutch in hand for your phone and keys, and all three members of your audience stare at you in amazement.

“How do I look?” you ask cheekily, already knowing (both from their reactions and your own confidence) what they’re thinking.

“Like a rich bastard,” said your roommate who had initially tried to talk you out of this. “In the best way possible, of course. I… can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think you might actually get in.”

You snort lightly. “Please, I told you, this shit’s easy. I do it all the time.”

“I never should have doubted you.”

Your friends wish you goodbye and good luck. You’re pretty sure they’re still partially expecting you to return in half an hour having been turned away at the door, but you set off anyway, calling up an uber with a driver who’s a little bit too curious about your outfit and destination for your comfort.

It’s funny how easily you slip into the masses, even while you’re still in the uber. He drops you off at the stone steps leading up to the large manor overlooking the vineyard, driving away with the hordes of other fancy black cars driven by chauffers and dropping off their own ornately dressed occupants. Nobody bats an eye at you, though you do turn a few heads.

You have a plan by the time you come up to the tables where two people are checking invitations. They’re right inside the manor’s doors, in an enormous hallway that opens up behind them into an unfathomably vaster ballroom. When it’s your turn to approach, you make a scene of checking your person for an invite.

“Oh my god, I didn’t—” you cut off your mumble, acting more desperate as you dig through your small clutch and then pat down your body, not particularly subtly turning your thigh to catch the light. You can feel the eyes of at least one person watching you; an older man, perhaps pushing 60. Not your type, but the right kind to help out a pretty young thing in distress. You pretend to give up, looking at the unamused bouncer before you apologetically. “I’m so sorry, I think I misplaced my invite.”

The bouncer rolls his eyes, and you genuinely feel sorry for him, but you’ve got the old guy behind you hook line and sinker so you know the poor worker won’t have to deal with you for long. You turn around, pouting, trying not to make it obvious that you’re making a beeline for the man who’s desperate to be your savior—and then you make eye contact with him, and you let your face brighten, and you know you’ve got it in the bag as he moves to make his way towards you.

And then someone else taps your shoulder.

You turn around in surprise, playing off the sudden anxiety it’s given you, to find a far younger man (a very tall, very handsome one) standing before you. He’s wearing a white suit with pastel blue accents, and it’s striking against his rich brown skin. His long blue hair drapes around his shoulder, and his face is half covered by an elaborate mask that looks to be made of pure ice; it stretches diagonally across the upper right half of his face, leaving his left eye and mouth uncovered but not his nose, and you note with slight surprise that it has no eye socket for his right eye to see through.

“Pardon me,” he begins, giving you a charming smile, “but I couldn’t help but overhear. You’ve lost your invitation?”

You nod eagerly, desperation clear in your voice as you answer. “My friend’s already inside, I must have left it in her purse, this tiny thing can hardly carry anything at all.” You lift your clutch and smile sheepishly.

“Well, we couldn’t have you miss the festivities. I’ll escort you in.”

“Oh, would you?” The relief in your voice makes him chuckle slightly. “Thank you, sir!”

“My pleasure.” He steps aside lightly, gesturing for you to join him at his side as he walks towards one of the other bouncers. “Always happy to come to the aid of such a lovely creature as yourself.”

You give him the flustered giggle you know he’s expecting from the compliment. This, you think, is far preferable to the old man you’d previously intended to rely upon. As your new escort approaches the bouncer, his hand comes to rest easily on the small of your back—nothing too overbearing, just the slightest touch.

“Kaeya Alberich,” he says to the woman before the two of you as he hands over his invite, then nods over at you, “plus one.”

The woman takes the invite, looks through the paper list in front of her to check off the name, and then waves the two of you through. Kaeya keeps his hand on your back as you step through the massive doors into the ballroom, and your breath is swept away by the enormous space.

You’re gawking at the ceiling when Kaeya chuckles from next to you.

“I take it you’ve never been here before.”

“No,” you say, distracted laughter bubbling up within you. “Never. I’m, uh, actually new in town.”

“Then let me be the first here to welcome you to Mondstadt! Our fair city is truly blessed to call someone as radiant as you one of its citizens.”

You snort, rolling your eyes at the over-the-top compliment. Kaeya is exactly the kind of person you’d expected to run into. He’s more bearable than most, though.

“Would you like me to help you find your friend?”

“No,” you rush to say, still more than a little enamored with the room around you. “Thank you for helping me in, but I wouldn’t want to hold you up for longer than I already have. I think I see her over near the staircase, anyway.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” You expect him to leave, but as his hand leaves your back and he turns around, you feel him lean in and he mutters to you, so low that you know nobody else could possibly hear, “Have fun, party crasher.”

You whip about, but he’s gone before you can blink, melted into the crowd. You’re left slack-jawed and scanning around for him, but he’s nowhere to be found.

Perhaps you ought to be more concerned by that, but he’d sounded more amused than anything, like he genuinely was wishing you a good time. And he had gotten you in, why would he do that only to go tell security to bring you back out?

Besides, you have a room to look around in awe of.

It’s absolutely vast, almost unfathomably so, the ceilings stretching high up with columns and arches in between, enormous stained glass windows letting in the very last of the setting sun’s light. You can see the vineyard outside each one if you try hard enough and look through the whiter glass, and you think of how gorgeous it must be during the day. There’s floral arrangements on the walls, three gigantic chandeliers (two on either side of the hall and one even larger at the center), and all the warm lighting is multiplied by the reflections in the glass windows and skylights and the marble floor.

There’s easily hundreds of guests inside, talking to each other and dancing at the center and retrieving little hors d'oeuvres from the roaming waiters (each one in the same standard black and white tuxedo and black domino mask). Every person is in an elaborate suit or dress, matched impeccably to an equally elaborate mask. You find yourself inspecting the different dresses, critiquing the silhouettes and the craftsmanship; you might not know much about Venetian masks like they’re all wearing, but you know your way around an evening gown.

You wander in further, taking in the whole room. You notice that the enormous ornate staircase at the far end of the room leads up to a small second story, two balconies on either end, with countless large double glass doors separated by the very same columns continued above open wide to the cool evening air. Eventually, you think, you might just wander up there and take a better look at the vineyard.

As you look around up at the ceiling and walls, however, you find yourself too engrossed in the scenery to realize until too late that you’re unwittingly making a beeline for a guest.

You stumble squarely into a sturdy figure—so sturdy, absurdly so, that he barely moves an inch and the momentum sends you barrelling uncontrollably towards the ballroom’s dense marble floor. Luckily for you, the brick wall of a man that you’ve run into miraculously also has the reflexes of a saint. A strong arm catches you, steady around your waist as the opposite hand finds your shoulder and helps you catch your balance. You’re already talking before they’re removed, voice breathless and apologetic.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention at all, I should have been looking where I was—” you cut yourself off upon finally getting a solid look of him, train of thought suddenly breaking at the sight of his outfit (or, more specifically, what he’s wearing on his face). You grin, laughing slightly as you point at his mask and say, “Hey, we’re matching!”

He’s wearing an impeccable three-piece suit complete with suede gloves—every part down to the crisp shirt and satiny tie is an inky jet-black, save for the intricate gold embroidery swirling across those broad shoulders and etched along the base of the cuffs as well as around the collar and down the lapel. It’s striking, especially in conjunction with his bright red hair (longer, you realize, than you’d initially thought; it’s pulled up high and still brushes his shoulders, clearly well-kept and appearing soft).

But his mask is what made you take note. It’s color-matched perfectly with the gold of his clothes, expertly made just like the suit, and it’s themed like the sun. His left eye pokes out from puffy clouds seemingly illuminated by the gilded glow of dawn, and his right eye is haloed by a fiery sun with rays that fade out to just a hint of the same red as his hair.

The sun to your moon. It’s cute, you think.

Apparently he doesn’t agree, because he doesn’t crack a smile. He doesn’t even speak; he just nods at you and then turns away. You’re left alone and slightly insulted, staring at his large back as it melts into the opulent crowd.

It’s an instance that you’d normally just brush off. Annoying, perhaps, but nothing to write home about; you’re at a fancy rich person party, and fancy rich people aren’t exactly known for being polite, so you’re well used to it at these things.

You busy yourself with a combination of people watching and attempting to eat every type of hors d'oeuvre available, floating around the room nabbing little canapés from platters offered by the servers. You thank them quietly every time, and try not to sound too much like you’re in a porno as you dig in. It feels like every bite you’ve taken has been worth more than you’d make in a month, and you’re not entirely complaining about getting to enjoy caviar and truffles along with all manner of spreads on little toasted baguettes. There’s miniature quiches too, flaky and moist in the nicest ways.

Of course, it is a winery, and there’s plenty of servers around with platters of different wines—red and white and sparkling, and little champagne flutes full of what you’ve been told is Dawn Winery’s specialty dandelion wine. You don’t partake, though at times it feels like the servers are pressing a bit much.

You also take in the people, admiring the masks that all seem to be so intricately made. You wonder, though you’re fairly certain it’s the case, if most of them have had the face coverings made in Venice by fine leatherworkers and craftsmen. There are so many different designs, brightly colored, from the manner in which they’ve been decorated to the very way they’re held to the face—many of the women, you note, have theirs attached to poles so that they can easily remove or replace them. It’s smart, and you’d considered it, but then decided that maintaining anonymity is probably more of a good thing in your circumstances.

With all the people watching, you eventually begin to see familiar faces. One of them happens to be Kaeya; you’re pretty sure he finds you, actually, and drags you out onto the dance floor to waltz with him (you tell him that you don’t know how to waltz, and he assures you that he’s good enough for the both of you, which to be fair he is as he leads you through the motions for a good few minutes, but then he seems to give up and the two of you stumble blindly into other dancing couples as you dissolve into laughter).

It’s the waltzing with Kaeya (if you could even call it that) that makes you notice the man you’d run into a while ago.

You’re a little surprised that it takes you so long to do so; he’s so big, and with that eye-catching red hair he seems like he’d be hard to miss. But apparently he has a small enough presence that it takes him glowering at you and your brief dance partner for you to realize he’s been watching you all night.

Kaeya lets you go after you’ve bulldozed through half the people on the dance floor and he disappears just like he’d done after he’d gotten you in. You’re left slightly disheveled and stumbling a little; making your way over to a stained-glass laden wall, you brace yourself against it to fix up your shoes and the body chain around your thigh, and then you shove off to continue your rounds for food. You’d seen people eating what looked almost like a tiny boring taco and you want to try it for yourself.

As you head off, however, you find your eyes gravitating towards that redhead, finding him on the dancefloor now with a woman in a pretty pastel purple dress. For half a moment, your eyes meet, but then he’s turning and you avert your own eyes in an attempt to quell how much it flusters you.

You find your tiny boring taco and find, much to your chagrin, that it lives up to the name you’ve given it—it is tiny and boring, the only notable thing about it being that the shell had a nice crunch. To wash it down, you’re given one of those pretty crystal flutes full of dandelion wine, and though you know you’re not much of a fan of alcohol you take it anyway in the mild hopes that it’ll be tolerable. Upon giving it a cursory whiff, you deem it not, but then you’re left with a full glass of the stuff and you feel awkward putting it down somewhere.

The sun has fully set now. What little golden light that had been shining through the stained glass is gone, and you decide that your next move will be to check out those balconies on the second floor.

You wonder, briefly, if they’re for romantic rendezvous. You know it’s silly, but there’s a part of you that imagines you’re some noble meeting up with an illicit affair at a royal ball; a part of you that imagines there’s a prince waiting in one of those alcoves to sweep you off your feet. It’s a cute idea, but as you scale the grand staircase you’re also glad that there’s very few people up on the second story, and that the balcony you choose is empty.

It’s quiet up on the second story, and doubly so out on the balcony. Despite the open doors (they’re truly massive now that you can see them up close) the sounds are still dampened, and you’re actually fairly thankful for that. The constant chatter and the music playing had been getting to you.

When you exit through the doors, you find yourself on a small personal balcony, a half-circle around the doorway with a wooden balustrade, a wide railing held up by palatial columns. You approach it, leaning forward to brace yourself upon it with your forearms and look out over the edge.

The vineyard below is drenched in darkness, which is only to be expected considering it’s well past sundown. You can barely make out the rows and rows of trellises and grapevines in the inky black. If you focus hard enough, you can see big trees lining the paths through the crops, and in the distance a large, looming structure too far away to see in this light. Despite how dark it is, you can tell that the scenery is gorgeous.

You’re enthralled for a moment, setting your flute of dandelion wine down on the balustrade so that you can lean fully on it and gazing out towards the end of the massive property. It’s too bad that you’ll never get to see it in the daylight like this, up on a fancy balcony like you’re royalty. No, you’ll only get to see the vineyard again distantly on some back road you’ll take to leave the city or something. Despite the fact that they’re audible where you are, conversing and dancing well within eyesight, the other attendees of this masquerade live a completely different world of privilege and ease, and it’s hard to mask the sudden upwell of envy and bitterness that overcomes you.

“Oh.”

A deep, calm voice breaks you from your thoughts and makes you whip around in surprise.

Silhouetted in the doorway stands the man you’d run into earlier. Somehow he seems even taller with the dramatic lighting—you think he’s well over six foot but it’s not as if you have any thing of a reasonable size for comparison, considering how abnormally large the opulent double doors he’s standing next to are—though his towering height might also have to do with the fact that he’s standing stock-straight with the kind of pristine posture you’d ordinarily associate with childish stories where some normal teenage girl finds out she’s a princess and has to be taught with books on her head and a greying old teacher swatting at her hand with a ruler.

“My apologies. I didn’t realize...” He trails off, half interrupted by you.

“Bullshit.” Leaning back against the railing, you fix him with a glare. “Why are you following me?”

You wait for the other shoe to drop, wait for him to say it—”I know you don’t belong here,” or “You’re party crashing,” perhaps pointing at a loose stitch in your dress or the thrifted stilettos adorning your feet.

Instead, he seems taken aback, stepping backwards slightly and blinking from behind the mask. “I’m not.”

“Why’d you come out here, then?” you snap back, crossing your arms.

He hesitates, glancing back at the ballroom like he wants to leave (you want him to leave, to let you observe the scenery in peace while you have the chance), but then he seems to catch sight of something and takes three quick steps solidly out onto the balcony and then sideways, out of view of anyone inside. His right hand moves to his left, fingers slipping under his sleeve to tug at the edge of the glove tucked beneath it.

You raise an eyebrow, scanning the room within in vague hopes to see what he’s hiding from, but it’s too crowded and the faces are too strange for you to take note of anyone.

“Why are you out here?”

The man’s countering question snaps your attention back to him. He’s composed himself again, spine straight and those broad shoulders rolled back in that same impeccable posture that makes you want to side-eye him.

“I asked you first,” you settle upon saying—it’s childish, sure, but you’re feeling immature.

He seems to ponder your demand for a moment, staring at you stoically while you stand there unyielding. Finally, he moves, turning and peeking just barely into the doorway before seemingly finding what he wanted and turning back to you. “Marie Imunlaukr.”

“You say as if I should know the name?”

Somehow even with the mask you can tell he’s raising an eyebrow. “Yes.”

“I’m new to the city, my guy. You think my first order of business is memorizing the Imunlaukr family tree?” You’ve butchered the name on purpose—the accent’s entirely off, emphasis on the wrong syllable, but your attempt at humor goes over his head, which is a feat considering how stupidly tall he is. He doesn’t even crack a smile over it.

“She has three daughters,” he tells you, like it’s an explanation. The look you give him—despite the mask on your face—apparently says everything you want it to say, because he continues before you can speak. “She’s been insisting I dance with them all evening, one after the other.”

“Oh, how horrible.” You lift your hand, pressing the back to your forehead and tilting your head back as if you were about to faint. “Being forced to dance with beautiful young women dressed to the nines, however will you survive this night?”

“Yes, well, I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“Excuse you?” You wrinkle your nose, not entirely exaggerating the offense. “You know nothing about me, maybe I’ve been dancing with beautiful young women dressed to the nines all night—didn’t think of that, did you?”

“You haven’t. You’ve simply been wandering about. You spent a lot of time waving down waiters for food, but,” he looks pointedly at the crystal flute of dandelion wine resting on the wood right next to your elbow, “you haven’t taken a single sip of that dandelion wine.”

“So you have been following me,” you accuse again. “Or watching me anyway, creep.”

Apparently taken by surprise again, he blinks once more, face still so very frigid. “No. I just keep noticing you around the ballroom.”

“Why’s that, then?”

“You’re hard to miss.”

It’s strange. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he was trying to flirt with you—or testing the waters to see how receptive you are to it, anyway—but the words aren’t spoken with the arrogant lilt you’re so used to at events like these, and they’re not accompanied by those horrid smirks that men like him love to employ. Rather, they’re said matter-of-factly, as if you should know very well that you’re attracting attention in such a manner. Yet you can’t be attracting that much attention, because everyone else has been ignoring you. It’s only been this fiery-haired man staring at you from across the room.

Apparently, you spend too long pondering over his last statement because he breaks you from your train of thought.

“Your turn.”

“My turn?”

He nods. “I told you why I left the ballroom. Now you tell me why you did.”

You eye him, still not entirely convinced that it had been coincidence and he hadn’t followed you, but he has a point. So you turn slightly and gesture out at the grapes below. “Came to see the view.”

He’s quiet for a moment. You glance back at him to find him staring at you, not unlike the way you’d been catching him doing in the ballroom, but up close you can see how his eyes are locked on the way the body chain on your upper thigh sparkles through your dress and draws attention to your leg through the slit. In the dark, with the golden light of the ballroom behind him, you think it’s probably even more striking.

When he realizes you’ve noticed his staring, his eyes jump to your face and he stands straighter, rolling those shoulders back and clearing his throat. “I can’t say there’s much to see out here at night.”

There’s a quip on the tip of your tongue, a tease about how he certainly thinks there’s a view of some kind from how he’d just eyed you up, but you can’t figure him out well enough to properly gauge how he’d react.

“Well, I won’t have another chance to see it, so I’m not wasting this.”

His brow furrows beneath his mask. “If you got an invitation for tonight you should be on the guest list for future events. Not all of them are this late.”

You hum lightly, not really wanting to conjure up an excuse so instead choosing to turn your back on him and lean over the balustrade again. Behind you, your newfound companion shifts, then approaches the barricade about a foot away from you to mirror your position with forearms leaning against it and hands laced together.

“I mean it,” he says quietly. “This is nothing compared to how it looks in the daylight, especially at sunset.”

“You come often, then?”

He reaches over with his right hand to tug at his glove again. It’s the second time he’s done it; your eyes are drawn there, quietly wondering what his hands might look like beneath the lavish suede. They’re large, with long fingers, and you’d imagine soft and fairly well manicured from the rest of his appearance; you wonder if the gloves are a part of his normal wear. He seems like the type.

“You could say that.”

“That has got to be the most vague response you could possibly give, big man.”

“I do,” he corrects, then glances down at the flute of dandelion wine. “You really haven’t even tried a taste of that.”

“I’m not much of a wine person.”

“I wouldn’t say I am either. However, dandelion wine is unique.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you like it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Then I stand by my decision. Besides, I meant I’m more of a designated driver than a drinker—less about it being wine and more about it being alcohol.”

“Ah. I understand.”

“I just took it to be polite, and it was in fancier crystal so I just decided it’d be more interesting. I think it suits me.” It’s true; the flute sparkles in the light not unlike your jewelry. It almost matches. “Not entirely sure why, but I’m not complaining.”

“The Dawn Winery is known for its dandelion wine,” your companion says simply.

You almost feel condescended to, so perhaps that’s why you wrinkle your nose and hold up the glass in your hand as you look out over the vineyard below. “Okay, but you don’t use grapes to make dandelion wine, right? Like, it’s just dandelions.”

It gets you the closest thing to a laugh you think the man is capable of. The corners of his lips quirk up subtly, just the tiniest hint of a smile, but it somehow seems genuine rather than snide. “They make traditional wine, too. That would be why they’re serving it.”

You turn to him and raise an eyebrow, forgetting that he definitely can’t see your expression due to the mask, but he seems to get the gist as he takes three long strides to stand next to you leaning on the balcony and point out over it, into the dark night, where you finally catch sight of a large, looming building beyond the lines of sturdy trellises.

“The dandelions are grown there.”

A greenhouse, then. You wonder what it looks like—likely not some aesthetically appealing, pretty glass-paned thing with blooming flowers, but a commercial one, likely made of plastic.

“I don’t get it,” you announce.

“You don’t get what?”

“The appeal. I’ve had dandelion wine—real dandelion wine, homemade with the weeds my parents and I dug up from the garden.” You tap your fingers on the wood balustrade, resting your other elbow upon it to perch your chin within your hand as you frown at the scene before you. “We’d harvest them from our yard, the whole thing’s edible you know. Leaves in salads or sauteed depending on how old they were, roots as tea, and yeah we’d make wine from the flowers but I always thought it was a waste because what they really belong in is fritters.”

“So you don’t get the appeal because… you think a winery should be selling dandelion flowers covered in batter and hand-fried?” He really is amused, voice thick with something like endearment.

“No,” you say, though you’re not entirely annoyed that he seems to be letting loose even just a little. “I just think fritters are a better use for them. But what I really meant was, like, dandelions grow everywhere! Just pluck a bunch from your garden—freeze ‘em if the first harvest isn’t enough—and make your own! What’s the point in buying some overpriced artisanal whatever when you can make it yourself?”

“Well, I’d say the point is to buy some overpriced artisanal whatever.”

He copies your exact intonation, and you might take issue with it but you’re kind of liking how clearly enamored he is by you and your little rant. Still, you roll your eyes, a smile remaining on your face.

“All right, rich boy. I see now.”

“See what?” He’s faking innocence, widening his eyes behind the mask and slackening his mouth in a picture of faux question.

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can there’s a mild commotion from behind you. You turn back, attention drawn by a pair of women—one middle-aged and the other a bit younger than you, perhaps just out of high school—speaking as they storm past the balcony you’re currently on.

Next to you, your companion lurches backward, stumbling just slightly as he takes a large step and presses his back to the wall. You raise a single eyebrow at him. Inside, you hear the two women speaking.

“He’s probably working, mom,” the younger of the pair is saying.

“He’s probably in some dark corner with his tongue down the throat of one of the maids.” Her mother huffs.

“I doubt that. It’s fine, you made us dance three times already. I don’t think one more will have an impact.”

“The final one before the night ends will be the most memorable. He can’t hide for that long.”

With that slightly ominous end, they get too far away to hear. Across from you, your companion (who you’re certain is the very man they’d been discussing) lets out a sigh of relief, though when he turns back to you he still seems a bit stressed.

You lean in slightly, speaking in a stage whisper loud enough for him to hear. “Why didn’t you tell me you had your tongue down a maid’s throat this whole time? I would have given you some privacy.”

While you’d been trying to simply alleviate the tension, what you get is far better. He laughs.

It’s not a full laugh, just a quiet exhale from his nose, but combined with that slight upturn at the corners of his lips (and the way he’s looking at you) it’s unmistakable. You can’t help your own smile, both at the action and at the way the tension in his shoulders eases.

“I assure you I’ve never done that in my life.”

“Somehow I don’t doubt it.” Now that you’ve turned around, though, you’re feeling the effects of standing still for so long. You sigh regretfully. “Wish they’d put a bench or something out here. My heels are killing me.”

“There are chairs inside if you want.”

“Aww, but it’s so loud in there.” You pout at him. “We wouldn’t be able to talk.”

“A pity. Suffer, then.”

You blink, surprised, and then you giggle at the joke. “Rude. I’ll just sit on the ground.”

He lifts an eyebrow at you, and though you’d been partially joking you decide from the look he’s giving you that you’re going to go through with it. Carefully as you ease down, you maintain eye contact as a challenge to make him watch you fall to your knees and then rest fully on the ground with your skirt billowing around you, back against the wooden railing behind you. He’s clearly more than amused, fighting back a larger smile than you’ve ever seen from him before.

“You snuck into this gala, didn’t you?”

Okay, that’s a reasonable assumption to take from that. He says it confidently, firmly, like he knows he’s right—yet he doesn’t sound accusatory at all. Rather, his voice is full of that endeared tone, and he’s still struggling to keep back that big smile.

“Maybe,” you reply coyishly, moving your leg subtly under your dress if only to watch how his eyes, as if he can’t help it, are drawn to the sparkle beneath the fabric and the teasing glimpse of your thigh. “You gonna tell on me?”

Those eyes dart back up to you, mouth slack like he’s dazed as he leans back against the wall behind him. “No, I don’t think our host has to know.”

“What a bad boy, helping a party crasher. You like me that much?”

“I suppose you’re a bad influence.”

“Mmm, perhaps. But if you’ll let me influence you further, come sit down with me.”

You’re kidding mostly, not expecting him to comply, so you’re delightfully surprised as he shakes his head and obeys your request by easing himself down across from you. How that exchange managed to convince him and all his prim and proper appearance to join you on the floor you don’t know, but you’re more than thankful. Though he maintains his impressive posture, he lets his long legs stretch out before him, bent slightly at the knee so as not to crowd you or invade your space. You find yourself shifting, moving your own legs to lay tucked next to you with the left overtop and the gown’s slit exposing just enough skin to be tantalizing.

His attention is drawn there, but he plays it off well, gaze rising to meet yours and gesturing at you. “You paid for a ball gown and a mask just to sneak in?”

“Oh, no, I made this ol’ girl. Took about four months, but it would have been faster if I hadn’t had to move. Not to mention I kinda procrastinated by making three other dresses… those are more casual,” you rush to say, laughing. “Two began as attempts at a draft for this and the other was made from scraps.”

“If they’re anything like the one you’re wearing I’m sure you look just as ravishing in them.”

Somehow, that sentence bowls you over. You’ve decided that he truly is flirting, but it takes you aback every time—it’s the strangest thing, because any change in the way he’d said it might have turned you away, but he’s so genuine that you can’t help but be flattered. For whatever reason, it’s obvious that he means it, and it’s odd that you’re so affected by the idea that he thinks you’re “ravishing” in your dress.

You think about it so long, probably staring bug-eyed and slightly gaping at him, that he pipes up before you can respond.

“So…” he trails off, tugging at his left glove again—you’ve lost count of how many times he’s done it. “You snuck in to show off your work?”

You blink at him, not entirely comprehending what he means until it suddenly hits you. “Oh! Like to gain customers? Man, that would’ve been smart…”

Your face is hot, embarrassed at making a fool of yourself in front of him, but that statement gets you your second laugh of the night.

It’s still that soft, quick exhale from his nose, nothing you’d really enjoy from someone who wasn’t a stoic, unsmiling motherfucker like the man before you. And though it’s at your expense, the warmth in your face is solidly not caused by embarrassment anymore—you find yourself almost fantasizing about making him laugh for real.

“Why did you come, then?” he asks you. He tilts his head slightly, like a confused puppy. It’s kind of cute.

You shrug, a simple toss of your shoulders as you stare out into the ballroom where the party is still in full swing. “I finished the dress and I thought it’d just be a shame not to wear it out. This masquerade seemed like as good a place as any—I mean, everyone’s wearing masks. Plus, well, you weren’t entirely wrong when you first came out here. The food’s a draw.”

“You like good food?”

“I do, quite a bit, yeah. And I don’t really get opportunities to have the kind of fancy stuff they’re serving here.” You cross your arms playfully. “Why’re you asking me so many questions about myself, then? Finally gonna turn me in to whoever’s running this show?”

“No.” There’s amusement in his voice, and you like it a lot, the way he’s letting his guard down slightly. “I just want to know more about you. You’re… enthralling.”

Something about the way he’s staring at you, and the way his mouth remains quirked in that charming little smile, makes the heat in your face intensify. You have to avert your gaze, still so very unused to him, but you can still feel his eyes on you and you’re not entirely opposed to it.

“You’re getting bold, big man,” you say, biting back a smile.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all.”

The two of you fall quiet for a moment—nothing uncomfortable, exactly, as you shuffle just slightly closer to him and his eyes seem to inspect your face.

A brisk breeze rustles the trees nearby. It sweeps through the layers of chiffon that brush your ankles, caressing your bare left arm as it catches the long cape sleeve of the right, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. Inadvertently, a shiver rushes down your spine, and you’re suddenly disappointed that it’s nighttime for another reason—you haven’t dressed for the weather.

“Cold?”

You blink, having to purposefully snap yourself out of your daze at your companion’s question. “Mhm, a little…”

Shifting across from you, he pushes off the wall, and you’re mildly surprised as he lifts his hands to his lapels and shrugs that finely made dress coat off his broad shoulders. He then leans over and closes the gap between you to hover over your body and drape the heavy fabric around your torso. He’s notably chaste about it, gloved fingers only just briefly brushing your shoulders as he lets go and then pulls back to settle back down against the wall again.

You reach up to hold the garment around you, more than thankful for the warmth that it immediately provides and admiring the intricate embroidery that you’ve now been granted a closer look at, running your thumb over the gilded thread. You’re so used to his type dousing themselves with absurdly expensive cologne, but the jacket really just smells clean, with maybe a little hint of hair product. It’s unexpectedly nice.

“Ah, so he’s a gentleman. They teach you that move in boarding school?” you tease, voice lilting. It’s only half a joke, though; you really do appreciate the gesture, not the least because the garment is heavy and nicely made and feels really good on your shoulders, cutting through the wind’s soft chill easily.

“No,” he replies simply, right hand sliding over to tug at his left glove. Now that he’s been left in just his dress shirt, you’re awarded a peek at a sliver of skin, his wrist, and you find yourself wondering about his hands again.

Maybe you’d been wrong about them being soft and hidden beneath gloves at all times; maybe they’re calloused, maybe you’re selling him short and he has done some manual labor in his life. He certainly seems fit enough.

“What about your mask?”

Your attention snaps from his hands to his face. “What about it?”

“You made your dress, did you make your mask, too?”

You nod.

“Then you can work with leather, too? Awfully multitalented.”

It takes you a moment to follow the question, not really understanding how he got to leather from your papier mache mask, but then you realize that his must be leather and you’ve done such a good job with yours that he’s naturally assumed it is, too. “Oh! No, no this is papier mache. I’m flattered you thought otherwise, though.”

He blinks. “It is? That’s incredible, I never would have known.”

“Thank you. I wish I could work with leather, though.” You think back to all the masks you’d seen around the ballroom earlier that night. “I kept looking at everyone back inside and wanting to take a closer look.”

Shifting a little, your companion tilts his head slightly, gesturing up at his own face. “Would you like to see mine?”

Your eyes widen in surprise and excitement, lips parting as you sit up and shift your own posture so your sitting on your heels. “Would I? Please!”

He lifts his hand to remove the mask. You reach for it giddily, rising up on your knees to get closer. That small half-smile graces his lips as he hands it over, and you take it from him as if it’s made of glass, marveling at it as you turn it over to inspect the craftsmanship.

“I’ve always loved leatherwork,” you sigh. The mask is expertly made, not that you expected anything less. You’re certain it fits his face like a second skin. Allowing yourself to trace your thumb along the features, you turn it over and look at the back—the leather is brown underneath whatever treatment had been done to make the outside gold, and the skin of your thumb catches on the painted clouds and sun as you run it over the outward surface. It ties with two red silk ribbons—the same color as his hair, certainly to blend in when he has it on—attached to eyelets on either side. You thread your fingers through them, wistful, because you’re sure the ribbon alone probably cost more than everything you currently wear.

For a moment, you debate removing your own mask and trying it on. That thought is dashed from your mind, however, when your gaze lifts from the gorgeous paint and falls upon your companion.

His eyes are locked on where your hand is still tangled in the ribbon, which you take advantage of to inspect his face. It’s kind of amazing how much the mask concealed considering just how fitted it was to the man’s facial features. He’s handsome. Annoyingly so—you’re so used to these rich, arrogant men attempting to flirt with you being ugly as sin, thinking an expensive suit and cufflinks can make up for their rancid personalities and receding hairlines. Just like all those bold yet courteous comments that seem to be his brand of flirting, he breaks the mold by looking like a goddamn model with thick lashes and sculpted cheekbones and that jawline (which, admittedly, wasn’t covered by the mask but it’s hard not to take note now that you’re inspecting his appearence). Without the mask you can see how nicely his bangs frame his pretty face, and you think that the high ponytail he’s pulled his hair up in—which has stayed so very pristine for all the hours you’ve been seeing him—looks so nice now that the facial covering has been removed. The attractiveness matches his stupidly large frame, you suppose, in that they’re unusual for men you find when you do this kind of thing. Rich people shouldn’t be allowed to be hot.

You realize then that he’s dropped the stiff, perfect posture he’d been retaining even when the two of you first sat down—instead he’s shifted, one long leg sprawled out and stretching so close you could place a hand on his calf, the other bent so that he can rest one arm across it as he seems to lean in towards you.

And his eyes (they’re such a pretty deep brown now that you can see them) still haven’t moved from your hand.

He apparently seems to realize that you’re staring at him then, because his gaze suddenly averts and then comes back to meet your own eye, blinking silently as if breaking himself from a daze. His mouth parts slightly, Adam's apple bobbing thickly.

“We should—” He breaks off, clears his throat, shakes his head—then pulls that extended leg back towards his body. “We should probably go back in. It’s getting late.”

You pout (mostly because you like the way his eyes are drawn to your lower lip, the way they stare at it), but nod in agreement. Expecting him to ask for you to return the mask you’re still holding, you’re surprised when he simply rises to his feet. It takes you a moment due to your gown and the brainpower required to make sure you don’t flash your companion, but you manage to maneuver yourself to a position where you can follow his lead. By the time you’ve untucked your legs from beneath you his hand is before your face.

You look at it, then divert your gaze upward to meet his eyes. He’s standing taller than you remember (those legs are freakishly long) but it’s probably not hindered by the stark-straight posture you’d forgotten about. The hand before you is palm up, clearly an offer to help you to your feet, and the other arm is tucked neatly behind his back. It’s almost like he’s offering a dance.

Taking it, you’re not surprised when he effortlessly pulls you to your feet, considering the way he’d so easily caught you during your first encounter this evening (damn, it feels so long ago). A giddy feeling still rushes through you at the thought of his strength, though—that’s new, you hadn’t felt like some blushing high schooler when you’d run into him before.

You are surprised when he doesn’t let go, though. His fingers feel large against yours, wrapped around them like he’s some fairytale prince. That comparison is only hammered home when he leans down and kisses the back of your hand.

It’s stupid how much it affects you. You’re entirely flustered, face burning hot as your mind fogs up in surprise. He doesn’t abandon that pristine posture, back straight as he bows at the waist and presses his lips to your hand. Your skin is set alight by the touch. He glances up at you through his eyelashes and you’re terrified that he might somehow be able to hear your rapidly beating heart.

“Diluc,” he says finally, lips brushing against your skin when he speaks.

“Huh?” All too focused on the hand he’s still holding and the lingering feeling of the kiss, the word makes no sense to your addled brain.

“Diluc Ragnvindr,” he repeats, that now-familiar subtle smile gracing his lips (they’re soft—so soft, unbelievably soft, what the fuck) as he straightens up to his full, substantial height. “My name.”

“O—Oh,” you stutter out. The name rings a distant bell, but your mind is still too foggy to fully think it through.

You’re still slightly dazed and more than a little flustered when he—Diluc—still doesn’t let go of your hand. Instead, he turns around and maneuvers his grasp on it to fully hold it. He leads you through the doorway and starts off… somewhere, you don’t know where, but the steady hold he has on your hand and the way he guides you through the ballroom with ease make you decide to follow him wherever it might be. It’s certainly down on the first floor as he makes his way to the grand staircase and pulls you down the stairs after him, moving gently and slowly so that you don’t fall.

You’ve left your glass of dandelion wine out on the balcony, you realize suddenly, but you don’t care enough to go back and retrieve it. It’s not as if you’d been drinking it, anyway.

When he reaches the bottom of the steps, Diluc stops abruptly. You very nearly run square into his broad back, but he reacts quickly, moving his arm to pull you next to him rather than letting your momentum carry you. You wonder for a brief moment why, but then you see him looking directly at a blonde woman currently making a beeline for the two of you. She’s not dressed for this kind of party, in fact you think she’s in a maid dress, but her focus is locked on your companion.

Next to you, he sighs in mild chagrin. “It seems I’ve been sorely missed.”

“Who’s that?” you ask.

“She’s in charge of the event,” he tells you smoothly, as if you should know why the event planner would want to talk with him.

It hits you when he lets go of your hand and meets the woman halfway. You vaguely hear him greet her as Adelinde, too preoccupied by the sudden realization of why his name sounded so familiar to even attempt to eavesdrop.

Diluc Ragnvindr. The owner of the damn winery you’re currently in. You’d just spent the night talking to the host of the party you’d crashed.

You think you might have to sit down again. Had he been leading you out, then? Is he intending to make you leave? Sure, the exit’s in the general direction of where he’d been headed—but, damn, you’d been having such a nice time. And you’d thought he agreed. He’d kissed your hand like a Disney prince, he’d given you his jacket and it’s still on your shoulders now.

He keeps looking back at you periodically, even as Adelinde urgently discusses some presumably party-related topic with him and forces him to tear his eyes from you every time he allows himself to peek.

Why? Is he making sure not to lose you so that he can truly escort you out? Or… does he want you to stay? You can’t tell at all, dumb stoic bastard.

The best choice, you decide, is to leave of your own accord. If he really is trying to make you leave, then you’ll save the embarrassment of being escorted out. But if he truly has been returning your affections like you swear he was all night, then well… a mysterious masked stranger showing up, stealing his heart, and then disappearing into the night is awfully memorable, right?

Plus, well, you’ve always been a sucker for drama.

You feel kind of like you’re in a movie—like you’re a hot superspy escaping after successfully seducing and poisoning their target or something. With his back turned, you quietly slip back into the ballroom, moving swiftly and on your tip-toes so he can’t hear the tapping of your heels against the marble floor.

By the time he realizes you’ve left, you’re already at the other side of the hall. You watch him turn away from Adelinde to find you gone and then immediately attempt to search for you, whirling about almost desperately to scan around the room. Then he catches your eye, and a thrill rushes through you as he stills, rolling those broad shoulders back to stand tall, that perfect posture returning like he wants to impress you. You bite your lip, the giddy grin stretching across your mouth impossible to contain. Blowing him a farewell kiss, you turn heel and dart out.

There’s half a moment, as you exit those enormous double doors and open into the hall, where you think you might get lost in this huge manor. Then there’s half a moment where you want to do it on purpose—lead Diluc out of the ballroom for greater privacy than even the balcony provided. But instead you turn towards the main entrance and dart out, dashing down the steps toward the main road.

You keep going a good few blocks, solidly far enough away that you can pause for a moment and take off your mask to call an uber. Even as you stand and wait, even in the car on the way back to your apartment, it hasn’t fully sunk in; you’re still buzzing with adrenaline, and your hand is still tingling (the palm and the base of your fingers where Diluc had taken hold, and the back where his lips had touched it). You feel like goddamn royalty in your hand-sewed dress and thrifted accessories.

You burst through your front door but, upon realizing that it’s far too late at night and your roommates are most definitely asleep, you hush yourself, stifling the giggles that are bubbling up within you like some high schooler coming home from prom as you make your way to your room.

Resting your weight against your closed door, you reach down to remove your heels. It’s then that Diluc’s jacket shifts on your shoulders, and you realize you’ve apparently fled without returning the thing. You pull it off to look at it, shoving off the door and letting your shoes disappear into some forgotten corner of your room.

This time, as you stumble to your bed and flop down on it, you don’t bother to hold back the giggles—you muffle them with the fabric of the black suit jacket you’ve stolen, running a thumb over that intricate gold embroidery.

Well, you’ll have to give it back at some point.

[falconcoast]

the parent trap | diluc x reader | one.

one. ashes to ashes

while you look at your wedding photos, you think about the ashes that diluc had left in his wake; dawn and phoenix. 

masterlist!

author’s note; new series! please say hello in my inbox or dms if you have anything to say, whether it regards this series or anything else for that matter! :) 

the sun had begun its descent in the sky, turning the light a hazy golden color. the winery was alight, fairy lights decking out the ins and out it and portraits from an era long gone. the marble flooring glimmered under the diamond chandeliers, and there was chatter down the corridor. 

as you walked down the halls in your white dress, you heard a soft chuckle come out of your newly wedded husband whose arm was linked with yours. diluc’s hands were shaking slightly from excitement, fresh from signing the marriage certificate, and golden band that matched your own sitting on his fourth finger. “you look stunning right now.” 

“are you saying that just because i’m your wife now?” you asked with a grin, turning to look at him. 

“you’re always pretty to me,” he countered with a smile, eyes crinkled. “but you’re even prettier now that you have that ring on your finger.” 

following the noise from the ballroom, you and your husband opened the door to a crowd of cheers. you laughed, absolute joy radiating from your aura as you placed a hand on his chest. he only looked down at you with a loving smile, adjusting his red tie before sweeping you into the crowd. 

the night slipped away in a blur of jubilance. the guests raised a glass to your marriage, and danced under an array of chandelier lights. music and laughter were abundant. there were so many photographs taken and glasses of wine picked out by your new husband that were drunk. it was a night you wouldn’t trade for the world. 

as the evening settled down and a crescent moon was stamped into the sky, you headed outside and to the grape fields. the breeze carried hints of fading music and the fresh smell of water from the far lake. in the midst of your slightly drunk haze, you looked on to see fireworks flashing the sky shades of yellow, orange, and white. 

“it’s like something out of a fairytale. you’re really something,” you murmured, turning to your husband.

“it’s nothing short of what you deserve, my darling,” diluc laughed, kissing the back of your hand. momentarily, you placed a hand on his cheek, tracing the outline of his jaw and cheekbones. you pulled him for a kiss as his hands wrapped around your waist, smiling to yourself. 

afterwards, you touched your forehead against his own, staring into the ruby color of his eyes. “i love you so much, diluc.”

“and i, you.”

you could practically hear him say the same words he had said twelve years ago in the fields. looking down, you thumbed your fingers over one of the last pictures you had remaining from that night, pulled out from your nightstand’s drawer. he was perfect in his little black suit with the red tie, crimson hair messily sat on his face but smile half open in the middle of a laugh. timeless and classic of a love stricken diluc. 

for a moment, you held the photograph close to your chest, as if to manifest that night back into reality. to when he had loved you, wholeheartedly. to that night where you weren’t worried about whether or not he would follow after your argument. to before the only thing that he left with you was your daughter. to before it had all gone wrong. 

but when you pulled back, you had to remember that that was nothing but a dream. all that was left of him was your daughter. 

“miss y/n!” the sharp voice of zhongli chimed from somewhere out front, accompanied by the click of the car door. immediately, you opened the drawer to your nightstand and slammed the picture back in. “good afternoon! we’re back from the airport, right on schedule.”

“mr. zhongli!” you said as you rose from your bed and to the open window. peering down, you looked at the front of your manor. “is she with you?”

“yes, miss dawn is home from her summer camp across the sea,” he replied, looking up at you as he pulled out her little red suitcases from the trunk. you watched as the fence gate opened with a short wave. she skipped excitedly down the stone path, gridded suit skirt contrasting the bright colors of primrose. with a start, you quickly made your way downstairs. 

she’s growing up so quickly, you thought immediately. as you walked down the stairs, you could see that her hair was short, and she had grown a little over an inch. your daughter spun around, taking in her surroundings. 

“oh my goodness. welcome home from camp, dawn!” you said breathlessly as she turned to you. her eyes widened immediately. 

“mother!” she cried happily as she leaped into your arms. you caught her with ease, tears creasing your eyes as she clung onto you as if it was the first time she had ever met you. she pulled away for a moment. “i can’t believe it’s you!”

“and i can’t believe it’s you!” you replied with a little smile as you brushed away your tears. 

dawn reminded you of diluc the more she got older. she had his sharp eyes and bright red hair. she had somehow inherited his laugh too, gentle and looming. but dawn’s smile was what took you out; bright and an exact match like her father’s. it was a little pinch to your heart. 

briefly, you decided to push aside your thoughts of your ex-husband. “my, you cut your hair! who did that for you?”

“a girl i met at camp,” dawn paused. “do...do you hate it?”

“hate it? of course not!” you replied. “and what is this? your ears are pierced as well? you’re becoming quite the little young lady, aren’t you?”

she laughed before swiping the tears from her own eyes. “darling, are you alright? what is it?” you asked. 

“it’s just--” her voice welled up in her throat as she hiccuped. “i’m sorry, mother! i missed you so much!”

“oh, dawn,” you said while holding her close to your chest and running your hands through her hair. “i know. it seems like it’s been forever.”

“you have no idea, mother. no idea at all,” she cried into your shoulder and you placed your hand on her back. soon, she stopped her crying and pulled away from you.

“right then, tell me all about your time at camp. who’s this lovely girl who cut your hair, hm?”

there was a portrait of you sitting in the dawn winery wine cellar, and one of the few pictures he had left of you. the rest were probably torn in half or swept up by the maids when you had first divorced. it was you sitting in the backyard of this mansion, where you had first moved when you were first married. the sun was behind you like a halo, and the vineyards ready for harvest in the background. you looked something like an angel, save for the wings. there was a carefree smile on your face, still completely immersed in the honeymoon stage of your marriage. 

diluc crossed his arms, looking at the portrait in the dingy light. he could only wonder what you were doing right now. were you remarried now? were you still designing wedding dresses across the sea, far from where he stood?  where did he go wrong? 

before he could think any longer, his phone rang with a notification. right. he needed to pick up the only piece of you that still remained with him from the airport: phoenix, your daughter. 

for a moment, he thought about the only piece of him that remained with you: dawn, phoenix’s twin sister. 

taglist; none for now, but let me know if you’d like to be on here!

[kobedivision]

Lovesick Isekai Outfits

Ren - “The Lovestruck Musician” (Bard)

Quote: “Come one, come all and gather around, for I shall tell you a tale of love so profound!”

A lighthearted bard that’s quickly becoming popular in the Light Kingdom, no one knows when and where he came from but doesn’t question it due to his friendly nature. People love to stop and listen to his songs and ballads and he ends up with quite a fortune each day. Lately however, he’s been singing songs that’s more on the romantic side leading people to believe that the beloved must be in love and he is, he longs for the day to hold his darling in his arms and call them his.

“I’d give anything and pray to those above, for just one precious moment with my dearest love.”

Max - “The Beast of the Dark Kingdom” (Werewolf)

Quote: “Tonight’s a full moon. Run.”

There are legends and rumors of a great and terrible beast who haunts the forests outside the Dark Kingdom, no one can ever give a proper description of said beast, only saying that it’s appearance is “much too terrifying” to describe. It suddenly showed up out of nowhere one day, attacking and killing campers, knights who were on patrol, and a few animal poachers. It had completely terrified the populace and the Kingdom has forbidden anyone from entering the forest. Any and all attempts to eradicate it have all failed miserably, with each hunter meeting the same gruesome fate.

“Haah…You’re so stupid, you should’ve just ran when you had the chance.”

Kaiji - “The Blood ‘Maiden’” (Vampire)

Quote: “Welcome, dear guest! I hope you enjoy your stay!”

A beautiful noble who’s family is one of the Dark Kingdom’s elite nobles. “She” runs a popular winery and is known to make the richest wine but with a slightly bitter taste, the people who can afford such a delicacy are addicted to it and always come back for more and more, the “maiden” always happy to provide with a large grin and sadistic eyes. When asked what the recipe is for “her” infamous wine, “she” giggles and says “it’s a secret~”. Unbeknownst to them, deep down in “her” cellar are her victims, missing people who “she” drains them of their blood and leaves their hollowed carcasses in a ditch.

“Ahahaha! You should see the look on your face! Don’t worry, you’ll make an excellent drink~”

[yostresswritinggirl]

Abandoned By The Altar

Part 1; When you were young.

A timeline oriented story focused on your once perfect childhood relationship as Diluc's bride to be, soon becoming estranged after the death of his father and his neglect. You only wish now that he looks at you the same way he did when you heard you were supposed to be together forever when you were young.

Pairings -> Diluc x Reader (Currently both young)

Word Count -> 3611

Themes -> Initial Fluff, don't be fooled by the title and summary, not yet at least lol-

Series -> #Bonafide Specials (100 followers event) Part 2

Warnings -> None, tooth-rotting adorkable fluff, this is part 1

The redness of his hair poked out like the moon in a blanketed, dark sky at the dead hours of the sky. His glaring flame of a hair starking in contrast against the sea of cecilias.

There were three knocks to the Winery that day and his father, renowned businessman, had greeted a new set of faces to their humble abode.

Diluc was but a mere child who had lived for eight years and he had exercised his mind to remember the people that had come and go. They were always regal in aura, high in stature, brimming with promises of riches. This occasion had the same weight, but with a lesser intensity with the politeness the merchant family carried.

As usual, business matter were talked about by the adults and Diluc, the young had no means to pry.

So when he finally stared at you, he was pleasantly surprised. Visitors were usually taller, more mature, and came there to talk about adult stuff... never had he met a child the same as he come with those that come talk about finances.

You slightly flinched back when your stares connected, from what he did not know why, but you carry the same shock and intrigue he felt. "H-Hello there!" Crepus ghosted a look at the two children with a wistful and amused look, softening at the sight. His sole child had always been demure and the distance from Mondstadt had kept him away from opportunities of friendship, so when your parents revealed you as their tag-along to their business proposal, he thought it was too good a coincidence to pass. He, however, didn't expect Diluc to be the first to talk.

"Hi, hi!" You bounded up to him as if barreling, your initial nerves dominated by childlike wonder as your eyes darted over him, so fast even that he doesn't know where they had already gone. "Your- your hair, eyes! So pretty!" You placed your hands on his shoulders enthusiastically, missing a distant horrified gasp and a slight shush. "Like, like... fire tornadoes!"

"Fire tornadoes...?" Diluc asked warily and you vigorously explained how the wildness of his hair carried the chaos of tornadoes that had caught a raging flame in its razor winds.

You had always been an eccentric child, your mother reasoned with the older Ragnvindr but earned a hearty chuckle. No harm done, he assured as he can't seem to take his eyes off the two of you, even tho his business was right in front of him.

After proper introductions between the two children, and a promise of a longer talk, your supposed quick visit somehow made its way to dinner.

The many servants of the Winery had caught wind of the sudden changes in the itinerary and they were quick to adapt on the preparations of dinner. In the backdoors of kitchens and maid halls there were surprising chatter that accompanied them as they work. "Young Master Diluc and the merchant's little girl seems to be getting along quite well," the nanny and the other maids started the gossip with fervor at the intriguing news. "It's greatly the reason why Master Crepus had entertained them this long, the gardener caught wind of how amused he is just watching the two interact." When the banquet table was completed before the diners had arrived, a lot of the servants hid behind the cracks of the doors to watch the spectacle for themselves, to guarantee if the rumor that spread like wildfire was true and not some hallucination.

There was a quiet series of gasps and 'aw's when the main door opened to reveal the owners of the house and its current honored guests. The towering adults parted to display you clutching to Diluc's sleeve as he guided you to extra long table, a display that you seem to not be used to based on their observations as you felt lost on which large seat to take.

And the young master thought of this as the perfect opportunity to show off the things he had learned in his sessions of proper etiquette. Locating the nearest seat, Diluc pulled the chair out and gestured you to take a seat before gently pushing it back under the table. Satisfied with the distance, he made his way opposite of you as a sign of respect for his guest.

Crepus, your mother and father watched in amusement... as you two took your seats at the other end of the table farthest from them. But they paid no mind to call you two over when they saw how engrossed you are over your own conversation.

The chatter that night was boisterous and lively on all parties, for besides business and wine, all had talked with the atmosphere of good friends.

And dinner turned into a promise of a sleepover, how generous of the Ragnvindr family. The master of the house simply reasoned that Mondstadt was still a distance from the Winery, and it was too dangerous to travel at this time of night. But the servants knew more than they had let on, for they too felt the somberness in the eyes of Diluc when your parents announced your need to departure.

At this point, this whole visit was now held up by the fact that it was their young master's opportune time for a play date.

The whole day you two had been inseparable. Either being connected physically or just naturally stuck to each other's side through and through. Despite his innate nature to be a recluse or lack of communication among his age group, Diluc find himself not at all minding the way you stuck close to him like this.

When everyone else had departed, you and Diluc were still wide awake in the parlor in front of the blazing fireplace, your hands buried in his wild hair as you talked about your travels before coming to Mond. The young man hums as replies with his eyes closed, concentrated on the way you weave your hands through his fiery locks as you made tiny braids here and there.

Once Crepus had finished tonight's negotiation and seek out his own child (of which was missing from his room) he happened upon the two of you coddled up between a fort of pillows and blankets. The fireplace long been extinguished as the children slumbered.

You were noble not by blood, but by high commerce. Your parents had been travelling all over the continent to procure business opportunities and partnerships, and their duo of both financial prowess and economic behavior mastery had earned them a place in high society and funding. Noble merchants who had found themselves in the city of freedom with their sole child in tow.

The true goal was to establish at least one commerce ports and business services in EVERY nation in Teyvat, and that requires a lot of scouting and connections to do so.

Because of the constant move, you had seen A LOT and met quite a thousand of people in every walks of life. At your young age you barely remember them all truly but the loneliness within you was not something that can easily be quenched, as travelling meant leaving everyone behind for an indefinite time.

Diluc was a one of a kind boy, most probably because you had yet to step foot in the land of the Pyro Archon, but his red hair intrigued you to wit's end. It was reminiscent of a campfire that protects you from the cold of the night, the last hues of sunset in the horizon over the cliffs of your expedition, the sweet taste of fresh strawberries hand picked from the Inazuman plantations.

So at the news of settling down for a few years in Mondstadt reached your ears, unadulterated tears of pure happiness flowed out of your eyes so shockingly that you didn't even notice them immediately.

Not until you felt small hands cup your cheeks, its thumbs fervently swiping at the wetness. Your wide eyes met Diluc's worried ones and he asked if you're alright with a gentleness you've never heard from him. You grinned, "We can play again tomorrow, Diluc!"

And the three adults in the distance sighed in great relief as your mood lifted.

You cupped back Diluc's cheeks to reciprocate and gasped in overdramatic wonder at how soft and squishy they were, squealing, and then tackling him back into the soft beds of Cecilias.

"They've really become quite close ever since we touched Mondstadt," Crepus smiled behind his cup of tea and reveling himself with the warmth it brought to his throat.

"Honestly, our daughter needs to learn manners after him. She's always been so rowdy, I was scared the young master would have run away from her brashness," your mother quipped in before picking up her own cup to savor.

Crepus shared a glance with your father as they both found their gaze back to the both of you. "Practically inseparable," they hum, "I'd say we might as well seal them together to make sure our bloodlines prosper."

Your mother choked. "Are you implying- Diluc and (Y/N)?!" At the mention of your names, you and your companion turned your heads to the adults. "An arranged marriage? At such an early age too!"

"What's an arranged marriage?" The children spat out at the same time, informing the older people of the audience they had brought upon themselves. Crepus smiles warmly at the sight of your tiny arms wrapped around Diluc's shoulder as the redhead holds a Cecilia in place by your ear.

"It's a serious promise," the Ragnvindr started, "it makes sure that both of the people stays together forever their whole lives. After a grand ceremony." Diluc knew when his father talked about serious business and that's when he usually pays attention to his words, even if majority of the time it's something he barely understands.

But the thought of being able to be with each other together forever, the young boy slowly turned his head to face you, which urged you to look at him too. There was the same color of his hair splattered at his cheeks, but his gaze on you was wide and wondrous, as if asking a silent question, "I would love to be with Diluc forever! How about you, Diluc? Do you, do you?"

"I-I do! Yes!" The young redhead tried to match your enthusiasm as the older men chuckled, your mother silently dying at the predicament.

"Then that settles it!" Crepus mused, "Even tho I didn't expect my son to be the one getting proposed on."

April 29th, the day before Diluc's 9th birthday, the first birthday of his that you would be in attendance.

The servants of the house had been busy preparing for the grand event for days now, and tasks were more than piled up on the day before the true date. Hence why you'd find yourself playing with Diluc outside of the mansion without adult supervision. Your parents had helped in organizing the party with Diluc's father, as it also doubles as an opportunistic moment of meeting nobles and honorable businessmen all over Teyvat.

"Are you excited for tomorrow, Dilu? Just imagine the towering cake, so many food, and toys!" You two were passing by the grapevines of the winery, fascinated by the shining grapes under the direct gaze of the sun.

"Mmm, there would be a lot of people tho, lots of talking and talking," you plucked a healthy looking grape from the vine before you finally looked at your companion, finding a cute little pout between his smooth and chubby cheeks. "You know I'm not good around many people."

You cooed at the confession, indulging momentarily by patting his cheek (Diluc raised an eyebrow at your weird obsession over them) before patting his shoulder, "Well, well, as your fi- financee?" Fiancée, he corrected. "Yeah that! I'll be right by your side, if you need help, I'll be right there!"

When you saw him relax under your enthusiastic grin, you patted yourself on the back before expertly throwing the lone grape into your mouth. And crunched.

"Well, I guess you're much better with people- are you okay?"

The sourness. The undeniably waxy peel. Your teeth colliding with the core seed. Diluc watched your face contort from surprise to disgust to pure horror as you frantically whip your head from side to side in search of something, yet finding nothing you slightly bow your head.

"(Y/N), hey, what's wrong-" he reached his hand out and under to cup your jaw and raise your face to meet his, but in a manner of time seemingly slowing down, these events happened: you opened your mouth to discard the disgusting grape to the ground when in some funny coincidence, Diluc's open hand reached out under your chin, the wet and slimey prune of a grape plopping on his palm spot-on with a sound of disgust escaping you.

When you'd open your eyes, you gasped at the sight before you. Whipping your head up, you've seen the most horrified look Diluc had ever worn as he stared straight at his hand, barely moving and breathing.

When one of the maids finally caught sight of the two children, she'd found you crying in distress as you wailed 'I broke Diluc, I broke him!' while the boy himself stood and looked just the same as you'd seen him last, still staring at the disgusting grape in his hand.

The festivities started the next day with you not by his side.

Guests were already swarming in given that the night has started its period. Crepus made sure that all of the preparations are in accordance with the party, yet he knew just how distressed and frantic his son has been acting, no matter how hard he tries to hide it.

He kneels in front of Diluc, finally getting his frenzied stares to settle on him. He offers a reassuring smile. "Are you looking for her?" Diluc was bashful in being caught but nodded regardless, earning a chuckle and a hand ruffling his hair. "Don't worry, she will come."

"But what if she doesn't?" His stubborn nerves replied still with uncertainty.

"You two promised to be together, no grape can easily break that," at the mention of the incident, his son gagged and whined at the reminder, causing another robust chuckle form in his throat. When Crepus has heard of the 'incident' that transpired yesterday, he had to stop himself from wheezing to comfort his own son.

At the better reminder Diluc found himself smiling again brought upon his faith on you and Crepus sighed in relief. That was when they heard a familiar voice shout from the distance.

Your little form broke through the crowd that had obscured your form, dressed up in a simple red chiffon dress and a massive white bow that holds as a belt. Crepus stepped to the side so you could approach the birthday boy yourself, presenting the red box in your hand with a trembling grip, you stood with nerve-wracking composure they've never seen you don before. "H-Happy birthday, Diluc! I uhm I'm really sorry about what happened yesterday, I really am! So I- so I bought you some gloves, so you'll never have to worry about your hands next time."

Crepus quirked an amused eyebrow at the 'next time' as he watches his son take upon the gift and opening it immediately, inside was a simple pair of white gloves with gold lines across its back and a pop button to keep it in place. When he fitted it, it was just the right size and fit his normal attire perfectly.

You watched him warily when you finally met eyes, opening your mouth to ask if he had liked it— when you were suddenly met by a hug, his fluffed up hair almost covering half of your hair. "Thank you, I like it. But you're late..." you laughed in relief as you squeezed him so tight, saying you were sorry with a giggle.

Diluc's father then watched on with a smile as the two of you held hands, disappearing in the sea of guests to mingle and admire the decorations they had put on for his birthday. At least, this time, he didn't have to worry that his son felt alone.

Your reckless imprudence and its adverse karma took a lot longer to manifest than anyone had expected. But it came with a paradoxical event both good and evil when you and Diluc were aged 10.

It was a rare occasion that it was Diluc who was visiting you (instead of the other way around) in Mondstadt's walled city. His father had the tavern to tend to that day and had entrusted Diluc's presence to you, the one who had been roaming the city for about two years now.

In your excitement and his cluelessness, you dragged your friend around the city for an impromptu tour guide. The cathedral, the statue, the HQ of Ordo Favonius; you exhausted him all the way as you somehow managed to find your way past the bridge and into the lush greenery of the outside of the walled city. He needed a breather, and you found the fresh air and quiet to be just the perfect spot.

The sound of rushing water in the distance helped as white noise for your relaxation, as you both stared up in the clear sky together, occasionally pointing at objectified clouds. At some point, Diluc had closed his eyes when the faint breeze urged him to rest more and he gave in just as easily.

The sound of your light musings grounded him just the same, together with the flowing stream and the distant pitter patter against the grass... pitter patter?

"DILUC, WATCH OUT-!" A force came bouldering against his side as he cried out in pain and shock, barreling against the grassland as he unceremoniously tumbles with the perpetrator. He snapped his eyes wide open and sat up quickly to look at what had come to your area—

And you laid there next to him, remnants of frost littering your clothes and climbing up your skin. As Diluc gathered you up in his arms, he felt the sting of the cold as he pulled your trembling form against his chest. At his peripheral he distinguished a few cryo slimes a few feet away, where he sees the dent on the grass he once laid on just moments prior.

"(Y/N)- (Y/N)! No, nonono stay with me, you're okay, please tell me you are," his body wracked in suppressed sobs as you desperately clung to his warmth. Your eyes were squeezed shut in pain as your teeth clatter and whimper from frostbite. He squeezed and pulled you closer up to his chest, desperately hoping the ice would melt before it engulfed you whole.

His gloved hands gripped at your back when he locked eyes with the slimes, watching them slowly advance to the both of you and he watched helplessly without any weapon at his arsenal to protect you two.

For the first time in his life, Diluc felt utterly useless and helpless at the face of looming death. And he prayed with eyes shut, to any Gods that spared him an ear, to give them divine intervention to help you two. To pray that there was something he can do, to pray that if only he was stronger—

And his world turned red around him.

Frost melted.

Grass charred.

Slimes dissipated.

In front of him a Vision was born.

...

A year and a half after that ordeal, you find yourself in the dimly lit hallways of Dawn Winery.

Diluc had expressed his intention to join the Knights of Favonius a day after he received his Vision, with a resolve you've never seen him wear before. He looked at you with longing yet courage of another promise, when you came to the same day. Ever since then, your visits became scarce and your play time had lessened, as you were left to watch him train in every hour of his day with either his father or one of the adept guards of the Winery.

You've never thought you'd wish to be able to wield a sword greatly to par that of a knight, if only to be trusted enough to wield the weapon against him in the guise of training. Ever since that incident everyone had treated you with utmost care and gentleness, even your dearest friend who had always gone along with your reckless spurs of action.

Today you were hoping to catch him on a day off from his sessions but it seems awfully quiet this time around and you were left to ponder with your thoughts as no one came to aid you with answers. You would press your ear against the numerous doors, linger to hear anyone, and then moved on to another if you come out empty-handed.

You were on your way to the last door of the hallway when you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You whipped your head in the thought that you had found your person of interest—

"What are you doing here?" But instead of the fiery red you were seeking for, you met a cold blue gaze that carried hidden hostility and confusion. You blinked at him as he did at you, an agonizing second passing with silence, and he opens his mouth once more to ask.

"I like your eyepatch!"

Somehow, you seem to have a knack on making people stutter on your first meetings.

Kaeya was no exception.

I didn't expect this to end with a cliffhanger holy shit, I loved writing this so much but I got caught up with so many other works and— it just became too long to continue...

Part 2 tomorrow midnight once again!

@creation-magician @boxofteenageideas @your-local-venti-simp @indigodreamtime47

[shaydeoffical]

Let’s Slip Away: Diluc x Fem Reader: Childhood Best Friend Au

Summary: You and Diluc slip away from the annual Dawn Winery Ball and confess. Reader then deals with some anxiety about the relationship and Diluc soothes them.  

Tags:

Lots of fluff, Creepus is a wonderful person, Diluc is so smooth, dancing under the moonlight, long fit.  

Diluc x Reader

Lets Slip Away

The annual Dawn Winery Masquerade Ball, the biggest ball this side of Mondstat, or it used to be. Thankfully, Diluc had successfully scaled the ball down in size a little more with each passing year. Still, it didn't make much of a difference with the ballroom still being packed tight. No matter how the guest list shrunk, people found a way to take up the same amount of space as before. There's nothing I loved more than a dance, but it was the people I couldn't stand. Everyone liked to pretend they were an evil aristocrat once their identity was concealed. A fancy dress, a decorative mask, and a new hairstyle, and everyone felt invincible. It was the same thing every year; they'd order the staff around, drink till they lost control, and leave the manor a mess. It was deplorable.

After watching a woman toss a glass on one of the maids, I lost my cool. I may or may not have tossed my grape juice on the women in retribution. The maid couldn't do it, so I had to use my position as "Master" Diluc's best friend to get away with it. What I didn't expect was for the lady's husband to toss not just the wine but the whole glass at my face. While the glass didn't bust when the base hit my head, it did leave a notable bruise, and the wine soaked through my hair, mask, and dress.

Elzer stepped in immediately to settle the issue, and instead of sticking around to get a lecture, I slipped into the garden. Hiding between several grapevines. I listened to the music pour from the house above and pouted. If I had played my cards right tonight, I would have been dancing in an empty corner with Turner or maybe even Diluc if he was free. He always saved the last dance for me. When the party started to clear a little, we'd stay in my favorite corner and have a quick dance while he whispered about he'll find a way to have the event canceled next year. But no, I was being eaten by mosquitos fighting off a headache.

Holding my mask between my hands, the once white fabric had stained dark red. Even my cream dress was littered with splotches that wrecked of dandelion wine. Sucking in my lower lip, I held back a sudden wave of sadness. It settled into my bones and swept through my limbs in a jitter. Why was I so sad? I avenged the maid and did the right thing… but my chest ached.   Curling around myself, I tucked my head between my lap. There was a time and place for crying, and a party wasn't one. Yet, there I was, sobbing into the fancy gown Diluc had hand made for me. Of course, he wouldn't be mad at me for what happened, but the guilt was eating me alive. I had ruined the evening for myself and made things harder on my friend. "There you are. I've been looking all over-. Hey, Elzer told me what happened, but he didn't mention a welt. How badly are you hurt?" Diluc pushed through the vines faster and hopped over the last row. He knelt beside me and carefully lifted my chin so he could see my face. "I'm just being a baby." I leaned back, the moonlight catching my skin. He ran his thumb over the knot on my forehead, and he clenched his teeth. "Damn bastard." He looked back at the mansion. "He might be wearing a mask, but there's only one person in Mondstat with monogram shoe buckles." "What?" I laughed; he was so serious, but the idea of a monogram shoe buckle had me drying up my tears. "Who pays for that kind of thing?" "Mr. Barker." Diluc wiped under my eyes. "Are you hurt anywhere besides your head?" "Besides the guilt of running the dress you got me and making the party harder for you to manage, I'm fine." I let it out. There was no use in pretending it wasn't bothering me. I had learned a lot about Diluc in our years of being together. While he was a very perceptive man when it came to solving crimes and putting things together, he didn't have the same skill for guessing how I felt. He's known something was wrong before, but he'd just find ways to blame himself if I didn't tell him. "I'll have you another dress made, and those Barkers aren't your fault. Ms. Barker started it, and I ended it. There's always a little drama at these events." He twirled my hair around his finger. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to stop it entirely." "Don't go blaming yourself now." I scooted so close; I was almost in his lap. "Let's just focus on the music or the sky. I know you'll have to go back in soon, so let's just relax for a moment." "Hmm, I can hear it from here. It's nice." A soft number started to play, and people passing by the window cast shadows into the courtyard. He leaned his head against mine. Minutes passed by, and the song changed, both of us just settling our nerves. "So, I guess we won't have the last dance together this year." I hummed, the thought burning at the back of my mind. "I can't go back in there like this." I forced myself to laugh, trying to get it off my chest without sounding too sad. "We don't have to go back in. Elzer can handle the end of the night speech for me, like every year." Diluc stood, reaching his hand out to me. "Milady, may I have this dance?" "Diluc…of course, you may." I pushed my insecurities down and gripped his rough hand. Being wealthy, Diluc had been trained in many different types of formal ballroom dances. When he was in the zone, there was no one but Kaeya who could match his prowess and aura. But I wasn't blessed with the same background. I was just the daughter of the maid, and while my mother was paid well, there wasn't enough money to pay for a dance instructor. However, Diluc taught me everything he knew. We use to spend hours after his class, practicing and gliding around the living room. After some time, I even got to join the classes as Diluc and Kaeya's partner. Creepus convinced my mother it was just good practice for the boys, but looking back, he just wanted me to get that experience as well. "You okay?" Diluc gently gripped my waist as I spun back into his arms. "Yes, I was just thinking about when you taught me how to dance." I closed the gap between us and started moving with the song. Diluc took charge after a few more movements, and I gave up trying to lead. It was always a fun game for us to try to take charge, but I normally gave in fairly fast. Every now and then, he'd let me lead, but I often stepped on his toes when I did.   The ground wasn't level as a dance floor, so it was easier to just follow Diluc. Since he took the first step, he was able to find the best footholds. When we did hit a small hump, we'd steady each other and share a small smile. It wasn't a seamless performance like when we were on solid ground, but it was fun. It also gave us a reason to cling tighter to each other. His broad chest was always so warm; there was nothing more pleasant than laying my head there and closing my eyes as we swayed under the moon. "That was always so much fun." Diluc spun me out, then back into his arms. "Father use to watch us practice, he never told me directly, but Elzer said it was one of his favorite memories." Diluc pressed his lips into a line, eyes turning back to the manor. "He always loved this event, but I can't help but hate it." "I'm not a fan of the crowds or the entitled guests. But I do enjoy dancing with you." I laid my head on his shoulder, bringing him back to the present. "It seems we only dance when this event rolls around. And I can't help but wish for more moments like this. So, while I understand your distaste, I do think Creepus had the right idea. This is a chance for all of us to come together do something we all loved…it just is hard to enjoy when other people are so entitled." "I feel the same way. Dancing with you, it's always my favorite part of the ball." We swayed back and forth in a tight embrace, the music fading out and our footwork growing sloppy. "There's been so much to do recently. I'm afraid I've neglected you." "Mother told me that as friends get older, drifting apart is normal… I'm just glad you're still here with me. No matter how short that time is." He hugged me tighter, inhaling a sharp breath. "Maybe friends do, but my feelings for you are much stronger than just friends." I gasped before I could stop myself. Crickets chirped in the distance, and the lighting bugs emerged just as the party started to close. This moment was very much real…but did he really just confess? "You want to be with me?" I slowly looked up, grabbing the sides of his suit. "As more than friends?" "I do." He pulled back a little, glancing at the ground. "How do you feel? Could you ever love me as more than a friend? I know it's selfish to ask that of you, given the dangers that follow my line of duty. But I can't deny myself any longer." "My heart is going to jump out of my chest, Luc." Grasping his hand, I pressed it to my wrist. He smiled, rubbing his thumb over my pulse. "I want to be yours, and you mine. To be honest, I've had feelings for you for a while now. I just thought you didn't return them." Heat climbed up my face, and I looked away to hide it. While his confession was so smooth, mine was energetic and messy. Why couldn't I keep it calm? "That settles it then." He stepped closer, our eyes locking and fingers lacing. "We'll be together from here on out." A warm breeze went by, picking up the bottom of my ruined skirt. "Next time there's a dance, you won't have to leave my side, nor I yours. There will be no flying wine glasses or uncouth guests. We can dance the night away without worry or interruption." "I don't know if a party could ever go that smoothly." I pushed his hair back and cupped his face. "Unless we barred over half the guest list." "If you don't think I'd do that, then you underestimate how far I'll go to make you happy." His checks tined red, barely illuminated by the moon. "Oh, I don't doubt you, Master Diluc. But I'm not hard to please, we could dance in the living room like we use to, and I'd be the happiest person alive." I tugged him closer, wrapping my arms around his hips, and swaying to an imaginary beat. "It's not often you add my title before my name." He hummed, letting me lead us to the song in my head. "Master Diluc, whatever do you mean?" I batted my eyelashes and snickered. "I didn't realize I added it. Maybe it's where I've spent most of the night talking about you, and not to you that I've forgotten how to be relaxed. There was many a guest who wanted to pry about your love life." "Well, you have a definitive answer now, Lady Amber." He kissed the top of my head, stopping for a moment. His body radiated a wave of heat, and he nodded to himself. "It's starting to get cold. We should head inside before you catch a cold. I'm sure everyone's left by now." "I don't want this moment to end." I clung to his shirt, the warmth he emitted making my eyelids grow heavy. Whenever he allowed me to use him as a personal heater, I took the chance. But this was the first time I didn't worry about it being the last.   "We have many more moments like this ahead of us." He supported me as we walked towards the mansion, looping his arm around my waist. "Let's go clean up, and turn in for the night. Tomorrow we can have breakfast and go for a ride along the river. How does that sound?" "It sounds so nice." Once we were back in the house, Elzer met us in the doorway. "Where have you been, Master Diluc?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose and glanced at me. "And you, Ms. Amber, what were you thinking tossing your drink? You completely ruined the night. I could hardly contain the guests" Diluc wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and Elzer's tone sifted from miffed to muted. "Elzer, the issue was with the guests, not Amber." He steered me towards the stairs, nudging me along. "Go on to bed. I'll be up there in a moment. I have some business to finish up." Diluc walked towards his office, motioning for Elzer to follow him. Elzer shot me a perplexed look and tried to mouth out, 'be more careful' before hurrying after Diluc. I whisper back, "okay," before taking the stairs two at a time before stopping. I wasn't going to get in trouble, so I might as well show I'm not ashamed. "Goodnight Elzer," I called after the older man, with as "pleasant" of a tone as I could muster. Parties almost always stressed him more than Diluc, but since Elzer was an employee, he couldn't run and hide like Luc. Truth be known, if Diluc hadn't been there, I would have gotten a long lecture on the importance of keeping good relations with potential business partners. But that's only because Elzer couldn't let his frustrations out on anyone else. I was always there to listen and receive his distain when things went wrong. It wasn't my favorite pastime, but it did help him feel better. It was surprising he was so stressed, he actually chastised me in front of Diluc. It must have been a tough night even after I left. I usually was lectured in private, but he really was ready to let me have it.   Once in the guest room, I disrobed. The heavy gown took several minutes to untie and loosen the laces, but once it was done, my lungs could fully expand. My ribs ached, so I rubbed circles on my sides till the initial throb dulled. The night had gone better than I ever planned, and now it was over. Yet, there was a worse throb in my chest than the pain of a corset. Diluc and I were finally together. We removed the ever-lingering question and just confessed. Why did it hurt inside? Was it that the party was hard on everyone else and I was so happy? Or was it something else? Tilling the blue pitcher on the nightstand, water rushed into the ornate basin below. Dipping a rag into the cool water, I began to wash the wine from my face. It had been such a stressful night. Perhaps the empty feeling inside was fear of the unknown. Or fear that Diluc would wake up and change his mind. That he'd send me away for good once he realized he could never be with someone of such low status. Someone who didn't couldn't even keep up public appearance at a ball. Maybe, it would just take me slipping up once when I was wearing a mask? Then he'd send me away from the manor. I finished cleaning up, then tossed the water out the window. Fixing the pitcher and basin back in place, I reached below the nightstand and pulled out my nightgown. Slipping on the flowy gown, I turned down my sheets and got comfortable. This guest room had been mine for as long as I could remember. While I still lived in the cottage by the river with my mother, I spent more nights at the mansion than at home. Diluc and I would rush through his paperwork every night, and I'd help get his gear ready to go protect Mondstat. I was his sidekick in many ways. Spending so much time there at night, it just made sense for me to sleep here too. We were a great team. Plus, the close proximity made things easier and less suspicious… But that wasn't the whole truth. It was more so that my mother had met someone new, and he had moved into our shared home. He was a nice man, a retired Knight of Favonius, but I just couldn't relax around him. He was stern about me not going out after dark, so staying over at the mansion became more and more frequent. Which was better for mom and Mr.Godfrey's partnership. But while I spent more nights away, mom started to believe there was something between Diluc and me, so she was happy to see me leave home. She was going to be overjoyed to hear the news that we confessed. Though, I'm sure she'll say kicking me out was the reason we finally admitted our feelings, which was not the whole truth. Still, I did miss my own bed sometimes. Pressing my back to the headboard, I curled my knees up and rested my head between them. Sucking in a deep breath, small tears slipped past again. There was too much happening. I couldn't think about one thing for too long. So much good just happened. Why? Why was I thinking about the bad? A familiar rasp at the door rang through the room. "Come in." Wiping my eyes, I sat up and pulled the covers up to my neck. "You're crying again." He walked into the candlelight. I could tell he had cleaned up before coming to see me. He was wearing one of his loose puffy shirts and some cotton pants; his hair had been smoothed and pulled into a low ponytail, water dripping from the ends. It didn't matter what he wore. He always looked unbelievably handsome. "Was it Elzer? He knows it's not your fault. He was just worried about our trade deal." "There's just so much to think about. I can't let myself be happy." I rubbed my eyes again. "What if you realize I'm not good enough for you? Or what if my mother's partner treats you poorly because you quit the Knights? Then that couple, what if they stop working with you and it hurts the business because of me? No one is ever going to see me as anything more than a gold digger." My brain let loose, new concerns and problems being added to my mix. "I'm so negative right now, and I know you probably just want to be happy that we feel the same way…but- I'm so sorry. "He pulled back the covers and crawled in with me. Wrapping me in his arms, the blanket went over our heads, and Diluc settled down. "There you go, having to comfort me like a child." I rested my hand on his shoulder. "You sure you could learn to love a mess like me?" "I already love you." He rubbed patterns on my back, pressing a kiss to the lump on my forehead. "You've been like this since we were children, plagued with worries beyond your control. I know that after you let it out, you always feel better. And that the minute you go silent, that's when I really need to do some digging." He paused drawing on my back and instead moved to play with my hair. "We'll figure it all out as we go, all the what's and if's. We'll take them one at a time, starting with the one I have control over." "Woah." He flipped me over, hovering inches from my face. He pinned me between his legs, the v neck of his shirt hanging open so I could see the red hairs on his chest. "You could be from the richest family in Mondstat or poorest, and I'd still want to be with you." He kissed me, pressing down just until our bodies touched. "I'd go as far as to say, if you were a member of the Fatui, I'd still be smitten. I would certainly find a way to break your ties with them, but I couldn't stop loving you. So, you are more than enough for me, and if anyone makes you feel differently, then I will handle it." "That's a bold statement coming from you." I ran my fingers through his ponytail as it hung over his shoulder. "I can't argue with that logic, but I promise I'm not a member of the Fatui." I wrapped my arms around his waist, encouraging him to squish me with his full weight. "I'm going to crush you." He fought against me, but I only nuzzled his neck, blowing raspberries. "Amber, hey." "I know. But I'd also like to point out how improper it is for you to be in my room at this hour. So, I'd like to be crushed as repayment… please." I let go of one side of his hip and wiped my eyes. "You are right. It is improper." He lowered himself a little more but didn't fully lay on me. "A true gentlemen would never stay this late with a proper young lady. However, there is something else I want that's a little scandalous." "What could that be?" I gasped, my lungs not fully expanding as his weight sunk down on my chest. He noticed as he sat up to his previous position. "A kiss?" He moved his elbow up and cupped my face. His eyes glimmered with the flame that was lighting up the room. His touch was gentle but so firm I couldn't imagine being in another person's embrace. At that moment, there were only two people in the world, and I was madly in love with one of them.   "That sounds quite proper to me. You should always kiss your lover goodnight." I stuttered a little, unable to keep up the playful banter as I looked at his lips. The smile that spread on his face made the butterflies in my stomach flutter. Archons, I was smitten.   His thumb brushed my lower lip before he brought his mouth down for a chaste kiss. Testing the waters, he hovered millimeters above me, and I stole his lips in a deeper kiss. Having a lack of experience in the field, I matched the pattern he set. Just like dancing, I tried to take the lead and failed miserably. So I did was I was best at, adding the fun flourishes. I curled my fingers into his hair and snaked my hand up his shirt and across his chest. He matched my movements, caressing my face and tilting my head up to deepen the kiss. Every star in the sky dulled in comparison to the explosion of light that spread over my body. He shifted back, catching his breath. he smoothed my hair and peppered, kissing around my face before setting back. "Thank you." He laced our fingers together, pulling my hand to his mouth and kissing my knuckles.     "Will you stay tonight?" I took our intertwined hands and kissed his knuckles in return. "I don't want you to leave just yet." "As you wish." He got behind me, adjusting the covers we had tossed around earlier. "Now, let's get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow." I laid my head on my pillow and scooted back until we were slotted against each other. His hand wrapped around my shoulders in a reassuring squeeze. "I love you." "I love you more." It took a while for all the blood pumping through my body to relax again, but once it did, I fell into a deep and peaceful sleep. Dreams of dancing through the clouds with Diluc filled my head, and I had the best rest of my entire life. Next to the man I dearly loved.   

The End

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[guessimate]

This is the beginning of round 4. I will play the original families for 1 more day if needed, because adults are almost about to age up [at the beginning of the round they had ~8 days as adults left].

I decided to play the Gardiner family first, because I wanted the boys to age up. I had some plans for Olga Leila too, but there was a rather unfortunate ROS… It was not even the worst ROS, but my luck turned out to be terrible. It was a body skill dependent ROS and I believe I rolled 1 out of 11 [she had 7 body skill points], so it was just my luck. It was scenario #40 I’m the Highwayman. She was attacked by a man who wanted to steal her coins... but she had nothing on her, and she was murdered. Her brothers are devastated, as she was taking care of them from the young age. I’m going to say the ROS was connected to what I said before – that the war would have some consequences and there would be some ‘enemies’ trying to rummage lands.

~*~

They earned around 2000$ this round, and it was at the very beginning of the round, really, as I needed them to get some money to plant some maxis plants again, for the last time this season circle, as winter was coming. They paid the taxes immediately, as well.

600$ – tax.

1000$ – rent.

= 1600$ to the Royal Treasury [total in Treasury = 118,500$]

200$ – tithe [Church’s total earnings = 19,600$]. They owe burial fees to the Church.

~*~

As children, the twins wanted to get Creativity skill points, because they had played on the xylophone when they were toddlers, but this family was too broke to get easels, lutes or anything, especially taking the ROS into consideration. I couldn’t even really get them another proper bed and they had to sleep in turns on their parents’ double bed, and on the couch. 

I feel bad especially for Ronan, as he seems fixated on improving his Creativity. Declan at least got some different wants, like going fishing. Ronan didn’t learn to talk as a toddler and maybe now he has trouble communicating his wants to the family or he isn’t convincing enough for them to get him the hobby items [I believe in TS4 children can ask for new toys, so I’d say he failed to do that].

~*~

Castor grew up on Wednesday (he was rolled to be a Romance sim) and Olga Leila was sadly ready to depart from this world. I only realized later that it makes little sense for Castor to be a Romance sim. He got Family-oriented TS3 trait before. I might give him Family secondary, maybe... Castor got his teen trait, and he turned out, being Inappropriate. It could be due to the fact that their father was diagnosed with some mental issues or because their sister is dead and mom – permanently bedridden. He has maxed out Nature enthusiasm and is on the way to becoming the perfect heir for the gardening business, as he has a Silver talent badge already.

Twins aged up at the very end of the round. They are Knowledge [Declan] and Family [Ronan]. Castor is 4 days older than his twin brothers, which is not much of a difference. If I decide to move the brothers onto their own lots, they won’t be played this rotation anymore, but if some lady wants to have an affair with them, they’ll be available.

Declan is a Great kisser, Coward, with Green thumb, and No sense of humor. He will have a winery, if I manage to get the mod to work in the spring season.

Ronan is a Socially awkward, Inappropriate sim with Good sense of humor who Loves the heat. Loving the heat makes sense, as they are from a family for whom the colder seasons were really difficult. I don’t really know what to do with him yet, but he seemed quite into Creativity, so perhaps Pottery (both maxis and the new Sun&Moon set).

~*~

Eustacia and Cyprian Carbonneau came over [it took Cyprian out of the family bin!], probably because Eustacia wanted to visit her old BFF as she hasn’t heard from her for a long time – and maybe they wanted to buy some vegetables. Unfortunately, Hortensia is pretty much a wilting vegetable at this point, but her children kept the guests company at least. It makes sense Cyprian arrives, as this is the round when he’s coming home! Unfortunately, Leofwine Gardiner is never coming back...

~*~

It started snowing during the last days of autumn already, but they managed to harvest some stuff at least. There is nothing to do in winter on a plantation really, so Castor will probably try to find love.

I think the grapevines bugged out because I had moved them from another lot (inspecting them doesn’t show any pop up, so I feel like something is up). I also had some invisible objects on the lot and had to nuke them. Hopefully the lot itself is fine though, as it had a grave on it, and I’d rather not fiddle with that.