#diluc ragnvindr x you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

suguwu · 28 days

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MOON EATER I ONE

"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."

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masterlist

pairing: diluc ragnvindr x f!reader

notes: this fic has been brewing for a while! i hope you enjoy it!

content: marriage of convenience, politics, some manipulation, pining, slow burn, eventual smut, jealousy, some blood and gore.

wc: 3.2k

There’s a folder on Diluc’s desk.

It’s held together by a silken black ribbon, with a slash of ink cutting across the tab of it. Adelinde, then. Only she has that knife’s edge calligraphy, her spidery letters fanged. He picks it up, tests the heft of it in one callused hand. There’s weight to it.

You’ve been busier than he thought.

He doesn’t bother to settle into his chair; the sun has cracked open upon the horizon’s edge and is bleeding crimson across the sky. He’ll need to attend to business soon enough. But he has enough time for a brief glimpse into your life.

The ribbon comes undone under his deft fingers. He coils it carefully, setting it aside in a tight spiral. He opens the folder and blinks.

Though it could be no one else, he almost doesn’t recognize you. The sands of time have worn away the wildness of childhood; they’ve eroded you into something new. Your smile is soft, a rosebud starting to unfurl.

(Your smile used to have teeth.

You broke open a crab, once, during that golden week in Liyue. Bare-handed and with devastating precision, you cracked its carapace like an eggshell, the meat of it spilling out like a yolk. You bled, the crab’s shell cutting into the soft flesh of your hands, a last snap of its claws. It hadn’t bothered you; you smiled fiercely and sucked the meat from the shell until your lips were wet with it, juice dripping from them in thin, shining rivers.

That is how Diluc remembered you best: bleeding and triumphant.)

Diluc frowns. He thumbs at the corner of the glossy photograph before he moves to the next page of the dossier. The handwriting is chicken scratch, but it’s familiar to him, and he reads it with ease. He skims over the page until the word he’s been waiting for jumps out at him.

Fatui.

At his side, his Vision warms, all smoldering embers. Diluc ignores it. He reads on, vermilion eyes flickering over the paper, devouring it, a flame to kindling. He finishes the page and stands up straight again, flexing his fingers at his side. A quick glance out the window shows that the sun is steadily rising, light creeping over the vineyard and catching on the morning dew until it glitters, diamond-bright.

He’d meant to have had breakfast by now so he could get an early start in the vineyard. The grapes have started to ripen, the orbs growing plumper by the day, and he’d meant to check in on them. Now, though—things have changed.

Your entanglement with the Fatui is not new, nor is it a surprise. It is, in fact, exactly why he commissioned this dossier from one of his best informants. Whatever web you’ve woven, though, it seems you’ve woven with the finest spider’s silk, too thin to be visible until you’ve stumbled into it.

Diluc sighs. The velvet rope for the maid’s bell is soft against his calloused palm; he gives two sharp tugs before settling into his chair. He’s still shuffling through his desk when Adelinde steps into his study, her hands clasped daintily together in front of her.

“Master Diluc.”

“Adelinde,” he says. “I’ll be having breakfast here. And please let Elzer know that I won’t be able to join him in the vineyard today.”

“Of course. Is there anything else?”

“That will be all.”

She inclines her head to him before disappearing. Diluc turns his attention back to his desk. The folder is still spread open; he tugs it close and flips to the next page. He reads quietly, his fingers drumming lightly against the mahogany, a sonata of grief and rage.

He’s still immersed in the file when Adelinde reappears. She places a tray at his side, filled with his favorite breakfast foods, likely an attempt to make sure that he actually eats. He dismisses her with quiet thanks.

She doesn’t leave. He glances at her, raising a brow.

“If I may, Master Diluc,” she says. “I would recommend that you consider the lady’s position as you read.”

“Speak plainly, Adelinde.”

“She’s a diplomat. It’s her job to associate with others, even though she might prefer to not.”

“I am aware.”

“Of course,” she says, though her lips purse into a small moue. “I apologize.”

“No need for that. Was there something else?”

“No, Master Diluc.”

“Thank you, Adelinde.”

The head maid disappears again, as light on her feet as a snow hare. Diluc returns his attention to your file. When he raises his head again, the shadows in the room have waltzed into new positions, dancing along with the passage of time. He rolls his broad shoulders, wincing at the slight ache that permeates them.

It’s well worth the soreness, though. He glances down at the most recent page and sees it again: Harbinger.

He rubs at his chest, at the twisting mass of scar tissue that sprawls across it. It’s an angry scar, one that still aches all these years later, a leech with its teeth sunk in. The Harbinger had nearly killed him in that empty tundra; sometimes when he closes his eyes, Diluc can still see the steam from his blood hitting the snow.

(“His name is Pantalone,” the stranger said to him, ignoring the way Diluc hissed as the needle flashed, a lightning bolt of silver. “The Ninth.”

“He’s only the Ninth?”

The stranger looked at him, then. They had eyes like the night sky, dark and flickering, a galaxy of stars in their pupils. “Yes,” they said. “Only the Ninth.”)

Harbinger. You’re friendly with one, if not outright friends with him. According to the file, Tartaglia has spent plenty of time in your rooms, and you have spent time in his.

Diluc pauses.

He leans forward and rereads that paragraph. Yes, he had been correct—you spend significant time with Tartaglia. You’d joined him at his home several times. To be close enough to a Harbinger to be allowed into his home—Diluc leans back again, staring into the distance.

Then he reaches for his quill.

–

The letter comes a fortnight later.

Diluc rubs his thumb over the seal. At first glance, it’s Liyuen, a glaze lily caught on the brink of blooming, as if the moon has just started to peek over the horizon, but his sharp eyes pick out the second flower twined around it. A cecilia, the petals slightly aflutter, as if caught in the winds of Mond.

It’s your father’s seal. Yours now, he supposes, since it’s the official seal of the Mond diplomats residing in Liyue.

He slits the seal down the center with a flick of the letter opener. The paper he pulls free is faintly scented, as if ghosted across perfumed wrists. His brow furrows as he tries to place the scent, but it eludes him. It’s familiar in a distant way, like hearing your name from a stranger’s mouth. He starts to bring the paper closer to his nose before catching himself.

Shaking his head, he opens up your letter.

Your answer is succinct. He reads it carefully, cautious of any hidden message he might be missing, but if you have other meanings than what you say, he can’t discern them.

He rings the maid’s bell absently before moving on to the rest of the mail. He’s in the middle of reading a business inquiry when Adelinde appears, only the rustle of her uniform giving her away.

“Adelinde,” he says, putting the letter down. “Please prepare one of the guest rooms in the coming week; we’ll be having company.”

“Is there a particular room you’d like prepared?”

“Any will do.”

There’s curiosity shining in her jade eyes, but as always, her professionalism wins out. She nods. “I will let you know which room we make up.”

“Thank you.”

She takes it as the quiet dismissal it is; she disappears into the hallway, likely to get started on preparation despite the time frame he’s given.

Diluc picks up the business inquiry again. He means to start reading it once more, but something glitters on his desk. He glances at it. The golden seal of your letter flashes in the sunlight, and he thinks of the summer heat of Liyue, of the mountains spearing through the horizon’s gentle embrace, their slopes bathed amber by the sun’s gentle kiss.

(He and Kaeya were in awe of them. The rolling green hills of Mondstadt were mere ants in comparison to the jagged cliffs of the mountains surrounding your summer home. Unimpressed with their gaping, you left them behind as you scrambled up the overgrown path. He called out to you; Kaeya did too.

You never looked back.)

He shakes himself free of the cobwebs of memory, smoothing out the edge of the paper where his harsh grip has crinkled it. That scent flourishes, strengthened by the dampness of his palm. He drops the letter. He wipes his palm on his pant leg before getting to his feet.

The scent of your letter lingers on his hands for the rest of the day.

–

The vines are heavy with fat clusters of grapes, weighted down on the trellises by each bunch. Diluc hums, plucking a grape free. He checks how much skin and pulp lingers on the pedicel before rolling it between his fingers. It’s plush, with skin the color of a fresh bruise, a deep, dark purple.

“We’ve scheduled the harvest to start in a fortnight,” Elzer says from beside him, testing the give of another grape. “Perhaps a little earlier, depending on the weather.”

“Keep sampling,” Diluc says. “It may need to be sooner than that.”

“Yes, sir.”

Diluc contemplates the grape for a moment more.

(He ate them when he was younger, stealing clusters off the trellises with Kaeya before hightailing it to the little thicket, hidden away from the workers tending the vines. The grapes were sharp with tannins and filled with thick seeds. He and Kaeya devoured them anyway, spitting the seeds out, competing to see who could get them the farthest.

Those were simpler days.)

He closes his hand around it before moving on to the next patch of trellises. He and Elzer are halfway through one of the rows when there’s a distant call. He glances up sharply, shoulders tense, but it’s only a carriage in the distance, marked by plumes of dust left in its wake.

It occurs to him that you were meant to arrive today. He bites down on a curse; he’s hardly dressed to receive you, having swapped out his usual wear for a looser shirt and trousers meant for vineyard work.

“Please see to the rest of the trellises,” he says to Elzer.

“I’ll have a report for you by tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you.”

Diluc turns on his heel, striding back towards the winery. His brisk gait disturbs a few crystalflies. They flutter by him, streaming elemental energy behind them in glittering particles, their wings the soft blue of the early morning sky. He shoos them higher with one big hand so that the children won’t be able to catch them later.

(Kaeya cried the first time he caught one, the little thing crumpled up in his palm, wings dissipating, the core’s glow slowly fading. He hadn’t realized being caught would kill it.

Diluc stopped collecting them after that.)

He’s able to throw on his coat and his gloves, plus get his thick hair more firmly tied into a low ponytail—the light breeze in the vineyard having loosened a few errant strands—before your carriage reaches the winery. Adelinde joins him at the front door, smoothing her hands over the skirt of her uniform, ironing out the non-existent wrinkles.

He makes his way to the carriage immediately, but before he can even offer his hand, you’ve hopped down yourself. Your driver and her companion—Knights of Favonius, Diluc realizes, the Ordo’s mark blazoned on their armor—disappear around the back of the carriage.

You tilt your head in a polite acknowledgement, that rosebud smile blooming on your lips. “Hello.”

“Miss,” he says, almost wincing at how wooden he sounds.

You laugh. “So formal,” you say. “You don’t need to stand on ceremony with me, Master Diluc.”

“Miss—”

“Call me by name, really. Unless you’ve forgotten it?”

He arches a brow, unable to help himself. “Hardly.”

“Then there should be no issue,” you say, that little smile still playing about your lips.

Your driver clears her throat. She has reappeared with a small trunk; Adelinde signals and Moco trudges forward to take hold of it.

“Thank you, Bernadette,” you say warmly. “I assume you need to report in the city?”

“Yes.”

“Say hello for me, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Bernadette says, her tone fond. “Though you’ll come visit, yes? The others will insist.”

You nod. She smiles, clearly pleased, and hops back up into the driver’s seat. You step closer to Diluc as the carriage jolts to a start. He stiffens. You don’t seem to notice, busy waving goodbye to your escort, and he draws in a deep breath, rolling his shoulders.

“We have refreshments inside,” he says. “If you’d like.”

“I’d like to freshen up first.”

He nods. “Adelinde will show you to your room.”

The head maid steps forward. You flash her a little smile, inclining your head in greeting. She blinks, but recovers quickly, greeting you quietly. The two of you disappear into the winery, and Diluc rolls his shoulders again before following.

There are several seats in the little nook the refreshments are set up by, but Diluc stays standing. He lingers by the window, taking in the sprawl of the vineyard, the trellises laden with fruit-heavy vines, the tendrils of them curling like lace upon the wood. His eyes snap to movement in the distance but it’s just Elzer and another worker. He watches them work their way through the vineyard.

He glances up as soon as he hears you. You startle at his sudden attention, pausing at the top of the stairwell, but your face smooths out into that soft smile again as you continue down the stairs. He frowns. Your smile widens, the edges of it curling up like petals still unfolded.

You sweep towards the little nook he’s tucked into; Diluc takes a step back to let you pass, though it’s not truly needed. You settle onto the couch easily.

“May I get you a refreshment?”

You jump, turning towards Adelinde. The maid blinks, slow like a cat, her placid smile rivaling yours.

“Oh,” you say. “Water is fine for now. I can get it myself—”

Adelinde is already moving, though, and you shift on the couch before leaning back again. Diluc settles into the armchair across from you.

“Your journey was good?” he asks stiffly.

“It was. I was expecting that we’d run into some hilichurls here and there, but the road to the winery was quiet.”

“Good.”

“You know,” you say, a ripple of amusement passing over your visage, a fleeting summer storm, “I’d heard you weren’t much for small talk, Master Diluc.”

“I’m not.”

“I can tell,” you say. “Should we get to business, then? I am most curious about what could merit me an invite to the Dawn Winery, especially for personal reasons.”

Diluc furrows his brow.

“You were vague in your letter,” you say, “but if it were business, you would have come to the consulate, rather than invite me here. Or were you worried about prying eyes? I cannot say that there are none.”

“Dawn Winery has nothing to hide,” he snaps.

You raise a brow. “I didn’t mean to offend.”

Diluc takes a breath and adjusts himself in the armchair. He wills himself to relax, uncoiling his shoulders as best he can.

“I apologize.”

“There’s no need. 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.”

Something flickers over your face. It’s too fast for him to truly parse, a lightning-strike expression.

(“Hey! Take that back!” Diluc shouted, stomping towards the sandbearer tree. The other children surrounding you and Kaeya flinched as he bulldozed towards them, his face thunderous, a storm ready to break.

They scattered as he drew near. Kaeya hurried to him, patting out the embers licking at the ends of his crimson hair, grumbling the whole time. You stood in the cradle of the sandbearer tree for a moment more, the sea of golden leaves shining behind you. Your expression shifted, a quicksilver gleam.

He shook off Kaeya’s fussing and went up to you. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.

Your expression shifted again, settling back to normal.

“Yeah,” you said. “I’m fine.”

You let the rock drop from your hand.)

Your smile appears once more, rising on your lips like the crescent moon, a gentle curve. Diluc thinks of the way moonlight obscures the stars. How it blots out their light and leaves only a blank canvas behind.

“Well,” you say. “I can’t say I expected that.”

“I know it is abrupt—”

“I am amenable.”

Diluc pauses.

“There would be things to discuss, of course,” you say, “but I am open to the idea of a marriage of convenience with you.”

He hadn’t expected you to be so willing. Maybe he should have; the Ragnvindr name carries weight.

“We can discuss more thoroughly in the coming days,” you say. “I must admit that I’m tired. I might retire for a while.”

Diluc pushes to his feet and offers you his hand. You take it. Your fingers are as delicate as a moonbeam against his gloves; he is glad the supple leather keeps his knotted, scarred skin separate from the silk of yours. He lets go of your hand once you’re standing, but the warmth of you lingers, like the golden touch of the sun on the first day of spring.

He waits until you’re upstairs to shed his coat, hanging it carefully, wary of being scolded by Adelinde. He’ll return to the vineyard; hopefully he can catch Elzer doing the last of his inspections. He’s pulling off his gloves when he smells it—the faintest wisp of your perfume.

A marriage of convenience, he thinks. Something in him twists, like grape vines are trellised on the bones of his ribcage, their tendrils winding ever-tighter.

(“Say goodbye,” your mother prompted.

You glanced over at Diluc and Kaeya, stationed next to their waiting carriage. Diluc smiled at you, big and broad, his cheeks aching with it. “Bye,” you said.

“We’ll see you soon,” Diluc assured you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Okay.”

“Come along, boys,” his father said, stepping away from his conversation with your father. “It’s time to go.”

Diluc climbed into the carriage with Kaeya. His father quickly followed, and soon the carriage was swaying, as if gentle waves were lapping at the sides of it. Diluc tried to glance back at you one last time, but you had already disappeared, likely heading to the river.

“Did you have a good time?” his father asked.

Kaeya nodded, though he didn’t look entirely sure; Diluc grinned.

“I’m going to marry her,” he announced.

His father laughed brightly, the sound filling the carriage, pooling like sunshine. “Are you now?”

“Yeah,” Diluc said. “I am.”)

Diluc flexes his hand and feels the tender ghost of your fingers clasped between his.

A marriage of convenience. A wealth of information about the Fatui at his fingertips.

That’s all this is.

#diluc x reader #genshin x reader #diluc x you #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr x you #bee writes genshin

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tflaw · 2 years

Text

PLAYING FAVORITE.

꒰ა ❤︎ ໒꒱ . . . 3.2k — f!reader. reader calls diluc and kaeya ‘master’ since it is the term used by npcs working in dawn winery to address the two. in this context, it is not meant to be demeaning. diluc and kaeya take turns. pure filth + self-indulgent. kaeya & lots of dirty talking + fingering + exhibition teasing. diluc & his raging breeding kink <3. creampies. diluc cleaning his cum off of you with his mouth. doggy + prone bonez. slight mindbreak. drool + tears + overstimming. oral (m & f!receiving). use of the word pussy, like a lot.

In which, Diluc and Kaeya make sporadic visits to the Dawn Winery just to fuck their favorite maid: you.

“Master Kaeya… I don’t think we should… do this here.” Cheeks hot like coals, you squirmed, eyes darting here and there as your heart hoofed like crazy in your chest.

The Cavalry Captain only sighed, puffing an almost frustrated sound. “You just have to bend over and let me fuck this cock into you. That isn’t hard, is it?”

“Adelinde… might see us… the others might wake up…” You shuddered, pushing your back into his chest, afraid of the scant light emitted by the candles on tabletops surrounding you. Kaeya utilized the moment by reaching for the hem of your maid dress, and tugging the fabric up until your skin was exposed to the night air. You shot up a hand to cover your mouth, holding down his wrist timidly.

Because Kaeya had a penchant for fucking you in open spaces around the Winery: the living room, the kitchen, and outside with the vast stretch of grapevines witnessing your wits getting fucked out of your brains by the Captain.

“Hm?” Kaeya hummed while kissing your ear with his wet mouth. “You whine so much, but you took your underwear off before coming down here.” The length of his middle finger rubbed along your exposed slit, with Kaeya coating said finger with your slick before raising it to your face. “See? Your pussy’s thrilled that I’m going to fuck you here, where anyone could walk in on you taking my cock like a good girl.”

Rolling your lip between your teeth, shame burned in your stomach while watching his skin glint with your arousal. “That’s not true… I don’t want anyone to see us…”

At your weak response, Kaeya cackled throatily behind you.

“You’re adorable when in denial,” said he, big hand crawling inside your dress up to your breast, therefore displaying more of your skin and cunt. “Even your nipple’s hard. And you’re drooling here—” He stroked your slit again, teasing to fill your hole with his finger while pinching your nipple.

You wished he’d be done right with it. You wished that he would shove his fingers in, fill you, and make your head dizzy of your climax as soon as possible before anyone in the Winery decides to wake up for a glass of water. But Kaeya had never been one to rush things— especially not the fucking part.

“Master Kaeya—”

“Only Kaeya,” he gruffly whispered, biting your ear while rubbing your clit, his other hand still massaging the soft muscle of your breast and occasionally twiddling his fingers around the tight bud.

The way he played with your body sent forth an amount of clear slick to bubble out of your hole. He echoed a pleased hum, reveling at the quick way your body responded even after all those weeks since the last he fucked you dumb.

Tonight, Elzer’s desk inside the mansion had poked Kaeya’s fancy. He pulled you to the sturdy desk to sit, and sit you did with one last worried glance behind you.

“Kaeya…” you and your heart stuttered with anxiety.

Kaeya’s mouth trailed down your jaw, a hot and breathless chuckle fanning your skin, while he busied his fingers undoing the first buttons of your dress. “C’mon, don’t rush. You rarely visit me in the Headquarters. I get so lonely without you around,” said his mouth. My cock gets so lonely without you around, said his eye when he pulled back to stroke your cheek.

At your exposed chest, light crosses Kaeya’s uncovered eye. “Look at these tits. They’ve gotten bigger since the last time. Diluc likes to fondle them, I suppose?” he teased, pinching both your nipples and tugging lightly.

Your toes curled at his unhurried touches. More so when he took your nipple inside his mouth, languidly licking and taking his time sucking. As if your skin had been laced with something honeyed.

His mouth was warm, and the soft muscle of his tongue circling the bud felt too good. You almost didn’t notice the wet patch on his pants— right to where his cock was restrained— because of the feeling. He was rock-hard for you. Such an enticing sight that made your clit beat sporadically, therefore soiling the desk with your clear arousal.

There was nothing more left to deny that you wanted Kaeya’s cock ramming into you, too. You wanted him to completely obliterate your senses with it, give you something new to feel. A new memory to touch yourself to in the quiet confines of your bedroom once he’s gone.

With the look you gave him, every drop of pent-up desire took over Kaeya’s mind. It happened so fast that you barely had time to react, let alone breathe properly when he bent you over the table and popped his already wet and leaking cock into your trembling cunt.

“K… kaeya!” you gasped, palms sliding over the wooden desk as you struggled to find a niche to brace yourself with.

In a minute of pure silence, Kaeya hunched over your back, feeling his cock throb against the warmth of your walls with a familiarity that made his cocktip ache. “Archons,” he whispered, tipping his head close to your ear, “I’ve missed your pussy I could cry.”

Everything became a blur after that statement. And you didn’t think you’d ever been fucked that hard by him before, to the point where the desk kept being pushed forward because of the ferocity. Certainly, Kaeya had it in him to leave your legs trembling for a couple more minutes after pulling out, but this time was different. He would ruin you and you’d love every second of it.

Because after so many nights of emptying his balls, desperate hands pumping his cock up and down, Kaeya knew he wouldn’t stop even if he saw Adelinde from a distance.

“Don’t squeeze too hard,” Kaeya hissed, milking himself dry and grunting at the sound of creamy squelching. “I don’t want to come yet.”

But he’d come soon, you believed. He’d come by the way he was practically mounting you, propping his one leg up to the nearest chair so he could fuck his cock to your velvet spot until his slit becomes raw and you turn a mess of drool underneath him.

The smacking sounds were loud. Heavy slam after heavy slam, your butt and his pelvis met.

Losing a bit of himself after each thrust, Kaeya perspired like he’d ran a mile, cursing and grunting while watching the angry veins of his cock in and out of your twitchy hole.

What a fucking sight, he thought to himself.

“There’s just something about you and your pussy, huh?” he struggled to say through the tight lock in his chest due to your pussy squeezing his shaft. “Something that could make a madman out of a gentleman, salivating for a piece of it.”

Your slick languidly trickled down the carpeted floor while Kaeya pounded the daylights out of you. His penetration had rendered you with an open mouth, drooling on Elzer’s desk.

“Gonna cum,” Kaeya groaned, movement becoming more erratic. “I’m gonna cum.”

You pushed a hand to your mouth, letting out a helpless squeal when he mounded the soft flesh of your hips and fucked his cock into you to the base. He throbbed inside your walls— too intense that you felt it all over your body.

Kaeya tried to chase his high with jagged breathing and curses, but even he had been left weak by the amount of cum he’d ram inside your womb. A creamy glob slid together with his pulling out, which drove him into a slight panic.

Kaeya cupped your pussy from the back to stop the leakage. “Need to keep it inside, pretty,” he murmured, fingering the thick liquid back into you carefully.

And you, quivering on the table, exerted yourself in picking bits and pieces of your sanity back. His sticky cum was felt all over your pussy lips, making the skin tight with each second that you remained bare. It took Kaeya to gently pull you so you could stand on your own again.

“You never change.” He caressed your cheek softly before buttoning up your dress. “And that’s what I…” whispered he, pushing his face close to yours, “… love about you.”

He’d kiss you, just like he always did before. He’d kiss you and whisper how good you were for him. And again, you’d fall into his trap like a helpless mouse. Because you have yet to learn how to escape Kaeya’s claws.

“What a surprise. I wouldn’t have expected to see you both awake.”

Intense goosebumps bolted up your spine at the voice. You wouldn’t have found the strength to break free from being dumbstruck had panic not coerced you to.

“Master Diluc…” you stammered, smoothing out your dress and stealing a glance at Kaeya, who stood unperturbed by Diluc’s presence.

“Diluc. Adelinde failed to disclose your arrival,” he said, amused.

Diluc’s carmine eyes glinted in the candlelight. He sighed, loosening his gloves as he advanced. “I told her to keep my arrival in strict confidentiality. It is not of import, anyway.”

“Master Diluc… let me help you…” You reached for his coat, offering your help with your eyes cast downwards. There was not any strength left in you to face him. The atmosphere was far too oppressive.

“It’s alright,” Diluc replied. “Will you bring me a glass to my quarters? The journey rendered my throat parched.”

“At once, Master Diluc,” you murmured. You felt two pairs of eyes on your back as you ambled towards the kitchen, leaving them both to share the cumbersome air.

While pouring him a glass did it only strike you: Diluc was back. After so many months of traveling overseas, he was here. Finally. The thought captured your heart with excitement. Excitement that you reined in, lest you risk having Kaeya’s cum trailing down your thighs.

“No…” you began to sob in embarrassment at the feel of his load teasing your hole. He had come too much for your little cunt to handle.

Inhaling, you made haste toward Diluc’s chamber. Kaeya was nowhere in the living room when you knocked on the young master’s door.

“Come in,” echoed his voice from the other side.

Diluc was occupied in sliding out of his coat, giving you a charming view of his back and shoulders flexing at his movement.

You gulped and spoke before you could empty the glass yourself, “Master Diluc, here’s the water you—”

“Kaeya fucked you, didn’t he?” he intervened, flawlessly pulling his hair tie to free his hair from the bind.

Bind that you instead felt around your chest at his question. Now, you knew very well the hostility between Diluc and Kaeya. The young master had been harboring animosity for the latter ever since that night when you witnessed them fight to the death. Or at least, that was what Diluc allowed anyone to believe.

You wished not to create a further rift between the two. And lying was the only right choice.

Shaking your head in denial, you replied, “N… no. Kaeya asked me to bring him something to eat. That’s the sole reason I was with him.”

Diluc proceeded to discard his upper clothes, together with the straps around his chest. He swiveled to face you, saying too much by not saying anything at all.

“Sit down.” He motioned at the edge of his bed with a light tilt of his chin.

After placing the glass on his bedside table, you rubbed your palms together and sat, wincing inwardly at the magnified dampness between your legs.

“Let me see it.” Diluc lilt was low and smoky. When you looked up at him, confused and lost, he took your chin. “Your cunt, let me see it.”

“Master Diluc… I…” You searched for words but found none.

Diluc cambered his head to the side, waiting for the dissent that never came. His eyes darkened when you lifted your skirt. Gasping when the young master parted your legs with his knee, leaned in, and pushed a finger inside. He clicked his tongue but said nothing.

“You’ve been very bad while I was away, have you not?” He unbuckled his pants, freeing his already proud and standing cock. The whiff of all man and desire filled your nose. Scent that he had consumed you with when he guided his shaft to your cheek. “I’m, without a doubt, upset by this display of indecent behavior. What do we do, I wonder?”

“I… I couldn’t say no, Master Diluc. It was Kaeya… and I figured… the young master wouldn’t have minded if—”

Diluc pushed his tip against your lips. “Hm, what do we do with a lying mouth? I think it needs to open up.”

Your eyelids lowered as you widen your mouth, tasting the salty pre-ejaculate smeared across his cocktip.

Diluc sighed, undeniably satisfied as he shoved his length down your throat while your pussy gushed out Kaeya’s fresh and hot cum with each twitch of your hole. He took both of your hands and place them on his hips, locking them with his big ones before thrusting.

Reveling in his virility, you shut your eyes and let him fuck your mouth at a pace he was comfortable. Swirling your tongue, swathing his whole girth with saliva, sighing as Diluc’s scent filled all your senses.

You’d remember the days where you’d kneel, hiding behind his desk while you suck him off, relieving a bit of his stress brought about by work.

He once said that your mouth would’ve been unrivaled if your pussy did not exist. Pussy that he’d think about whenever he was away. Pussy that occupied his imagination while lying on a creaky bed somewhere in a nameless inn. Pussy that he never once forget to convey his deep adoration to in his letters only made for you.

Diluc pulled out when your drool pooled under your chin. “Lay on your stomach in bed,” he whispered. You did as you were told without raising any fuss, heart pulsing in your ears when Diluc crawled behind you. “Higher,” he curtly commanded, spreading the meaty cheeks of your butt to get a better look at your hypnotizing cunt.

Curving your lower body up to give him access, Diluc gritted as he lined himself up to your hole, wiping the slit up and down with his tip a couple of times before shoving his length inside.

You cried in pleasure, insides trembling at the sheer girth rammed inside your already fucked out cunt. There was something different in Diluc’s cock that clouds your mind with nothingness. A tight fit, but a perfect one nonetheless.

He echoed a moan before pushing his fists on both sides of your body, poised to give you a merciless pounding. The bed squeaked together with you when he moved— all trained muscles and vigor, pummeling through your cunt hole hard.

Your brain turned into mush instantly, sight spinning. And you were nothing but a bubble of mess, blabbering how you missed him fucking you like that. Because you did miss this Diluc: the one who fucks hard and without inhibitions.

The Diluc who’d put you in a headlock while deliriously confessing his unfiltered thoughts of you. The one who’d say, “I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll be pregnant once I’m done with you. That way, Kaeya would fuck off, at last.”

Such raw confession unfit for the gentleman persona he cultivated as a façade. Such words had you brimming with tears because no one would ever experience being fucked like that by Diluc but you. So you’d answer him, laying all your feelings, “Make me pregnant, Diluc, please!”

“Ask for it,” he’d teased.

“Give me your cum,” you’d respond.

Four words that would drive him to insanity. Until all his words had turned to curses or helpless cries— as if he was wounded, as if he was gutted— while fucking his leaking cock and his cum back to your cunt. Again and again and again.

And it wouldn’t be enough, because Diluc had to taste you. He had to lick your cunt up, lapping and sucking on it, tasting himself in the process. Never had it bothered him. How could it? When you tremble and twitch as he sucks on your pussy lips, screaming his name and begging him for more until you are gushing on his tongue, mind breaking from the overstimulation.

The after sex, where you lie in his bed with him striving to clean you up before tucking you in, would be the best part. Diluc found nothing more beautiful than your face when you sleep peacefully beside him. It was a sight he always looks forward to seeing whenever it was time to come home. Because after his father’s death, Dawn Winery only felt like home if you were in it.

—

“You’re still here?” was the question raised by Diluc over breakfast when Kaeya descended from his room to eat.

The latter merely flapped his hand to the air. “I’m staying over for a few days just to unwind. Surely, you don’t mind?” asked he, eyes veering off in your direction while you poured Diluc a glass of grape juice.

Diluc did not look up from the stacks of letters placed beside his plate. “The Windblume Festival is fast approaching. Who overlooks the preparation, then?”

The air was stifling, and it didn’t help that you were still in the remnants of last night’s occurrences to function properly. You couldn’t even look at them both, not even when you poured Kaeya his glass of water.

“The Acting Grand Maester and the Sisters, who else?” he retorted before muttering a silent thank you to you, ascertaining that he had raked your body from head to toe.

“And as Cavalry Captain, your presence is not needed.” Diluc’s tone was taunting, laced with an edge of curiosity.

“Diluc, such bitterness is not to be shown over breakfast. I have finished my work before traveling here. Now, am I allowed to stay?” Kaeya repeated.

His intonation had you exchanging glances with Adelinde. It had been a while since Kaeya returned home. All of you were testing the waters and the day hadn’t fully yet begun.

“Suit yourself,” was Diluc’s reply before taking a sip from his glass.

The conversation ended as well as the brief breakfast.

At luncheon, when it was time to summon Kaeya, you found him reading a book on his desk inside his chamber. Nothing changed in its interior, but his closet had been emptied. You’d still clean and dust the shelves now and then for when he decided to visit. Every night, you’d come looking at your window, waiting for him to knock. After all these years, you believed that everyone had given up on waiting. But not you, never you.

“Kaeya, I missed seeing you around here.” Your cheeks burned at once when you heard yourself blurt out. It was full of longing.

If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. He wore his signature smile, one that would always conceal his true emotions. “Lucky you, I’m here to stay until the Festival, at least.”

“May I… may I know why?” you inquired, full of hopes that one day, he would never have to leave again.

Neglecting the book in his hand, he held his chin. “Hm, let’s see. I guess I’m on a mission.”

“On a mission? What mission that may be?”

“To get you full and pregnant before Diluc could.”

#genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin x you #diluc smut #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc ragnvindr smut #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr x you #kaeya smut #kaeya x reader #kaeya x you #kaeya alberich smut #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya alberich x you

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yyuangss · 4 months

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INAZUMA COMMISSIONS ( DILUC RAGNVINDR )

summary ! in an attempt to give diluc the best present for secret santa, you spend some time to know more about him. though, the dawn winery owner has some unique tastes.

tags ! diluc ragnvindr x fem reader, fluff

word count ! 5.2k

note: hello hello @umgatochamadopercyval !! i got you for the @2023gisecretsanta event 🫶 i got a little carried away so i’m very sorry for the word length 😭 either way, i hope you enjoy it MWAH <3 i had a lot of fun writing this for you !!

When Barbara approached you asking if you’d like to be part of her Secret Santa event, you immediately agreed. She said she was going around inviting people she knew would be interested in participating.

You asked her who else had decided to participate in the event and she named a few others. Lisa, Kaeya, Sucrose, Venti, a few sisters from the Cathedral, Eury, Donna. All people you knew well since they constantly came to Good Hunter and you spoke to them while they waited for their food.

Barbara said she was still asking people to join. So once she had an even number, she’d go down a list and have them pick out a paper to see who their Secret Santa was. Everyone would get a month to find the gifts. Then, the gifts would be revealed at a Christmas party she was working on.

Nearly a week and a half after that, Barbara came rushing over to Good Hunter with a small bag in her hand. She was her usual cheerful self and more now since the Secret Santa event she planned out.

“(Y/N)! Do you have a moment?” Barbara asked, waving and standing near the side of the stall. She had been waiting to see when it would be available. Her smile showed just how excited she was.

“Give a second!” You said, smiling as well. After taking the current order and the customer went to sit down at one of the tables, Barbara approached. She showed off the small brown bag and you knew what she was hinting at. “How many people did you get to join?” You asked, making sure to wipe your hands clean.

“I got thirty people!” She said, holding the bag open. The number made your eyebrows raise. Barbara was very serious about this. You peered inside the bag. Small red and green sheets of paper were mixed together. The amount was smaller than what Barbara had said so you assumed she already went to some of the people.

You reached in, grabbing one of the slips at the bottom of the bag and pulled out a red slip. Barbara closed the bag once you got your person. She made sure the strings on the bag were tight so nothing would fall out.

“Could you check it to make sure you didn’t pull your own name?” She asked. You nodded your head.

“Of course!” You said, opening the slip of paper. You wondered whose name you ended up getting out of the bag. It would make shopping and searching for someone’s gift a fun experience. Hopefully it was Lisa. There were several new books you wanted to get for her and replace a few worn out books in her library. That was until you read the name of the person who would give you the most trouble searching for a gift.

Your smile faded slightly. In black ink, Barbara had written Diluc’s name on your slip. Her star and balloon drawn decorations on the paper made it more exciting than it actually was. Of all thirty people who decided to participate, you were the unlucky one stuck with Diluc. He wasn’t a bad person but you didn’t really know enough about him.

“Nope. Didn’t get my own name.” You said to Barbara, folding the paper in half again.

“Great! Thank you again for joining!” She exclaimed happily. “Remember not to tell anyone and you have a month from now.”

She waved before heading off. She needed to catch the rest of the people and hopefully finish this by the end of the day. As she sped towards the building of the Knights, you stared at her cursive handwriting.

The red haired male came into your mind. What were you going to get Diluc for Christmas? He was a reserved character. You couldn’t name a single thing he liked except grape juice. And there wasn’t anything else that stood out about him that would remind you of him.

For example, if it were Klee, you could have gotten her a new book bag or matching hats for her and Dodoco. Sucrose would be happy to get a new chemistry set. She definitely needed one after breaking a few beakers. Whereas Diluc… Nothing.

You started to think about certain gifts. Candles were a good option if that didn’t scream, ‘I don’t know you’. He never wore accessories. No rings, necklaces, or bracelets. Perhaps he didn’t like them but a hairpin from Liyue would be worth the trip. You let out a frustrated sigh, scratching the back of your head.

Was there anyone who knew what he liked that you could ask them?

Well, there were a few people. Now that you think about it, asking them probably isn’t a good idea either. Donna was off the table. You aren’t sure how far her title as a fan of Diluc’s went. And you also didn’t know if Barbara had asked her to be part of the event. That means Donna would definitely get jealous since you got the person she wanted.

Next was Kaeya. Asking him was fifty—fifty. He was rather sneaky and playful. Definitely the type of person to come up with a lie so you’d gift Diluc something he hated all because Kaeya wanted to mess with him. Or maybe you’d get the lucky half and he would be kind enough to actually say something his brother likes.

Then the people who worked for Diluc were also not a good choice. For one, you didn’t know them well enough to know if they’d keep this a secret. Two, they probably didn’t know Diluc well enough to tell you what he liked or disliked the most.

You were already stressed out, even if you had an entire month. You carefully stuffed the slip of paper into the front pocket of your apron. Thankfully, you were going on your break soon. You tapped your fingers on the countertop as you thought of what to do.

The worst idea yet came to your mind. You were just going to have to ask Diluc himself. You can't blurt out and reveal you got him for the Secret Santa event. Since your conversations with him are very brief, in order to do this, it needs to be in the most discreet manner possible. That way, it won’t make him get suspicious of you.

“Diluc!” He heard his name being called. Instinctively, he looked over at the tavern entrance after passing a customer their drink. He saw you approaching the bar while smiling at him. “How are you?”

“(Y/N).” Diluc gave a curt nod and picked up an empty glass cup. You sat down on a stool, watching him clean the area for you with a wet rag. “It’s good to see you. I’m doing fine. I assume your shift has ended?” He motioned to your uniform. You occasionally came to Angel’s Share when you were off the clock. It was just to relax for a few minutes and socialize before heading home for the day.

“I’m on my break right now.” You said. You scouted the first floor to see who was here. The floor was nearly deserted, only consisting of the tavern’s usual customers. You turned back to Diluc, thinking about the slip with his name on it in your pocket. “What about you? Are you leaving soon?”

“No. I may be here all day.” Diluc said. You needed to make this worth the while. No way were you leaving the city to go all the way to the winery. “Charles wasn’t feeling well.”

He finished wiping down the counter and threw the rag over his shoulder. He didn’t have his coat on since the tavern was relatively warm. The weather outside was getting colder as the days went on.

“What can I get for you?” He asked.

“A berry and mint burst.” It was what you normally got whenever you paid a visit.

As Diluc grabbed one of the glasses to make your drink, you thought this would be a good time to ease into the conversation. He seemed concentrated on making your drink so he probably might not be too responsive. Either way, you needed to try.

“I feel like we don’t talk a lot.” You said, as Diluc poured the light blue liquid into the cup. He let out a confused hum at your statement and set the bottle back down. He stepped away from the counter, searching for the remaining ingredients that belonged in your drink.

“And what do you mean by that?” He sounded as intimidating and serious as he always did.

“We don’t talk a lot.” You said. He carefully pushed your drink in your direction. “I think we’re more acquaintances than friends. Don’t you?” You grabbed your drink in one hand.

Diluc rested on the counter as he narrowed his eyes at you. His gaze seemed to be studying you instead of being mad at something you said. The guy sitting next to you left a few Mora on the countertop and left the tavern. He also left behind two cups to be picked up and cleaned.

“I say the same, yes.” Diluc said, scooping the Mora on the wooden counter.

His responses are repeats of what you say. It makes it feel like he’s simply not interested in having a conversation. Plus, he is always seen with an uninterested expression. His personality is nowhere near Kaeya’s.

Getting Diluc to talk is harder than you thought. At this point, you wanted to be straightforward and admit what you were truly here for.

“What’s your favorite thing about yourself?” You suddenly asked. Too strong of a question. He would figure out what your intentions were by it. Diluc raised an eyebrow as he dried one of the cups with a different rag than the one from earlier.

“What’s my favorite thing about myself?” He repeated your question. He glanced down at the cup before turning around. He sorted it out with the stack of cups used by tavern customers. You heard him say the question again but much lower this time. Eventually, he crossed his arms, staring at the wall before giving his answer. “I love my long, luscious and luxurious red hair.”

“Wait— What?” You sputtered.

“I answered your question. My favorite thing about myself is my hair.” Diluc faced you. He had his normal stoic expression. Was he telling the truth or poorly executing a joke? You squint your eyes. Diluc’s hair was well taken care of. Out of all his features, his hair and the color of it stood out the most. The length of it also suited him. Diluc with short hair was like a nightmare. Maybe because he never wore it in any other style except his ponytail. “Is that not something I can say?”

“No, no,” You said, taking a sip from your drink. The minty taste made your eyes water. “I didn’t expect you to say that. I thought you would have said your eyes. Your hair is really pretty.”

He managed to make his hair look like silk. There had been times you were tempted to touch it. As you put your cup back on the wooden counter, you thought of your next question.

“How do you get your hair to look like that?” You placed your chin on the palm of your hand. Whatever routine he said, you might need to start using it.

“Slime condensate.” Diluc petted the tips of his hair. Your expression changed to one of disbelief. “It needs to be the thick hydro slimes from Inazuma. I like to get them from Watatsumi Island since the area is surrounded by water.”

You had to take some time to process what he said. The infamous Dawn Winery owner put slime in his hair to keep it “luscious” and “luxurious” at all times. You had never heard of anyone putting slime in their hair. You scratched the top of your head. Whenever Diluc said something new about himself, the idea of giving him a gift for this event seemed impossible.

That wasn’t the only time you went to Angel’s Share. You went back for an entire week, trying to pry information out of Diluc. There needed to be one thing he liked and was willing to share with you. The only problem with that was to have him stop talking about his hair.

“I love my hair color. Did you know it’s natural?”

“It’s so hard to keep it this soft. If the slime isn’t from Inazuma, my hair gets all tangled.”

“Cut it? No, I’d never cut it. I’ve been growing it out since I was a child. My father’s hair was exactly like mine.”

You didn’t take him as the narcissist type or the kind of person to be full of himself.

Your last hope at getting him a gift was what he used for his hair. Diluc let you know what the process to get the slime condensate was. He said it is called an extraction. It was harmless to the slimes. In order for this to happen, he or someone else would grab hold of a slime. As this is going on, the other person will begin to pluck out condensate from under the bottom part.

You weren’t going to make it to Inazuma and return to Mondstadt in time for the party.

Sara went with you to find Herta and ask her to send your commission over to Inazuma. She was a little skeptical at how overly specific but she said with enough Mora, someone over there would be willing to take up the challenge.

That was two weeks ago. The party was in a week from now. You started to panic. Did no one take up your commission? You asked Lumine to take an impromptu trip to Liyue and see what items you could find.

She agreed. The Honorary Knight protected you along the way. Thankfully, there weren’t any monsters that attacked you on your trip. Liyue had rarer beauties that cost a lot more. In the end, it was going to be worth it. You found the gift after hours of searching. This was reserved only if the condensate didn’t make it to Mondstadt on time.

“Pardon me,” A tall, unknown man approached since there wasn’t a line. You could tell he was from another region. He had a box underneath his arm. His white, puffy coat covered his entire body. The hood he had on covered the majority of his blue hair. With good reason. The cold weather this year was entirely different. At least you were near the fire. “My name is Kamisato Ayato. I’m looking for a lady by the name of (Y/N). She requested a commission in Inazuma.”

“That’s me.” You said.

“Ah, wonderful. This makes it all the much easier.” He placed the box on top of the counter. The gloves he was currently wearing were white while the inside had a sort of dark purple lining. He removed the hood from over his head, settling his hands on top of the mysterious box. “The person who did your commission told me to be very careful with it. He said he went out of his way to make it the very best.”

“Did you come all this way just to deliver it yourself?” You felt a little guilty but Ayato let out a chuckle.

“No, no. I’m the leader of the Yashiro Commission.” He waved his hand, “I’m in Mondstadt for the holidays. I thought it was a good idea to bring over your commission. That way you wouldn’t have to wait too long.” He patted the box before insisting you take it.

You pulled the box over, noticing how heavy it was.

“Anyway, everything has already been paid for on our end.” Ayato said, adjusting his coat. “I was also told to pass on a message to you. If you had any more… Specific commissions to be done in Inazuma, simply request for Arataki Itto. He’s more than willing to help.”

That must have been the guy who did your commission. You hope to meet him in person one day to thank him over and over for what he did.

“Thank you very much.” You flashed Ayato a smile. He did the same in return, “Enjoy your holidays and your stay in Mondstadt!”

“Thank you,” He bowed his head, “The same goes to you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be on my way.”

As soon as Ayato was gone, you decided it was a good idea to open the box. Your jaw dropped at the contents. It was a lot more than you had asked for. Considering what was given, you had definitely underpaid this Itto guy. Either he was a perfectionist or he was extremely reckless.

The jars of slime were actually much bigger than you expected. Maybe you should have been specific on that as well. How many hydro slimes on Watatsumi Island had to undergo an extraction to get all this condensate? Even though Diluc said the extraction process is not harmful for the slimes and they’re constantly growing, you’re starting to feel bad for them.

At least it arrived at a good time before the party. With the slime condensate here, your gift for Diluc was ready. But you had both items. There wasn’t any point in keeping the second gift for yourself. Maybe it would give you a hint on what Diluc likes. Hopefully next year, Donna was the one stuck with him instead of you.

The party was being hosted at Angel’s Share. It was closed for the holiday and with his permission, Diluc allowed Barbara to have the party there. So long as she prepared all the decorations and food. He didn’t mind making the drinks since it would allow him to keep a better eye on Venti.

When you arrived, the ongoing scene was a bit of a mess. Barbara was apologizing profusely to someone. You recognized one of them. Ayato, the man from the other day. He laughed loudly when he noticed Barbara beginning to tear up. Next to him was a girl who had similar features. She chuckled softly when Ayato hugged Barbara and reassured her everything was fine. The girl had to be related to him.

“You’re here.” You heard Diluc’s voice. He had been at the bar but spotted you as soon as you came through the door. His eyes landed on the gift you were holding. “If you’d like, you can leave that over there. Barbara said we’ll open the gifts after eating and once everyone is here.” Diluc motioned to a round table in a corner. Several of the partygoers left their gifts either on the table or on the floor. Some were big, others small. You were curious to find out which one was meant for you.

“Okay, thanks.” You went over to the table and placed the gift next to one that was the same size. You weren’t about to carry that around all night. The glass jars were too heavy for that.

After you put your gift with the rest, you decided to join the rest of the crowd.

You found out that Kamisato Ayato was Diluc’s closest friend. He and his sister, Ayaka, came to Mondstadt to celebrate the holiday with Diluc. Last year, he was the one who went to Inazuma to visit the siblings. Barbara was apologizing because she didn’t know they would be here. And if she did, she’d prepare a gift so that neither would feel left out. They let her know it was an unforeseen event and she had no reason to apologize.

Bennett and Fischl were the last to arrive. Afterwards, Barbara asked everyone to come to the first floor and get their gifts so she could explain the rules. You placed yours underneath your chair. Jean sat next to you, keeping hers on her lap and making small talk about who she guessed you had.

The table in the corner was soon empty. Whoever went first, the person who received the gift would go next. So on and so on until all gifts were exchanged.

Donna decided to start the chain off. For an odd reason, she had two gifts. You all gave each other the same knowing look. One gift was meant for her Secret Santa and the other was obviously meant for Diluc. If anything, you were already aware she had selected a better choice in present for him. Except Barbara didn’t let her give it to him right away and told her to wait until everything was over.

She had Bennett. From Bennett, it went over to Klee. He had gifted the little girl a new backpack and a tiny one for Dodoco. Klee’s gift went to Razor. He might have been the happiest one from the night. Eventually the chain went around to Albedo who had just opened his gift from Lisa.

“For my Secret Santa, I got (Y/N).” Albedo handed you a wrapped box.

It had candy canes all over the paper and a giant bow on the top. You heard some rustling inside. You tore the wrapping paper off the sides. Removing it fully, you opened the box and your eyes widened in astonishment. Albedo had carefully packaged two glass cloches beside each other. They contained flowers sprouting on the inside. He went as far as adding grass to the base and making it seem like a small garden.

“I managed to find a way to preserve cecilias and glaze lilies.” He explained and helped you take one of them out to show everyone else. “I remember you said they’re your favorite flowers. These will never die even if you take the glass off of them. And you won’t need to water them either.”

“Thank you so much, Albedo!” You said, opening up one arm to give him a hug. He reciprocated the action. “And I love how you painted butterflies on the glass domes!”

“Actually, they’re called cloches.” Ayato corrected from across the room, making your attention go from Albedo to him. Ayaka ended up smacking his knee with her fan. The entire room let out a collective laugh at the two siblings bickering.

Your eyes drifted over to Diluc who sat next to the Kamisato siblings. It seemed like he already knew he was going to be next. Both of his hands are on his lap, waiting to get his gift. He was staring at you intently and tapping his gloved hand against his thigh. You set Albedo’s gift next to your chair with extra care.

“My gift is to Diluc.” You said. You slid out the wrapped box from underneath your chair. You had both your hands holding the bottom side of the box. Watching your step, you made your way to the other side of the room where Diluc was.

“Ah, this should be interesting.” Ayato said with a grin on his face. He shifted in his chair, body leaning towards his friend. He seemed more interested in the gift than the person who was receiving it.

“It’s heavy.” You said, nervously. You gently handed it over to Diluc.

“Thank you.” He took it in his arms and placed it on the floor between his feet. Ayato moved his chair closer to get a better view of what your gift to his best friend would be. Diluc waited until you sat back down in your chair. He began to unwrap the ribbon you’d tied around the entire box. He pulled on one edge of the lace, allowing it to unravel on its own.

After that was over, he lifted off the top of the box. You watched anxiously to see his reaction to your gift. When Diluc saw what was inside, a small smirk came on his lips. Meanwhile, Ayato scrunched up his eyebrows at the peculiar choice. He realized what the items were and why exactly your commission had been such a weird request.

Diluc kept the lid on his lap. He crouched over in his chair and pulled out one of the seven items inside.

In his hands, Diluc held a glass jar filled to the top with slime condensate. There wasn't only one in there. You had asked for a minimum of three jars in your commission and sent over enough Mora for their troubles. But, being the nice person he was, Itto decided to get you a total of—

“Six jars of slime condensate.” Diluc held it up in the air as if he was examining it. You started to feel a little embarrassed when he spun it around and showed it off the rest of the crowd. They each side eyed each other, wondering what kind of present that was. You actively avoided their gazes as they questioned your choice. Why did he have to start off with the worst gift? “I’m assuming they come from Watatsumi Island?” He said in a slight teasing tone.

Diluc’s lips twitched upwards when he glanced over at you. He shook the jar a little, the slime bouncing around. It clinked against the other jars as he carefully set it back into the gift box. Next, he moved onto the second gift. Right beside all of the six jars was a dark red jewelry box. It had a geo symbol carved on the top which Diluc knew you got it from Liyue.

He placed it on his lap and cautiously opened it since he wasn’t sure of what was inside. Inside, the box had a black velvety texture. It had two separate sections. Ayato heard his friend let out a small snicker before composing himself and turning it around for the remaining partygoers to see.

“It’s a matching hairbrush and a hair comb.” Diluc said.

Both the brush and comb were designed to be the same. They had been marbleized with red and gold. What stood out the most was the hair comb. The accessory had been made to resemble a phoenix. Its wings were outstretched and the beak pointed upwards. If placed in the hair correctly, it was supposed to give off the illusion the phoenix was flying.

“Oh, how beautiful.” Ayaka silently complimented.

The jewelry box closed with a snap and Diluc set it beside the six jars of slime condensate. He closed the lid of his gift and a wide smile spread on his face. For some reason, you felt like he found this entire situation hilarious.

“Thank you, (Y/N). I’m especially grateful for the slime.” He said. Diluc cleared his throat right after and the smile disappeared. He ended up picking up his gift and announced who his Secret Santa was. “My gift is to Sucrose.”

The remaining gifts were passed around until everyone had opened their gifts. They were all thoughtful and generous.

Everyone loved their gifts and it was perfect for their personalities. Yet, your eyes kept looking over at Diluc’s present. He had to be lying. The party continued as normal. People broke off into their separate groups, ate the remaining leftovers and treats, and played a few games. The gifts, held dear in everyone’s hearts, were forgotten at the moment.

An hour passed and you thought it would be a good time to leave the party. You put your coat on as well as your gloves. Thankfully, you didn’t live too far from the tavern. There should still be a few guards patrolling the city in case of intruders.

“I’m going to be leaving now.” You said to Barbara while holding your gift from Albedo. You wanted to thank him again only to find out he’d left with Klee a long time ago. The little girl was starting to get sleepy and tried to play it off that she wasn’t tired.

“You are? Aw, I wanted you to stay a little longer!” Barbara said. Diluc overheard your conversation and he had already slipped on his red jacket.

“Allow me to walk you home. I insist.” He said, opening the tavern door. Cold air rushed in causing his cheeks and nose to get rosy. “Barbara, if I don’t return soon and everyone has left, don’t worry about cleaning the mess. Head home as well.” He instructed before leaving the tavern right after you.

The door closed. Diluc fixed his jacket as he began following you.

He only had plans to drop you off at your home safely and return to the tavern. You were both walking in silence. You glanced out the corner of your eye. Diluc’s hands were in his pockets. He had a small smile on his face. It was starting to get to you. The smile had the appearance he knew something and purposely refused to tell you what it was. You exhaled loudly, deciding to confront and get it over with. It would be better for him to be honest.

“You didn’t like your gift… Did you?” You asked, stopping in your tracks. You tilted your head to the side and turned to face him.

“I did like my gift. Why would you ask that question?” He answered.

“Why are you smiling like that then?” You nodded your head. It was really in the most innocent and subconscious manner. Diluc didn’t want you to take it the wrong way so it was a good time to come clean. Especially since the hunt for gifts and the party was over. He left his gift in the tavern, right behind the bar counter so no one would find it.

“I have something to admit.” He said.

Oh. Your eyes widened slightly. You took a step back. Donna was going to be mad.

“I lied to you. I don’t actually use slime condensate in my hair.”

Oh. You narrowed your eyes at the man standing in front of you. Scratch that, you were going to be mad. The smile on Diluc’s face grew a lot more visible.

“What?” You finally spoke up. “You’re joking, right?”

“No. I’m not joking.” He shook his head. Your jaw dropped at the confirmation. “I don’t use it. If anyone does, they must be out of their mind to put that in their hair.”

“So you were faking the entire time?!” You shouted. He had led you to believe his hair was his favorite feature and that he cared for it the most. All those times he complained about running low on slime and he might need to find a replacement before getting his new stash from Inazuma. Pure lies he made on the spot. He was so convincing, you thought all he loved in life was slime condensate. “Diluc, you’re such a jerk!” You would have punched him if you weren’t carrying your gift. He grinned briefly at your weak insult.

“Is it my fault you were terrible at hiding you had me for Secret Santa?” He said. He began to walk again and you sped up to join him. You had to be honest. Your attempts were very pitiful when you spoke with Diluc that entire week. It’s much easier to talk with him at the moment than beforehand. “Though, I like your gift more than Donna’s.”

That’s an accomplishment.

“Are you sure six jars were necessary?”

“Leave me alone.”

#꒰ ⚔️┊genshin impact ꒱#gixrsecretsanta2023 #favoniuslibrary #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff #diluc ragnvindr fluff #genshin diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x you #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc ragnivindr x you

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saetoru · 1 year

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。WISHES — DILUC RAGNVINDR.

on the morning of his birthday, diluc is prepared to spend it like every other day. he’s prepared to sit, eat breakfast, kiss you goodbye, and follow through with his duties until it’s time to come back home to you. but you have no such plans—birthdays are meant to be treated like birthdays, after all. not normal days.

“master diluc,” you hum playfully, walking up behind him as he seats himself at the table. he raises a brow, almost as if he knows what you’re up to. “if i do recall correctly, today is a rather special day.”

“i believe we’ve agreed a long time ago that just diluc is fine,” he mumbles, a soft blush dusting over his cheeks. you giggle, reaching over and pinching the skin as he huffs.

“well, diluc,” you sing, “it seems today is your birthday.”

“yes, it does seem so,” he sighs.

“do spare me a little more enthusiasm, won’t you?” you pout, setting his plate before him, “i woke up early to make breakfast myself today.”

he stares down, looks at the flickering flame of the candle and the plate of neatly stacked pancakes momentarily before turning back to you. his heart is warm and his fingers ache to feel you as he smiles at you gently.

“quite a bit of trouble to go to for me, wouldn’t you say?”

“nothing is trouble if it’s for you, master diluc,” you insist, “now make a wish. be sure not to share it, or it won’t come true.”

he sighs, ears burning red at the title as the maids giggle behind their hands from the distance. the look of excitement on your face makes his lips quirk into a small grin, however, as he shakes his head and takes your hand.

“is that so?”

“why, of course,” you nod. “everyone knows this, silly.”

“then i suppose if i wished for a kiss it wouldn’t come true?” there’s a small tug that pulls you closer by your joined hands, one that makes you stumble so that a strong arm can wrap around you and pull you into a familiar warm lap.

“well, not now that you’ve told me,” you sigh theatrically, “truly a shame.”

“but it is my birthday,” he insists, “wouldn’t you care to make it special?”

and you’re not one to deny him of requests—especially not on his birthday—so you nod. “as you wish,” you say, cupping his cheek. and to your credit, you try. he can tell you really do try to keep the smile at bay, but the large grin that curves along your lips makes his eyes soften as he watches you lean in.

diluc has never made a fuss about his birthday—not for a few years, at least. it’s usually a day that serves as a painful reminder of his past, and he’d rather bury himself in work than celebrate a day that haunts him with old memories.

but then you come along—you and your soft humming as you make breakfast, you and your bright grin as you place a candle in his stack of pancakes, you and crinkled eyes as you press your lips to his that trickle with sweetness.

you love him, always have. you’ve loved him through restless nights and dull mornings, and you’ve loved him through silent tears and empty gazes. you’ll always love him, even when he doesn’t think you should. and you celebrate all the parts of him—even the ones he chooses not to himself.

“happy birthday, diluc,” you mumble against his mouth, pressing a soft peck as he hums. “i love you.”

“i love you too,” he whispers back, “thank you.”

and he thinks as he kisses you again, as he feels your fingers grip his coat and your breath mingle with his—celebrating his birthday next year still won’t be easy, but falling deeper for you certainly won’t be difficult.

this is rly short and also a bit boring but i just wanted to write something quickly for him in between studying for finals (😔) because he’s the love of my life

#teepods.writings #drabbles.#diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc fluff #diluc ragnivindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr x you #diluc ragnvindr fluff #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact fluff

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solarisfortuneia · 10 months

Text

— 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐬.

diluc is hopeless with grocery shopping. luckily, a kind stranger is more than willing to step in and help.

✦ info: diluc has no idea what he's doing and neither does the author, modern au, strangers to lovers kinda, possibility of ooc-ness, grammar mistakes may be present, there is absolutely no logic here, 2k+ words.

✦ warnings: none.

✦ notes: well, it's this fic again! thought i'd repost it because i'm in the middle of working on a sequel. though with my time management please don't expect it to be posted anytime soon lmao (and don't worry! i still have the original taglist saved.)

would it be far fetched to call grocery shopping an art? and to call one able to navigate the labyrinthine aisles efficiently nothing short of a master?

perhaps it would be.

though, if it was an art, you'd be but a mediocre artist. not horribly unskilled, but no one would be in awe of your nonexistent prowess at brandishing coupons at cash registers.

you shake your thoughts away. what are you thinking? who made you so eloquent in the middle of aisle seven? you ask yourself, gaze scanning the various items on the shelves. focus on your groceries, dummy.

okay, let's see, now. you stop in the middle of the condiments aisle, recollecting the items you need. ah yes, ketchup and mayo. hmm, where would they be?

aha! you see two familiar bottles on the second shelf, and you carefully place them in your cart. a glass jar with a green label and a red lid catches your eye. chili paste? you consider your potential purchase. eh, i'll get it. it's on sale.

now, let's get some rice.

you round the corner to get to the grain aisle when you see a man, clad in a brown coat and incredibly polished shoes, with hair so red you'd think his head was on fire, just. glaring. at a bag of rice. you sneak a glance at him, wondering if the rice had wronged him in some manner.

deciding to ignore him, you pick up a five kilogram bag, then heave it into your trolley. and as you prepare to push it with the extra weight, you spy the man picking up the exact same bag, brand, weight and all. huh.

thinking nothing of it, you continue on your merry way, hoping to get your shopping done as quickly as possible, assuming that it'd be the last you'd ever see of the man.

but it appears fate had other plans. you spot him once again in the canned foods aisle, glaring at another innocent, harmless grocery item. the victim this time, you ask? a can of baked beans.

you throw another sideways look at him, lightly tapping the pads of your fingers against the handles of your trolley. who even is this guy? you silently watch as he picks up the same brand you've put in your cart moments before. ah, he was probably just confused.

however, you’re still a little concerned about the man. does a grown man truly not know what he's doing in a grocery store? you scan the shelves for a random item, and your eyes land on a can of baby food. a light bulb goes off in your head, and you decide to test something. quickly, you grab two of them.

you open your mouth the second after he moves to get the same thing. “can i help you, sir?” he freezes at the sound of your voice, hand halfway between his body and the shelf with the exact thing you just picked up, baby food in hand. you raise an eyebrow, "are you aware of what you're buying?"

he sheepishly rakes his hand through his hair and shakes his head. "i'm afraid i'm not." he clears his throat, color beginning to creep up his neck.

you grin at him. “check the label on the can.” you watch as this giant of a man turns the can around, and slowly turns into a human stop sign with the way his face blazes. you know you probably shouldn’t find the sight of the man with such an intimidating expression turning to a flustered mess so adorable.

“my apologies,” he clears his throat again, then rubs the back of his neck, eyes averted. “i’ve never been shopping before.” he sets the can back, refusing to meet your eyes.

“oh, don't tell me.” you tease, lightheartedly. “is it a case of a rich boy living on his own for the first time, without anyone to do things for him?”

the look on his face answers for him. his eyebrows nearly climb to his hairline, and he blinks. you laugh, incredibly surprised at your assumption being true. “in that case, let me help.” you hold out your hand, taking pity on the man. “do you have a list?”

he fishes out a hastily scribbled list from the depths of one of his coat pockets that simply says bread, milk.

sigh. “it seems i have my work cut out for me.” you take a gander at the items in his cart and spot the rice, the beans, along with three varieties of bread and a two liter bottle of milk. well, at least he got the items on his list.

you pick up the bottle, skimming over the other details to find the production and expiry dates. “just out of curiosity, did you check the dates on the milk?”

he slowly shakes his head. “i figured as much.” you gesture to the numbers, and motion for him to take a look. “this expires in two days. i doubt you’ll be able to finish the whole thing by then, so you should probably find a bottle with a more recent production date.”

—

if there ever was a god of grocery shopping, diluc ragnvindr would be the bane of his existence.

why were these stupid stores so confusing? why were there so many brands of everything? why in the hell were there so many types of oranges? and these trolleys, good lord. just why were they so difficult to maneuver?

all the aisles blend into each other, and all diluc can do is stare emptily at each product he finds, unable to make a decision.

he'd have better luck finding his way around if he was randomly dropped in a venetian calle.

diluc has no idea what he's doing— in the store, at home, even in life.

living on his own for the first time since his dad passed away, in an apartment much tinier than the lavish mansion he was used to, struggling to keep his head above water, the young ragnvindr only knew ingredients once they'd been taken home and properly organized in containers and shelves.

he'd rather the world not see him fumbling, though. so he decides to do the only logical thing one can do in his situation. he picks a person and does exactly what they do.

after all, when one is in rome, do they not do as the romans do?

in hindsight, he should've just researched online. he should have decided his purchases earlier. or ordered the damn groceries online. because then he'd be able to avoid the embarrassment of being tricked with a can of baby food.

baby food, of all things! why couldn't it be something a little more dignified?

he watches you quickly replace the offending item on the shelves and push your cart in another direction before he could react. “come on, then. off to the dairy section we go.”

not wanting to be left behind in this headache inducing location, he hurriedly pushes his trolley too in an attempt to keep up with you. kaeya would never let me live that down, he thinks as he does.

with a pang, he shoves down the memory of his brother as far and as deep as he can, choosing to focus on the present, lest he end up in another spiral.

you lead him to milk he was supposed to get, and he watches you carefully as you examine the dates on the bottles for him. moments later, you beckon him close with a curl of your palm. leaning slightly, he peers over your shoulder.

“always try to get the one most recently produced,” you tell him, and he nods. he follows the movement of your finger tapping your chin, clearly pondering. his gaze travels a bit higher, and as he sees your lips move, he realizes that he completely missed what you were saying.

“pardon?” he stumbles ungracefully on the initial sound.

“what's your favorite fruit?” you repeat. “that'll be first on our list on what to get for you.”

his favorite fruit? he didn't think he had one. “peaches,” he blurts, finding himself unwilling to disappoint you with his lack of proper response, his eyes falling on a peach milkshake drink.

his ears note your change in tone, voice turning excited. “oh, they're one of my favorites too!” warmth engulfs his gloved hand and he finds himself being dragged to the produce section.

“what about the trolleys?” he asks, mind still reeling from the sudden hand grabbing on your part.

you wave off his concerns. “oh, they'll be fine parked to the side.” you all but drag him to the peach display. “now, pay close attention, okay?”

as if he needed you to tell him that. “i'm listening,” he says.

you pick up a peach with bruising. “when you're sorting through peaches, look for the ones with no blemishes. they don't spoil as fast. same with apples and pears and such.” now this, he knew. but he still nods along, a picture-perfect student. he sees your eyes and wonders how anyone's could be so gorgeous.

later, he dutifully nods a little more as you explain the specifics of choosing potatoes.

“the potatoes should be firm, and there should be no signs of green,”

should he be taking notes? he stamps the involuntary urge to hunt for a notepad in one of his pockets down, deciding he did not want to embarrass himself any more in front of you.

you seemed to glow even under the unflattering light around you, hair lit by it as you tell him about how to look for the right cauliflowers and broccoli.

how could someone look so ethereal while standing next to onions?

diluc ragnvindr. get. a. grip. they're only talking about vegetables.

you ask him to tell you the price of the eggs while you sort through carrots for both him and yourself. he walks over a couple of yards, carefully examines the label and returns to report the number.

“that much?!” you eyes widen. “my goodness, that should be considered robbery!”

...was it? he thought it was a reasonable price for a carton of eggs. still, he blindly agrees. you smile, having caught on to the fact that he had no idea what the price should be, and he can't help the pride that spreads its wings in his heart. (though he probably shouldn't be, considering why you smiled, he was glad that he was the cause of it.)

the rest of the shopping goes in a similar manner. you tell him things. he nods, he observes another one of your features, then notes down whatever you tell him mentally.

by the time you reach check out, both of your trolleys are filled with the exact same items in the exact same quantities. except for two items in his cart that he reached for out of instinct when he saw them on the shelf: a chocolate his brother liked, and a snack his father used to eat often.

he contemplates leaving them behind, but decides against it at the last minute just before the cashier scans them.

he sees you reach into your pockets for a wallet, and sees an opportunity to repay you for your help.

he's quick to pull out his own and hands his card to the cashier before you can say a word.

“i insist,” he says, when you protest. “it is only fair i do this in return for you helping me,”

you sigh, giving him another one of the smiles he had started to adore. “alright, thank you.”

the two of you walk outside the store together. cool wind ruffles both of your hair. “well, i guess this is where we part ways,” you say with a laugh and a wave. he manages a soft smile in return.

“farewell, then.” he watches you walk away, still standing at the entrance, shopping bags in hand. "dammit." he curses under his breath.

he'd forgotten to ask for your name.

#—🖋#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #diluc x you #diluc ragnvindr x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff

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seineko · 7 months

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minors do not interact!

if you can't tell already, i'm a huge simp for diluc :D

warning(s): smut, implied multiple rounds, wrote this at 3:27 am with head empty only diluc in it

i am an absolute sucker for soft dom diluc.

i know you already saw a shit ton of posts talking about it, but hear me out. it's such a knee weakening concept.

like the fact that he has a power over you and is still absolutely gentle and soft in the way he demands your control is so hot to me.

and he most probably doesn't even mean it many a times. that makes it even more hot.

anyways, as i was saying:

soft dom diluc.

the one that waits patiently until you inevitably lose your stamina while riding him on his office chair and gently places you on the table that he cleared haphazardly a few seconds ago, or in other words, pushed the contents off of.

the one that praises you for the efforts that you put into pleasuring the both of you and the one that sweetly assures that he is going to take care of it. and that you don't have to worry about it.

the one that is absolutely enamoured by the sight in front of him. his beloved, spread apart on his work table with eyes rolled into the back of your head and candle light kissing your skin, casting a golden glow on it, shining with that sweat that dripped down. just when he thought you couldn't look more beautiful.

the one that requests you for 'one more,' but turns out, it's just a loop. one more is, in fact, never just one more but one more than what you could handle. and having diluc for a partner, you had gotten used to handling a lot.

the one that is absolutely insatiable. so insatiable that he can render you unable to walk for weeks after the sheer number of times he has taken you. the fact that his libido went from practically non-existent, before meeting you, to wanting to lock both of you up in his room and never let you leave the bed speaks for itself.

the one that will make you reach your climax first before he even thinks about his own. it helps him in a way; the fact that he can make you a complete mess under him while he's in control gets him off.

the one that kisses you deeply on the cheek when you're done, whispering, 'i love you,' in a voice completely hoarse.

and the one who makes sure to clean you up before wrapping you in either a blanket or his own coat depending on where you are and cuddles you as close as he can without suffocating you.

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moraxsthrone · 1 year

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✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ TITLE — something precious in return

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ PAIRING — d. ragnvindr x f!reader

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ WC — 5.7k

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ WARNINGS/NOTES — nsfw. mdni. virgin!diluc. virgin!reader. mutual pining. childhood friends to lovers. light angst to comfort to smut to fluff. outdoor sex at night. flashbacks in italics. SLOW BURN, just how diluc likes it. from his very first time, he's always been such a naturally passionate lover.

here on your stargazing hill, the night breeze is colder than you had anticipated when you opted to bring the thin blanket upon which you presently sit. you’d worn long sleeves, but hadn’t accounted for how much cooler the air would feel against your face once the tears began to flow.

normally you’d be at angel’s share right about now, sitting at the bar and shooting the shit with your best friend while he works. but under the current circumstances, diluc’s presence would only serve to drive the knife deeper: a cruel reminder of the love you could have had if only he returned your affection. then perhaps you wouldn’t be sitting here all alone, holding the broken shards of your heart in your hands because you never even would’ve looked twice at the other guy. instead, now it’s doubly broken - first by the guy who just broke up with you, then by the knowledge that the one you really want - your first choice - would always be just out of reach. you almost resent diluc because he has no idea that every time he smiles at you, your heart skips a beat even as it bleeds for him.

you shiver and pull your knees in close to your chest, arms hugging your legs as you look out at the stars.

“you’ll catch your death sitting out here like this.”

you squeak and nearly jump out of your skin before putting your hand over your heart and breathing a sigh of relief.

“you scared the shit out of me, luc!” you chide as he snickers and drapes his coat over your shoulders. you playfully slap his arm as he sits down beside you. “it’s not funny! don’t sneak up on me like that!”

you quickly wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand, turning his smile upside down as his eyebrows knit. you were hoping he wouldn’t notice you’d been crying, but it’s diluc. he notices things. especially when it comes to you.

“what’s wrong, y/n?”

his body heat feels nice, his warmth enveloping you as you pull his coat tighter around yourself. “shouldn’t you be at the tavern?” you scoff, wishing he would just go away but scooting over to give him more room in spite of yourself. this would all be so much easier if he didn’t care about you so much.

“not when my friend doesn’t show up there on a friday night.” a new hairline crack snakes through your heart at the word ‘friend’. “i haven’t seen hair nor hide of you all week. now, talk to me. why are you crying? do i need to go kick someone’s ass?”

you fight the smile that threatens to betray you, and he notices…of course.

“i feel passed over, luc,” you mutter, looking down at your hands, “like i’ll only ever be second best. i want to be someone’s first choice, every time. forever, not just for a few months.”

your words tug at his heart. if you only knew. “so would it be safe to assume things didn’t work out between you and what’s-his-name?”

you chuckle. even though you dated “what’s-his-name” for almost a year, diluc has always “forgotten” his name no matter how many times you’ve reminded him. clearly he's never thought much of the guy. and for good reason, it turns out.

“seeing as how he dumped me for another girl, your assumption would be safe indeed,” you answer, choking on your last word as fresh tears begin to well up.

“hey now,” diluc says softly, pulling you in, “come here.”

leaning into him, you lay your head against his chest where his voice sounds so much closer, deeper. balling his shirt in your fist, you tuck your head under his chin just like you’ve done since you were both little, and you cry.

outside of family, diluc has always been your most reliable source of comfort. generally speaking, he’s never really been the most affectionate person. but when it comes to you he’s made a lot of exceptions. since his father died last year, not many people get to see diluc’s smile or hear his laugh, but you do. the two of you have pretty much been inseparable since you were 7 and he was 8.

you'd gotten stuck in a tree after climbing it, too scared to climb back down. you sat there and cried for about half an hour when another little girl with long, bright red hair and pretty, big carmine eyes came along and helped you down. you had a couple of scrapes on your knees and elbows and were too shaken up to walk home. so your new friend carried you on her back.

you’ll never forget the way her thick hair tickled your face and made you giggle every time there was a breeze. it was only when you got back home and introduced your new friend to your mom as “she” that diluc’s face turned a shade that rivaled the color of his hair and he said, a little indignantly you might add, “he! i’m a boy!”

to this day you still tease him about what a pretty girl he could pass for, albeit one with a very deep voice. he does not find it funny.

however, at the present moment, neither of you are laughing. with his strong arms wrapped around you, you hear his heartbeat quicken.

“i happen to have it on good authority that you are someone’s first choice.”

“you do? i am?” you sniff and look up at him, your watery eyes following the strong line of his jaw as he trains his gaze on the starry canopy above.

his affirmative hum vibrates against your ear, which is still pressed to his chest. why is his heart beating so fast?

with your curiosity piqued, you lift your head. “who?”

“not telling.”

“how mature.”

a breathy laugh escapes his scrunched-up nose as he looks down at you again. “shut up.”

“c’mon, luc, at least give me a hint! is it someone i know?”

“yes.”

“really?” diluc’s hold on you loosens when you straighten up again. “is it someone i know from the tavern or the winery?”

“both.”

that doesn’t narrow it down much. “is it a guy or a girl?” you press.

“definitely a guy,” he says pointedly.

“what color is his hair?”

“i’ll only answer yes or no questions…”

“why can’t you just tell me?”

“because i’m not so sure he wants you to know.”

you scoff. “that’s stupid. why wouldn’t he want me to know?”

“maybe he’s afraid you won’t want to be friends with him anym-” shit, he thinks, too far. the brief flash of panic in his eyes isn’t lost on you. “in any case,” he says, clearing his throat, “you’re nursing a broken heart so it’s too soon to-”

“diluc,” you interrupt him. “is it you?”

he scoffs, eyebrows knitting. “pfssh…no!” he instantly turns away from you lest you see the blush that he can feel rushing to his face.

“aww, luc! you’re blushing!” you tease, leaning around him to try and see his face. you believed him when he said it’s not him (thinking otherwise would’ve been wishful indeed), but tormenting him a little because of how cute it is that he gets so easily flustered. giggling, you bring a hand to his jaw in an effort to turn his face towards you again. “you’re totally blushing, i can see how red your face-“

before you can finish your taunt, your senses are suddenly filled with diluc ragnvindr. his bottom lip is pressed between yours as he kisses you, the scent of wine-stained oak barrels filling your nostrils. you’re so stunned that you forget to kiss him back and he pulls away, unable to make eye contact.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, moving to get up and leave to avoid making things any worse, but you grab his hand. he stops, but doesn’t turn around. he’s still too embarrassed to face you.

“how long?” your voice is soft, almost a whisper, afraid if you speak too loudly you’ll wake up to find this has all been a dream.

“since that night in the water…”

archons, that long? you were barely teenagers that summer.

you’d snuck out of your respective homes to go night swimming. you met at the beach south of dawn winery, near the waterfall, before removing all but your swimwear that you’d each worn under your clothes.

you both stood on one of the boulders and agreed to jump in on the count of three, but when the moment of truth came you chickened out, letting diluc jump in by himself. when he surfaced you were still standing on the rock, looking down and laughing at him. he swam to the shore and by the time you realized what he was doing, it was too late. he was coming right for you but the only escape was jumping into the water.

you put your hands out, still giggling. “n-no! diluc, no don’t do it!”

a dark grin spread across his face as he grabbed your bare waist. you screamed as he tossed you into the water before jumping in behind you.

you surfaced and as soon as you could touch the bottom you pushed your wet hair out of your face and turned towards the laughing boy. you called him a few choice names while splashing water towards his face, but he just ended up tackling you. you’re still not sure how it happened, but you found yourself in waist-deep water, still laughing with diluc’s hands perched on your hips to steady you when he suddenly leaned down and kissed you.

the feeling of lips - his lips - pressed against your own made you feel like you were floating even as your toes curled into the sediment beneath them. you were both inexperienced, neither of you having kissed anyone before. it only lasted a few seconds, but to the two of you it felt like forever, each rapid beat of your hearts lasting lifetimes. but when you placed your palm flat against his bare chest, diluc pulled away and trudged out of the water.

you watched him, confused and still in shock by what just happened. with his back turned to you, he started getting dressed.

you were still anchored in the water, suddenly feeling cold. “luc?”

he balled his hair into his fists to wring the excess water out before looking back at you, but only with a glance. “i uh- i have to go.”

“diluc, what-”

“just…get dressed and let’s go.” he sounded angry. “i’m not leaving you out here alone. it's too dangerous.”

you frowned, hugging yourself as you walked out of the water. your head was swimming, reeling as you slowly made your way towards your own pile of clothes.

he walked you home that night and neither of you have spoken a word of it since.

until now.

“i thought you hated it,” you say, collecting the excess length of his coat sleeves in your fidgeting hands.

“i didn’t hate it!” he corrects you a little too quickly, then lowers his voice. “i…i liked it.”

“then why the hell did you act so weird about it and want to leave?”

he averts his eyes, but doesn’t say anything.

“diluc, why?” you plead, new tears - different tears - pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“i…” he knows the question has been burning at the back of your mind for years. an explanation is long overdue. he lowers his gaze from the stars overhead and mumbles something that you can’t quite understand.

“i didn’t hear you.”

“i got hard,” he repeats.

“you-” did you just hear him correctly? “you got hard?”

he has mixed feelings about hearing you say those words. it’s embarrassing, but also…it sounds sexy when you say it.

“so you’ve been breaking my heart for the past 5 years because you popped a boner?”

his eyes shift to yours before quickly looking away again. “i’m sorry.”

“you’re sorry?” you ask incredulously. “diluc, do you have any idea how confused i was? that was my first kiss and i’ve always wanted to cherish it, but you robbed me of that! you took something so precious to me and turned it into something shameful! all because your dick got hard?”

“i didn’t want you to see it, or worse, feel it. we- our bodies were so close. i didn’t want you to think i was a creep.” his apologetic eyes meet yours. “i didn’t mean to hurt you.”

you hazard a glance at his lap, but his leg is bent such that it makes it impossible to tell. “are you hard now?” your voice is quieter, conveying genuine curiosity.

his eyes snap to yours. “no!” do you really think a peck on the lips is enough to arouse him? “it was just a quick kiss…tch!”

“don’t act so offended! that’s all it took back then!”

“i was 14 for fuck’s sake!”

thing is though, you want to make him hard again. the thought that you’d had that effect on him back then - with just a simple kiss - sends a pang of desire coursing through your core. you get to your knees and inch closer to his side, diluc’s crimson eyes following your every move. putting your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, you lean in and place the softest kiss on his parted lips.

he doesn’t even feel like he deserves to kiss you again. aren’t you mad at him? why would you reward him with such a sweet gift after what he’d put you through?

you pull back just enough to look at him and whisper, “kiss me, diluc. like you mean it this time.”

he tilts his head, slotting his lips with yours once again as you both close your eyes. your mouths begin to move and diluc’s hand comes to rest on the back of your neck, his warm thumb ghosting over your ear.

your mouths open, breathing each other’s air before slowly sealing your lips together again. you drag your thumbs down the sides of his neck as he cranes it to get closer, kissing you a bit harder. as if reading each other’s desires, the tips of your tongues brush together the next time your lips part and pretty soon they’re swirling in a slow, sensual dance.

diluc’s hands drift down to your waist, pulling you closer to straddle his lap. you settle down, the tiniest of whines leaving your mouth when you feel his semi-hard bulge press into the back of your thigh. your kisses grow increasingly passionate by the second as though trying to make up for lost time.

changing the tilt of his head to deepen the kiss, diluc wraps you into his arms completely. this time, there is no sign of him backing out. his confidence is sexy, his tongue intoxicating. your hands are in his hair where they’ve wanted to be for so long. he grips your back and pulls you flush against him. you roll your hips against him, making him moan in your mouth as you feel his building erection jump against the back of your thigh.

diluc huffs and you find yourself on your back, legs still straddling his hips. your tongues push over and around each other, quickened breaths mixing together when he reaches down momentarily and adjusts himself. in this position his cock is now pressing firmly against your moistening center, making you keenly aware of how close your bodies are, how ready you are for one another.

the sweet, breathy mewl diluc pulls from you when he grinds his clothed erection against your clit goes straight to his dick, making it throb for you in his pants. he ruts again, slowly, willing you to feel him, no longer shy and too far gone to pretend he isn’t aroused. he wants you to know he’s hard for you; needs you to know how badly he’s wanted you and for how long. you have no idea how many times he has whispered your name while lying in his own bed, eyes closed with his hands in his boxers wishing they were yours. more than that, though, he needs you to know how much he cares for you.

diluc ragnvindr has never been a man of many words. but perhaps now, here on this grassy knoll, with your hands in his hair, his lip between your teeth, your hearts pressed together and pounding for one another - diluc can finally show you all the things he’s wanted to say.

one of his hands wanders the length of your waist, gripping your side as he massages his way down to your hip. he squeezes you there, making you sigh and roll your hips up to meet his when his thumb presses into the crease of your leg. you’re both panting into your open-mouthed kiss, lips red and swollen, impatiently trying to get closer and closer as though you can will your clothing out of the way.

but you’re too needy to wait until the fabric barriers can be worn down with time, so you take matters into your own shaky hands and start unbuttoning the collar of diluc’s shirt. with a grunt, he lifts himself up to help things along, quickly removing his shirt before reaching down to help you out of yours. you’re already working your bra off as your eyes traverse the expanse of his naked chest and sculpted abs.

his skin is pale and smooth save for the dips between his muscles and the thin line of red hair beneath his navel. diluc’s fiery mane is draped over his broad shoulders, tickling your chest when he presses his naked torso to yours and recaptures your lips with his. he’s burning up, his blushing skin so very hot to the touch that you almost flinch. his scorching hand massages its way to your breast, squeezing and kneading it gently while he dips down to take the other into the wet heat of his mouth. you gasp, eyes rolling back as you arch your back off the relatively cool lining of his coat, pushing your chest into his touch. your hands are exploring his back, dragging the impressions of your fingertips across his pale skin, digging and pulling at him as if he could get any closer.

blazing a trail of wet kisses along your neck, diluc’s lips find yours once again only to release a quiet moan inside your mouth when your fingers slide inside the front of his pants. he lifts his hips slightly, encouraging your exploration of his body, shivering as your digits thread through his coarse patch of hair before spreading around the wide base of his hard cock. you wrap your fingers around him, sighing at the feeling of his heavy girth in your hand; his hot, velvety skin sliding over the rock hard length of his shaft as you slowly stroke him.

diluc hums, eyes screwing shut as he presses his forehead to yours, mind buzzing at the sensation of your soft hand pumping him. you work your way closer to his tip, pussy clenching at his deep groan when the edge of his glans catches on the opening of your grip. inside his underwear, you can feel the cool slick of his precum against your knuckles as more begins to coat the inside of your fist. diluc swears under his breath, moving his hips more quickly, unable to resist the sheer pleasure of your tight grip around his slippery cockhead.

“mm-y/n,” he whispers, burying his face against your neck. “hhhh shit…”

a few hurried thrusts later, you feel the rhythmic twitching of his cock and with a low, extended groan, diluc covers your hand with his warm release. you slow your pace but keep your fist tight, milking the last of his orgasm from his cock as his hot breaths come hard and fast against your neck.

when he’s fully spent, he jolts out of your grip and huffs out a small laugh, indicating his sensitivity. you slowly pull your hand from his pants, leaving a trail of his cum along his stomach but neither of you care.

“that was really hot,” you muse with a small smile.

nuzzling your ear, he mumbles, “can i touch you?”

your eyes slide closed, sighing. “i really want you to, yes.”

diluc leaves a couple of kisses on the corner of your mouth before raising up onto his knees. his chest rises and falls, still catching his breath as he unfastens your pants. you lift your hips to aid him when he curls his fingers around your waistband and works your bottoms down the curve of your ass and hips before ridding you of them entirely.

you watch as he unbuckles his belt and removes the rest of his own clothing, biting your lip when his half-hard cock bounces out of his cum-stained underwear. he looks down at you, lips parted as his lust-blown vermillion eyes take in every inch of your naked form. feeling vulnerable and self-conscious, you close your legs and fold your arms over your breasts.

“s-stop staring, diluc,” you mutter, looking away with a bashful smile. “you’re embarrassing me.”

you feel his hands on your closed thighs, not pulling them apart but caressing them in an effort to make you feel less uncomfortable.

“i’m sorry, it’s just-” he begins to stumble on his words but presses on, “...the way you’re glowing in the moonlight. you look like a goddess.” he leans down, letting his lips ghost over your skin as he whispers, “please don’t hide yourself; you’re lovely.”

there’s no fighting the smile that spreads across your face at his words. you willingly open your legs and arms, pulling him close for a kiss. propping himself on his forearm, his other hand touches you, roaming your naked body, claiming every peak and valley, conquering you with his hands inch by scorching inch.

he feels you tremble beneath him as the backs of his fingers rake along your inner thigh. you gasp, interrupting your lazy kissing when the pad of diluc’s thumb grazes your clit. he slides his digit down between your folds before returning to your tiny, engorged tip. he repeats the process a few more times, spreading your slick along your pink slit while driving you out of your mind.

he’s dragging the tip of his thumb in little circles over your clit now, swallowing your whines, his full erection returning as you buck your hips for him. with his thumb still on your clit, he presses the tip of his middle finger against your opening, slowly pushing it in a little before withdrawing, back and forth until he’s knuckle deep inside your slippery heat. you’re gripping his biceps, hanging on for dear life while he drinks your moans and sighs, tasting the sounds of your pleasure on his tongue like a fine wine.

“hhhhnn~ luc…”

he moves to your ear as he works a second finger inside you, a pleased hum escaping him when he hears his name, laced with lust and desire, pour from your lips. there’s a deep ache building inside your lower belly that you’ve never felt before. diluc presses deeper inside you, reveling in the sensation of your slick walls clenching around his fingers. it feels like you’re chasing something but you need more. his fingers are providing a delicious stretch, but it’s just not quite enough.

“diluc, please…” you whisper breathlessly, “...put it in.” he raises his head from your collarbone and meets your lust-filled gaze. “need you, luc. want you inside me~”

“you mean…” if you weren’t so drunk on desire, you’d laugh at the almost comical look on his face when he raises his eyebrows. “...my cock?”

you cup his cheeks in your palms and hum affirmatively with a breathy ‘yes’. “i want you…want you to be my first.”

“wait, you’re still…?”

you nod. “i’ve always wanted you to be my first everything.”

his heart blooms, swelling against his ribcage at your confession. with a furrowed brow, he kisses you. “i’ve always wanted the same; you’ll be my first too.” he slowly pulls his fingers out of you and squares his hips with yours, nestling his readied cock between your slick folds. “i’m sorry it took me so long to-”

you bring your fingers to his lips, shushing him. “better late than never,” you tell him with a reassuring smile as you press your lips to his again. your breath stutters when the head of his cock nudges your clit. “claim me, diluc.”

he deepens the kiss with a sigh, his cock leaking to mix with your need, getting slicker with every languid roll of his hips. he reaches between your bodies, his eyes darting to yours, watching for the slightest hint of discomfort or change of mind as he pushes his pink, drooling tip to your opening and begins to push inside you.

you both moan, fingertips curling into one another’s flesh as your tight ring stretches around his thick, virgin cockhead before finally surrendering with a soft pop.

in all his fantasies of this moment, nothing could’ve prepared diluc for the intoxicating texture and heat of your cunt as it spreads around him. “so…” he sucks air between his teeth at your relentless clenching, “...tight.”

meanwhile, you’ve never felt such overwhelming pressure and fullness as his cock invades your virgin pussy. you hold your breath as the young, inexperienced male pushes deeper inside you, digging your nails into the skin of his back. the stretch is too much, too fast.

he halts all movement, crimson eyes widening when he hears the muffled whimper in your throat. “shit. are you okay? does it hurt?”

you wince, trying to soldier through the pain. you’ve heard that if it hurts you have to take deep breaths and try to relax; tensing only makes it worse. “a- a little.”

“maybe we should stop,” he says as he begins to pull out.

“no!” you blurt, hooking your ankles behind diluc’s thighs to impede his withdrawal. “no,” you repeat, more quietly this time, collecting yourself. “just…be still for a moment and i think i’ll be okay.”

“you want me to keep it in?” he’s watching you like a hawk for your reactions. the last thing in the world he wants to do is hurt you.

your eyes slide closed and nod, the pain already starting to give way to a dull, tolerable pressure. diluc waits, holding himself still as he kisses your face, his soft lips grazing your eyelids while he threads his fingers through your hair. your death grip on the flesh of his back subsides as you inwardly remind yourself to breathe. even when you move your hips a little, diluc keeps still, putting your comfort and pleasure ahead of his own feral urges, content to let you guide his pace.

little by little, you work yourself further down his thick length until your clit rubs against the red thatch of hair around his base. the added stimulation sends a surge of pleasure through your core, that new ache returning, making you ready and craving just a little more.

you kiss behind diluc’s jaw, just beneath his ear before murmuring to him, “make love to me, diluc.”

and so, on a cool blanket under the stars and moon, not too far from the vineyard with only the crystalflies to bear witness, you and diluc take something from each other while giving something far more precious in return.

diluc’s hips undulate, rocking back and forth, his butt muscles flexing with each forward thrust. the crimson hair at the base of his dick is shiny with your slick as it rubs your swollen clit. your toes curl, heels digging into his thighs like a jockey spurring on her steed to go faster, faster.

“more- nnhhm- more…”

he’s on his forearms, cradling your back, his hands framing your ears when he opens his eyes to look at you from above. “you sure?”

“please, yes, i need it…” your back arches, eyes closing when you feel your core squeeze him and you’re chasing that unknown something again. “need you to fuck me harder, luc.”

your lover's eyes widen momentarily at your direct, wanton words. he finds it incredibly sexy and briefly wonders how else your mouth might surprise him. he’s pumping his cock into you a little faster now, his hand cradling the back of your neck, the pad of his thumb ghosting along your jawline.

“i need you to tell me if i go too far…”

you nod, and he raises up onto his hands, caging you beneath him to give himself more leverage as he begins to thrust into you faster still. your moans and whimpers travel straight down his spine, urging him to go harder until you can hear the wet claps of skin, sloppy and lewd.

“gods, y/n…” diluc grunts, feeling that familiar coil winding dangerously tight at the base of his spine, searing and ready to snap. “i think i’m going to…” he swears through his moan as his balls tighten.

as new lovers tend to do, he slips out of you unintentionally, his hot seed spurting in long threads over your belly. he’s still rocking his hips, dragging his jerking cock between your folds, smearing his cum along your pussy lips as more of it spills out. he’s sighing, trying so hard to be quiet, but as the last of his sperm dribbles out of his cockhead it catches and slides back inside you. he lets out an open-mouthed groan as your tight heat sucks his sensitive, cum-coated tip back in.

but he doesn’t stop.

his eyes are screwed shut, gritting his teeth to fight the overstim because your warm cunt just feels so damn good, his dick doesn’t soften in the slightest.

you’re keening for him, making his toes curl with how sweet you sound for him, his name passing your lips in broken whimpers. diluc’s inhibitions are almost entirely gone at this point. he’s fucking into you with abandon, sloppy because it’s his first time. threads of his cum connect your bellies, joining you, hot and sticky. traces of it have mixed with your slick, making his thick cock nice and slippery as it drags and pulls at your tightening walls.

that something has been building low, so low in your belly. an ache so dull and so deep, a pressure you’ve never felt before. your squelching walls have been closing in with every delectable tug of diluc’s fat cock.

“ohh…hhnn~diluc?” you keen.

“yeah?” he pants, still thrusting, addicted to the soft, velvety slick of your pussy sucking him in harder.

“h-harder…just a little harder…”

he wants to get on his knees, push your thighs back, and fuck you properly, but this time is special and he would rather stay close to you, even through his haze of wanton lust and unbridled passion. so instead, he bends his knees out beside you, panting with the occasional grunt against the pulsing artery in your neck as he presses hard against your cervix with every pump of his cock.

“gods, y/n,” he whispers, “you feel so…so good.”

he shifts, angling the curve of his cock just right against a spot deep inside you that you didn’t even know existed until now. the last thing you remember is watching the rich boy’s lean abs flexing, sweat dripping down his sides as he humps his slick shaft in and out, in and out, in and out. he drives you right up to a terrible height until you feel...

weightless.

you’re hanging in the air just before the freefall when a sharp heat courses out from your center to the very ends of your nerves at lightspeed. you barely hear yourself cry out for him as your walls convulse and spasm around his length. he watches, wide-eyed as he fucks you through your first orgasm, slow and deep with full, passionate thrusts. the sound of his name falling desperately from your lips, the sounds of all your shared fluids - sweat, slick, cum, tears - they go right to his head as his hips keep right on snapping into yours.

“gonna~ mmnnhh~ make me cum again~” a strangled groan escapes diluc’s open lips.

shame you’ll never get to see just how tightly his little asshole winks while his cock jerks his cum inside your pussy for the very first time, painting your walls creamy white. his thick seed leaks from your tight opening as you continue to glide on his cock from below. you kiss him, his quick breaths catching in his throat as he rides out his orgasm.

your lips graze as you both come down from your respective highs together, noses nudging between lazy kisses. diluc rolls off of you, some of his warm seed oozing out of you when his softening dick slips out. he rests his hand above your hip and pulls you to him until the side of your face is pressed against his warm chest, his heart still thumping at a fast pace. you place tender butterfly kisses against his flushed skin as he presses his lips to the top of your head. you lie there together, basking in the long-desired feeling of being in each other’s arms, two sweaty bodies shimmering in the moonlight as you mindlessly trace your names on the other’s back until diluc feels you shiver.

“come on,” he says, sitting up. “let’s get dressed and go back to my place for a hot bath.”

slipping your shirt on, you hesitate. “but…adelinde and the others…they’ll know.”

zipping his pants before shoving his soiled boxers into his pocket, he says, “they already know. they’ve been hounding me about us for years.”

you look up at him, a wide grin gracing your features. “'us'? really?”

he simply nods with a smirk, holding his coat open as you slip it on again. it’s heavy, but the weight is comforting and familiar, protective like armor. “i think nothing would make them happier.”

you help him fold your blanket before wrapping your arms around his waist. “will you carry me on your back?” you ask, standing on your tiptoes to punctuate your request with a kiss.

“of course,” he chuckles softly, kissing you back before turning around and crouching. “hop on.”

with your legs hooked over his arms, he carries you back to the winery. you prop your chin on his shoulder, catching your scent on him and giggling every time his hair tickles your face in the breeze.

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ diluc m.list

✧:･.☽ ･ﾟ happy birthday to diluc! it's after midnight where i am, but it's still his bday somewhere! please consider reblogging if you enjoyed reading this. thank you, loves! 💋

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telemi · 2 years

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Hi can i request hurt/comfort probably with ayato, childe and diluc where they're too busy and the reader confronted them about it but they just shrug it off and the reader becames tired and leave? ;;

growing tired — ft. ayato, childe, diluc

ִֶָ𓂅 a flower that once bloomed . . .

꒰ cw ! ꒱ hurt to comfort, gn!reader, not proofread ?!

K. AYATO

it had been days since you last saw ayato. he had been busy... as the servants have said. he neither made the effort to show himself nor spend time with you. even getting a glance of his blue hair is hard to do because: 1.) you wake up and he’s not there, presumably at work. 2.) he rarely sleeps in your bedroom now. it’s like your shared bedroom has no use to him at all!

when you finally decided to confront him about it, he doesn’t look at you and instead he focuses on the documents on his table. “can we talk about this later? i have important matters to attend to.” he shoos you away like some sort of animal as he turns his head away and just leaves you there. with your fists clenched and your eyes dull, your lips quiver slightly and you smile weakly — “i see, okay, let’s talk later then.”

after his work is done, he finally realizes what he just said. he rushes back to your bedroom, only to notice that you’re not there. huh, not a big deal right? you’re probably outside. when he steps outside however, you were nowhere in sight, and that’s when he panics. he shouts, screams, yells your name but to no avail. the servants haven’t seen you either so just where could you be?

as the sun sets with no news of your whereabouts, he became restless. just then thoma came running to him and told him that he saw you silently enter the premises of the estate, and ayato is more than relieved to hear that. please, please, please be alright — he chants repeatedly, hoping that you weren’t hurt by anyone.

as you remove your shoes, a sudden force collapses from behind you and a familiar scent engulfs your senses. oh, how you’ve missed this. he clings to you like you’re his lifeline and his whole body trembles uncontrollably. “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have said that. it was wrong of me and—”

“ayato, hey, it’s fine.” you ease his worries and hush him quietly. turning your front to him, you place your palm on his cheek, leaning in close and leaving a soft kiss on his lips. he softens against your touch and keeps a firm, loving gaze on you. “please don’t ever leave me like that.”

you tilt your head, confused. “hm? i was merely taking a walk though?” oh.

CHILDE

last month, childe brought you to meet his family in snezhnaya. their first impressions of you were great! they basically loved you already <33 but childe wasn’t the most diligent when it comes to your relationship. just a week ago, he left you at home to finish up some ‘stuff’ at his workplace. he didn’t specify much but that’s pretty much what he said.

at first you didn’t mind his absence that much, teucer and tonya kept you company while his parents kept talking to you about how ajax was such a cute baby. they showed you his baby album yes. but as time went on, you realized that it was lonely without him. no cuddles, hello’s, or late night talks — nothing. so when he comes back home with a huge, thick coat wrapped around him, you engulf him in a big hug before he pushes you away harshly shortly after. “don’t touch me. let’s talk later, i’m tired.” he tells you with a tone filled with exhaustion and you nod your head thoughtfully, not wanting to disturb him any longer.

after a few hours of laying down on your shared bedroom, he finally shoots up from the mattress and rubs his temples in realization. shit, what an idiot he is. he calls for your name repeatedly but no one answered, it is at that moment where he starts to worry. he asks teucer if he had seen you but the little boy simply shook his head ‘no’. he asks his older siblings if they had seen you yet he was only met with another shake of their heads again. just where could you be?

after a few minutes of panicking, he hears the front door open and it reveals you with his mother carrying a bag of groceries. you stop by your tracks when you make eye contact with him, but before you can say a simple ‘hello’, he runs up to you and hugs you tightly. “ ‘m sorry, i shouldn’t have done that, no— i will never do it again. please don’t leave me.” his voice quavers slightly while you cage your hands behind is back, dropping your groceries and soothing him quietly. “i will never. it’s all right, ajax.”

and he swears he could tear up right there and then if it weren’t for his family looking at the two of you like they were watching a romance show.

DILUC

diluc had been out of it lately. out of the manor, out of your life — everything. he just says that he has some work to do outside of town and that you shouldn’t concern yourself with such matters. for ten consecutive days, he still hasn’t returned home and you started to get anxious. what if he got into trouble? or perhaps danger? just thinking about it makes you dread. but when he comes home completely unscathed, you were more than relieved.

“diluc, how have you been? do you need a bath? i can tell adelinde to—”

“stop. i’m tired, don’t bother me for a while.” he sighs against his palm as he passes by you like you were a nobody. “oh, okay..” you grip your fingers in a state of both anxiousness and relief as you retreat to the living room.

he enters the master bedroom and flumps on the soft mattress. i can clean this up later, he thinks before he drifts into sleep. when he finally awoke from his slumber it was already midnight and you were nowhere to be found.

....

not a big deal. you probably went to the bathroom. a few minutes passed and you still didn’t return. okay, now he was getting restless.

did you leave? it was all his fault, why did he have to say something so stupid earlier. stupid, idiotic diluc ragnvindr.

he gets up from his position and walks out the door with a blank, but worried expression on his face. the mansion was quiet, mostly because the workers and servants are all asleep. he slowly walks down the stairs and the moment he stepped down the last step, his heart was crushed at the sight of you. your body was sleeping on the couch, clearly uncomfortable, but still you made room for it. he approaches you and kneels down, placing his forehead onto yours while letting out a shaky breath, “thank goodness.”

he lifts you up gently as to not disturb your peaceful sleep and slowly brings you up the stairs to your shared bedroom. he lays you down gently and brushes off any stray hair away from your face. his hand strokes the side of your face and he whispers underneath his breath, “i’m sorry, my love.” even though you were asleep, you felt as if something sweet brushed over your thoughts and you could never be happier.

🏷️ — ( taglist ) : @kujuo, @yonaraee, @modmochi, @thirtyn1ne, @elizabethrosedarling, @albenyx, @deathkat657, @kazu-topia , @starfellforyou (refer to this post if you want to be tagged in my future works)

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suguwu · 1 month

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MOON EATER I MASTERLIST

"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.

status: ongoing

pairing: diluc ragnvindr x f!reader

summary: a mondstadt diplomat in liyue, your close relationship with the fatui harbinger tartaglia draws diluc's piercing attention. ever hungry for information on the fatui, he comes up with a plan—marrying you.

but that's not all there is to the story.

content: marriage of convenience, politics, some manipulation, pining, slow burn, eventual smut, jealousy, some blood and gore.

read on ao3

chapter one (3k)

chapter two (5k)

chapter three — may 3rd or when i finish chapter 4

chapter four — TBA

chapter five — TBA

#genshin x reader #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc ragnvindr x you #bee navi #bee writes genshin

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silvervinewine · 11 days

Text

BATTLE INJURIES (W/ DILUC)

TW: NON GRAPHIC MENTIONS OF BLOOD, INJURIES

IN WHICH DILUC RAGNVINDR FINDS HIMSELF HURT, YET YOU TAKE YOUR TIME TO PATCH UP HIS WOUNDS

"you do not have to do this, i'll be alright," DILUC paused, looking to the side, "i can handle it myself, i have done this before?"

giant scissor and bandages at hand at hand, you were tempted to begin cutting away at his shirt, eager to care for the gash hidden beneath layers of shredded fabric.

you looked at him through the embarrasment, his eyes sternly focused on avoiding your gaze.

"may i?", you tried to get his attention, pointing at , attempting to get some sort of permission.

"yes.", was all he uttered before looking down, his bangs hiding his feautures.

and at last, that was all you needed to start cutting away. an ambush was really the last thing you expected, after all thedarknight hero never lets down his guard, especially in a midnight stroll. even if the fatui agents were clearly outmatched against mondstadt's own vigilante, a certain skirmisher managed to distract DILUC.

looking away he felt your own hands on his torso. feathering touches moving across his sides. he didn't expect you to touch him like this, even though it is nothing more than first aid, it felt so intimate. his feelings for you were relatively a new thing for you, and now he felt them, actually felt them. your hands provoked a feeling so unknown, he didn't know what to think of himself when he started turning red.

he was a cold man, repressed and always keeping his feelings behind many walls and barriers. despite his unwilling behaviour, he felt so strongly towards you.

"oh.", he winced, closing his eyes shut, the harshness of the disinfectant stinging.

"sorry dear, i need to clean it up." you whispered closely as you applied gentle pressure to his wound. he turned his head and looked at the other way, as he pretended to remain oblivious to the pet name you called him, ignorance would be bliss.

you pulled out your small medical kit out of your bad, he braces himself for the worst. he was sure stitches would need to be needed.

"it's all going to be alright KNIGHT, i promise...", you didn't know his secret identity, how he wished he could just embrace you.

gentle caresses and piercing stings from the disinfectant stirred inimaginable feelings from within him. soon enough you were finished, the clean stitches nicely lined up one after the other.

"thank you.", he muttered softly, the words slipping out of his mouth automatically.

"everything for you," you whispered back, this time smiling softly, "you just have to ask, whenever and i'll be there i promised."

he was entranced, looking at you shakily as you looked back starry eyed.

"you need a walk home?", you smiled.

that was all he needed to let you in, into his heart, into his home. the wind was scattered and the dim light of the moon made you look radiant.

"yes, i do need some company." he muttered quickly as you helped him up.

#diluc #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc x you #diluc ragnvindr x you #diluc x yn #diluc ragnvindr x yn #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x yn #genshin x yn #genshin impact fanfiction #fanfiction

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queenpiranhadon · 1 month

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✦ ⎸⎸ 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐞 ⎸⎸ ✦

A/N: You all voted on this poll, and this poll, and this poll, and THIS poll and after a LOT of voting (again) , I present you this :) Just wanna give some credit where credit is due- my friend Kai (pseudonym) ,my wifey fr, wrote this alongside me- I love her sm 🥰 . Here's my masterlist! Divider made by @cafekitsune

Warning(s): Childhood friends to lovers trope, mentions of alcohol, hangovers, blacking out, maybe some inaccuracies idk man, reader is letting loose (not an alcoholic, just taking a well deserved break), reader is 21, reader is a Hydro catalyst, cursing, reader is said to have cherry red lips, reader’s nickname is Raindrop, Diluc kisses reader on the cheek while asleep, reader is GN but written with f!reader in mind.

Pairing: Diluc Ragnvindr x GN!Reader

Monstadt City was a welcoming and familiar sight to you, having traveled around all of Teyvat as you had always dreamed of this was your first time returning home in years. You were most definitely accomplished in life, discovering new plants and creatures as you went along your journey- so renowned that the Akademiya asked you to provide a lecture to aspiring students there. You loved your job, always fascinated by the thrill of discovering something new, or just seeing more of the world you living in, yet you couldn’t deny the buzz you felt as you crossed the familiar bridge that led to the gates of Monstadt City.

You hadn’t been home since you were probably 14 or 15 years old- and you were excited to see your friends again. But you were also exhausted. So, you decided to get some food before you found an inn to stay at. After reconnecting with some of the passersby, you were directed to Angel’s Share.

You enter the rustic building, welcoming the essence of Monstadt- as you’ve always grown up hearing, Monstadt was known for its taste in beverages. You walk over to the counter and Charles- an old friend of yours- greets you with a wide smile.

“Hey! It’s been a while!” He smiles warmly, just as he always had when you both were young. “What brings you back here after so long?”

You rub the back of your neck sheepishly and respond softly “I was feeling a little homesick- and I came back to celebrate my 21st birthday.” You smile. “And since I can legally drink... I’m here to get wasted.” Your grin following the statement was downright evil.

Charles raises an eyebrow, but you continue your tangent. “And since the Angel’s Share seems so popular around here... I figured I’d give it a try.”

Charles sighs, deciding to keep a mental note to find and escort you to the nearest inn – hangover was going to be a bitch when you woke up the next morning.

“So...whatcha got?” You ask with a coy smile on your face.

You were exhausted from a long journey and even though you denied it, you worked from dusk till dawn, 24/7 - breaks weren’t exactly in your vocabulary. So, there weren’t any problems in letting lose a little, right?

“Well... we have Dandelion Wine- you haven’t fully been to Monstadt without it.” Charles says, smiling a little. It was good to have you back.

You slide a few hundred Mora across the counter, grinning widely, excited to try the rare and exquisite local wine.

After pouring numerous liquids together, the man you grew up with slides the cocktail across the counter, to your waiting fingers.

Needless to say, that was the first of many drinks that night.

***

Charles had found an inn for you that night- giving his shift over to a very...charismatic man by the name of Six Fingered José, a man who was more than happy to take over Charles’ shift as he found you a place to sleep for the night. The innkeeper was kind, understanding of your situation and agreed that they would collect the hospitality fee once you had finished your stay.

Leaving you to your own devices, Charles gave you a well-meaning side hug before wishing you a belated birthday and told you to take care of yourself and get some rest.

You didn’t.

It was late at night, and you couldn’t sleep. Mind still clouded from the buzz of alcohol in your system, you decided to go outside and get some fresh air.

That was your first mistake.

You step outside of the inn, drunk, but not as wasted as before, making a mental note to thank Charles for finding an inn while keeping you safe. There was a nice bench right by the inn, so you decided to sit and breathe in the night sky.

Your thoughts trail off to your friends, the ones you studied and trained with. There was Lisa, who was like an older sister to you, the woman in question taught you almost everything you knew growing up and was the one who had helped you find your interest in botany and adventure.

There was Amber, a good friend of yours who always knew where to find the best food in Monstadt, her bubbly and daring personality was wonderful when you were training, but maybe a slight hindrance when it came to academics.

Kaeya was a good friend of yours as well- his sense of humor was certainly never boring. His flirty offhand comments may have always provoked an eyeroll of two from you, but it was all in good nature. You personally thought it was hilarious how almost every woman in Monstadt City fawned over someone as arrogant as him. But his brother...

Breaking you out of your thoughts, you hear something in the distance. Heavy footsteps, and low growling.

Shit.

What was a mitachurl doing in the middle of Monstadt City?!

And of course, only now, does your drunken brain slow down, and you sit there, dumbfounded, unable to do anything, your instincts and internal alertness numbed by the rush of alcohol in your system.

And finally, when the beast is close enough that you can smell its pungent breath, your mind springs back into sobriety- your book materializing behind you as you try to form droplets of water to protect yourself.

All you manage to do is send it back a few feet before passing out – the strength sapped out of you immediately.

But before the world turns to black, you hear a deep yet familiar voice yell out “Time for retribution!”

***

You wake up with a pounding headache and groan before you feel a set of eyes on you.

Red eyes, to be exact. Beautiful scarlet ones, with the same intense fire and power they held all those years ago.

“Diluc.” You breathe, your insides flooding with embarrassment, gratitude and bittersweetness all at the same time.

He nods, his mouth remaining a straight line- but you notice the ends quirk up when he calls you by your old nickname. “Hello Droplet.”

Your heart warms at the familiarity, but then your groan again, another wave of nausea rolls through you- signaling the arrival of your hangover.

“I really shouldn’t have downed so many glasses of wine last night.”

Diluc raises an eyebrow, running his fingertips lightly across your forehead, which sends butterflies to your stomach, distracting you from the pain.

“I’ll retrieve a glass of water for you.” He says, running a strand of your hair between his fingers before turning to leave, shutting the door gently.

Filling up a glass of water, he returns only to see you fast asleep- dead as a rock.

He chuckles as he brushes the hair from your face, smiling softly. Only you could to this to him. Even after so many years, only his Droplet could make his heart clench and a smile stretch across his usual permanent scowl.

He squeezes your hand gently and he glances at your lips, his face grows hot as he stares at the fresh cherry color of your lips.

It’s been so long since he taken in your beauty, he continues to stare at you lovingly. He kisses your cheek tenderly and gently while you sleep peacefully.

If only you knew how much he had missed you when you were gone.

To think this all started from a few glasses of Dandelion Wine.

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lorelune · 10 months

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part o - part iii

|| diluc ragnvindr x f! reader || E/18+ || hurt/comfort, fluff, post-trauma || wc: 16.2k || ao3 || masterlist || NEXT →

You return to Mondstadt after many years away, sick, with an feeling that's all-too familiar and unwelcome.

❁ my heart, your song - @firein-thesky ❁

minors & ageless blogs dni

a/n: AH!! here it is :'^) the diluc fic!!!! thank you so much to @itoshisoup for beta reading (along with my non-tumblr pals han & ennis as well!!) this section contains four chapters, separated by partitions. if you'd prefer to read this fic with the chapters/parts separated, it will be posted as such on ao3!

this fic is a collab with the lovely cielo (@firein-thesky)!! our fics share a mostly canon compliant universe :3c give it a read!! it's linked above!!!

...

tags: alcohol use, descriptions of vomiting, reader with chronic injury, reader is referred to as 'little sister' by kaeya (not related), unreliable narrator/reader, soggy soggy SOGGY diluc, protective diluc, diluc and reader were childhood friends to lovers, reader is a healer

PART o: kismet

Once, on one of your several trips to Sumeru, you visited the Akademiya. You only went to poke at dusty books and sit in on a few lectures as a wanderer who liked a good story and a bit of learning. There, you met a scholar whose name didn’t stick with you, from the Rtawahist darshan.

They had the far-off look in their eye of someone who had seen a bit too much, for who they were. You knew that some scholars went mad in their pursuit of knowledge. Saw things that they couldn’t cope with even if they tried. Your new friend looked to be close to such a threshold.

Perhaps, in an act of pity, you took this scholar out for a drink. Or two. Or seven. The exact number of cups and goblets escapes you now. But what you do remember, as you sat together on a terrace high above Yazaha pool, legs swinging, was their ramblings.

“There’s a map of everything, up there.” They gestured wildly to the sky, twinkling and bright, with the moon as company. “Deciphering it... Well. That’s another thing. But it’s there. And if we figure it out, fate will be in our hands to know.”

They continued, stretching their hands to the cosmos above them, as if their fingertips could decipher the orchestration of the Gods with nothing but passion, wine, and will. It was admirable, in your drunken state. Perhaps foolish to your sober mind.

Nonetheless, such an idea stuck with you. Even after you departed from your bygone friend, and continue your wanderings, you think about it. You laid on your bedroll more than once, staring upward, and wondering—

Why did the gods mosaic the sky?

You are just a mortal, how are you to know? You tried not to dwell on that specific thought. The one you find yourself coming back to, in your worst nights—

(If I could read the stars, and foresee a tragedy, is there any way for a calamity to be stopped? If you knew fate’s charted course, the crest of its fortune and the wake of its tragedies— could you circumvent them?)

(Could you have stopped your calamity?)

It was a self-deprecating thought, and it dragged you back to a place and time that was both unpleasant and unnecessary to recall.

There’s no way to change the past, you reminded yourself. You could only move forward. Never back. You only balked at the stars in your weakest moments and pondered such ideas like fate and destiny. You could live in the illusion of carving your own destiny as you traversed Teyvat. One where you wrapped gauze around wounds after the disaster had passed. Heal sullied ground. You could do everything you could to help people. That was enough, you decided early on in your travels.

You’d help people (and avoid the nation Mondstadt). Simple enough.

One foot in front of the other.

PART i: there’s a puzzle we crafted

You’re tired.

So tired.

It’s a merciless type of exhaustion that you rarely, if ever, let yourself slip into. To wander Liyue’s peak and narrow paths in such a condition is dangerous, even if the Millelith and Guild did a decent job keeping settlements of Hilichurls suppressed. In general, you can take down slimes on your own— except when you find yourself this deliriously tired.

Normally, you don’t even bother traveling in this state. You would drag yourself to the nearest village, throw some mora at a layperson and set up shop wherever they had space. Be that an inn, back room, or stable— you aren’t picky. As long as you could rest for a few days, perhaps help out the village in your spare time.

Your most recent wanderings, however, took you far onto the Yaoguang Shoals for several days, and by the time you returned to solid, proper earth, you were desperately low on essentials. Your nearest respite was an old village crawling with Hilichurls. Your next best option would be a miniature expedition onto the shores of Dragonspine and hope the cold wouldn’t kill you before you could find shelter and stoke a fire.

So, you keep going.

All the way past Stonegate and the quarries beyond it. You’re only half-lucid as you wander into Mondstadt for the first time in years.

You roost in an abandoned cottage some ways down the road. Finally resting for the first time in days. Never mind your still-damp bedroll or the structural unsoundness of the ruin. You practically fall to your knees and pass out, given your state.

(Running has made you tired, hasn’t it?)

When you awaken, you ache. (Familiar). You nibble on the last of your rations and it hits you—

You’re back in Mond, aren’t you?

Archons.

You should leave, really. It’s your first thought when you realize where you are. You shouldn’t be here. You’re not even near the city proper, but a panic unfurls in your chest like you’ve been struck. You immediately begin to pack up your things—

Two things hit you then:

One: You’re far lower on supplies than you had thought.

This isn’t a new development, however. It’s just far worse than you thought. You paw at the contents of your bag, realizing that the dried zaytun peaches and jerky you had for breakfast were the last of your rations. The weather had been poor across Liyue in the past weeks, and many of the normal markets you would’ve run into were shuttered because of it. Regardless, you didn’t think you were on your last fucking morsels.

Deep in your bag, all you have is a torn, unusable tarp and a pitiful handful of the crystalline shards you used to purify water.

You don’t even need to look at your medicine kit to know the paltry state it’s in. Far too many empties.

Two: A burning sensation that splits you wide open and threatens to eat you alive.

You barely twist your foot the wrong way. Hardly at all. Regardless, something like liquid electro shoots from the twisted (broken, mutilated—) parts of your right foot, up your thigh, and shakes you down to your bones.

You stumble, using the wall for support and keeping your weight off the injury. It shouldn’t be aggravated this early in the day. You shake it off from your ankle, lowering yourself to the dirt floor to massage out any of the tension and subsequent pain that you can. You’ll be able to walk, surely, but it’s getting harder and harder to deny that the old injury isn’t worsening over time.

You remember, vaguely, hearing tell that there was a skilled healer in Mond once again. Younger, a Vision-bearer in the Church, maybe?

You know enough about the Church of Favonius that they would at least look at your injury, if this half-remembered healer really does exist and is affiliated with them.

You hate that Mondstadt seemed like the best option.

(Later, you’ll realize it’s all a bit like fate, pushing you toward that stupid city.)

You find yourself at a loss, shake your head, and sigh, “... I guess it wouldn’t... really be so bad to visit.”

You’ll just stay for a day or two.

...

Mondstadt’s front gate is so familiar it nearly hurts. The guards have different faces than the ones you remember from your youth. Their demeanor is the same— kind, open, like how people from Mond tend to be. They don’t hound you too much as you pass, and you enter the city without issue.

Midday sun lights Mondstadt proper when you arrive (your journey from the quarries took a bit longer than necessary, considering your route went wide around a particular plot of land that you refused to go near.)

The city bustles with noise and activity. Merchants line the streets, carts and stalls overflowing. Seafoam banners and floral wreaths hang along the stone arches and walls, while garlands of fresh flowers stretch from building to building. The scent of fresh flowers, baking bread, and sweet wine envelopes you.

Windblume, you remember. It is spring, after all.

You hope the crowds of the festival will help you blend in as you meander through the city. You keep your head down, counting cobblestones and being quick with your purchases. Better to get in and out, probably. If you can snag a new tarp and bedroll, you could set up across the bridge for the night, and be gone by morning if you could track down that healer within the afternoon too.

As you walk up the main run of Mond proper, toward the fountain and the smell of warm spiced meat, someone, archons, gasps from behind you and says your name.

(Later, you’ll recall this moment. Perhaps kismet turned on its axis for you to still and—)

You freeze, going stiff. You’d know that voice anywhere. Sweet and teasing, curling down your spine in a way that feels both ambiently flirtatious and horribly familiar.

Part of you screams to ignore her. Let her think she has the wrong person and continue your journey in Mond unimpeded by an old specter. You could be out the gates in a number of hours, if not minutes if you really need to (run, run, run).

But, there’s a temptation. It breathes itself alive, from the back of your mind to the front, entirely unavoidable.

(How long has it been since you’ve seen a familiar face? One that you know instead of just recognizing?)

You turn slowly. “... Hi, Lisa.”

...

And, somehow, you end up in the Knight’s of Favonius headquarters, with a perfectly warm cup of tea in your hands, nestled in a library you hadn’t been inside for nearly a decade. It smells of old parchment and leather. Steam rises from your cup, fragrant with Sumeru rose and Guili cinnamon stick with black tea leaves. You recall the scholars of the Spantamad darshan favored this blend; you shared more than a cup or two during your visits to the Akademiya.

Lisa settles in the seat across from you, with a small box of pastries that look sticky and sweet. Your mouth waters.

“How have you been, dear?” Lisa gives you a soft look. “It’s been so long.”

So long, you add to yourself. Sitting across from Lisa is giving you a gut-twisting sense of deja vu that has your palms sweating.

“I’ve been well,” you say, gently. “Travelling, still.”

“Oh, how exciting.” Lisa smiles and lays her cheek on her palm. “What was your most recent destination?”

You hummed. “I recently went to Natlan’s capital, just for a few months. I ended up staying with a smith who gave me odd jobs in exchange for housing.”

“Oh, wow,” Lisa preens for you. “And before that? I apologize, dear, I’m not caught up with your journeys.”

Ah, the lack of letters.

“I apologize.” You rub your forehead. “I haven’t been writing lately. It’s been... hard to keep track of things, though it’s not an excuse.”

“I would disagree.” She flashes you a sympathetic smile. “You’ve been crisscrossing Teyvat; it makes perfect sense why you would struggle to keep in touch with folks. I’m sure you’ve met plenty of friends on your travels, too. I imagine you have lots to juggle.”

Lisa is partially correct, you suppose.

“You continue to give me so much amnesty— too kind,” you laugh, and lean back in your chair.

Lisa looks a bit wistful as she puts down her cup in exchange for one of the pastries. You recognize the expression on her. You’ve only seen her wear it once before.

“How long are you staying in Mond?” Lisa asks, nodding down to the box. You leave the treats untouched.

“Not long.” You refuse to look at her as you answer, “Just for the day. I needed some supplies and Mondstadt was the most convenient.”

It’s a clinical answer. One you say intentionally, perfectly, so she can’t poke holes in your logic. You hope, pray, she doesn’t push back on your short visit. Any longer, and you might accidentally run into more faces you don’t wish to see. Lisa was tangentially related to... everything, but she was the least obtrusive person you could have run into. Still, you’re in the lion’s den, in the Ordo’s HQ, for a cup of tea, praying that you can slip in and out undetected outside of Lisa.

(It’s easier like this, you tell yourself. You can’t get twisted up in this place again.)

Lisa examines you, tracing you up and down with her gaze in a way that’s horribly disarming. If it was from anyone else, you’d think they were checking you out, especially with the sweet, upward quirk of her lips. But, this is Lisa, and you had forgotten how astute she is.

“Only a day? That’s a shame.” She sighs, sitting back and stirring the tiny spoon perched in her teacup. “It's Windblume. You should stay.”

“I could,” you muse and give her a sympathetic smile. “But, I don’t think it would be wise. It would be better if I got on my way quickly.”

She raises an eyebrow. “How far back would a few days in Mondstadt put you on your travel plans?”

‘Plans’.

You nearly bark out a laugh, but you keep it lodged in your throat.

“Not terribly far, but I... I don’t want to stay, Lisa.” You reach across the table and squeeze her free hand. “It isn’t good for me to linger here.”

The look she gives you breaks your heart. Her brows wilt, her eyes get a little sadder, and she grips your hand unyieldingly. “... Are you sure, sweetheart? I’m sure the Knights could put together some lodging for you—”

She presses, and you hate the feeling of it. You know her kindness is not misplaced, but it makes you roll around in your skin regardless. Archons. You interrupt her with a tight smile, “Truly, Lisa, I am grateful for the offer, but I will be on my way come tomorrow morning. Perhaps another year.”

“Perhaps.”

You sip your tea in silence for a moment. You stew, barely, not at her specifically but circumstance. It boils just underneath your skin, just as it has been since you entered Mond’s border. Speaking to Lisa has only made the feeling grow and burn.

You can’t meet her gaze— you can’t. You can feel it on you regardless. You know you’ll see more pity and maybe that familiar bite of anger she wields so well.

“Why don’t you tell me when and how you got that Vision then?” She nods low, down to your waist. Your dendro Vision hums there, tied to you with a fraying, braided string that desperately needs replacing.

There isn’t a problem with indulging a bit of... this, is there? You’re only sitting to chat. Drinking some tea. You can hunt for that healer and duck out of Mond’s walls by sundown. Easy. You pluck one of the buttery-looking pastries from the box and plop it on your plate.

“Sure, but only if I can get a refill on this tea.” You smile and raise your cup.

...

You lose track of time, talking to Lisa.

You do tell her how you obtained your Vision, and of your subsequent journey through Snezhnaya to its port following your graduation. She tells you some of the new gossip of Ordo Favonius, and that she’s been thinking about picking out a ring to give to Jean (though, she has a hunch the other already has one in mind. Lisa thinks it'll be fun to meddle with whatever precise plan the Acting Grand Master (nice) has in place.)

She continues to pour you tea and push more baked goods onto your plate. You enjoy them, and her company. It’s a rare treat to sit down for so long with nothing more than chatting on your mind.

“How was studying in Snezhnaya?” Lisa asked, eyeing your various bags. “Cold, I imagine?”

“Very.” You grimace, fishing around in your satchel. “But, worth it.”

You pull forth a palm-sized metal insignia. You keep it tucked away, most of the time, only flashing the thing when necessary. You only need legitimacy every so often.

“Oh, wow.” Lisa gawks a bit. “May I see?”

You hand it to her. “Be my guest.”

She studies the metal, running her fingertips along the edges where the different colors meet. Vibrant blues meet greens and whites, with pink and purple flowers cast around the bottom edge. The shape resembles something between a shield and wheel, with each one of its seven portions having some meaning for the institution. They escape you now.

“I’ve heard that the Tselostnyy School is quite the place,” Lisa says. “No one at the Akademiya seemed fond of them, but I imagine it was out of some sort of insecurity.”

You snort. “Probably. Folks at Tselostnyy actually teach healing— not just study the human body for the sake of some academic pursuit. The two schools have opposing goals.”

It was one of the main reasons you declined to apply to the Akademiya at all.

“I’m glad you found a place to study— I know it was hard, after Teacher passed away.” Lisa reaches out as she speaks, going for your hand.

You withdrew your own from the tabletop, hiding it in your lap. “It was. But I managed.”

‘Managed.’

Lisa gives you a look that drips pity. She looks as though she’s going to reply, just as the door to enter the library clicks open.

Your gut drops to the floor and your shoulders stiffen.

“Lisa? Could you proofread this draft for me? I’m afraid I sound too formal again—” It’s Jean, it’s Jean.

It’s her voice, the distantly familiar click of her hard heels against the wood flooring. You bunch the fabric of your trousers in your fist, forcibly reminding yourself to breathe. Jean walks from behind you, rounds the table, stops at Lisa’s side and looks at you.

Jean’s eyes widen.

“Oh, sorry sweetheart— I’m a bit busy with a friend right now,” Lisa says easily, oblivious (seemingly, probably not.) She gestures to you and winks. “I can take a look after lunch, if you can take a break with me.”

Jean says your name— gasping it more or less, tightening her grip on the document in her hands.

“... Hi, Jean.” You give her a little wave. “How have you been?”

It’s bittersweet, the feeling that curls and grows in your chest as she brightens and pulls up a chair next to Lisa. It’s familiar and rotten, all the same.

...

The commotion in the library brings other visitors.

Lisa wears a smitten smile as other knights make their way into the library. Aramia and Flyn— they look older, long grown out of their adolescence and more into their skin. Hertha has crinkles around her eyes that grow tight when she recognizes who you are.

The Spark Knight barrels in the room being lazily chased by—

Kaeya.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—

He scoops up the little knight and turns to the tea table, now surrounded by familiar faces, and you can see he has his lips pursed for some sort of teasing quip. Probably at the expense of the Ordo’s acting Grand Master and Librarian.

Then, Kaeya sees you.

You watch his jaw snap shut. Whatever clever thing he had to say dies on his tongue and you watch it. It’s a little satisfying after all this time. You’ll cherish this moment, you think. The split second of confusion, the realization, the shock and— the guilt.

He wipes the expression off his face easily, as if it were never there to begin with. But you’ll revel in his discomfort. Your own little revenge, several years too late.

“Oh, wow—” Kaeya whistles, clicking closer and settling Klee on his hip with a bounce. He says your name almost breathlessly. “Little sister, it’s been quite some time. We’ve missed you.”

“Did you?” You tilt your head. “That’s surprising.”

You hold your tongue. You dig your teeth into the sides of it, forcing yourself quiet. The feeling that’s boiling in your chest won’t be extinguished by verbally thrashing Kaeya in the middle of the Knight’s HQ— but, Archons—

It’s tempting.

“‘Sister’?” The little knight’s nose scrunches. “Mister Kaeya, you said you only had Diluc, who’s only kinda your brother. No sisters!”

“He’s teasing me,” you placate her, voice sweetening. The little knight looks at you with wide eyes, a little awed. “‘Mister Kaeya’ is an old friend of mine, we played together lots when we were little like you.”

An oversimplification, of course. Little Klee doesn’t need to know what happened after the sun-swept days of sword fighting and house ended at the winery. Kaeya’s air quickly fades as Klee squirms down and asks kindly for a hug. You don’t think she can remember you— you only held her once, when she was so small— but you know her kind age and remember so differently from your own.

“Why are you in town?” Kaeya asks. “I thought I’d never seen you within city limits again. Color me surprised.”

You lock your jaw, as Klee bounds away from you and wrestles her way onto Jean’s lap, “Passing through, is all. I’ll be gone by morning.”

“... So, you’re not staying for Windblume?” Kaeya sits, pouring himself a cup of tea. You think you might hate him. “That’s a shame.”

“I’m not,” you clarify and roll your eyes. “Though everyone is insisting that I do.”

“You really should.” Lisa takes the opening and insists, “It would be lovely to have you.”

Of the group that has congested in the library, you only hear agreement. Jean has a bright look in her eye that makes you shy away.

“I... I really shouldn’t.”

“Why not?” Kaeya grins, foxlike. You think he just likes making you squirm.

“Do you have somewhere to be?” Jean inquires, setting her chin on her fist.

“Well, no—” There’s always somewhere for you to be. You can’t stay. You shouldn’t even be here now.

“Then, stay.” Eula leans against the doorframe, entered at some point.

You’re being thoroughly peer-pressured, it seems.

“...I’m being bullied into staying for Windblume, aren’t I?”

“Perhaps.” Jean gives you a sheepish grin. “You’re missed, Windblume is just an excuse.”

You ache.

“Stay in the city, enjoy some wine,” Lisa insists. “Catch up with folks. I’d love to see more of you while you’re here. I’m sure you have stories to share of your travels.”’

You barter, “... If I do stay, I need to find a healer. I heard that there’s a skilled one, living in Mond. A Vision holder.”

Jean opens her mouth, but Kaeya speaks first. “Done.”

You consider.

You’re fully aware that your arm is being horribly twisted into staying for Windblume. You know this is unwise. But—

(There’s something to it. Something you can’t admit it to, not aloud, not yet— but being in a room full of people who do not see you as a stranger, but rather an old friend. They know your name, and you know theirs. There’s something to knowing the streets you will walk if you stay. Familiarity is a wretched comfort.)

“If you need lodging, the knights could easily put you up in the dormitories,” Jean offers.

“No, I—” You sigh, scrubbing a hand down your cheeks. “I appreciate the gesture, but if I do stay I’ll camp outside the city.”

“So you’re staying?” Klee’s eyes shine.

“I—”

“In that case, come out for drinks tonight,” Kaeya insists with a sly smile that makes you want to eat glass. “I’ll buy a round.”

“Wait—”

“Angel’s Share does bring out its Windblume vintage tonight—” Lisa says enticingly.

“Absolutely not.” You smack your hand on the table, far louder than you intend.

Kaeya cocks his head, amused. Lisa and Jean share a look, and the rest of the knights look a bit bewildered. You hate to raise your voice, but Archons, this crowd can be pushy.

“I’ll stay. But I’m not going to Angel’s Share.” Never ever again.

Lisa does seem to notice her error in suggesting it and gives you an apologetic smile. She reaches for your hand and squeezes. You feel a bit lighter.

“Diluc won’t be there,” Kaeya states. On the nose. “He doesn’t bartend on weeknights, even during Windblume.”

“... Really?”

“He doesn’t,” Eula corroborates. “I have knowledge as well that he is in the middle of merchant deals with a group from Natlan. There is no reason to think he’d be at Angel’s Share this evening, if that’s your concern.”

You pick at the skin around your nails.

“I’ll think about it.”

(You agree, by the time you leave Ordo HQ. After many other promises of free wine and dancing, you find it hard to refuse. It doesn’t hurt that you confirm with multiple others that Diluc doesn’t bartend on weeknights. That he’s been caught up in business, and hasn’t been in the city much at all.)

...

You had enough mora for a few nights of lodging. You figured that Goth may have even given you a discount, as an old friend of his. Archons know how many times you worked odd jobs for him and his sons, patching up walls and the occasion twisted ankle or jammed finger.

After some searching, you find Goth in one of the many gardens of Mond proper. As happy as he is to see you, he regretfully informs you that he has no free lodging.

“Windblume has booked out all of my short-term properties,” Goth sighs. “Unless you’re looking for a minimum six-month lease, I don’t have any rooms available.”

(Goth explains to you that the goddamn Fatui has rented out the entirety of his hotel... indefinitely? Upfront? Hence the lack of a room.)

You tell him it’s no trouble, wave off his concern. You don’t mind a few more nights of camping. The only allure of an inn or hotel was the possibility of consistently bathing and a soft mattress.

You pick a spot outside of Mondstadt proper to set up your camp. There are many tents already set up— travelers, like yourself, here for the festival. You recognize colors and fabrics from all over Teyvat. It warms something in you, that you aren’t alone in being an outsider here.

(Such a thought feels wrong, because it is, isn’t it? You aren’t an outsider at all. This is your home. The only place you’re not an outsider.)

You struggle to set up your tent, and decide to leave it for later. Wandering around Mond for the afternoon aggravated your injury, and you instead take the time to poke around in your medicine kit for a quick tincture. Something to settle the—

(Burning, screeching pain that tracks up your leg. You’re grateful the other travelers aren’t watching how you collapse against a pile of discarded crates, barely holding back a hiss of pain.)

(It’s getting worse, isn’t it?)

Teacher always said that nothing was harder on sickness and wounds than stress. It was a wisdom you remembered but barely heeded.

You use the dropper and place the tincture under your tongue. It tastes bitter and coats your throat as you swallow.

...

The sun rains gold on Mond as you meander toward the Angel’s Share. Liquid amber that coats the buildings and cobblestones. It’s nostalgic in too many ways, and it makes something behind your ribs ache.

(You’re hit with the distinct urge to run. To turn tail and leave Mondstadt forever, again.)

You shove it down, swallow it whole, and bear it. Bear it. Not forever, just for a few days. You can catch up with some old friends, leave any old scores unsettled and untouched (undisturbed, unthought about—), and depart. Maybe even fix up your foot in the process.

You hesitate outside of Angel’s share.

It looks different than you remember. The door and its frame have been replaced, the door and its frame hardly ached. There’s a message board outside that you can’t recall being there previously. A wreath hangs on the door, woven with blue and white flowers for Windblume.

You want it to be different. You do. Because if things are different, walking into Angel’s Share wouldn’t feel so daunting. You could pretend that this horribly familiar tavern was someplace else entirely. Maybe even delude yourself into thinking that this little building was its own, unique, carved-out square during one of your travels. A fantasy where you’ve never been here before.

(The warmth under your disgust wouldn’t feel so misplaced then.)

You enter.

It’s lively, bustling with patrons of all types with the festival beginning so soon. You recognize clothes and people from all corners of Teyvat, and it comforts you once more. You blend in easily, lingering near the door, and peek at the bar.

Diluc is nowhere to be seen. Another barkeep mans the kegs, barrels, and bottles. You don’t recognize him— which brings you some relief.

It would be easy. To be delusional about this whole thing. That Angel’s Share could be just a tavern in the middle of nowhere and the faces that are around you have no chance of being familiar. You’re in a sea of folks who are travelers, just like, or mostly unfamiliar. You could, couldn’t you? Tell yourself that this isn’t a place where—

(You had your first drink. Learned how to mix cocktails with Crepus. Play fought Diluc and Kaeya in the rafters on the third floor. Where you last saw Diluc—)

You clutch a hand to your chest. Who knew that emotional pain could be so violently physical?

Jean calls your name from across the room, pulling you from your stupor. You meet her eyes, and the smile you force to meet your eyes feels a little more genuine.

With the call of your name, several other patrons look up and gawk for a moment. You get a few more ‘oh hello!’s and ‘I didn’t know you were in town!’ thrown your way and you give them all sheepish smiles. Faces you can’t place very well. Features and familiar expressions mutilated by time and a botched memory. It makes you feel sick to your stomach— archons, and you haven’t even sampled this year’s selection of thousand-wind’s wine, have you?

Jean flashes you a sympathetic look when you finally make it to their table. The table is flushed full— intimidatingly so. The knights have come out tonight. Lisa and Jean cozy up on the same bench seat, while Kaeya (die) and Albedo sit across from the two. You offer the alchemist a timid wave, which he returns in kind. Some of the other knights have spilled out to the tables around you, chattering away with wine-stained lips.

And the night’s still young.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d show,” Kaeya practically purrs (choke) and leans closer to you on an elbow. “Were you able to find some lodging for the festival?”

“Yeah, I found something that will work.” It’s not technically a lie. Besides, they don’t need to know where you’re sleeping.

Kaeya raises an eyebrow and Albedo elbows him politely in the ribs. You make a note to buy him a drink later.

“I’ll get this round,” Lisa says, standing and grabbing you by the arm. “My treat. A welcome home present.”

You let her tug you through the crowd.

You end up seated properly at a barstool while Lisa orders. She wove her way through the crowd and up to the bar so easily, like liquid. You hardly have to wait at all before a drink is passed to you across the bar top.

You gulp half the glass down, greedily.

You, notably, have chosen not to cessate from dandelion wine in your absence. It was a rare treat to come across outside of Mond and Liyue, so when you could get your hands on glass, you let yourself partake. Whatever melancholy it brought with it could be tempered with more of it anyways.

It goes down easy— it always does. Thicker than other wines, sweet but bodied, with some type of nutty and berry note to it. You never understood the process of winemaking, despite so many years spent at the winery. When Crepus or Diluc or one of the staff attempted to explain, it all easily went over your head.

The tannins sour your cheeks. You swallow down another mouthful, greedy, and slam down your empty goblet. Lisa looks at you wide-eyed.

“I don’t recall that you were ever much of a drinker,” Lisa remarks as she flags down another glass for you. She sips her own, mischief in her eyes.

You shrug, nodding to the barkeep who fills your cup. “I indulge, occasionally. Forgive me for needing a drink in this environment.”

You gesture to the carousing around you. A lyre and fiddle play in the corner, and you distinctly hear two different bard songs. One is significantly better than the other, and you may have even enjoyed it if you could hear it fully.

Being near the bar forces you to see changes. They’re hard to not notice. The signage behind the bar has changed. An old menu and drink list have been changed out for something sleeker. Paintings and their frames replaced. The glass you’re drinking out must be new, along with the tankards that the barkeep washes whenever he has a free moment.

There are still ghosts in the corners.

“Gods, you look like a wet towel.” Kaeya’s shouts, nearly in your goddamn ear, as he slips into the empty seat next to you. He drapes an arm over your shoulders like you’re old friends and not the byproducts of a dissolved relationship. You think about shrugging his arm off, but decide against it.

You throw back the rest of whatever is in your glass and shout for another.

Kaeya catches your eye for a moment with a nearly unreadable expression. You recognize it (and concur that you need to be far more drunk than you currently are in order to survive the evening.) His brow lays smooth, lips in a not-quite smile, and his posture is a bit too rigid. You know he’s picking you apart, albeit quietly.

The expression disappears a moment later, and he has a new bottle of wine in his hands (“For you, little sister.”) Your cup fills yet again, and you drink.

The world begins to feel fuzzier, easier, and the pain in your foot and leg dulls. God, you try not to indulge in drinking too often (it’s simply a recipe for reliance, given your condition. Regardless, you're a physician who knows better than to turn to the bottle rather than medicine), but you feel the temptation of it occasionally.

It’s an easy friend to indulge in under these circumstances.

One of the bards, the one with loose braids, strikes up a conversation with Kaeya, looping you in with an exchange of introduction. Your cheeks warm when you notice the slur of your words, sipping your cup to disguise any embarrassment. The bard must be drunk, with how much sweet wine he drinks, but he hardly acts it. Poised.

Lisa pats you on your back after your fourth glass, seemingly pitying you in your stupor.

The good bard, at some point, leaves Kaeya’s side. Kaeya’s back to leaning into yours, the furs of his outfit prickling your nose. If you were sober, you’d be spewing curses at him. But in your drunken mind... it was fine. Fine. Maybe the warmth of him against your side wasn’t entirely unwelcome either.

You loosen up, whether you want to or not.

Lisa drags you out of your stool after your fifth drink, to take pulls off a pipe a traveler offers and to dance with her in the main room of the tavern. The bards play a duet now, in tune, though the good bard from earlier carries the performance.

You laugh as she twirls you, dipping you near the floor. Some of the patrons cheer and whistle at the move, and you let loose a giggle that never would’ve left you in your right mind. Her face swims before you. Your insides are warm. Things are okay, maybe. For now.

So, you dance.

You dance with Jean and Kaeya, even dragging Hertha in for a round. Eula refuses, though apologetically. She’s a bit too drunk herself, and Amber insists on staying by her side to nurse her with water and pyro-warmed pets to the back of her neck.

(Do you envy them? Maybe. The skinship of it seems nice. They’re so familiar with each other, even from a distance. So lax and tender with each other even within such a setting. You cannot imagine receiving such treatment.)

Kaeya spins you back to the bar and buys you another glass.

“You dance better than you used to,” he croons in your ear. “even with that dreadful limp of yours.”

You bark out a laugh and punch him in the arm with hardly any force (you’ll regret not making it hurt more, later). “Wow, and here I thought wine curbed your silver tongue.”

“Unlike some, I can hold my liquor just fine.” He shrugs and sips.

You, on the other hand, turn the corner from ‘tipsy’ to ‘blasted’ as you hit the bottom of your goblet. Your stomach churns, spelling a hangover that will rot your stomach and the space between your eyes come the morning. The room doesn’t spin, not quite yet.

You lay your forehead on the bartop.

“Aw, had a bit too much?” Kaeya tsks. “How unfortunate of you, to not know your limits, even after all this time.”

You grumble something unintelligible.

He sets a cold hand on the nape of your neck and your ground yourself on it.

(You can regret it in the morning.)

You have absolutely no idea what time it is, though the tavern is still rowdy. You imagine late, at least near the high moon if not into the early morning. Windblume was a celebration of drinking after all. Angel’s Share stays lively, despite the hour, though the drone of voices and folk songs becomes lost on you as your eyes slip shut.

Amongst the din, there’s a firm thud— the sound of wood on wood. Another sounds just after, though much closer and more shallow. You only make out the sound because of its old familiarity. The sound of the counter flap falling and straining its hinges. It must be one of the only pieces of original hardware from the old Angel’s share— the sound is identical to the one in your memory (maybe, you’re drunk, you may just be nostalgic—)

The barkeep (Charles, he told you his name though you didn’t give him yours) shuffles away, maybe, based on the thump of feet amongst the roar of the tavern. A shift change.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d show.” Kaeya’s hand leaves you. You can hear the grin in his voice.

There’s a huff from behind the bar. The clink of a glass. A squeak as it’s dried and shined with a rag.

“Do you think I’m unreliable?”

Your eyes stretch open, wide, in a flash. Horrible, wretched familiarity (with the way a voice can bring you so much anguish and warmth in tandem.) You don’t look up. You stare down at the floorboards, count the grains and notches in the wood. Steady your breathing.

You know that voice.

You look up, slowly, against all better judgment. If you were sober (Archons, if you were fucking sober—) you would’ve turned, held your eyes shut and ran out of the bar without looking back. You would’ve never dared to peak and pull the thread that dangled in front of you.

He’s blurry, but he’s there. A trim waist that leads up to broad shoulders, arms that bulge more than you remember, scarlet hair that falls in waves from a high-tied ribbon. Scarlet eyes, cut and polished like rubies.

It’s Diluc, who meets your gaze for the first time in almost a decade. Just as shocked and wide-eyed as you are.

The glass slips from his hands and shatters.

PART iii: the World (born)

You met Diluc Ragnvindr when you were just children, doing what children do best— playing while the adults talked.

Your parents— traveling merchants— and Crepus Ragnvindr sat down for wine and sweet rum after a lavish supper. Your parents shooed you off. They didn’t need you clinging to their legs while trying to discuss the intricacies of a potential (and lucrative) contract with Dawn Winery and its splendid dandelion wine.

Crepus takes you under his wing a bit, showing your parents to a fine vintage and you to his two boys.

“They like to play in the vineyard this time of day,” Crepus says, a bit wistful. He leads you by the hand. “The crystalflies soar lower when the sun dips beyond the hills, and the fireflies come out.”

You like fireflies.

He shows you out to the courtyard, and you catch sight of two boys scampering around amongst the greenery. Crepus calls them and they both dutifully bound over, the way young boys do, enthusiastic and fast. The one with the pretty blue hair follows the one with the pretty red hair.

Crepus introduces you. Kaeya. Diluc.

Diluc has round cheeks and a soft jaw. He carries baby fat still, pudgy in his arms and legs and round in his belly. His cheeks are flushed with the late summer’s heat and a day of play. He has a brush of freckles over the bridge of his nose and cheeks. His hair is shorter than it will become, but long enough that you think your mother would envy him.

His eyes widen when he sees you. You’ll never be sure why.

(Kismet turned for him earlier, maybe. All it took was you.)

You spend the evening with your side wedged into Diluc's, watching the lazy flight of anemo crystalflies by the water. You tell the boys about the constellations you know, and make up a few that you don’t. You trace them in the sky with the tip of your pointer finger. You ask to braid Diluc’s hair and he lets you.

Crepus finds you all, just after dusk, dozing as the fireflies begin to dance.

...

Your family visits the winery several times each year. You enjoy the visits immensely. You’ve grown quite close to the Ragnvindr’s, and Kaeya too. You always barrel off your family’s wagon, running ahead of them to greet the boys, who are always waiting for you too.

You play swords with them, though you aren’t any good at it. You always bring them trinkets from wherever you and your family have been. You like to gift Crepus a book or two as well, though you don’t know what they’re about. You choose them based on the covers.

Diluc lights up when you hand him a little shell from Liyue’s shore. You tell him about the cliffs where you found it, and how you’ll go there together some day. You’ll show him the geometric columns of stone that seem to climb all the way to Celestia. You will show him where the sand bars become one with the sea, and how to dig for crabs and shells with your bare hands.

Diluc likes you, you think. He always lets you slip into his room after the manor has fallen asleep. You sit across from one another on the velvet window bench. You hug a pillow while he tells you about how he’ll start training as a knight soon. He holds a vision now— he pats it with pride.

(He tells you how he obtained his vision in your absence. The first time he picked up a sword against an adversary, it appeared to him. It’s a grand thing, brave. He was protecting one of his favorite stray winery kittens from a boar near the edge of the property. He raised his rubber training sword and he was granted Celestia’s blessing.)

You think he’s lovely.

...

The boys start training with Ordo Favonius. They practice with the Gunnhildr girl, the older one, who wears a ribbon in her hair and has eyes like midday sky. She’s a few years older than you, and intimidates you with her maturity, but she’s kind.

The older knights let you watch their training when your family visits. You post up during their drills, watch their forms, their blunders, and their successes. A knight named Varka always takes Diluc aside to teach him how to best wield his vision with his weapon of choice.

(A greatsword. A claymore. It’s almost your size, probably. The one Diluc uses during training is Favonius issued, smithed with their crest near the base of the blade. You know the one he’ll really use. A family relic that Crepus brought up from storage for him— a rectangular blade, metal cast in black and red, with an elaborate furl stretching from the hilt. Crepus asks Diluc to wield it when he’s ready.)

Kaeya offers you his sword, one day, at the end of training. The junior knights soak in their own sweat as you take the blade from Kaeya. The knights make it look so effortless to wield such weaponry. They carry it at the hip like it's an accessory and not carved metal. When you wrap your hand around it, the weight shocks you. You barely heft it up, struggling with the balance of it. The trainees rib you a bit for it, and it makes you blush hot and hard.

Diluc scolds Kaeya, taking the blade from you when it's clear that brandishing it one-handed as intended is close to impossible for you. You feel some relief when Kaeya takes it back and shrugs.

“You won’t have to worry about wielding a weapon like that— ever.” Diluc says on your way home (home, home, home, it’s becoming your home—) that day. “Especially a sword.”

“Why?” You ask.

“I’ll make sure you never have to.”

“Hm... what if I want to?” You try to be cheeky with him.

He gives you a playful shove and you bump into Kaeya. The latter groans and makes a choking sound.

“You don’t,” Diluc replies, flashing you a smile. “If you did, you would’ve played swords with Kaeya and I more when we were little. You always liked to watch.”

“It’s more fun that way!” You hip check him. “It’s interesting to see all of it, rather than participate.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kaeya chimes in. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with how weak your arms are.”

He squeezes your bicep and you shriek at him, chasing him ahead down the path. You squabble all the way home (home, home, home), rolling down the hills back into the Winery’s valley. You belly laugh together, tears in your eyes. It’s good.

You only go silent when you notice your family’s wagon, packed and ready for departure, idling in front of the winery.

...

You don’t travel well, you never have.

Your parents had informed Crepus of this during your first visit (“Never well, even when my wife my pregnant— the little thing gave her the hardest time on the road.”) Despite this, you had always meandered with your family on their circuit from Liyue to Mond.

One of your visits to the winery, just around the turn of your childhood to adolescence, you fall ill.

Your parents brush off your complaints upon arrival. Chills, aches, and a cough— “It’s from the rain. Your clothes are still damp.”. Your usually lively arrival was dulled. You barely touched the dinner Crepus provided before retiring to your favored room.

You hate being sick. You hate how your gut churns and you feel so cold, despite the fire one of the maid’s stoked in the big fireplace. You sniffle and snot over the back of your hand, fighting tears. You fall ill so frequently, but it doesn’t make it easier. Even your softest clothes feel scratchy against your tender skin— you feel horribly breakable.

There’s a gentle knock on your door before it opens. Diluc joins you by your bedside, kneeling, watching you with wide ruby eyes.

“My father told me you’re sick,” he says gently. “You don’t look well.”

You give him a wilted look. “It happens.”

“... It shouldn’t,” Diluc says with a conviction that your fever forces you to miss. “He says that you get sick often.”

“I don’t travel well.” You parrot what you heard your parents say a thousand times, to innkeepers and merchant-folk alike. “It’s alright, Diluc. I’ll be well in a few days.”

Your teeth chatter. You bury yourself deeper in the covers.

Diluc looks unconvinced. He disrobes as much as is proper, and asks quietly if he can join you. He’s warm, from his pyro vision, he tells you. He can see how cold you feel.

Whether he had such a vision or not, you would’ve said yes.

You pull away the duvet, inviting Diluc closer. It’s innocent, a sharing of heat. You press your forehead to his chest and he lets his arms fall naturally to your waist. It cages you. It feels safe and warm, and you don’t think you’ve felt that before.

You give him the smallest ‘thank you’, voice burnt and charred with fever. Diluc chases off the chill and embers alike, replaces them with the hearth that he will become to you, and you think that kismet might’ve shifted for you then, too.

...

You leave, a few days later, still sick.

You return, several months later, still sick.

Whatever cold you had during your last visit had metastasized— or so your parents say. They seem moderately unconcerned as they sort through the inventory they’ll be taking for their run.

Crepus doesn’t look convinced.

Diluc helps you inside. You barely hold yourself on two feet, and need to stop and catch your breath several times. Kaeya loops his arm over your neck and Diluc hoists you by the waist, and the two nearly drag you to your room.

A doctor is called, a healer from Mond that knows the Ragnvindr’s well. Diluc and Kaeya stay by your side as the healer draws up tincture and grinds down herbs and oils into a soft balm to slather on your chest.

Diluc lays with you in bed again that night, over the covers, not daring to touch you. You seem so fragile, only half-there in the room with him. He resents your parents horribly for allowing you to carelessly decline in such a state. It shows in the way his expression twists into a scowl whenever they’re within his vicinity.

...

Crepus offers his home to you— no, rather he insists.

You’re still ill, lungs gunky and fever hardly waned, by the time your family deigns it time to leave. They plan to cart you along, never mind your condition. Diluc, if he had less restraint, would’ve cursed them out in the winery’s foyer.

(The wet sound of your breathing. The little whimpers when your fever spiked, signaling that it was time for more of the tincture the healer left behind. The way you balled your fist in his nightshirt during the worst of it.)

Crepus says it’ll be no trouble to house you, for however long you need. You’ve always taken to the winery easily, and clearly need a stable place to recover from your illness. He enjoys taking in a stray or two. One more, especially one he thinks so fondly of and that he knows his boys adore, is simply a blessing, not a burden.

...

Diluc ascends to cavalry captain of the Knights of Favonius just around the time that you make a full recovery.

It takes months— for both of you. Diluc patrols and trains with the knights when he’s not by your side. He’s incredibly well-regarded by Mond, beloved by his fellow knights and the townsfolk as well. He has ample support from all around, and his father glows with pride.

(Diluc bears the weight of his father’s expectations well. You don’t even notice Diluc squirm under the pressure of it. It all seems to come naturally to him— being a hero.)

You see your healer every few days, drink your teas and diligently rest while you recover. The illness sticks in your lungs and you take to reading up on medicinal plants and potential treatments. It gives you some understanding of the remedies that your healer makes for you. Your healer finds you promising, despite your sickly state, and offers you an apprenticeship, if you choose to pursue such a profession.

It’s success after success, a time bathed in thick gold sun that feels as warm as it tastes.

You and Diluc dance at his ascension celebration. He holds you by the waist, clumsy like the young man he is, but you don’t mind. You loop your arms over his shoulders, memorizing the blush that paints his cheeks, and the dimples that carve them. You twirl him under your arm and laugh up to the sun and moon alike. You pull the ribbon from his hair so it unfurls over his shoulder. You run your hands through it without a care.

(Diluc looks at you, when you’re not looking at him, with such a reverence. You can’t see it yet, but it’s a burgeoning thing. Love and devotion caramelized by innocence, by want and need intertwined. He doesn’t know how to say how he feels, not yet; the feelings are still loose and undefined. But smoldering kindling he is.)

...

Crepus offers his home to you, permanently. You have taken to it so well, and his boys— his boys adore you. The staff does. You have so much growing for you in Mond, it seems silly to pack up your belongings small and tight so you can ride out on merchants circuit once more. Only to return sick once more.

You accept, hesitant at first. It’s a scary thing to give up the life you’ve known, even if the one Crepus extends to you is far more comfortable. Your parents have no qualms. You think they enjoyed your absence too much. They seem content to leave you at Dawn Winery, promising to continue their circuit, so you’d see them a few times a year.

It makes something in your ache and cry, but there’s many things to balm it in the manor. A warm fire and Adelinde’s recipes, along with whatever new tarts and sweets Crepus brings home from Mondstadt proper— they all make it easier. Good company too. Kaeya always has new ideas for schemes and little adventures. Crepus brings you gifts and makes sure you’re settling in well to your new space. Diluc is ever-dutifully at your side, whatever the circumstance, and you at his.

You still sneak into Diluc’s room in the late night. You nestle up, side by side, on his plush window bench. You link pinkies and talk about everything.

...

“I thought this one was a bit boring.” You look up to Diluc, backwards, craning your neck. “The love interest was a bit shallow for me.”

“I agree,” Diluc answers from above you. He shuts the book deftly with one hand. “This author’s pieces usually have a bit more depth to them. This one was a bit flat.”

You tend to come to the same conclusion on the stories you share.

The Small Study (ow, ow, ow, ow) is a room most near Crepus’ wing of the manor. It’s exactly as it sounds— a small study. Something Diluc’s mother made sure was constructed for him, prior to her leaving. Floor to ceiling bookshelves line the walls, with a long table slicing the room in two. When you were young, very young, you, Diluc, and Kaeya would sit at the table and write your own stories. Color with paints that Crepus bought for you from Snezhnaya on recycled receipts and old ledgers.

These days, the table is mostly bare and a bit dusty. You use it more than Diluc, though most of your studying with your teacher happens at their cottage, in Mond proper. Diluc and Kaeya have a training room a few doors down, one that Crepus constructed, with mats and straw targets, and more armaments than Ordo Favonius probably knows about.

Most of your time in the Small Study is spent in the corner, tucked close to each other. You have amassed an impressive number of spare sheets, pillows, and blankets, and have constructed what could only be called a nest. You and Diluc take to lounging on it in the mornings and evenings, when you both have the time. You read together. Sometimes you aloud to him, and sometimes him aloud to you.

Diluc’s voice has taken to breaking lately. You find it adorable and can’t help teasing him about it.

“I’ll have to hunt for a new novel at the markets today.” You sigh. The sun is rising above the cliffs, bathing the shelves and columns of dust ichor gold. You throw your hand up, watching the beam soak your skin warm.

Diluc catches your wrist and brings the back of your hand to his lips.

Little things, skinship, he likes. He never says anything much about it, only asks quietly if it's alright that he keeps such proximity to you. You eat it up, his heat, his presence— you want all of it. You’re gluttonous in your youth (you have yet to know starvation.)

“Be careful on patrol today, okay? I’m helping Adelinde make that sweet bread you like before I visit Teacher.” You huff, maneuvering to you’re at his eye level. You tug his cheek, still soft with baby fat. “You better not have any extra bruises when I pick you up today.”

“I’ll try.” He rolls his eyes. “Even if I do, you’ll patch me up, won’t you?”

“I could have Teacher do it,” you huff. “I know you don’t like how rough they can get with you.”

Diluc scoffs, “They don’t like me—”

“They like you plenty—”

You squabble, soft in your chests, because it's all easy and slow. The romance novel gets tucked away into an overflowing shelf, bulging with others that you’ve already finished.

Kaeya is shining his blade in the armory, and you collect him before heading to Mondstadt proper. It’s a routine, each day, one that you enjoy and cling to. You enjoy your training and you feel only pride seeing your boys bud and grow in their strength. You fight, like young ones of your age do, but it's all in jest. Simple. Your squabbles get settled with wrestling by the river or when Crepus intervenes and fathers the three of you.

It’s good and you never want it to end.

...

Diluc grows into himself. He’s gangly in his teen years— long arms and bulging shoulder blades he’s yet to grow into. The pudge he’d had around his belly has disappeared, sucked away by a growth spurt or two. He grows a bit more into his frame, each year closer to adulthood that he gets. Muscle building on muscle.

Teacher says you’re doing well with your studies. You pour over books on medicinal herbs and medical techniques during the day, and watch Teacher heal when patients are around. You become adept enough to see patients on your own, for small injuries.

You fix up Diluc whenever he comes home to you. Cuts. Bruises. The odd fracture or two. He’s the person you ever stitch a wound together for. He doesn’t flinch. So trusting.

...

Crepus gets odd, at some point. You’re almost old enough to be considered an adult. He starts asking you questions you know the answer to, but it seems like he’s seeking something other than the truth. Sentiments that he wants to squeeze out of you, to satiate something in him that you can clearly see, but don’t know how to name.

(He’s a businessman— is it in his nature to be greedy—?)

(Forget. Forget. Forget.)

...

You wish it had stayed so kind and good for longer. You wish you appreciated it more, but you didn’t fully understand the goodness laid before you until it was so brutally ripped away from you.

The night Diluc turns eighteen, your world shatters. Burns. Immolates while you lay drunkenly dozing in a friend's warm bed. You don’t greet the wreckage until you awaken. Alone, drowning and with a new pang in your stomach.

PART iii: the stitch the wound the burning

You instantly slam your hands on the bartop. You whip your head around to Kaeya. He wears a wide, awful grin. So fucking smitten with himself.

You hate him.

“Fuck you,” you snap.

You push up, knocking the bar stool over with a bang. You turn on a heel and run from the tavern. Wordless.

(You run. You should’ve run. You should’ve never come back. Ever.)

You know the display caused enough of a ruckus that Angel’s Share fell nearly silent as you left. You know that your vision shuddered out of your control, sending dendro to liven the flowers around the tavern. It felt sick. To know that the blooms would be wider and more beautiful while you ran. Running, running, running.

Lisa and Jean, maybe, shout your name as you sprint away. You ignore them— you have to. The temptation to turn back and face them drowns in the wine that churns in your stomach. Your breath feels too hot and heavy in your lungs, like lead and steam. You feel like you might die.

(Diluc in the same room as you. Diluc in front of you. Not a ghost, a breathing body. Flesh. He would’ve been a bit too warm, to the touch. You know him to be. He’d grown so much— how much had you missed? Archons, you miss him—)

You barely get out of Mondstadt proper before you bracing yourself on one its outer walls, forcing your finger down your throat, and heaving your guts out onto the high grass. All of the splendid wine you sampled color the ground blood red, surely staining your lips. Tears drip from your lash line. You feel sticky as you draw your fingers from your throat, spit and dribble sliding down your wrist.

You curse and shake.

You wipe your hands down on your trousers and scrub at your lips with the edge of your sleeve. You spit pretty scarlet and nearly hurl again.

The sun has set, and the dark is a comfort. It cloaks you, allowing you to duck easily between shadows and firelight that other travelers warm themselves by. No one looks at you twice. You’re sure you seem like a drunkard, not— Not whatever you are. You drag yourself back to your campsite.

You fall to the ground, drawing up your good leg by the knee and press your forehead to it.

Fuck.

Fuck the healer. Fuck Windblume. Fuck seeing any friends or familiar faces. You discard the plans, crushing them down until you decide they’re not worth it. None of this was worth it. If you’d only ducked in and out of Mondstadt’s market, you wouldn’t have met Lisa. Gotten twisted up with Kaeya. Dared to enter Angel’s Share. Seen Diluc.

You knew the mere sight of him would send you. You knew. You feel foolish. Stupid. If you were a fraction more sober, you would’ve dragged yourself out of self pity and set up camp for the night. Instead you stew. You swallow back dread and bile and clutch your shoulders.

(You always knew this was a risk, coming back here, didn’t you? That’s why you never dared to even get near Mondstadt’s borders. Now you’ve done it.)

You certainly have.

You rub your eyes again, grimacing at the taste in your mouth. Forcing yourself up is a task, especially trying to keep weight off of your (now very) bad foot. You struggle to balance, propping yourself up on a pile of discarded crates and get to work setting up your campsite for the night. You resolve to sleep until dawn, pack up, and be on your way. You’ll head back to Liyue and catch a boat out of the harbor. You’ll go anywhere. Do anything.

(To be far away from here.)

You struggle with your tent and tarp. It’s infinitely harder to set up your sleeping arrangements when you’re hobbling around on one leg. Emptying your stomach of its content has made you lightheaded (or, it's the panic that is thick and porous in your blood. Burrowing into your flesh. Will you even be able to sleep tonight?) You fight to keep your breath steady as you struggle to stake the tarp into the dirt.

Someone says your name from behind you. Breathes it like it's lighter than air, weighted like a gospel.

You turn, for the second time, against better judgment.

Diluc stands above you, wearing the same shocked expression he had in Angel’s Share.

Your lips twist, your brow falls. You feel yourself sink. It’s the same feeling you get in your stomach when you’re put toe-to-toe with an adversary out in the wilderness. It’s the feeling you get when you get a patient a little too late and can’t be sure if you’ll be able to drag them back from the brink.

You breathe his name right back.

“... You’re here,” he says. His voice has evened out. Deeper than you remember, and rougher, but barely.

“I am,” you answer as neutrally as you can. You school your expression and turn back to your tarp. “Please leave.”

Diluc doesn’t answer. He’s frozen above you, so close that you swear you can feel the heat coming off of him.

“Don’t ask me to do that,” Diluc says, like a demand and not a request.

You bristle.

“I’m setting up my camp for the night,” you state plainly. “Then I will be sleeping. I will be gone by dawn tomorrow. I apologize for any disruption I caused at... at Angel’s Share.”

You press your hands over the top of a nail. The iron digs into your palms. You shove at it anyway, until it’s snug against the earth.

“I don’t care about that,” Diluc replies with an edge to his voice that’s unfamiliar. “That’s not of consequence.”

“... Then why are you here?” You crawl across the ground, brace yourself on a crate, and stand. Your weak foot hovers just off the ground. “Why follow me, Diluc? I’m sure you have better things to do.”

You say his name like it's a curse and face him.

(And it’s like coming home.)

(If you had any less of yourself, you would’ve sank into the earth and wept.)

“I don’t,” he says. Arms crossed. Shoulders square. You see him struggle with his words, chewing on the inside of his cheek, just like he used to. “You left so quickly, and Kaeya—”

“Bastard,” you spit.

Diluc muffles a laugh (a full sound so lovely— you used to do anything to hear it). “He didn’t tell you I would be bartending, I’m assuming?”

“He told me, expressly, that you would not be bartending.”

“... It is my tavern. Windblume is the busiest time of the year.” He looks a bit wounded. You can’t tell if you’re imagining it. “Kaeya sent word that Ordo would be at Angel’s Share in full force this evening. My presence was called.”

You scowl, “I realize that now.”

Diluc sighs, deep and hard and full, “You left so quickly, and Kaeya told me you were most likely staying outside of the city. I was... worried.”

You let out a breath through your teeth, maybe a laugh, some unholy thing and you shake your head. You can’t bear to look at him for too long, “Well, I’m fine. Promise. I just wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“Clearly.”

“And you weren’t expecting to see me?”

“No.” Diluc sighs. “I... No. I wasn’t.”

You don’t know what else to say to him.

“Go.” You shoo him off. “I need to finish setting up and get some sleep. Sorry again for causing any trouble.”

You turn away, going to reach for your tent—

Diluc grabs your upper arm. He keeps you steady and upright.

“You didn’t.”

The contact burns. Sears through you like you’re just gossamer and old silk. You tense with it. When did his heat become unfamiliar?

You open your mouth, part your lips just barely, but nothing comes out. Your mind empties.

“Come back to the winery.”

His words cut you from any of your reverie. Your grief forces itself up in plumes, from the base of your spine to the corners of your damp eyes.

“Absolutely fucking not.” You tear away from him.

He lets you go. (You suffocate the part of you that mourns the loss.)

“It’s not safe outside the walls.” He takes a step back. Breathing room. “There’s no lodging available in the city, I’m sure you found.”

“I did, and I’m fine out here, Diluc. I can protect myself just fine.” You pat the dendro Vision on your hip. Your weapon remains unsummoned and out of sight.

“It’s going to rain.” Diluc frowns. “And, your tent is torn.”

He gestures behind you, and sure enough, a massive tear runs through an entire side of your tent. You hadn’t noticed.

(If you will not go where you are supposed to be, perhaps fate will push you there? Align the stars and cosmos just right—)

“I recall that you never enjoyed camping,” Diluc says and it's like a knife to the chest. The idea that he remembers anything about you. “You’ll have a bed for as long as you’d like.”

“Diluc—” You’re near to cursing him out, let the Archons, Celestia and the damn Stars hear it—

“I’m sure Adelinde would love you to see you too.”

Oh.

Oh— Adelinde. When was the last time you sent her a letter? Or read one of hers? You have a stack of them, sealed with purple wax and bound in twine, shoved in your bag. Among your most prized possessions. You’ve hardly let the ink smudge, despite time and condition.

“... She still works for you?”

“Of course.” Diluc’s voice sounds strained.

“Elzer too?” You ask.

“Yes, he’s been at my side since—”

“Since you came back to Mondstadt,” you answer for him. “Since you returned to the winery.”

Elzer had been at your side too, when you were running the winery in Diluc’s absence. Same with Adelinde.

Archons, you miss them.

“I’ll stay at the winery,” you say after a beat. “So I can see them.”

Diluc lets out a sigh, shaky and short. He flexes his hands, open and closed. Relieved. The moment of vulnerability passes.

“Will you be able to walk there with—” He gestures to your foot.

“Yes, I’ll be fine.” You put weight on it, swallowing down any pain. You can bear it.

Diluc offers his arm, and you refuse it, striding past him.

You walk side by side back to Dawn Winery.

...

It does begin to drizzle, eventually. Nothing close to proper rain, but a thick mist that dampens your hair and clothes. The chill of it sinks into you, unpleasant but not unbearable. You cling to the discomfort of it. You and Diluc do not speak to each on the way back, other than the time or two you announce you need a short rest for your foot.

Fatigue hits you as you stumble down the valley paths leading into the winery’s main grounds.

You blame the wine.

The front door looks almost the same, perhaps the wood refinished. Diluc pulls forth a shining brass key (different, than the one that you had during your tenure as ‘master’ of Dawn Winery. That key was thick, old iron. Rusting at its corners. It always felt cold and heavy. An entire year it was tied to you. Tethered to your waist on the very same belt that now holds your vision.)

The lock was replaced.

The interior of the winery is different too, you find. It makes stepping inside less jarring— the floors, once dark, long-planked hardwood, has been redone to intricate patterns of lighter, warm-toned wood. Less candles, more electro-powered fixtures set into the walls and ceiling. The couches look different, brighter and fluffier with fresh cushions. Even the grand carpet that covers the main room, bearing the Ragnvindr crest, appears to have been freshened. Maybe even re-tuffed. It’s generally brighter.

“You’ve... updated things.” Your voice trails off as you shrug off your cloak and hang it on your arm.

Diluc follows your line of sight to a new tapestry on the east-wall. Not of the family crest, but the vineyard. It’s far more ornate than any you remember; you can see the metallic gold weavings shine, even in the lowlight. The tapestry is ringed by paintings, portraits and some landscapes. You recall Crepus commissioning many of them, or creating them himself. There’s a number of new photographs as well.

“I have over the years,” Diluc replies. “It was necessary.”

You hum, pausing. “... I like it. It’s nice.”

It’s nice because it doesn’t feel quite as much like you’re walking into a still-breathing cadaver. You expected to be greeted with an interior you had seared in your memory. Corners you’d still see ghosts in, picture frames that were askew that you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to fix. You know which floorboards were creaky and which windows had the worst draft.

This version of Dawn Winery from your memory doesn’t exist anymore, in any way or facet. What’s left certainly isn’t blank or void, but it’s more unfamiliar than you expected. It smells like rose oil and beeswax rather than cedar and tobacco.

“Master Diluc? You’re back earlier than expected.”

Adelinde breaks you from your stupor.

She looks much the same— the same uniform, though perhaps her hair’s a bit shorter? There’s new wrinkles around the corners of her eyes, sun spots around her forehead and the bridge of her nose. Her eyes are still kind. They go wide when she sees you, and the mug she’s holding nearly slips from her grip.

Your chest tightens.

She says your name and it’s like you’ve been cut through. Flesh parting around a sharp blade.

“Hi.” Your voice sounds soft and so much more broken than you can accept it is.

“Welcome home.” She smiles, all the way up to her eyes.

If you were a little more weak, perhaps a few months more weathered— you would’ve broken then. You would’ve fallen apart in the foyer of Dawn Winery, drowning and hungry and soaked to the bone in something colder than rain water. You hold yourself together, barely, thin threads wound around you to the point of constricting keep you upright. Sure-footed. Almost-whole.

But, Adelinde knows... doesn’t she? She must. She has an uncanny ability for these things. It’s because she watched you grow, watched your toils and supported you. Mothered you when needed. You counseled and consoled each other, during the worst of it.

It makes you feel less guilty, less ashamed, when you nearly throw yourself at her. You wrap your arms around her shoulders and smother your face in her shoulder.

Adelinde hugs you in kind. She still smells like pine-cleaner and that jasmine perfume she imports. She wraps you, in herself, squeezing so hard you’re afraid she’ll undo the strings binding your heart together.

“H-How have you been?” you ask. Tears sting your eyes.

She strokes the back of your head, through your hair. “I’ve been well. And you?”

You smush your face into her shoulder. You don’t know what to say to her. Instinctual honesty climbs up in your throat— you suppress it.

“I’ve been better,” you say, softly. You hope only she can hear. “Excited to sleep in a real bed. Take a bath.”

Adelinde goes still, slack— then she almost crushes you. You feel her heartbeat and your lip wobbles.

“I’m glad you’re home, then. Let me fetch you a cup of tea. I’ll make sweet bread in the morning.”

“T-That sounds nice. Thank you.”

Diluc, who has been silent and watchful, clears his throat. “They can take whichever room they like.”

“I’ll prepare the west wing guest room.” (Far from your old bedroom.) She whispers to you. “There was a Fontainisian merchant we were hosting— she left all of her luxury skincare and bath supplies here.”

You pull away, narrowing your eyes, “Are you implying something?”

“Not at all.” She gives you a good-natured smile. “They’re yours. Let’s get you settled.”

You nod and she guides you with a hand on your lower back, up the stairs, to the west wing. Diluc has made himself scarce, seemingly disappearing into thin air to the northern wing of the manor. You only half notice.

Archons, you’re tired.

Adelinde helps you settle in. She sets your bag on a vanity stool, shows you a newly renovated bathroom with a tub that could easily fit you and a Rishboland tiger in it. The rest of the details of the room fade. Something stickier and older than fatigue works its way up through your bone marrow, leaving your body as a yawn.

Adelinde gives you a sympathetic smile when she brings you a cup of lavender and chamomile tea.

The world is blurry when you crash into the pillows. They smell like the herbal detergent you suckered Crepus into buying during your teen years. Diluc liked it. Whatever potential revulsion you could have has wilted with your exhaustion. Instead, something warm brews in you. You shove your nose into the silken case. The feeling is good. You don’t mind it.

(Fuck, maybe you even need it.)

...

You sleep for three days.

You don’t mean to, and it’s not continuous. You rise for your promised sweet bread, tea, and a much-need, thorough bath. You’ve spent the past few months using communal bath houses or washing in rivers and lakes, quick and rarely relaxing. You indulge in the massive, stone tub for a private soak that leaves you pruney and smelling like rose oil and Natlani bright grass.

The position of the sun feels arbitrary. You just sleep. Like the fucking dead. No dreams, thank the gods. Thick curtains keep your room dark and you relish every moment. You hadn’t realized how deeply fatigue had woven itself into you. You’d become so acclimated to exhaustion, it only hit you when you finally had a (safe and) quiet place to sleep with no end date.

Adelinde brings an armful of clothes at some point. (“We put these in storage, when you left. I’m sure some still fit.”) Some do, thankfully, and you’re grateful to have more than four garments, especially when they go together. It’s nostalgic to slip into skirts and trousers you haven’t worn in so long, and you decide they’ll suffice. Unideal, but comfortable.

The tiredness is an odd blessing. You feel too blurry and foggy to really pick apart your feelings. All of them. You’re aware of the knot that’s formed somewhere between your ribs and gut (or rather, revealed itself), and you ignore it for as long as you are able to. No one comes to you except Adelinde, who never presses you.

(You don’t know what you would do if she did. Adelinde knows discretion, she knows wounds and scrapes and bruises, and knew yours once. Well and thoroughly. You think she can see all of your ills now too.)

(You’re glad she doesn't pry at you. In your moments between wakefulness and sleep, you tend to dream more loosely. You imagine what you might say to Diluc, had you... the opportunity without damage. What would you say to him? The you that’s mostly a dream screams at him sometimes. Enraged. Sometimes you cry, asking questions that neither your sleeping or waking mind has answers for. They’re not... unfamiliar dreams, but they’re unwelcome. They’re more vivid now that you’re staying in the Winery.)

They feel more real. Diluc is only rooms away at any given time.

(He’s not a specter.)

On the third day, you awake midday to a frantic knock on your door. Adelinde, you assume. Stumbling from bed, and pull on a dressing gown and nothing more, and pull open the heavy oak door—

It’s Diluc. Of course it is. In working trousers and a loose, white top. Dirt stains his knees and the tips of his fingers. Pretty red hair spills from its loose tie, bouncy with a fresh wash. He tenses, when he sees you. Fists balling at his sides and shoulders going rigid.

Your jaw locks and the air in your lungs suddenly feels heavy and too hot. Your throat bobs with a swallow, and you gather up the satin of your robe before it has a chance to slip down to the crook of your elbow.

(Just seeing him sends you. Into a rage. Into a fit of grief. The visage of him forces you to reckon with something more awful and sticky and molten than you know what to do with.)

(You wish it was more avoidable.)

You freeze.

Your several days of rest afforded you the time to... ignore Diluc. Hide from him, and the knot that you desperately don’t want to unravel. Despite sleeping in one of his beds and eating his food, you need distance. It feels like you’ll explode if you don’t have it.

“The child of one of the vineyard workers is injured,” Diluc says, maybe a little out of breath. “Can you take a look?”

“Of course,” you reply without hesitation. A hurt child takes precedence over most things.

The child and his mother sit in Diluc’s foyer, you can hear them as you approach. The girl sniffles and clings to her mothers sleeve with one hand, the other limp in her lap. One of her legs splays the wrong way, equally limp.

You approach easily, introducing yourself. The air has an edge of crisis to it, but you wade through it easily. If anything, it’s comfortingly familiar. To be calm and confident in the face of serious injury or illness is often medicine in and of itself.

You set your large, leather-bound caboodle beside you and take to the floor. Your Tselostnyy insignia is pinned to the outside. The mother’s eyes dart to it as she pets over her daughter’s hair, and she relaxes at the sight of it. A qualified stranger, you are.

The mother is younger, someone before your time as the Winery’s temporary master which is a relief. Diluc lingers behind you, watching you work, probably. You attempt not to care.

You scooch forward, on your knees, knitting your fingers together and hover them over your patient. You focus on the spiral of dendro through muscle and bone, reading the injury:

Two clean breaks. Closed fracture of the left ulna. Closed fracture of the left femur.

It’s a miracle that the child isn’t shrieking in her mother’s lap.

“How did you get hurt?” you ask the child directly.

She sniffles. “I f-fell outta’ the big tree by the water. I was trying to climb it.”

Her mother almost scolds her, but you beat her to speaking. “That’s a hard tree to climb. The oaks by the stables are much easier.”

It’s just a slip of the tongue, to be so familiar.

You turn to the child and school a smile on your lips. “I’ll be able to heal your injuries with my Vision. You’ll get some medicine as well, and it needs to be stirred into juice. Do you have a favorite kind?”

The child looks unsure, and her mother answers for her: “She likes apple best.”

“Apple, master of the house.” You wave a hand behind you. “Can you fetch some?”

“Of course,” Diluc answers without missing a beat and you hasten him away.

Knitting your fingers together once more, you begin to work on her injuries. The child is holding up quite well, despite the immense pain she must be in. You work quickly regardless, but keep in mind you do have the luxury of time. There’s no one more broken or more sick just beyond her who needs to be treated as well.

Dendro sews together her bones. Encourages new flesh and muscle to grow where it is needed.

When Diluc returns, you instruct him further, gaze never straying from the knitting bones, “Take the third vial from the right on the top row of oils, will you? Stir half a dropper into the juice and stir for a minute. If you see oil on the top, keep going.”

“What’s the medicine for?” The girl asks.

“Relaxation and sleep,” You reply softly. “This type of healing is very effective, but it takes a lot of energy out of the person who is being healed. You’ll be tired once I’m all done, but you may have trouble resting since your body is still reacting to the shock of your injuries.”

The mother lets out a sigh of relief. Perhaps too wordy of an explanation for a child, but her mother seems grateful for it.

When the child’s healed into proper pieces again, you unknit your fingers and fall back on your heels. Diluc wordlessly passes the goblet of well-mixed apple juice to the child, who shakily gulps it town. The medicine doesn’t have much of a taste, more of an oily texture to it that requires it to be drunk quickly after being mixed. The juice must be from one of Diluc’s best stashes because the child beams after chugging it.

“... That’s it?” She asks.

You nod and crack your knuckles, now stiff. “That’s it.”

“... Nothing else?”

“Nope.” You crack your neck. “Other than the fatigue, but a few extra hours of sleep should remedy that. She’ll be back to normal after a nap.”

“Thank you,” The mother says and your chest feels sticky and warm. “I know that Barbara from the Church has similar skills with her Vision, but I’ve never seen healing like yours. Mondstadt could use a physician like you, you know.”

The feeling goes cold, but you keep your smile. Bear it.

“I’m sure they do.” Teacher’s shoes hadn’t been filled, apparently. And you’d departed to the Tselostnyy School and never returned.

The mother and her child give more thanks before leaving and you keep your facade up until they’re out the door. The girl’s no doubt ruffled still, even with the light sedative. The mother frazzled. The last thing you’d want to do is burden them with your own misplaced ire. They can’t know. They wouldn’t know.

Diluc, however—

He’s been the silent spectator to this whole affair. He idles by the couches and the hearth, arms crossed, still-dirtied from whatever vineyard work he’d been doing prior to fetching you. You’re sure he was working in the fields, heard the child shriek, and rushed to their aid. Typical.

Diluc stares at you like he could immolate you alive.

“You’re incredible.” He says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Like the sentence doesn’t implode something in you.

Your fists shake at your sides. “Hardly. It’s just my profession.”

Diluc works his jaw and considers his words. You note the way he looks stumped and lost. It’s not intentional, if you’re being honest— so there’s no harm in enjoying the way he stumbles to speak around you, is there?

(It’s only fair. Diluc had always been so sure-footed and sturdy with his words. To see him flounder now reminds you that he’s changed too. Something in him has paled and been mutilated, just like you. Two wounded. His suffering isn’t what you revel in, but the knowledge that he’s affected. Neither of you came out unscathed and you’ve spent the last years refusing to imagine how Diluc might’ve coped.)

“Will you have tea with me?” Diluc asks, the words ringing off the glass chandelier in minor key. “You don’t have to if you don’t want—”

“I will.”

...

Adelinde kindly brings you both tea, by the hearth and its embers. It’s served with a few small cakes and rounds of steaming sweet bread. Diluc takes his tea just as he did when he was young— a heavy dash of cream and a spoon and a half of sugar (“the half is very important” he had always said). Adeline leaves you a carafe of coffee and shoots you a gentle smile before leaving the two of you be.

You rest on one of the couches, leg pulled up beneath you and blow over the rim of your mug.

Diluc sits adjacent from you, in a resplendent mid-morning sun beam. The chair is high-backed, upholstered with the red and gold pattern of the Ragnvindr clan. He looks regal, like a king from the stories you used to read together. Sunlight halos the frizz in his hair and the dust that shifts around him.

He sits with one heel propped up on the opposite knee, cupping the tea cup from the bottom, unbothered by its heat.

(He’s pretty, just as beautiful as you remember. Maybe more so.)

It makes something in you feel rotten. You pick at your nails and curl over your core.

He glances at you and you look away into the hearth, into the small flames that eat at the last of a birch log.

Having Diluc in front of you is uncomfortable. Maybe worse than uncomfortable, as discomfort is bearable and the sensation crawling up from the back of your throat isn’t. It makes your skin itch and feel too tight. Your palms sweat. Maybe you want to puke.

(It’s dread, or something like it. Like just seeing him put you on a precipice you had convinced yourself didn’t exist.)

“When did you start drinking coffee?” Diluc asks, breaking you from your spiral. “If I recall correctly, you hated it. Too bitter for your palate, or something like that.”

Ah—

“In your absence. In the year I stayed here, when you left.” It’s the truth. “ Lots of paperwork. I got used to the flavor after a while.”

(You used to prefer tea, favoring some black variety that Crepus painstakingly imported from Natlan’s volcanic cliffs. The first time you tried to drink it following his passing, you retched it back into your cup.)

You both shift uncomfortably.

“I see.”

You pretend not to notice the way Diluc’s grip goes white-knuckled for a moment. Your chest feels tight, too tight, and you squirm under your skin.

“I don’t know how to face you,” you blurt out.

(You never thought you would have to.)

Diluc looks away from you, into the fire. “If you don’t wish to ‘face me’, then you don’t have to.”

“Are you suggesting I simply ignore you?”

“If that’s what you would wish to do.”

“That’s not what I asked.” You frown, something burning between your ribs.

Diluc chews on his words for a moment. “Allow me to clarify. I have no expectations of you while you’re staying within the Winery.”

“So, if I simply ate your food and slept in one of your beds, ignoring you, you’d be alright with that?”

“If that’s what you wish, then yes.”

(The answer hurts to hear. You refuse to think about why.)

“Alright.” You take a long sip of your coffee. You’re not sure when your stomach began to ache.

“You’re unsatisfied with that answer,” Diluc guesses.

“Entirely,” you reply. “You’re basing your wants off of mine. It’s bothersome.”

“It’s the truth. As I said—“

“You ‘have no expectations of me’,” you parrot. “Would you truly be satisfied if I didn’t speak to you at all while I’m here?”

Diluc chews the inside of his cheek (a new habit you don’t recognize). “My satisfaction isn’t of consequence.”

“Idiot,” You snap— you don’t mean to. “Of course it is. I don’t want to make this any more unbearable than it already is.”

“Do you think this is unbearable for me?”

“… Yes?” You feel yourself shaking. “Maybe? I don’t know.”

(It’s worse than unbearable. The feeling in your chest is blooming, radiating out into your arms and legs, down to your hands. There’s a buzzing in the base of your skull.)

“I understand that it’s difficult for you to be here,” Diluc grits out. “I do not want to make that any worse by some expectation or assumption you think that I carry. If you wish to enjoy the festival and ignore me, that’s more than fine. If it would be easier for you to stay here and think of me as only some type of… concierge, I wouldn’t resent you for it.”

(You hate it. You hate him. You hate Diluc Ragnvindr endlessly, perhaps. You want to burn Dawn Winery to the ground.)

“Do you really think I could ever think of you as anything other than yourself?” You spit, intending to. “It’s insulting— a fucking affront to think that I could view you in such a way.”

“I don’t know how you view me.” Diluc’s voice wavers with what you can only assume to be anger. “I’m trying to make this easier for you.”

“In what way?!” You stand. “Do you think ignoring you would be easier for me?”

“I am making a well-intended inference based on the fact that you haven’t returned to Mondstadt for years.” Diluc stares at you like he wants to— “I am assuming you’d like to continue to ignore me, given that you’ve never given any indication otherwise.”

“… You’re the one who left first.” You spit the words, like how a sword cuts through air. “You’re the one who left and gave no ‘ indication’ of returning.”

Diluc swallows, thick and hard with a bob of his throat and he rises to his feet. You instinctively take a step back. He opens his mouth, then closes it with a snap of his teeth. The fire cracks and a log loses its structure, tumbling in the hearth with a flurry of embers.

He looks lost for words. You let loose a laugh, something awful and torn that you wish you could stuff back down your throat.

“Nothing to say?”

“It was a long time ago—“

“Ah, it’s irrelevant to you. I see.” Archons, you don’t want this. You should’ve never come back. It can’t be worth it, can it? It feels like your ribs are being broken, one by one.

(How wretched it is, for him to have such a power over you.)

“Don’t twist my words.” Diluc rises, taking a step toward you. “I only meant to say—“

“I am well-aware of what you meant to say.” You want to vomit, maybe. “It was so long ago, so it’s easier, right? If I view you as nothing more than a doorman with a familiar face, and if you view me as a guest to be treated with pleasantries.”

(Let’s forget all the history. Etch a lie onto a slate that’s already been shattered beyond repair.)

Diluc’s expression twists. Your hands shake and you cross them over yourself, wrapping your arms over your own shoulders and squeezing. He looks… hurt. Gutted.

“Do you think me cruel enough to ever think of you in such a way?”

“Yes, actually.” You laugh with a shake of your head. “Not even a letter, Diluc? Couldn’t even spare me a thought, could you?”

(Meanwhile, you clung to the hope that he’d arrive home through the front door of the Winery for months. How many did you sit in front of this very same hearth, wrapped in his old blankets and left-behind clothes and pray to any God who’d listen that Diluc would return?)

The admission guts Diluc. You can see it in his face, the way his expression tears open and he balls his fist and he almost seems to shake with it.

(Despite everything, it hurts to see him hurt.)

You step away, almost toppling into the couch. Diluc catches you by the arm with a lurch and keeps you upright. The contact burns like you’re too close to a roaring fire. You feel singed.

“I can’t forget, Diluc.” You laugh, shudder in his grip and you feel the bits of you fray even further. “I— I don’t know. I’m sorry. I resent you. I hate you. I look at you and I’m struck by the feeling that I’m looking at a ghost.”

You watch Diluc’s jaw lock. “Pot, kettle.”

“Pardon?”

“You left Mond as well, dear.” Diluc says the pet name and then flushes. An old habit, unearthed by sparring. You maybe would swoon if you weren’t feeling light-headed. “You’re a ghost to me as well. Maybe something worse.”

“... Am I? ” you spit, writhing in your skin.

His expression tightens and you see the hurt. A crack. His lip twitches and he stands. He has to look down at you and you feel the height.

“Do you think I haven’t been haunted by you?”

Oh, it’s like being punched in the gut. You’re being flayed, surely, on his great room floor. If you’re not careful, your entrails will spill and you’ll die here. You’re sure.

“Don’t lie to me.”

“You’re impossible,” Diluc says, grip almost bruising. “Do you truly think I’m lying?”

(You don’t.)

You swallow and step away from him. The moment you pull against him, Diluc lets you go, and you stumble back.

(You’re too frayed for this. Burnt. Cinders at a masquerade.)

“I need some time,” you say, fire in your voice is gone. You burn down so easily. “I’m sorry.”

Diluc stays silent for a moment. You can’t be sure what he’s thinking.

“Take all the time you need,” he says, before striding past you to his office. You hear the door nearly slam.

#lore writes #diluc ragnvindr x reader #diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc reader insert #genshin impact x reader #diluc ragnvindr x you

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