A New Chatroom Just Opened!

a new chatroom just opened!

↬ boyfriend texts ↠

◇ characters ◇ albedo, al haitham, ayato, childe, diluc, heizou, itto, kaeya, kazuha, thoma, venti, xiao, zhongli

◇ tags ◇ modern!au, established relationship, suggestive (on some), fluff (mostly), a dab of angst (kaeya), mentions of reader skipping meals (diluc)

◇ a/n ◇ unfortunately i can’t really make a readable ‘script’ version for this??? since i’m not sure how i’d display the branching dialogs and all. so uh yeah if this didn’t work on your phone then maybe try your pc!

◇ notes ◇ recommended to view via pc/laptop screen ◇ you will be prompted to give your name, but if you don’t feel comfortable you can skip them entirely - if you do give your name, the data will only be stored locally on your devices

some little tidbits / notes:

yes, the wallpaper changes based on your local time.

there are no ‘wrong’ answers, so go ahead and see if you can find all the possible combinations <3

(optional) send me screenshots of your favorite interactions or line lol

if you have yet to see ‘This chat has ended’ then- well, the chat has yet to end! be patient, it might take him some time to reply~ ;)

if the ui glitches, try turning the screen upright, back down, and then wait for a little (thanks @/prinrestcess for the tip!)

if you don't feel like thinking, here are the helper tools for heizou's chats: [morse code] [utf-8]

this took me literal  d a y s  to figure out... so if you enjoyed it, i would super appreciate your reblogs <3

© zhongrin | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

◇ taglist ◇ @paintingsofdragonspine | @genshinparty | @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sophiethewitch1 | @why-am-i-here-someone-save-me | @sunnshineflxwer | @heartonthemoon

ps. if you want to be removed/added from the taglist, just send an ask!

fantasising about husband! aki who can no longer hide just how much he longs for you when you accidentally walk in on him.

fem! reader, 18+, friends to lovers, semi-angst, marriage of convenience, fluff, love confessions, mutual pining, (male) masturbation, making out, fingering, sitting cowgirl, dick riding, vaginal creampie

3.9k (unedited)

reblogs are appreciated ~

it’s embarrassing, really, just how quickly aki adapts to a life dominated by your presence, and yet, it happens so naturally, that without realising, he’s accepting it as easily as he does breathing. 

with the both of you now settling into the final years of your twenties, your marriage had been born from the promise of companionship, should neither of you settle with a partner of your own. it was you who had drunkenly slurred the idea after he’d accompanied you home after a night out—rambling something about how much you loved him—and because you were so stupidly inebriated, you had shrieked with laughter when he’d actually agreed. 

the promise isn’t mentioned again for the two years that had followed, until a few months after aki’s twenty-eighth birthday, and it is denji, of all people, who brings it up. in truth, after ignoring it for so long, you’d actually forgotten all about that particular night, and so, after aki shoos denji away with a carefully aimed glare, you’re pleasantly surprised when he then proposes that the two of you marry, because—in his very own words—it made sense. 

it’s not quite the proposal that you’d imagined when you were far younger, enamoured by the idea of marrying your very own prince charming, and yet, it’s all too easy to agree, and a month later, your life is eternally tied to aki’s with a single signature upon a piece of paper. 

only, a year later, and the relationship that is shared between the two of you remains strictly platonic. 

you aren’t exactly sure what you had been hoping to change once the two of you married, but even power has begun to notice that your marriage with aki isn’t at all what it’s made up to be. 

‘you don’t share a bed?!’ she’d exclaimed one evening after coming to visit and poking her nose around your bedroom long enough to discover that the wardrobe is home only to your clothes. 

‘we’re friends,’ you’d stressed, brows furrowing. 

‘yeah,’ denji had piped up from somewhere down the hall, head buried within the depths of your fridge, ‘but you’re married.’ 

‘hm, hm,’ power had nodded, agreeing, and you’d had to hide your grimace by busying yourself with shoving her from your bedroom and clicking the door shut behind you. 

the conversation had quickly changed after denji had convinced you to accompany them to lunch—‘cause you’ve got nothin’ in—but it’s still one that you catch yourself thinking about when you tuck yourself into bed each night. 

lately, more often than not, he’s the reasoning behind your last thought at night, and the first when you rouse from sleep in the morning. at first, you chalk it down to the fact that now the two of you live together, it’s only natural that he’s who you think of when ordering takeout, because it’s also obvious that you’d wonder what he’d like to eat tonight. it’s also totally normal for hope to rear its familiar heat in the centre of your chest when you return home from work—because, why on earth wouldn’t you pray that he made it home safe and sound? and, of course, it’s just curtesy to ask if he’d like to join you when you’re watching one of those shitty chick flicks that are shown every friday evening, hiding your smirk behind a cushion when he grumbles under his breath about how terrible the movie is, but still comes to slouch on the settee beside you, your feet nestled on his lap. 

there’s nothing unusual about marrying your best friend. 

at least, that’s what you tell yourself. 

until, one night, everything changes. 

it’s new year’s, and your small group of friends have gathered to denji and power’s apartment. 

it’s just the four of you crammed onto the small settee, a concoction of what smells to be both vodka and beer glaring up at you from the depths of the glass that power had shoved into the palm of your hand upon arrival. you haven’t yet dared to take a sip. 

there’s another of those shitty chick flicks playing in the background, but no one is really paying attention to the screen, all eyes focusing on the clock that has been pinned—lopsided—onto the wall. there are only a few minutes until midnight, and suddenly, you’re all too aware of the heat of aki’s thigh pressing to your own, his arm brushing against yours when he lifts a hand to push a loose strand of hair from his face. tonight, the inky tresses are free from their usual tie, and for a reason known only to the heavens, you can’t stop glancing at him from the corner of your eye. it’s not as if you’re a stranger to this particular hairdo, but tonight, the blues of his hair entice your stare back toward him, over and over, and the more you do so, the more confused you become. 

fortunately, power pins your attention onto her when she all but throws her weight onto your shoulder, giggling loudly, ‘hey, hey!’ 

‘hey,’ you hum down at her, vaguely aware of denji jumping from his seat, hopping over the back of the settee, and disappearing down the hallway.

power leans forward so that her cheek is pressed to yours. the stench of beer is heavy on her breath, and when your nose crinkles, she only laughs harder. ‘you guys gonna kiss?’ 

you don’t have to look to know that aki is staring at the back of your head. awkwardly, you clear your throat, unable to hide your wince in time. denji returns, bowl of freshly cooked fries in hand. he’s already shovelling a handful into his mouth, belatedly remembering to share by shoving the bowl under power’s nose so suddenly that, in her surprise, her left foot kicks out and connects with his knee. he howls, the bowl dropped to his lap, and power snatches it, scoffing down a mouthful herself. cheeks stuffed, she points to the clock, and a garbled yelp of excitement escapes her. 

‘look, look!’ 

there’s just a minute left. 

a warm hand eases over your crown, and the way that your spine relaxes is instantaneous. it’s reflex, the way that you curl into his side—as you have hundreds of times before—and you pointedly ignore the way that power jabs her elbow into denji’s flank, his eyes watering as he chokes on another mouthful of fries. 

the clock tick-tocks, and the tip of a nose is ghosting over the shell of your ear. his fingers tickle down the back of your neck, and the brush of his lips at your temple welcomes you into the new year. 

it’s not quite the kiss that you’d hoped for, once, when you still dreamt of new year kisses way back in your teen years, and yet, your pulse skips a beat all the same. 

‘happy new year,’ he murmurs to your cheek, thumb slipping to press to your pulse, and you know that he can feel the way that it stutters, faltering beneath his touch. 

it’s just aki, you tell yourself, because it’s easier to lie than it is to acknowledge the way that your stomach twists itself into knots. 

from over your shoulder, you peek towards him, unsurprised to see that his stare is already focused on you. he blinks, once, twice, and something in his eye shifts, his lids drooping as his gaze lowers to your mouth. subconsciously, your lips part, as if to say something—anything—to save yourself from the press of the pad of his thumb at your throat, but all that comes out is a stuttered repeat of his sentiment, the words choked upon when that damned thumb of his strokes over the length of your jugular. 

clearing your throat, you try again, despite the fact that you’re sure he can feel the perspiration that has begun to form on the surface of your skin. you force a smile, one that is returned by the crooking of the corner of his mouth, and you will yourself to feign indifference, even though you’re sure that he can feel the way that your pulse jumps at the sight. 

‘happy new year, aki.’ 

ଓ

the new year passes. 

the world settles into its usual routine, and things in your shared apartment appear to be just as normal. 

only, they’re not. 

aki has always been a constant in your life, this, you’re grateful for. yet, after new year’s, something changes between two of you. you’re a little slow to realise that all too suddenly, he’s everywhere. 

he’s there when you’re stirring your morning coffee, squinty eyed as he smiles when you thank him for boiling the kettle for you because you’re running a tad late this morning. it isn’t until you’re rushing out of the apartment, handbag swinging on your shoulder, that you realise that he is the one who is late for work, as he’s usually out of the door at least an hour before you drag yourself from your bed. 

he’s also there when you’re returning home from work, waiting to greet you as you’re kicking your shoes from your feet and slumping onto the settee with an exhausted groan of relief. the tips of his fingers are kneading at the ache that has formed in the arch of your foot, and you fail to realise that he’s staring at the column of your throat, as your eyes are closed. this happens once, twice, and upon the third time, you’ve started to become a tad suspicious, because usually, he doesn’t arrive home until long after the clock reads six pm. 

a month later, when he catches you kicking at the boiler because it’s stopped working, again, it is he who calls to have it fixed. in the meantime, he leaves freshly boiled hot water bottles outside of the bathroom door, ready for you to bundle into your dressing gown after you finish bathing under an uncomfortable spray of cold water. you’re a little dramatic, sure, when you exclaim that the cold is going to be the death of you, biting the inside of your cheek to hide the smile that tugs at your lips when he huffs, rolls his eyes, but still takes your hands in his to warm your fingers. 

another month passes quickly, and another, and another. you’ve grown long accustomed to the fingers that stroke at your elbow whenever he passes by, to the knowing smiles that conceal secrets that you’re not privy to, hidden behind the rim of his mug as he all but inhales yet another mouthful of coffee. he still comments on your shitty chick flicks, yet, sometimes, you compromise, and he forces you to sit through a range of disaster films that stretch on for almost three hours at a time. oftentimes, you’re falling asleep beneath the blanket that he’d thrown over you just an hour or so before, and yet when you wake, you’re tucked into the comfort of your own bed. 

all too soon, you find that each smile, each brush of his fingers, each cup of coffee, each hot water bottle, and each blasted three hour disaster film, are all driving toward something that you can’t control. 

spring arrives, and with it, so does the realisation that you are helplessly in love. 

and yet, it isn’t you who confesses first. 

today, exhaustion has you sent home from work an hour earlier than usual. again, aki’s brogues are stacked neatly on the shoe rack when you step inside, the front door clicking shut behind you. you’re too tired to ponder on the reason why he’s home far earlier than he should be, your feet kicking themselves free from the shape of your heels. the relief is instant, and a sigh has your chest heaving, shoulders slumping low enough for the strap of your handbag to slip down to the crook of your elbow. you allow it to thump to the floor, and you can already hear aki’s voice reprimanding you, but you’re shattered, and right now, all you want to do is go to bed. 

rolling your neck until it cricks, you shuffle your way down the hall, pausing by the living room door to see that the television is switched on, but muted. a brow raising, you move on, only to halt when you hear a noise coming from inside your room. if you were more alert, you probably would have hesitated just a second longer, but before you can stop, and think, your hand is twisting at the door handle, the door flying open. 

and there, sprawled across your bed, buried within your sheets, lies aki. 

only, aki is naked. 

the sheets are draped over his legs, his thighs spread, and between them, his cock stands proud, leaking an iridescent mess all over his knuckles. his abdomen is tense, muscles taunt underneath the surface of his skin, and your eyes linger for a moment too long before you acknowledge just what is happening. 

‘what the—?’ 

aki actually shrieks.

then, at the same time, you both yell at one another, the merge of your voices displaying varying tones of mortification:

‘what the fuck?!’ 

‘in my bed—seriously?!’ 

horrified, you’re spinning back towards the door, and he’s scrambling from the bed, and there’s a fumble, and all of a sudden, his fingers are curled around your wrist, and he’s begging you to stay, but all you can focus on is the wet of his knuckles pressing to your skin, and you blurt:

‘is that your wank hand?’ 

you’re not even looking at him, but you hear the stutter of his breath and his grip is tightening, ‘my… my what?’ 

you exhale loudly, skin aflame with embarrassment, ‘your wank hand—it’s… it’s wet.’ 

‘fuck, fuck,’ his fingers are all but ripped from your skin, and he’s stumbling somewhere behind you, cursing under his breath. curiosity has you daring to peek over you shoulder, but it appears that you’ve misjudged his ability to dress quickly, as he’s only just shoving a leg through the crumbled leg of his favourite sweatpants. and again, your stare is lingering between his legs, where his prick is starting to droop, his arousal now forgotten. only, he catches your stare, and he somehow stubs his toe on the bedside table, yelling another curse as he trips, falling flat on his arse as he does so. he’s wide eyed, a smattering of red staining both the bridge of his nose and the crests of his cheeks, and you can only gawk back at him, bewildered. 

for a long moment, there’s a tense silence that stretches between the two of you. 

you remain by the doorway, and he hasn’t moved from the floor, staring at you just as intensely as you stare at him. 

and then: 

‘i love you.’ 

your lips part, your mouth opens, and then it closes. again, you try, your tongue fumbling against the inside of your cheek, your breath catching in the back of your throat. again, your pulse is hurtling angrily at the side of your neck. again, your gaze slips, eyelids lowering, aimed between his legs, to where his cock is still half-hard, resting against the crease of which his hip meets his thigh. 

eyes snapping toward his, you squeak, ‘come again?’

he clears his throat, glancing at your mouth, once, twice, and then croaks, ‘i love you.’ 

your knees crumble, bending to accommodate your weight as you crouch before him. your face is buried into the palms of your hands, and your chest heaves as a tiny sob is forced from between your lips. there’s a relief, a hot, burning sensation that prickles at your stomach, and although this isn’t the kind of confession that you’ve dared to imagine, it’s a confession all the same. 

‘god, fuck, aki—’

he’s scoffing on a laugh, one that sounds as painful as it feels, and his hand is reaching to tug at yours so that he can see your face. ‘s’this where you say you don’t feel the same?’ 

you’re laughing—wetly, but still, it’s a laugh—and instead of answering his question, you ask: 

‘is that your wank hand?’ 

this time, he’s snorting, and his hands are pulling at you just as he’s leaning close enough that the bridge of his nose bumps to yours. it’s the only warning that you’ll receive, one that you deem unnecessary, as you’re already meeting him halfway, chin tilting upward just as his lips mould to the shape of your mouth.

you’re unable to focus on the taste of him, not really, not when his hands are grabbing at you greedily, your breath faltering when his fingers are urgently tearing at your clothes. the next few minutes are a blur, and his kisses are a flurry of tongues, gasps stolen between breaths when the blunt edges of his teeth bite into the plush of your bottom lip. there’s a pause when your shirt is all but ripped over the top of your head, his mouth like fire when his lips press to yours again, and it’s quickly followed by another pause as he helps you to shimmy you out of the remainder of your clothing. desperation has him kicking the fabric of his sweatpants from his leg, his fingers deftly ridding you of your bra, your knickers quickly joining the pile of discarded clothing soon after. 

his kisses are frantic, sloppy, and his fingers are blindly exploring each inch of skin that he can get his hands on. it doesn’t take long for him to discover the ticklish spot beneath your ribs, or the quiver of your thighs when his fingers grip at your waist, hoisting you atop him. a surprised oof escapes you, mostly formed around the fact that your head is spinning. 

things are moving quickly—too quickly—and when you manage to tear your mouth from his long enough to voice it so, he’s stilling, spine rigid as he peeks at you through a long strand of hair. 

‘wanna stop?’ the deep gravel of his tone suggests that he hopes for anything but. 

‘no,’ you confirm his hopes, the curve of your smirk smothered by the press of his lips. 

he’s mouthing at the pulse that beats a steady tune at your throat, his fingers, gentle as they pinch, stroke and tickle their way towards the centre of your legs. you shudder, anticipation trembling down the length of your spine, and when his thumb presses over your clit, your breath catches, eyes widening as you peer down at him. his touch is like fire, your skin scorched, thrilled, and he swallows down the lust-driven mewl that is muffled when he kisses you yet again. it’s almost painful, how slowly he works you open, your opening stretching around the press of his fingers, but he welcomes the feel of your lips at his throat, your teeth at his collarbone next, and your fingers twisting into the length of his hair. above him, your hips rock to-and-fro, and his fingers are tugging free with a wet squelch that has you grimacing, and him, grinning. your pelvis rolls, the plush of your cunt gliding up the rigidity of his cock, his balls heavy between his thighs, and the moan you exhale across the curve of his cheek is mirrored back to you, his lids blinking rapidly in order to watch the way that you sigh for him. 

‘love you,’ he breathes, pupils blown wide as he stares at you as if seeing you for the very first time. you’re unable to describe the warmth that is burning its way up the column of your throat, and yet, your fingers tug at his hair, again, coaxing him in for another kiss. 

‘i love you,’ he groans the syllables of your name, the width of him stretching the searing walls of your cunt wider than his fingers ever could. 

‘shit, yes—justlikethat—l-love—fuck, i love—hngh!’ repeatedly, his cock claims home inside the wet of your cunny, which eagerly welcomes him in, over and over, the schlick, schlick, schlick of his sac—long stained with the evidence of your arousal—smacked tight against the curve of your rear with each thrust as he pistons his girth past the stretch of your fluttering hole. 

‘g-gonna—ah, ah!’ and then, his slit is painting thick strands of opalescent jism that have your inner walls glimmering a pretty shade of pearl. your clit is still humming with the aftermath of your own peak, pulse deafening as it thunders an uneven beat past your tragus and down the canal of your eardrums. exhaustion has your thighs trembling around the width of his waist, spine curved as you collapse just enough to rest your cheek to the sharp jut of his shoulder, gasping loud enough to encourage the gentle hum of laughter from out of his lungs. the glide of his cock thump, thump, thumps dangerously close to the tight opening of your cervix, the seam of his sac glistening with the drooling mess that somehow oozes free from the vacuumed grip of your puffy orifice. eventually, he stills, spent, and the back of his head clunks against the wooden surface of the bedside table. 

he wheezes a laugh that bubbles from somewhere deep in his chest, and the force has his shoulder vibrating, your cheek jiggling along, until, soon, his laughter titters into something that sounds less pleasant. when the tip of his nose traces the shape of the shell of your ear, it’s cold, wet, and there’s a choked sob that gargles from the back of his throat, and your fingers clutch at his ribs, desperate to feel the warmth of him just a tad longer. ‘i love you,’ he murmurs, voice thick, hoarse, strained with the weight of a fear that you understand his ego won’t allow him to acknowledge aloud. 

still, you nose at the space beneath the cut of his jaw, and there, is where his scent is the strongest, the familiarity of nothing but him, him, him now intermingled with the salted musk that clings to the surface of his skin. and there, is where the shape of your smile eases the uneasy ache that roughly thwack, thwack, thwacks his jugular against the bridge of your nose until it begins to settle into a pace that comes with the soft exhale that flutters across the back of your head. and there, is where you breathe that no, this isn’t where you say that you don’t feel the same, because, actually, you love him too. 

he’s laughing again, vocal chords twisting around the sound of relief, and when his mouth seeks yours again, his hand comes to cup the shape of your cheek, fingers brushing at the wispy baby hairs that wind around the tip of his finger. the taste of him dominates the inside of your cheeks and the flat of your tongue, and when your fingers curl over the circumference of his wrist, the corners of your eyes crinkle with the stretch of your smile. and just as aki’s lips part—awed—you tug his hand from your skin, your fingers slotting between the crooks of his own. the corners of your mouth morph into the shape of a smirk, the dampened surface of your forehead nudging at his, and you ask:

‘is that your wank hand?’

♡ @akicore ♡ @bleubrri ♡ @half-baked-biscuit ♡ @meownotgood ♡ @nimbixan ♡ @playgrl0 ♡ @pussydrunkfyodor ♡

© obitohno. all rights reserved. do not repost my works.

little star — diluc 。

synopsis!! everyone knows the creator doesn't favor diluc (everyone is wrong).

cw !! gn reader, reader is peak diluc simp 😐 somewhat self-aware characters, mild sagau themes (not too much), reader is recognized as the player, reader is a little shy at first. angst with reverse comfort!

note !! the plot feels a little everywhere but i tried to organize it as best as i can, i think i got carried away eheh honestly doesn't feel up to my standards but it was pretty enjoyable to write

word count !! 2.8k something

"No, it's definitely Outrider Amber, she was the first to ever be favored."

"Are you kidding me? Outrider Amber may be the first, but sir Kaeya was definitely loved. Have you seen the sword he was gifted with?" One growls.

"It's the Acting Grand Master Jean!" Someone slams the table with his beer mug, "Twice was she bestowed with fallen stars of gold."

"I'd say that wolf boy in the woods seem lucky."

"It has to be Bennett. I don't know why but that kid has two crowns! Two!"

"You're all missing out on Miss Lisa!"

"Stop, stop! You rowdy drunks! Every vision holder in Mond has been granted favor, this is just impossible to decide!"

There was a pause. "Well. . . not every." Someone mumbles under their breath.

"Not every? Who's the poor allogene that couldn't even get the Player's favo—" Shushing sounds break his sentence, the men glare at their companion, pointing to the redhead behind the bar.

It's useless, really.

Diluc has been listening in the entire time. He can't really help it when their voices were loud enough to reach where he stood. Still, he was merciful and pretended not to hear. He's not exactly bothered by what they're saying. It was the truth, after all.

For two years, vision holders all around Teyvat were being granted favor.

It often begins with a meteor shower gracing the sky.

A star gently falling into the hands of a vision holder, embracing them in warm light.

They call the ethereal sensation as something akin to "coming home".

The favored would then be given different things; quality weapons, enhanced abilities, beautiful crowns— Some allogenes were even gifted summer apparel (Mondstadt is proud that their Gunnhildr sisters were one of the very first). Even their equipped wings would change into ornamented works of art!

It's been two years, and it seems like every allogene he knows of has received the Player's grace.

He supposed he just wasn't favored. It isn't too difficult to believe that he isn't likable.

He convinces himself it's fine.

It's fine if his summoned weapon is a cheap claymore made of scrap metal. It's still efficient to have the extra blade while he manually carries around another claymore (commissioned from Wagner as the best money could buy). Or that his abilities can only be improved through hardwork, unlike the many who broke the limits of their power through your favor.

It's fine.

As the bar goers leave for the night, as Venti and Kaeya wave around their almost divine-looking five-star weapons to show the crowd, and as he's closing up the tavern and retreating to his upstair quarters for comfort, he convinces himself that the he'll be okay on his own.

•

The arrival of the Creator was festive and grand; The day the sky parted itself and glowed as the brightest of all stars fell with grace into Mondstadt's very own Windrise.

Teyvat rejoices in the ecstatic ideal of being loved.

A meeting of vision holders was quickly held in the Cathedral, discussing immediate plans as some of the most favored (Venti, Jean, Kaeya, Albedo to name a few) went ahead to fetch the Creator from the large tree.

While Diluc was often the center of any other meeting due to his authority and influence, this was something he chose to step back from. Standing by the windows, away from the meeting, he watched on as Eula and the rest conversed around the circular table.

He isn't even sure why he's invited. Perhaps they felt it was obligatory for vision holders, regardless of favorability? Then again, he could always offer a fraction of his mountain-loads of wealth to help with the festivities.

At least he's competent at being a wallet.

As the others pull out their crowns and stars, weapons and artifacts, eager to thank the one responsible for the gifts, an unknown emotion bubbles in his stomach. It's faint, but it's there.

He tries to look away.

"Everyone, everyone! They're entering the gates!" Fischl announces uncharacteristically to the room as her eye glows brightly, undoubtedly looking through Oz's eyes from the sky.

"We should wait by the statue to welcome them, right?" Barbara chirps in, hands clasped and wavy hair bouncing with every step.

Diluc watches as people steadily leave the room, following last as they walk down the steps to greet the approaching group. Some civilians gathered to see the scene, others didn't really understand what a Player or Creator was to a vision holder, while Diluc—

Diluc stood by the steps to see them crowd around you.

You, surrounded with words of gratitude and cheerful squeals. He sees the smile on your face and feels relief that you don't seem too overwhelmed.

He leaves the area without a second thought.

•

He doesn't exactly see you around the next few days. With Mondstadt celebrating a new festival, the taverns were always full and busy with customers (both local and foreign). You were probably busy too, spending time with the different allogenes and entertaining those who came from Liyue to meet you. He's heard of a funeral consultant with three crowns (are consultants that admirable of a job to you?) and an adeptus gifted with various five-star polearms (this was understandable for the adepti, unlike the consultant).

He doesn't expect to see you at all until you leave for the next nation, honestly.

That is, until the tavern settles into a more peaceful atmosphere and Jean rushes in with several other allogenes. It's unusual to see his childhood friend in the tavern; still, he greets her amicably and asks what brings her here.

"(Name) will be coming here soon with Kaeya and a few others. It's a little impromptu, but we were hoping for a place to settle in with drinks. Perhaps try some apple cider." She smiles, taking a seat by the bar.

(Name)? Jean was already on a first name basis with the Creator?

Diluc thinks perhaps Jean truly is the favorite, she does have a few golden stars in her home.

Somehow, it's not surprising at all to know that his apple cider was famous enough to drag you in. At least there's something about the Dawn Winery in your favor. He promptly gets his employees to work, clearing a few tables near the bar, rearranging the furniture to give space good enough for a group.

Your entrance into the bar was just as lively; with your favored allogenes chatting away with you, everyone falling into place at different parts of the tavern, ordering drinks and meals.

He's glad you enjoy apple cider.

•

You're trying to play it cool, really. Trying your best not to get overexcited and glomp everyone and everything.

You're taking things step by step as you converse with Jean, Lisa, and Albedo; as you share meals with Barbara and Sucrose; as you play with Klee and Diona; tour the city with Fischl and Bennett. There's plenty of time to meet everyone and your schedule has been filled to the brim with all the fun your having.

You'll see that glimpse of red hair again— one that was lingering by the Cathedral staircase. Diluc doesn't like crowds, so it's fine that he isn't approaching you. It's also fine that he hasn't visited at least once, unlike the several raging from Liyue to Sumeru who took the journey to meet you early.

Diluc is too busy a person to meet you; whether it's because of the winery or his darknight hero duties, you wouldn't dare take his time.

— but when are you supposed to give him all the gifts you've brought for him???

Your determination to build him up in one go, from Talent levels to Constellations to Artifacts and Weaponry, all came down to this moment — and the man was simply nowhere to be seen!

An unknowingly loud sigh escapes your lips, catching the attention of the Cavalry Captain next to you.

"Now, what's got our (Name) so down in the dumps?" Kaeya hums, glancing at your face as you stutter a response.

"Aah it's not that, it's just. . ."

Your brother is too busy, I just want to meet him!!

"I'm thirsty." You deflect, looking around for a stall. The streets of Mond were nothing like the minimized version you see in the game; with the city being ten times larger than what you remembered it to be.

"Oh! Oh! Klee suggests apple cider!" The little girl giggles, running around your legs in excitement, "Angel's Share is nearby and big brother Albedo alwaaays takes me there for apple cider!"

Angel's Share. Bartender. A great idea has appeared!

At the excited look on your face, Jean walks up ahead of you.

"Why don't I go and inform the tavern to prepare us a space first, it would save us the waiting time."

"That would be great, Jean!"

•

You hope you aren't being too obvious.

With the way your eyes would linger on him, casting side glances and hoping he would greet you to strike up a conversation, the way most allogenes do. You didn't want to abruptly disturb his work, nor do you want seem desperate, so you waited for his initiative.

Yet, Diluc lingers just a little outside your group's circle. Your food and drinks were refilled by Charles, you've talked with nearly everyone but the person you want to talk to.

"It's getting pretty late, we should head home for the night." Someone suggests.

What?

No!

"Hm? Do you still have something in mind?" Kaeya asks. You realized you said it out loud, catching the attention of nearby patrons.

With a frantic glance around the tavern, your eyes make contact with Diluc's. He pauses as well, wondering what caused your little outburst.

You are definitely not leaving, not when you don't know when you could catch Diluc in his free time again! You'd be leaving for Liyue by then!

Hands slamming the table to stand up and with a small burst of courage, you approach the bartender who turns away from Charles. He raises an eyebrow at your approach. It's odd the way you feel flustered and nervous, finally facing him.

Pausing just in front of him, he looks on curiously.

"Would you like a refill?" He asks.

"A-ah no, I mean, yes but that's not why I'm here. I. . ." You stutter, stumbling over your words as you try not to behave awkwardly. Should you start with a casual topic?

"You seem to be quite busy." You say.

Diluc blinks. He isn't sure what you're implying. Neither is Kaeya or Jean, who stopped to look at the exchange of words.

"I suppose. . . but as a winery, we do thrive in impromptu festivities." He replies curtly before realizing, was it rude that he never visited the Creator?

"Ah, is it my lack of visit? I apologize, I would have visited but it seems that you were quite satisfied with your favorites and-"

"No, no, no," You wave your hand, cutting him off, "I understand you're busy. You don't have to visit at all! How could I take your time— wait," You pause, recalling his words.

"Favorites?" You tilt your head, "What do you mean I seemed satisfied with my favorites? What do you mean by favorites?"

"Your favorites... allogenes who received your favor. Those you have granted gifts."

Your jaw laxes. Favorites? They decided you play favorites based on how much you've built them?

"You think. . ." You say carefully, not wanting to hurt anyone's feelings, "That I offer gifts to my favorites?"

Diluc nods slowly, unsure of your questioning.

Although it would be a lie to say you didn't have your personal favorites, it would still be inaccurate that it's based on gifts. After all, you built everyone who came home by chance. As an avid player, you did your best to farm and push everyone to their full potential.

Diluc, however, never came home no matter how much you wanted him to. It can't be possible that he doesn't know how much he is loved, right?

"Then what about you?" You blurt out, "How do you think I view you?"

He stares at you oddly. At this point, many around you had stopped to tune in. Everyone knew Master Diluc never received your favor, so why are you conversing with him?

Meanwhile, Diluc wonders if you want him to admit it. Must he say it in front of everyone how he never received gifts?

"I suppose. . . I'm not one of them. It's quite understandable. I don't intend to question your judgement—"

"What?" You exclaim, a look of shock crosses your face, "You think I don't like you?" Voice raised in disbelief, you feel the eyes of many turning to watch the scene.

Diluc mirrors your confusion.

"I can't believe you would– no, that isn't it at all!" You stutter over your words, a frantic need to prove him wrong goes through you, "You— you of all people!"

"Me?" He repeats.

"I've always wanted you!"

A silence settles over the tavern. Did you have to put it so bluntly? You freeze in shock at your own words. Diluc's expression of disbelief turns flustered, face turning as red as his hair.

Explain yourself.

"I- I mean, I've always wanted you to come home. Ever since the start, really! It's just that you never did-"

"Hmm... so it implies that it's out of your control, correct?" Kaeya piqued, looking on curiously. He's been listening in the entire time. You nod your head.

"Yes! It's a game of chance for me as well. It's not to say that favor is an accident, I truly wanted everyone to come home! It's just that—" You turn to Diluc, "You never did, no matter how much I wanted you to. How was I supposed to give you your gifts?"

Diluc snaps out of his shock, blinking at you, "Gifts?"

"Yes, gifts! I've been saving them up for you, ever since the start." You pause, shyly looking away, "When I said I wanted you since the beginning I meant it. I came here for you, after all."

He looks at you in disbelief, and probably half the tavern as well. You can't help the small chuckle from your lips. With an outstretched hand, something materializes between you. It glows a blinding golden light, before settling to reveal–

"Wolf's Gravestone. It's a weapon for you."

You didn't have to say it— anyone with eyes could see how it was practically made for Diluc. With large handles and a color scheme that matches his own, Wolf's gravestone doesn't look as divine or ethereal as the other weapons you've gifted, but it looked just as powerful, if not menacing.

With a gesture, Diluc grips the handle.

"Fits like a glove." Kaeya whistles, impressed. As does the rest of the tavern who stopped to stare.

Suddenly, flames burst forth from the weapon. It sears and glows red. Unlike the common claymore that can't handle the the prowess of Diluc's flames, Wolf's Gravestone embraces it. Like an extension of his own hand.

He breaks his gaze away from the weapon to look at you.

"Thank you. . ." He mutters softly, but it's genuine. You smile.

"That's not the last of it, you know."

"What?"

With another flick of your hand, artifacts and talent books materialize. They flow around him like a dance as more and more begin to appear, lighting up the tavern like the night sky.

"I told you I brought gifts!"

All the days spent farming for him and other pyro characters finally paid off. The glimmering artifacts reflected in his own red eyes as he stares, entranced.

Favor did not come to him in meteor showers like it did to the other allogenes; rather, it came to him in your form. Proof of him being loved. The spectacle continued— after the artifacts and talent levels were the constellation (the crowd ooh'ed and aah'ed at the sight), then came the five star apparel (a nostalgic sight to him, and it changed his flames to a darker red), and the ascension materials you passed off as trinkets.

By the end of it, he had a hand over his lower face, his red bangs hid just the ends of his eyes. "I just thought I wasn't that favorable. . ." He muttered and you leaned in to peek at his covered face, wondering why he was shying away.

But it was evident to the tavern— the pink dusted ears, the flushed cheeks, and the overwhelming emotion in his eyes. Diluc Ragnvindr was flustered, and it's a sight enough to make even the drunks place down their beers for a closer look.

You bit your lip, trying to prevent the widest of smiles, "Do you believe yourself loved now?" You ask and he gives the faintest of nods.

"Thank you," He says, "For favoring me."

m.list 2 || consider supporting me on ko-fi ! || sagau m.list

note !! THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE a very short brainrot that became a fic huhuhuhu

I don't often write creator sagau themes but here we are! this is like peak diluc simpery idk ive never been this down for a man. i wrote this immediately after getting his skin i just got so excited 😅 I wanted to spoil him so bad (but i gave all his mats to thoma before he came home :< )

taglist !! @absolut-wildflower @boundedbyfate @sadlonelybagel @eissaaaa @ladycoleigh @nejibot @milkypompon @bloodreaper08 @irethepotato @x-zho @roriver @mich-cola @mxsomn @ackrylik @nicebonescomrade @starforecasts @stygianoir @yuminako @eccedentesiast-sapphic @nebulaera @nuttytani @klutzkat @shizunxie

 ੈ˚ʚ genshin characters as romantic tropes.

fandom: genshin impact.

characters: tighnari, cyno, scharamouche, kazuha.

reader: gn!

genre: headcanons.

content: fluff, slighty angst (scaramouche, kazuha)

word count: ~350 each // 1.3k total

 ੈ♡˳────── enjoy the reading <3 ──────

˚ʚ tighnari. destined to be together.

the gods themselves had brought you together. looking at the vast infinite sky, running through all the stars and constellations, it was easy for you to find your love written in the brightest points of the darkest night. for, you and tighnari, were destined to be together. and you knew it.

“blame the gods,” was what he used to say to you when you got into little arguments.

“blame the gods for holding me to you. for, in all my life I have never been able to walk a path where you were not at the end of it. and if it wasn't your smile that I longed to see in the darkest moments, it was your words that gave me the hope of a better day. blame the gods for not having the courage to take you away from me, because they know that our souls only feel complete when we are together, because there is no fire brighter than that of our hearts when we are in each other's arms.

blame the gods for making me love you. but also blame me. for I didn't fight my fate when I realized that you and I, like all the constellations, were destined to be guarded by the gods, our passion being an eternal tale of love only compared to the legends of yore, since a love like ours, a love so sincere and carved by the gods themselves, seems so surreal.

and yet I love you. I love you now, that's me. but loved you before I met you, that was the gods. and yet, I know I will love you after I'm far gone, for the memories of our love will remain carved in the stars that witnessed our love blossom and it will last forever. my love for you will last forever.”

 ੈ♡˳─────────────────────

˚ʚ cyno. love at first sight.

all it took was an exchange of smiles and the whole world collapsed in your eyes. you went through troubled paths, several adversities that made you question whether, perhaps, that exchange of glances was just a fluke of fate. maybe your passion was a passing thing without a concrete future in front of you. but, behind all the doubts, there was a hope painted with colors of love and passion that made you believe, over and over again, that the first smile, the first look, would only lead you to a life together.

“I don't think it was a mistake,” said cyno with his forehead pressed against yours, the smile on his lips comparing to the first smile he gave you.

“I don't think that everything we've lived so far has been a mistake. our hearts are stained with the passage of time, sculpted by the arguments and disagreements we've had until this day. like the rocks in the sea and the most beautiful walls of the oldest temples, time is attacking our hearts, but only to strengthen them, to beautify them.

don't you think it's beautiful? don't you think there's beauty in our story? there is love and passion beyond the small arguments. there is desire and need, a mutual dependence and a strong belief in the other that makes me believe that none of this was, nor will it ever be, a mistake. there is so much beauty in us, my muse. why do you think we would be a mistake just because we have some occasional arguments?

don't you love me? don't you want me? don't you smile with the memories of our most tender moments? can't you see that the storm between us is just the waves of the sea carving our love to last? until our next life? until I fall in love with you for the first time, all over again?”

 ੈ♡˳─────────────────────

˚ʚ scaramouche. secret love.

his love for you was scaramouche's second priority. his first was your safety. and, beyond the passion that burned scaramouche's chest, beyond the love that clung to scaramouche's fingertips, there was also the awareness that loving you meant hiding you.

“just until it's safe,” he assured you on the coldest winter nights when he just wanted to stay by your side and warm your body with the passion that hurt his chest so much.

“just until I'm sure the world won't steal you from me. my dreams are haunted with the idea of ​​losing you, with the idea of ​​them stealing you from me, usurping all my happiness and all the color in my life. my thoughts always flee to imaginary fights where I lose you, where your life shakily clings to my hands before saying goodbye with the sadness of someone who knows it's too late.

just one more day. one week. one month. just a little more. just until I can have your safety guaranteed and hold you to me for all eternity. just until I find a way, a solution, for all the evil in this world to be destroyed. just until it's safe. just until…

please. just a little more. I promise I will protect you. I promise I will love you. in public. in front of everyone. but, please, just wait. wait because I know there's more to us than these four walls and that the fire that burns in me, this damn fire that burns my chest, will never go out as long as you're by my side. but for that you have to wait. for me. for our love. for us. but just until it is safe.”

 ੈ♡˳─────────────────────

˚ʚ kazuha. right person, wrong time.

the cause of your separation was still investigated by the most beautiful flowers of spring, by the hottest wind of summer. when autumn came, the trees realized the end of your love and tears of leaves ran all the paths you had traveled, only to be forgotten by the cruel and cold winter who knew better than anyone that there was nothing to blame but the cruel fate the gods had written to you.

“I don't know,” kazuha couldn't face you, but you could feel, in his trembling voice, that the anguish of his speech could be greater than your own pain of knowing how it would end.

“I don't know. I know nothing. I don't know anything other than what I feel. and I feel everything. I feel everything so intensely that it makes me weak, that it puts me down and prevents me from getting up. because I feel your love for me, I feel your passion with every word, with every caress. and I feel my passion for you. strong. warm. intense.

too intense. and maybe that's it. maybe it's this intensity that keeps me from loving you. maybe I have too much in me to know how to give you some. some of my weight. of my love. of me. I have everything in me. I have worlds inside of me. and I can't give you any of them. I don't know how to do it. I don't know. there's so much of me that wants you. there is so much of me that longs for you. and yet there is nothing in me capable of having you. to want you. I have hell inside of me. raging seas in my heart. I have it all. and I have nothing. because I don't have you. not like i want.

and I don't know. I don't know how I want you. I know that I love you. but I don't know how. and I will never know. for there is so much of me that decades are insufficient to decipher me. to understand my love for you. all I know is that today I can't take it and tomorrow I won't be able to. you are too much for me when I am already so much for myself. your love has overflowed mine and all that's left is the hope that we'll meet in another life where I'm still learning to love you.”

 ੈ♡˳───── feedback is appreciated <3 ─────

Sunshine

small pregnancy mention. boyfriend!kiyoomi part III!!

There’s a feminine voice coming from the bathroom when Atsumu enters his hotel suite.

“Don’t you think you’re being just a little over dramatic?”

There’s a light sound of clanking when he sets his overnight bag to the side, water running and the sound of fizzling foam. Sakusa’s feet make shadows under the door as Atsumu creeps closer, and shallows his breathing to effectively eavesdrop.

“No.” He huffs like he’s pouting, and the voice giggles. “I’m gonna die here, you know. I hate sharing a room.”

“Mmh.” You hum. “Does that apply to me?”

“You’re different.”

Atsumu gapes a little.

There’s… no way Omi’s gone and found himself a girlfriend. No way. I mean, sure, his body’s a ten but-

“You’ll live, baby. I promise.” Your voice breaks a little from the wavering reception of the hotel suite. “Plus, Miya’s your friend. Better him than anyone else, huh?”

Sakusa huffs. “Yeah, but he’s a pig. At least Shoyo-kun knows not to leave his dirty socks laying around.”

Atsumu grins. He didn’t disagree! Before furrowing again. Wait, he calls him Shoyo-kun?

“Doesn’t that guy also stay up till like 3am? I remember you being really grumpy about that last time you shared a room.”

Wait, last season?

“Yeah.” Sakusa sighs, and there’s a rush of water that muffles him for a moment. Muted voices cottoned by white noise and Atsumu nearly starts to back away when the water finally stops.

“I miss you so much.” He hears clear as day, but even then Atsumu debates if he imagined it.

“I miss you too, Omi.” You sigh, a faint rustling hissing through his speaker. “It’s just three days. Then I’ll be all over you again.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

Atsumu blows out a breath through his nose. This is definitely his girlfriend. He’s never heard Omi speak like this to anybody. - And he’s seen him with his mom before. Hearing Omi talk so sweetly almost makes him feel like his brain is making it up, and he’s all but pressing his head against the door just to be sure that this is a real thing.

“‘You eaten yet by the way? I can send you some money so you can-“

“I’ve eaten, baby, yes.” You chuckle. “What is your deal? Money’s not a love language, you know. - My friends think you’re my sugar daddy.”

“I’m a pro athlete.” He says frankly. “And I don’t like seeing you spend your hard earned cash when you could be spending mine.”

“What’ll be the point of me working then?”

“Exactly, quit your job.” And the way he says it has you full out laughing.

“You know, if you’re gonna turn me into a housewife, I’d like to see a ring first.”

Sakusa’s voice sounds muffled under a towel when he retorts. “That can be arranged.”

You guffaw this time, a little airy, a little ugly. “Yeah? Well the sooner you get home the sooner you can make an honest woman outta me. Hell, next thing I know you’ll have me barefoot and pregnant.”

“Don’t just say things like that, I can’t get off with Atsumu in the same room as me.”

“Goodbye, Kiyoomi.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” And the desperation in his friend's voice nearly inclines him to audibly scoff in disbelief. This guy’s really hooked, huh?

“Yeah, sunshine?”

“I love you.”

Atsumu starts to choke on his spit.

Laptop

I hope you’re doing well, could you write for Scaramouche where the reader kisses his insecurities away-

Have a good day!!

KISSING HIS INSECURITIES AWAY

a/n: hope this is sufficient 😭 can’t wait for his voice lines to be released so we have a better understanding of his character

notes: reader works for fatui

masterlist

you and scara had been together for just barely a year now, and yet, scara still didn’t quite believe it. you noticed it when he didn’t react well to your touches in the beginning, inching his cheek away or jerking his hand from yours. but as the months passed and seasons changed he slowly let you in. even if that only meant getting to hold his callused hand for an extra few seconds.

you knew of his past and knew when you should stop prying, but sometimes you wished he would let you in. you had to roll your words in your mouth to see how they feel before letting them go, just to be certain scara understood how much you cared for him and wouldn’t judge. it was a slow process, but you were willing to wait.

you were both out on a mission and had separated from your crew to let them do the dirty work, perks of being in a relationship with a harbinger was that he went easy on you. if they needed help they’d call so for the most part you and scara wandered around the premise as you both competed against each other to kill any enemies in your way.

when nightfall came you both slumped against a tree, your breath visible in the air from the cold wind. scara was beside you drawing circles in the dirt, gazing elsewhere.

his other hand was free so you reached over and laced your fingers with his. you felt his body go stiff before he let you lock your fingers with his and rub your thumb against his palm.

“why do you try?” he asks, his voice mellow.

“what do you mean?” you hum, observing the chipped nail polish you had begged him to let you do the other week.

“try with me,” he adds, “it’s pointless.”

you turned to look at him, but his eyes were still downward. the light from the moon lets you see the pale glow of his skin and the bags under his eyes.

“you’re not pointless,” you slowly say, not knowing where he was going with this.

he looks down at your interlocked hands.

“i’m holding my breath every day, waiting for when you inevitably leave.”

“i’m not going to,” you easily assure.

“that’s what everyone else said,” scara dryly laughs, voice empty, “I have no clue how to do this shit. You know I’m a literal puppet. I’m not meant to love.”

“everyone deserves a chance to be loved,” you start, pulling his palm to your lips and letting them graze his knuckles, “i’m gonna stay and show you.”

he finally turns his gaze towards you, eyeing your hand in his.

“i don’t believe you,” he says, leaning his head on bark of the tree.

“I’ll keep trying until you do,” you hum, taking your free hand and maneuvering yourself so you’re straddling his lap. one hand holding his and the other grazing his cheek.

he raises a brow at you, his other hand instinctively holding your waist.

you lean down and place a chaste kiss on each of his cheeks and watch in glee as they bloom pink. his grip on your waist hardens and you take that as an encouragement to continue. you move your lips to his jaw and leave a trail of kisses down to his chin. and finally, you give him a kiss.

at first, he doesn’t respond. but after a few seconds, he pushes you up closer to him and kisses back with more fervor. his fingers interlace with yours and you only pull back for a breath.

“believe me now?” you whisper, curling a strand of his hair behind his ear.

“i’m not sure,” he starts, “you’ll need to do it a few more time,” he adds, a sly smile upturning his lips.

you give him a half-hearted shove but ultimately fulfill his request.

a/n: hope you approved anon 💓 if anyone has requests i’ve opened them^^ ty for reading and here’s to hoping tumblr doesn’t fuck up the layout of this 🍻