#diluc arrange marriage

[abbacchiosbelt]

Yay HCs! I wanted to know if I could ask for HCs for Diluc who has been betrothed to reader since childhood. 😌 I'm not gay I swear. 😩

Diluc is prickly about it at first - and so are you, for that matter. What child wouldn’t be, in the situation? It was the done thing, sure, but you didn’t have to be happy about it. You didn’t know what to make of the young boy in front of you, flaming hair falling wild about his face. He’s being polite enough, but you can read right through him. (And that becomes a theme, throughout your relationship - it’s something Diluc cherishes about you.) Diluc is just as annoyed about the whole affair as you are. Still, if he was to be your future husband, you might as well get to know each other.

You quickly learn that Diluc is a troublemaker. He doesn’t look like he’d be, from the outside - but it only takes a couple more meetings to find out. He’s not the sort of troublemaker that is malicious, at least. It’s why instead of calling him out, you simply watch. It doesn’t take long before he assesses that you’re worthy of trusting, and thus able to be part of his schemes whenever your family visits. They’re never too serious - an attempt to get some wine for the two of you to try, hiding in the grapevines to scare Crepus & Kaeya, sneaking in the kitchen to pilfer bits of the meal cooking. 

You & Diluc commiserated in your boredom at balls and galas, blushing when the two of you were awkwardly made to dance. Talks between your families, while you sat at opposite ends of the table while your futures were discussed like you weren’t even there. Seeing Diluc flush and grumble when you took Kaeya’s side. Seeing Diluc get jealous and not knowing why when Kaeya always asks you to dance.

As the two of you get older, it becomes evident that even without the betrothal, the two of you would have been drawn together. As friends, the two of you are close. It’s strange to grow up knowing that your closest friend is also going to be your future spouse. Awkward romances were part and parcel of growing up, but your future partner had already been chosen for you. Would you still develop romantic feelings? Diluc had always been cute, but now he was handsome. It was a different feeling to reckon with.

The betrothal hits a rock when Crepus dies. Diluc retreats from everyone, even you. You wouldn’t blame him for calling off the betrothal, though you desperately don’t want him to. You realize, then, that you love him - love him as more than a friend but as a partner. You can’t help him, but you can wait for him. Had it been anyone else, you would have left, but it was Diluc. Your Diluc. You knew you had to wait because you knew Diluc. You knew his heart was burning with rage and that the fire inside of him wouldn’t be quelled until he extinguished it himself.

When he returns, 3 years later, you’re waiting for him. Both of you have grown since the last time you saw each other. Diluc had grown into his height and body, lithe and muscled. His hair had grown even longer in his absence. Your greeting is a wordless hug and an implicit understanding that Diluc loves you too.

[urlovebrini]

⋆˚❀˖°ʚɞ˚ ♡ ⋆. hellooo beautiful people, i have an idea for a writing series about arranged marriage, because it is one of my favourite troops and i can't help myself, i have the draft for 4 characters but i can't decide with who to start first. it will include angst, fluff, hurt/comfort and maybe smut or doing a second part with the nsfw part.

sooooo i thought why not ask so here it is :

⋆˚❀˖° psd : i want to thank to everyone that has giving a opportunity to my work, it means a lot that you seem to enjoy my silly writings.

⋆˚❀˖° psd2 : if you have a idea, a coment or want to see some character or situation my asks are open, or you can comment, i appreciate all.

ʚɞ˚⋆. thanks all, brini 🩷🧸🦭🌸🧋

[mikashisus]

does anyone here like bridgerton pls say yes bc i have some ideas and they may or may not involve diluc ragnvindr or alhaitham

[villvillhaitham]

Arranged marriage beard couple Diluc and Eula.

Eula losing what little good graces with the general populace she had after a friend of her was found murdered after Eula swore vengeance... For a lovely thoughtful gift she had gotten. The public pushes for banishment, the Lawrence Clan at the very front of the movement.

In a desperate play the acting Grand Master of the Knights of Favonius turns to her childhood friend and only person in Mondstadt whose reputation is so blindingly stellar nothing could reach, the Uncrowned King of Mondstadt.

He agrees after Kaeya remarks about needing to draw some knights from the investigations into the Dark Night Hero to investigate what would not be a clear cut case anymore.

Their marriage is amicable. Both know it's for convenience and safety, even though Eula doesn't know what kind of favours Jean and Kaeya now owe Diluc (Jean doesn't either).

Eula is too valuable as a Captain in the Knights of Favonius to be a mother at the moment, they claim, but she can have a lot of work meetings with Amber.

Diluc can live his aro/ace life happily ignoring other women's advances.

When Eula finds out he is the DNH she covers for him (at first she thinks she owes him, but the longer the Knights take to investigate the case where her Husband knows it's her own family who had ordered a Fatui hit on her friend, the more she agrees. Her colleagues are horribly inefficient.)

They stay together long after the case is closed. The agreement is still mutually beneficial, even if the benefits are different now than what they used to be.

[justdecentshawty]

At the end of the day.

You’re the only daughter of a noble family, and get introduced to your future husband for the first time.

My first time uploading something I wrote I think this might be a series I write for fun 🤷‍♀️ updates should come every few days.

Warnings: brief mention of death in childbirth, death(kind of)

Thanks for reading :) sorry for it being so short

Word count: 300?

Your mother had been a kind woman. Known for her grace and looks. She had given birth to three children before you, all boys. During your mother’s pregnancy with her last child, you.

She got sick, deathly sick. To the point, she could barely get around. it seemed as if her condition came out of nowhere. They tried everything to help her, but inevitably she died giving birth to you. Her body couldn’t take it anymore. It was a painful way to go out.

After your mother's death, your father vowed to never love another woman. That ended with you being the only daughter of your noble family.

You were your family’s pride and joy. You ended up looking exactly like her. Being the last bit they had left of your mother they cherished you. When you finally turned 16, your brothers spent weeks trying to find a “worthy” husband for you before your father shut them down.

Unbeknownst to you, your hand had already been promised years before, to a man named Diluc Ragnvindr . Diluc’s father was a close friend of your father. Yet you hadn’t met your soon-to-be husband.

Time passes slowly as the day you’re meant to meet your husband comes closer. You know nothing of the man you are going to be married to. Frustrated you walk into your fathers room.

“Father, why haven’t I met the man I’m supposed to be married to? You and his father are close, are you not?” You say to your father with a questioning look, crossing your arms over your chest. As of now, your father finds himself buried in paperwork. He lets out a sigh before speaking in a slightly annoyed tone. “We thought it was best for you two not to know each other.”

You let out a huff before exiting your father's office, shutting the door behind you, As you walk back to your bedroom. As you wander the halls you begin to wonder about tomorrow, and what kind of man you’ll marry, And as you close your eyes. You fall asleep, dreaming about the possibilities with a smile on your face.

You wake up in great spirits. You put on your nicest dress and look at yourself in the mirror before leaving your room. You were finally going to meet him.

You glare at him from across the table putting the pen down. “How in anyway would this benefit me.”

[baeshijima]

sophie stop creating more wips and focus on ur mountain of current wips haha 🤩

[allfearstofallto]

Also wanting to write a yandere historical au!! Like so bad!! Like imagine...

[Part 2] [Part 3]

Spoiled Prince! Scaramouche who gets whatever he desires as the next in line for the throne. He needlessly torments you, his favorite maid to pick with. He knows that you can't run away, not while you're so poor and desperate. You're at his mercy, his every beck and call until you decide that you'd rather live on the rat infested streets than in his palace any longer. But you quickly begin to notice that the streets are littered with more than rodents, when you are made aware that Scaramouche has sicked the palace guards on you. Dragged back to the mansion, where he waits for you with a scowl. How dare you think you can run away from him?

Hero of the Nation, Knight! Childe who was already popular with the ladies for his good looks long before he slayed the dragon tormenting the kingdom, but now he was bombarded with admiration. Yet he still chases you, the baroness with what you and others assume is nothing special to your family's name. You ignore his constant bombardments of gifts and love letters thinking them to be jokes at your expense. Why would he want you, when the princess, the jewel of the city, has asked for his hand three times over? He practically goes mad with rage when he finds out you're arranged to be married to someone else. You accept being betrothed to another, yet you won't take him?

Arranged Husband! Diluc who you're weary of. Your father assured you that he was the most suitable marriage candidate for your family that was running low on funds, and he always seemed disinterested, almost scared of you. You're wed to him a mere three months after meeting him and with only two letters exchanged between the two of you. Moved into an unfamiliar palace, you try to wander the halls as normal, while avoiding your also unwilling husband. Until you stumble upon a room with a door slightly ajar. Your husband stands in it, surrounded by portraits of you on the wall that you never posed for, underwear and garments that had gone missing, and your bed linens from the night before. It begs the question, who did you marry?

I'm so sorry...I've been reading A LOT of reincarnated as a villainess manwhas...

[jinkicake]

Forced / Arranged Marriage Trope 

Diluc, Ayato, Pierro, Zhongli x Reader

A/N: this took me ages to write (cough cough ayato) and even longer to edit but i dont care i love this trope... i hope you like it too </3 i love mean m3n! the whole ‘oh i dont think he loves me but he actually does’ is so fun.... so fun

fem!reader bc I like the use of ‘wife’

WC - 3.3k

~~~

Diluc R. 

“Where is my wife?” 

The echo of Diluc’s demanding tone as he enters the Winery almost makes Adelinde flinch. From all her years of caring for the young owner, she knows too well what a sensitive spot you are for the man. The head maid tends to keep a watchful eye on you both out of the kindness in her own heart even when you and Diluc are in somewhat of a quarrel. 

“In your study,” Adelinde doesn’t look at Diluc as she continues to dust a lamp, she works diligently but keeps her ears sharp all the same. Nothing ever slips out from under her nose. 

A gentle smile appears on her lips as Diluc passes her and heads straight for the large doors of his office. 

“Where were you?” Diluc’s anger is something you’ve come accustomed to lately. Over the course of your relationship from mere acquaintances to forced husband and wife, you’ve never noticed how well you manage to step on his toes. 

“Where was I?” You repeat while continuing to flip through one of the romance novels Jean recommended to you. Your husband came in at such an awful time, right in the middle of a scene full of tension and declarations of love. A quiet sigh leaves your lips as you close the book in hopes of picking it up again later. 

“We have an arrangement at six o’clock in front of the gates every day,” Diluc does little to hide his frustrations, that much is clear to you as you finally run your eyes over his tensed form. He stands tall in front of you on the opposite side of the desk, his large arms flexed from where they’re crossed over his broad chest. “have you forgotten?”

No, you have not. 

Today of all days, you wanted to have a few extra minutes to yourself so you left work early and practically ran home. It’s not that you didn’t want your husband to accompany you like he does most days but, you really wanted to finish your new novel in peace. You never imagined that Diluc would care this much about your absence. 

“It appears to have slipped my mind,” You try to give him a kind smile, an innocent gesture but Diluc knows you too well. He sighs before pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to ease the headache that is forming. 

“I thought something had happened to you,” His outburst surprises you but, you don’t let it show on your face. Diluc’s protectiveness is something you’ve always been aware of yet it manages to catch you off guard every time. As time goes on, you think you’ll start to become more accustomed to it. “you know of the dangers that lurk out there.”

“I am capable enough to make it home by myself, Master Diluc,” You reach for your book again but Diluc is quick to clasp his hand over your own, he pins your wrist down against his wooden desk and tries to keep the anger in his eyes leveled with his fiery hair. 

“I told you not to call me that,” There’s a slight defeat in his voice, one that almost makes you feel guilty for teasing him. He hates it. The name makes him sound like a stranger to you, it makes him think that you don’t see him in the same light. Diluc always hoped that you would return a mere flicker of affection in the candle that is his love for you. However, he doesn’t like to fool himself. “do not leave me waiting tomorrow. I will pick you up at six o’clock.”

“Alright,” You sigh and gently place your chin on your palm, elbow resting against his large desk. Diluc looks you over with hard eyes as if he is mentally contemplating his next move. You expected him to head straight for the door and leave, to start the same nightly tasks he always runs off to when he drops you off at home. He doesn’t. 

Instead, the winery owner takes a step closer to you and grits his teeth. He bends down with little hesitation and places a harsh kiss on your cheekbone before leaving the study with a soft click of the door. His affection catches you off guard, causing your heart to thump in your chest. 

Every day he wins your heart over a little more.

By the time Adelinde pokes her head in a few minutes later, you’re still not sure if you have wiped the surprise off of your face. The head maid gives you a gentle smile as she pretends to dust a book, offering a piece of advice and a grim reminder. 

“Lady (Y/N), please try to understand where he is coming from. If something were to happen to you, Master Diluc would lose his family all over again.”

K. Ayato

“Your marriage cannot fail.”

There were many rules and guidelines set for you and the Yashiro Commissioner on the premise of your alliance. Above all, you were sworn to protect the name of the Tri-Commission. The two of you are to maintain the facade of a happy marriage in the face of the Narukami population and the entirety of Inazuma. 

The rule itself is very simple but, places an uncomfortable weight on your shoulders. You fear that you’ll one day be crushed by the severity of the situation. 

At least, your husband tries his best with you.

“Are you retiring for the evening, dear?” In passing, Ayato stops you as he heads for his office. He offers you a kind smile and a delicate brush of his fingertips against your elbow. You nearly shiver at the contact over the material of your clothes. 

“I am. Will you be joining me?” Eight months of being married to him and you have learned not to expect anything. It prevents the bitter heartache that forms every time his face slightly drops and his ounce of affection for you reverts back into professionalism. 

“Forgive me but, I will not. I need to finish reviewing a proposal from the Kanjou Commission.” His hand leaves your arm and falls pitifully back to his side. It’s as if the mere thought of being a husband closes him off to you. 

“I see.” You know how he despises small talk and would just rather get to the point so you ultimately end the interaction for him. There is no fight coming from your side, no fit that is thrown, you simply continue on with your life. 

“Good night.” As Ayato leans down and gently kisses your cheek, he firmly holds onto your bicep with a soft squeeze. It’s a flash of love that leaves your cheeks warm and your heart fluttering as he excuses himself and makes his way toward his office. 

No matter how much you want to believe in him, you can’t help but think that everything is all for show. 

Sleep doesn’t come easy for you that night, it never does when you’re set to spend it alone. The utter silence of the bedroom causes your boredom to hit an all-time high as you stupidly decide to seek out your husband.

Hours ago you were mentally cursing his existence while simultaneously bathing in his affections and now, you’re reaching out for him again. 

Do you want him or not? Do you love him or hate him?

You really don’t know. 

“Wife, you’re still awake.” It takes Ayato a few moments to greet you after you enter his office. The quiet noise of his door sliding shut pulls him away from his work for the briefest moment as his blue eyes glance over your body. Ultimately, he looks back down at his paper and then attempts to organize his thoughts and desk by neatly stacking the scrolls. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

Ayato holds his hand out to you and you hesitantly place your fingers against his own. He takes the inch you give him and turns it into a mile as he tugs you toward him. 

You kneel beside him now and through the force of his pull, you begin to lean against his shoulder. Under his touch, you become stiff and it causes your husband to laugh. 

Your head starts to hurt at trying to read him.

“You confuse me,” You whisper as Ayato cups your cheek, despite how you keep your eyes glued to his table, he has no problem selfishly forcing you to look at him. 

“I confuse you?” He repeats and slightly tilts his head while looking you over, like this his face is inches away from yours. “How can I possibly make myself clear to you?” His quiet murmurs don’t distract you from the way he’s lowering his face. You stop him before he can get any closer. 

“That is what I mean, if you touch me so easily I will misunderstand your feelings.” You attempt to move from the tight grip he has on you but, you can’t get free. “Don’t kiss me if you don’t love me.”

Ayato merely hums and loosens his grip on your shoulder. At the chance to put some much-needed space between the two of you, you ultimately fall back against the floor. Your husband follows quickly and once again latches onto you as he places his arms on either side of your head. 

His soft lips hover over your ear, brushing along your cheek before he places a soft peck on your jaw. 

“I kiss you,” He watches your every move as his hand cups your cheek. The slight of you nervously squirming does more to him than he cares to admit. “because I love you.”

Pierro

“Enough with the unnecessary dramatics.” Scolding you is something of second nature to the first of the eleven Fatui harbingers. He picks you apart and molds you into the perfect shape until that shape no longer holds any value to him. When he finds a flaw, Pierro starts all over again. “Crafting when there is work to be done, have you no shame?” 

For as cruel as he acts, your husband is utterly obsessed with you.

He glares down at you, and at the ceramic flower pot you poured your heart and soul into creating for him, with hostility in his eyes. Your caring hands shaped a perfectly sized holder, one in perfect condition and your husband will be sure to put it on display within his office. It will be perfect on his desk and when he misses your companionship, he will be sure to look at it and remember the fondness he holds for you.

Even if you hate him all the same.

“What work do you expect a lonely housewife to be doing?” The fire in your eyes rivals the flames that once burned his nation to the ground. Despite the fight in your soul, Pierro will have no trouble shaping you back into order. You grit your teeth at him, nearly barring your anger and the harbinger finally puts his paperwork down to look at you. 

You’ll never understand him and he’ll never understand you. 

All this started because you wanted to give him a stupid gift that you now deeply regret. You thought that if an ounce of kindness could touch his heart then maybe he would show a drop of affection, a mere plop of something that isn’t disappointment towards you.

“I expect you to keep this house in order.” His voice is hard, set in stone, as he shifts his shoulders back to sit up even straighter in his head chair. “You can’t possibly be doing that when you are distracted by irrelevant tasks.”

“You are a stupid old man,” Your glare is fierce as you curse him and mentally curse the Tsaritsa for setting your fate. This is a loveless marriage, a misalliance. How could she have done this to you? 

Pierro’s eyes narrow towards you as he waits for you to finish your tantrum, it ends with a loud slam of his office door. You have, no doubt, retreated to the room you call your ‘own’ despite being forced to share a room with him. The man would lock your door if he could, to keep you out of your room and instead by his side. But, above everything, your husband does deeply care about you and tries to respect your space. 

His affection has since grown for you after he met you, months before he lifted the veil off of your face during your marriage ceremony. Only the Tsaritsa could have blessed him with such a gift, a treasure that he will be sure to spoil until the end of his days. 

No matter how strongly you fight him, how much you resist, his love will never dull. If only his feelings were strong enough to get through to you. 

Later in the evening, Pierro finds you again. He discovers you curled up under your blankets, a pillow hugged to your chest and another pressed against your back. He has no issue ripping the pillow away from you as if the offending piece of furniture was daring to hide you from him. There’s little struggle in the way he picks you up in his arms, scooping his large forearms under your thighs and back to hold you against his chest. 

He doesn’t blink as he walks past stationed Fatui subordinates to your shared bedroom, he doesn’t even flinch when you jolt awake and then sulk in his arms. Without a fight, you let him place you on the right side of the bed before he heads toward the door and locks it. 

While Pierro gets rid of his daily attire, you choose to glare at the duvet. Your frustrations don’t last long when you catch onto his armor now painting the floor. The sensual drop of each article catches your attention quickly and you don’t hide the way you stare. Anger be damned, you want him. 

Your husband has to pretend not to notice your lustful gaze. Somewhere in his chest, his pride surges at the way your eyes run over his tanned skin. He teases you and takes his time with finding his spare clothes for sleep. 

But before the harbinger can even think about getting into bed, you’re already behind him and wrapping your arms around his thick waist. You don’t shy away from your affections as you press your face into his muscular back and dip your hands down towards the front of his pants. 

It’s as if the beloved and feared Tsaritsa knew exactly what she was doing when she paired the two of you together. Through love and hate, she made the perfect match.

Zhongli

“Please get those glaze lilies out of my sight.” The beautiful flower, delicate and pure, reminds you of all the things you are not. You can’t stand to see them paraded in a vase, decorated by your husband as he tends to the flowers more than he has ever tended to you. 

Zhongli freezes at the harsh tone coming from your lips, he turns to you slowly with confusion etched into his features. His hand which was once gently holding onto the petal of the flower falls to his side. 

“I don’t understand.” Although he tries to read you and figure out where you are coming from, he simply can’t. 

“I am tired of those flowers and I hate looking at them.” Resentment pours out of you in buckets, years and years of self-hatred boils over at the mere glance of a petal. You accepted that you would be stuck in a loveless marriage the second the Adepti arranged this misalliance. In their eyes, and all the eyes of the archons, you are nothing more than a tool. Almighty Morax needs to produce offspring, who better to satisfy him than a healthy human?

But, much to your relief (and despair), you’ve never once spent the night with the man yet. Not in all seven years of your marriage have either of you gotten as close as a kiss. There must be another in his heart, someone he cares for but could never have, you’re sure of it.

From the beginning, you accepted that he would never love you or cherish you the way you secretly wish that he would but, that doesn’t mean you can stand to watch how he fawns over fucking glaze lilies. 

“Where is this hostility coming from?” Zhongli rises from the floor, from where he was on his knees tending to his beloved bouquet. Anger courses through your veins and causes the tips of your fingers to shake. How could you ever explain it to him?

“Are you married to those flowers?” Your question makes the archon tilt his head before he glances back at the large vase. 

“I am not.”

“Then why do you touch them more than you touch me?” Through your frustrations, you missed the slight widening of your husband’s eyes. For a mere second, he finally got through to you. “You love those flowers more than you love me!”

If you’re getting this upset because of him, feeling jealousy and envy to the point that it nearly swallows you whole because of him-

“Does this mean that you have feelings for me?” Zhongli calmly looks you over but, he is anything but calm on the inside. Nothing about him right now is rational as he mentally fights back the primal need to have you. He has adored you since the second he laid eyes on you, not that you would ever notice. 

You look absolutely revolted by his question and you try to swat it away with the back of your hand. 

“What?” Nothing about you is prepared for this situation or the way Morax is closing in on you. For each step that your husband takes, you take a step away from him until your back hits the window built into your wall. Zhongli towers over you and braces some of his weight on his hands placed on either side of your head. 

“Do you love me, wife?” He shifts his head forward, tilting his face down so that his hair covers his eyes. You hold your breath. His sharp nose runs along your jaw before guiding your head to tilt back. “Do you acknowledge me as your husband, finally?”

You place your hands flat on his chest to try and push him away but try as you might, Morax does not budge. 

“W-Why would I love you? You don’t even love me?” Your scoff and lies do little to hide how fast your heart is racing, to hide the flustered state you are in. 

“I don’t love you?” He murmurs before his fingers come up to cup your jaw. “You were the one who picked those flowers for our wedding, it is through my love and my love alone that they’ve been preserved for so long.”

“Your love for another.” You confirm with hard eyes and the sight, along with your answer, makes Zhongli click his jaw. He tightly presses his lips together before letting out a quiet and defeated sigh. 

“My love for you.” At long last, the truth is out. The secret Zhongli has cultivated and tended to for years is revealed because of your childish outburst. “Don’t you understand?”

You can’t form any words back as all you do is gape at him like a fish out of water. Zhongli takes the matter into his hands furthermore. His fingers tilt your chin up and force you to look up at him. There’s nothing but pure adoration in his bright eyes. 

“If I may, allow me to show you, dear wife.”

[haztory]

a matter of principles

— diluc ragnvindr x f!reader; arranged marriages, best friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, miscommunication trope, unrequited/requited love, lots of angst, fluff ending, she/her pronouns

— word count: 24k

— photo source: freminent hearth’s screenshot from hoyolab

— summary: Arranged marriages, Diluc finds, are the most atrocious of practices that Liyue has ever had the audacity to uphold in their commitment to contracts. Very much a Monstadt originated belief, but a sure one, he thinks. He heaves a breath, one that shudders at the slow cracking of his ribs and heart. “Surely, you don’t want me to make the decision for you?” “No… but advice would be welcome.” You say. “Fine.” He settles into his seat, noting with little amusement that he suddenly can’t get comfortable anymore, “Tell me.”

Prologue:

The number of friends Diluc has is often a point of teasing by many a drunkard who enter into Angel's Share. And while the banter would usually earn a simple glare and a cutting off of the drink, its lack of an answer has caused quite the festering of gossip in the tavern. Everynight it seems, whether the man is there or not, Diluc's social life becomes a topic of conversation. 

Pestered and prodded upon with surgical precision, both in day and night. Names are thrown out, each person wondering if said individual  would be considered a friend to Diluc, or even an acquaintance. And while Diluc would never outwardly venture forth to call a Knight of Favonius a friend, his lack of denial does little more than stir the flames higher. 

Jean must be a friend, right? A reliable confidant, at least. 

One did see Diluc conversing rather animatedly with Barbara at the Springvale Seasonal Gathering. 

What about Kaeya? someone asks only to meet the unanimous and vehement shake of heads. 

It isn't until Venti pries just enough that the answer is revealed.

"One," Diluc says with a sigh, wiping a glass down with a white rag and beyond tired of being the subject of this routine conversation. "I have one friend."

The whole tavern is suspended in silence, each member looking at one another with unsatisfied curiosity, silently nudging the other forward. All begging for the one question to be asked.

Until Venti takes the bait, "Who?!"

—

Diluc knows of you, in parts. 

Remembers the separate fragments that make up the great whole of you— each moment stained in the wonderful tint of happiness, fitting together like a masterful mosaic that he pedestalizes in his head. Yellows, and pinks, and warmth spreading across his mind, all from you.  

He remembers you in childhood, in the middle years, in the now; He reminisces on the happy parts of you and him, wistfully smiles at the sad ones, finds himself lost in thought at the great constellation of scattered fragments.

A child in the customary Mondstadtian colors of white and black, and another in the Liyue garments of dark reds and oranges, fretting across the span of closed eyelids and reliving the joyous memories. 

He would never outwardly admit that you take up the great measure of his thoughts, but when he finds his gaze fixated on the flames of the dancing fire in his study, business ledgers strewn on his desk and exhaustion nigh, the colors ring eerily familiar and he swears, swears, that in the crackle of the wood that Adelinde has started, he hears a laugh oddly similar to yours ringing throughout the room; Sees your figure dancing in the swirling and heightening flames. As quick as he sees it, does it disappear. Embers crackling and images fading in the instant and it is then that he does come to terms with the circumstances at hand. 

A friend he still considers you to be. One of the greatest to him. He isn't sure if the sentiment is reciprocated much these days as fall turns to winter; Oranges turn to white, liveliness turns to barren and with it, the fate of your treasured friendship.

His one and only.

Interlude: Fall 

The friendship began before Diluc’s impeccable memory began to serve him. 

An introduction through family, as all friendships are at such a tender age. Your father, one of the biggest exporting merchants in Liyue struck a good enough agreement with Diluc’s own about wine exporting to warrant a warm and frequent visit between the two businessmen, the children tagging along as all children do. 

It wasn’t an immediate kindling, but one in the making, as the more he saw of you the more he grew to you and you to him. Friends, eventually; Playing in between the vineyards of Dawn Winery or exploring the cabins of your father’s ships while your respective handmaidens shouted and begged for your return. While his brother, a shadow of blue, followed close on your tails.

To no avail; Wherever it was that you wished to run to, it was hard to get Diluc to change his mind and do anything but follow you— stubborn, he is and was to a fault. 

Even as the working relationship between your fathers’ came to an end with the death of Diluc’s, there were always the brief moments facilitated by the strength of the surviving bond itself. Letters and gifts, planned visits, ears attuned and pressed to the ground for rumors holding each of your names that crossed nations. The most entertaining of which being a whisper he heard during his time as a Favonius Knight as he patrolled the pathways right before Wuwang Hill, two elder women in their travels whispering of the esteemed Liyue merchant’s daughter finally receiving a vision! 

Diluc, in that tender age in which he had hardly learned that the best way to learn details was to listen without looking, all but stared at these women— awaiting their tales. He soon discovered, just before being reprimanded by the two traveling passerbys, that you were suddenly granted the gift from the gods in the form of the Vision of Hydro. 

A neatly written letter from you arrived in no less that one week after his hurried and hastily written one to you that would reveal that falsity behind the rumor. That you weren’t by any means gifted with such a vision, nor would you be granted one soon. It wasn’t in your nature, you wrote. 

‘And how terribly offensive of you to think that the grannies of Liyue would soon learn of my gifts before you! For that transgression alone I will heartily withhold the details of my recent mythical learnings from my visit to Mount Hulao. That will certainly teach you.’

(The shame he felt was unlike anything he’s ever felt before, shame in being so invasive, but a subsequent visit from you a few months later would quickly quell such feelings. The sight of your smile and the sweet fragrance of you being more than enough to tame that which runs rampant within the flames of Diluc.)

There has never been a moment in which you weren’t at the forefront of his consideration; Of his time.

 A friend, Diluc considers you to be— one of his most trusted. 

You’ve arrived at his home today, the second week of the Fall season and the height of the vineyard sales, in what seems to be the finest carriage in all of Liyue— no spared expense for the only daughter of a wealthy Liyue merchant. 

Diluc meets you at the end of the path trailing to his manor, a small smile on his face as he opens the door to your cabin and holds a hand out for you to step down with. Tendril of his red hair swaying with the breeze that has suddenly been brought forth on this day, no doubt by your arrival. 

Elzer and Hartman are already at the back of the carriage, unloading your bags with smiles on their faces.

You take his hand, white silk gloves in his black leather ones, grip tight as his own and he feels the reflection of his own longing and deep yearning become electrified in the meeting of your palms. A feeling he swears must also plague you, one he only feels more compelled upon when you step down with the warmest of grips of your hand in his and the warmest of glints in your eyes. 

An enchanting one, a sight Diluc can hardly tear his own practiced measured gaze from. 

“Diluc,” You breathe out, grin erupting into a toothy one, voice airy and light and horribly, horribly, wonderful to hear after so long. The both of you are older now, clearly, in the way that he is no longer part of the Knights of Favonius, but the owner of Dawn Winery and you are no longer just learning the ropes to your father’s business but the actualized Ambassador to his overseas ventures. Seasoned and traveled, twenty-eight and twenty-five, adults still smiling at one another like children.

He says your name just as breathily as you have uttered his, followed with a gentle bow of his head.

“I hope you didn’t mind the late notice of arrival. This is all incredibly sudden and I’m terribly sorry for that. ” Your smile is overly apologetic, and Diluc scoffs. Come rain or shine, planned or otherwise, Diluc could never mind an appearance from you and you should know as much. Would be horribly blind if you didn’t. Diluc had less than a day of preparation for your arrival and yet Dawn Winery was ushered upright and ready for you by the pull of one thread by its master.

“Of course not,” He says. Mind, he never does, yet with his measured and calm tone, he cannot deny the fact that the abruptness of your visit and short notice itches within him. Something that, try as he might, he cannot scratch. 

That nagging detail is quickly quieted by the latent realization that your hand has yet to let go of his, and, he begins to note, the danger of the creeping truth in the fact that he doesn’t mind it at all. In fact, he relishes it. 

“Dawn Winery is always delighted to welcome you home, Ambassador.”

You smile brighter at both the sentiment and the title, if such a task was even possible. Warmth of the grin rivaling the rivulets of the sun, more blinding than the dazzling glow of cor lapis. The exact stone that sits on the corner of his desk after all these years and often finds itself the object of his fixation many an afternoon.

“I am glad to be home.” You respond in kind, a gem of amber brilliantly shining through the words and it takes every ounce of Diluc to return his attention away from your smile to the task at hand of guiding you into the home. His home. 

Your home.

But he does, with the lightest of curls on his lips that he doesn’t even realize has made permanent residence upon his face now.

—

It is always a reunion when you manage to grace Dawn Winery with your appearance. 

Adelinde shines with a smile that seems endless as she steps towards you in a warm embrace, a dramatic turn around from her very pointed sighs that are usually targeted towards the master of the house. Elzer is much the same, the older man alight with a jovial sparkle as he greets you, taking your bags in his hands without a second thought, and eagerly engages in conversations of matters other than business with you— a renowned feat that even the most skilled of conversationalists find hard to accomplish with the graying businessman.

Diluc, the master of the house and employer to his affable attendants, is all but pushed to the side the minute you’ve stepped foot into the threshold of the door, the congenial and loving welcoming imparted upon you in great Mondstadtian manner.

“Welcome back, dearest!” Adelinde exclaims, propriety thrown out in favor of obvious affection as she throws her arms around your shoulders and squeezes. “It is so wonderful to have you back. It’s been too long!”

“I have missed you greatly, Adelinde.” You say in kind, the same excitement and candor laced in the breathless laugh you exhale as the older woman smothers you in her embrace, swaying from side to side.

The head mistress all but shakes you vigorously when she pulls away from you, holding your shoulders in her hands as she addresses you. Mother henning instilled in the widening of her eyes. 

“Have you eaten? Surely you must be hungry after such a journey to us. Come! I’ll prepare something for you. A Northern Apple Stew, perhaps? Or Sweet Madame! You were quite fond of that one last time!”

“Adelinde, please.” Elzer cuts in before either you or the neglected Diluc are able to intervene, a quiet scolding in his tone, “Let our guest breathe the air of nostalgia for just a moment rather than drown in the overwhelming one you are no doubt suffocating her in.” 

He turns to you, bags in hand and a crooked elbow held out for you to grab. Gently smiling, “Come, my dear. We shall unpack and get you settled before Adelinde stuffs you to the brim with food and endless questions.”

Scoffing, Adelinde all but throws her hands down, slapping her palms against her apron-cladded thighs. “Oh, Elzer, how can you send a guest to their room on an empty stomach? After such a long journey, too! Liyue is a whole nation away and yet you would rather enslave her to the schemes of chores than a proper meal. Have you no shame?”

“I ask only for a moment, my dear Adelinde. If you can not even spare to be parted for one, then I must beg you to reconsider who should be shamed.”

And so begins the low clamor of a bickered argument, the two keepers of the manor diverting their devotions towards each other as they nip and poke at the other on the best way to treat you, their beloved guest. A frequent occurrence— exhausting, nonetheless. A look is shared between you and Diluc, one of annoyance from him and only pure amusement from you, that of which, turns Diluc’s own sour look into one of less acidity. 

“Actually,” Diluc clears his throat, silencing the boiling argument. Your own delighted gaze darts to him in captured attention alongside the two head attendants of the house. Diluc folds his arms behind his back and gazes at his onlookers with little more than happy indignation— a feat only manageable by the likes of him. “Dinner preparations for our esteemed guest will be handled by me. I will also be seeing to the arrangements of the Ambassador's room, for old times sake. You both are dismissed for the evening.”

If life were a comedy, you were sure that this moment would be met with a thunderous roar of laughter. Elzer and Adelinde stare owlishly at Diluc, mouths open in stunned stupor as they stand almost a hair’s width apart, their fueled arguments replaced with something else entirely. Something more… bewildered.

“You… sir?” Elzer asks after a beat— a long, awaiting beat.

“Cook?” Adelinde follows, her voice raising in octaves as she takes in the master of the house, the boy she has raised.

Diluc rolls his eyes, “I manage a tavern, Adelinde. I can cook.”

“But can you cook… well?” Elzer questions after sparing a side glance to the graying woman. 

“In all my years,” Adelinde mutters, more to herself than anyone, “I have never seen you cook, much less know where the kitchen even is—”

“Yes, that’s quite enough, thank you.” Diluc interrupts, eyes of garnet turned to slits, “You both have been of great help to us this afternoon, but I think it best we let our guest settle.”

“Well, if you’re interested in expelling yourself to such lengths for this arrival, maybe you would be interested in seeing to the manor’s gutters?” Elzer says with a knowing look and a teasing tone as Adelinde hides her laugh with a cough. “Now that you’re doing things you’ve never done before—”

Diluc’s eye twitches.

“You both are dismissed.” He hisses, but neither attendant takes much offense to it. Instead, they only let the playfulness of their smiles broaden on their faces. Their heads downward in acknowledgement to both you and the master of the house before exiting as prompted. 

It isn’t until the sound of the door closing behind you two in the great entrance hall of the manor that the vibrant echoes of your laugh finally resound around the room. Diluc is quick on his heels to turn to you and point a finger in your face, a sternness to his voice and a furrow to his brow. Quick to halt the teasing before it begins.

“I will be pressed to remind you—”

And yet—

“Dinner?” You howl, and the sigh that escapes Diluc is enormous. Not that you could hear it, what with the volume of your fervent giggles masking it. He tuts, crossing his arms over his chest and watching with well-tempered amusement as you practically fold in half at the waist in laughter. 

“Don’t flatter yourself. This is hardly out of the ordinary.”

“That is not what Adelinde says.”

“Adelinde does not know of my late night eating habits.”

“I would wager a guess to say that she knows more about you than either of us do.” As your laughter begins to peter out, you lift a finger to your eye to wipe a stray tear. “What is the occasion, my dearest Diluc?”

“Your arrival.” 

You scoff, “I’ve arrived many times before and you’ve never demanded to cook for me.”

“I hardly demanded—”

“Insisted, then.”

“Then, there is no occasion. Only my wish to do so.” He says neutrally, hardly a rise or fall to his tone of voice as he says the words, but maybe that’s the tell all on its own. He doesn’t need the rhyme or reason in order to do as he’s never done before— no special date, no pertinent news needing to be shared. 

Only ever really needs—

Your smile widens tenfold and you shake your head at the man before you. You're removing your gloves, finger by finger, then throwing them haphazardly onto the great dining room table that has been host to many of your great laughing fits. Hands of great elegance are revealed and soon placed onto your hips as you stand in the middle of his open foyer. 

He should take offense to the gesture— should at least reprimand you for the lackadaisical way in which you make yourself at home. Prim and proper Diluc should not at all condone any kind of reckless behavior, especially in his own manor, but he hardly minds. Only huffs a breath through his nose at the sight of the gloves that now sit on the mahogany. The soft white of the fabric a stark, yet pleasant, contrast to the dark wood.

You stare at him, a slight shake to your head and the knowing smile on your face. “Well then, I shall insist that you allow me to be your sous-chef and assist you. Archons above know you Mondstadtians could benefit from some more spices in your life.” 

You turn on your heel, leaving the great hall lined with the portraits of his family, of the great arts and literatures of Mondstadt, and enter into the kitchen held off to the right side of the manor. 

The great entryway is one that he’s seen many times before, yet derives little comfort from. It’s a farce, of sorts. A living mausoleum of all that was and all that could have been, left to him to haunt the halls with. He’s confided this to you before, many years ago when it was too late to be called night yet too early for morning. Detailed it to you over the slow heat of a dying fire and the steady pace of a chess game, with your rook creeping eerily onto his knight, he confessed how much he hates the darkness of his home. How trapped he feels in it at times, how despite the many candles he lights, and the windows that Adelinde cracks open, it always feels cold.

Funny that, he had said, a pyro-user lying frigid in his own home. 

Does it ever not feel cold? You had asked curiously, softly, genuinely vying for the answer. Orange hue of the fire lighting the side of your face as you studied him. 

When you enter the dark manor with dark hardwood walls, and dark curtains this time, just as the many times before, you glow. Bring indescribable life to the empty home that only awakens upon notice of your incoming arrival— stays awake as you float from room to room, knowing the home as it is your own, and lay pieces of you across random surfaces. 

Shining, effervescent cor lapis in the great abyss of this manor. 

Sometimes, Diluc remembers responding quietly. Engrained even further, he remembers the gleam of the smile you gave him as it's the same smile he receives now. The one thrown over your shoulder as you prance forward into the kitchen, another tease rolling off of your tongue. 

“I offer my home and my services to you, and get repaid in insults?” He finally speaks after willing his tongue to renew itself from sludge to form words, a false scoff in his tone. His feet follow behind you, spurred on by the geniality of a core memory as you pad across the tiled floor and wash your hands within the basin.

“A helpful tip!” You rejoice, “Seeing as you’ve suddenly decided that today was the day for cooking—” 

“I have a penchant for burning things, you know.” It’s a thinly veiled threat, one that falls flat as you both meet eyes. 

You smirk, “All the more reason to let me assist.”

“You are a great nuisance, Ambassador.” He says, discarding his coat to the side and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, left then right, almost missing the fixating of your eyes on his newly revealed skin, and how quickly you avert your eyes; Face contorting into a quiet scold. As though you were punishing yourself for indulging, for losing propriety in just glancing. 

He should enjoy it, find delight that you find the muscles that have been earned through years of claymore wielding strength and battles to be admirable— but something mirs your tone immediately after. Something secret, solemn. A slight twinge that no one but him would catch, would understand to know that something was amiss.

Quickly, you grab a handful of vegetables from a box placed on the rack against the wall and bring them to the basin to wash. Potatoes and carrots galore. 

You forcibly smile, “Oh, you love it.”

The itch flares tenfold. 

—

Barbatos Ratatouille takes approximately four hours to make. It’s a slow cook, the lengthiest portion of its preparation being the time needed for it to remain covered on the stove on low heat. However, the most arduous part of the meal is the design of it. Not necessarily due to difficulty, but in the way that the carrots must be thinly sliced and laid in proximity to the cubed potatoes and strips—decorated to perfection. It’s halfway between a stew and a casserole, but alive with flavor as it simmers on a low boil. 

A herculean dish, an amateur culinarian’s nightmare; Diluc’s personal choice for your arrival.

Truthfully, he should’ve begun the meal before you arrived—should’ve had it ready for when you entered the manor. But, with the dish on the stove and three hours to kill, the suggestion of a walk around the winery as a means of relaxation and much needed catching up is hardly punishment for his error. Even though you have already been chatting throughout the duration of your meal preparation, discussing nearly everything and anything that comes to mind. 

But, you both reason, there is much he must show you.

The sun sits just above the horizon as you exit the manor, the great sky of orange and pinks lulling you both into a gradual and steady trot down the paths of the winery. Through the greens of growing grapes, he walks to the right of you, pointing to the items that have been updated since your last visit. Namely, the irrigation system to the vineyards. The slow and onerous move from a drip irrigation to one of a pumping unit handcrafted by Wagner located a few miles behind the manor. A hassle to craft, install, and maintain, he tells you with a tired smile, but a necessary venture for productivity. 

It reminds you to recount the traditional manner of tempered inundation that you witnessed when you finally obtained traveling papers to Inazuma. Farmers cultivating their crops to the cycle of the rivers, relying solely on its seasonal rise and fall to serve as a means of irrigation.

“And what happens when the rivers eventually decide to break tradition and flood?” Diluc asks with dumb amusement as your conversation leads you down the path that turns to gravel, winding away from the vineyards and down towards the lake. He means it as a rhetorical question, knowing in both science and anecdotal evidence nature makes a great fool of prediction. 

A large rock obstructs the pathway, and while it doesn’t take much effort to climb over it, he nevertheless holds his hand out in assistance. Nevermind the fact that this trail and this particular rock is one that you and he have taken many times before, one that you are fully aware that contains a rocky terrain as you walk nearer towards the body of water, and yet, ever the gentleman he is as he offers his assistance, you take his hand.

“Inazuma is the land of eternity.” You tell him succinctly, “They would be more pressed to believe that the world would end before the land and its dutiful Shogun would disrupt tradition and predictability.” You step over the large rock with great ease. Diluc makes sure of it.

“How archaic.” Diluc mutters once he knows your feet are on stable ground once more. You shake your head with a smile.

“That is only a matter of perspective. To Mondstadt, it is limited. To Inazuma, it is nature.”

Diluc only hums, his eyes narrow as carmine irises dart across your face. Any opinion of the idea, if you even had one, is imperceptible. Hidden carefully behind a neutral gaze and the generality of your statement. Trained, you are, to be as open and peaceful with any and all walks of life. Barbatos knows Diluc would hardly be able to bite his tongue with something he strictly disapproved of. 

“Born and bred for the role of Ambassador. I would've offended a whole nation if I were in your shoes.”

“Nonsense,” You smile as you link your arm with his, hand holding onto his bicep as you both resume your trek to the waters, “I think you would make for a wonderful advocate for the people. You are tough and unmoving. The kind of person everyone would be lucky to have on their side.”

He says nothing more to that, content to let the conversation die and allow nature to become the fixation of your thoughts. 

Compliments have never rendered well for the likes of Diluc. He knows too much about himself, of his nature, of his own beliefs, of all that he has done to ever be convinced by another that he is at all a good man. Especially on the basis of one’s words.

They never mean much anyway. Words are never strong enough to be binding; They are the buffer between hope and disappointment, and oftentimes find themselves leaning to one side more than the other. It is why he never makes promises he cannot keep, it is why he hardly believes in things that come from another’s mouth unless he himself has experienced it. The sting of old promises and their frosted bite are too ingrained within Diluc to compromise on. 

Add that to one of many things Diluc knows to be true of himself.

He is too prideful, too stubborn, too controlling, too set in his ways to believe in anything other than what he knows to be true about himself and the world. He is the stark contrast to you, and, not for the first time, he wonders how a friendship of such strength could remain when he burns too bright and you—oh, you—

Where you are amenable and compromising, he is rigid and sure; Where you are appeasing and complimenting, he is static and blunt. He does not care for the pleasantries as you do when he doesn’t feel them warranted. He’s entirely sure, as sure as the sun that sets every day and as resolute as you are on the charm of cor lapis, that he would make for a horrible dignitary considering how opposite of you he is and how well you fit into the role. 

But… the way that you say it. The way that the statement rolls of your tongue with hardly a second thought, the way that you seemed assured of his nature as though it were truth— the way that you seem to believe him an honorable man despite being worldly traveled and knowing many of many honorable people—

Gravel turns to sand and a quick glance your ways reveals the brightening of a smile as you both near the lake and all the tumultuous thoughts, the internal fight over the slightest of compliments and the need to extract the lies from the truth within them, silences as he looks to you. 

Diluc burns, and he burns bright, and you extinguish the flames of him that itch and ache to hurt. This isn’t a new realization, but it is a staunch one as it hammers away at the walls of his mind and heart. 

Everything about this is as it has always been, and yet, the habit of cynicism so ingrained in him makes it feel as though things are different. That behind these immortalized affections from he to you and you to him hides something of greater importance. As though something lies in wait behind the florals and flowerets of your arrival. 

As his mind thrums with his well known truths and his heart sings with the surprise of your presence, he can’t help but wonder when the other shoe is to drop— he tries to never be doubtful of your words, but he trusts his intuition more. 

And it tells him that whatever he is waiting for, is coming.

—

“To the water, Diluc!” You call to him, already throwing your shoes off of your feet and hiking the skirt of your dress up as you inch closer to the crystal blue waters. 

He shakes his head, tendrils of red strands displacing themselves from his ponytail as the wind blows gently. While his face remains stern, contorted into the serious disposition many a Monstadtian recognizes, his hands are slowly removing layers of his clothing— the boots, first. Then his socks and cuffing the pants of his slacks. All the while, following behind your prancing figure.

“I find water to be rather disagreeable.” He calls out after you and you bark a laugh. One that echoes around the empty space of the open lake and high mountains. It dances on the wind, pirouetting its way back to him, sticking to him like honey— sweet, warm, sticky honey. Slowing his thoughts down in the sinewy constitution of it. 

“What isn’t disagreeable to the great Duke of Mondstadt?” You tease as your toes brush against the edge of the chilled water. Though the blue certainly isn’t as warm as many of the lakes in Liyue tend to be, the change in climate isn’t an unwelcome one. Refreshing certainly, and as the chill jolts its way through your bare toes and travels up your spine, it’s an appreciated embrace when in the presence of such a ferocious source of heat like Diluc. 

Diluc who sets things ablaze with his stoicism and piercing gaze, Diluc who uses such talents to stare at you from afar— the flames of something sparking in his irises— and the urge to drown yourself in the cool waters grows tenfold. 

A determined reminder of things that you have shoved to the side for too long, truths that you were hoping to dismiss for just a moment.  

Not an uncommon feeling to experience whenever you’re around him. Latently, you can hear the whispers of a wry voice belonging to a Favonius Captain comment on how he too wishes he could drown himself when in the presence of the tycoon, and you laugh quietly. Anything to distract yourself from the feeling of a heavy stare on you. 

Your question, as redundant as it may have been to you, hangs in the air unanswered, but it doesn’t bother you much. Find your brain too swayed by the heat of his gaze and the chill of the water to think much of even trying to find an answer.

But he does. Silently, in the train of his thoughts that never end, the answer is abundantly clear. 

You are entirely too agreeable to the Duke, he thinks, as you wade further into the water with a joyful yelp. The water halfway up your shins with your skirt bunched in your hands and your face furrowed as you will yourself to move further into the lake. You are entirely too agreeable, he thinks, as he finds himself approaching the edge of the same lake and following in after you—even though he knows it probably isn’t the wisest decision, safety reasons, all encompassing. 

Should something emerge through the treeline, something he wasn’t particularly anticipating, and he were soaking wet— there would be a late reaction, late preparation in being able to protect the both of you. Or, if a Fatui officer were to find their way here to you both, with you being visionless and him impacted by the counteracting measures of water against his pyro, it would be a hassle to say the least. While he vigilantly patrols the acres of his land in strict routine, there is always the chance of those bastards infiltrating his lands. He would be remiss to put his guard down, especially when they’ve been establishing encampments only a couple hundred miles from his home, as of late. 

Or, what if—

“Something touched me!” You squeal suddenly, running away from your place almost knee deep into the water and back onto the shore. It happens faster than he’s able to comprehend, but the sound of your yell is enough to have him propelling forward. 

He’s rushing to you in fevered panic just as you rush into him. His left arm encircling around your waist and lifting, a flame already erupting in his right hand, aimed at whatever enemy has made an appearance. Your legs fold upward into his chest, your own arms tightening around his neck as your unintelligible squeals erupt from your mouth and into his ear. 

“Where?!”

“I can’t—“

“Who goes there?!”

“Diluc—“

“Show yourself!”

“I think it was a fish!”

Chaos quiets in a second, Diluc’s burning fury splashes cool as his senses catch up to one another and the realization of your words corroborates his vision. He sees no enemies, clearly one couldn’t have slipped by in the few minutes since your entrance to the water. He does, however, see the speeding trail of a Medaka swimming away beneath the water. 

The flame then extinguishes in his hand, “I loathe you.”

He feels your head rise from its burrow in his neck, “It scared me!”

“It’s a fish—“

“I didn’t know that! It could’ve been the tendrils of a slime!”

A bitter retort finds itself on the tip of his tongue, an item he is ready to unleash just as he turns his head to face you, only to feel it die at the sudden realization that—

—You are in his arms. 

Held tightly to him, your body melding into his and your faces hardly more than an inch apart. Your eyes wide in residual panic, sparkling with the blend of humor. And then…he’s drowning.

Choking on the feeling of closeness, suffocating in the swarm of feelings in his lungs as he realizes that as abnormal as the occasion is to have you in his arms, it feels pointedly normal. He’s startled at how quickly he had thrown away the makings of a gentleman the moment your arms wound around his neck; Lost—completely, entirely, unabashedly—at how the weight of your gaze buoys him in the tides of a long lived affection. 

An image of eternity finds him, then; A quick flash in the stagnation of thoughts, a future he had never allowed himself to fantasize of before— a cinder of hope to wake up tomorrow, two days, two years, two decades from now, and have this.

Knowing that it is something that he can never have, however, fills his lungs with a choking fluid.

“Enough of the water.” He mutters quickly, his cheeks tinting red in what you can only surmise is anger. “We should return for dinner.” 

He’s lowering you back into the water then, making a short effort to remove your limbs from him and turn his back towards you, trekking towards the shore at a brisk pace. 

It’s whiplash; A ferocious brand of rejection heats your body even as your feet are placed back into the cool lake. You stare at his retreating figure in dismay, but shock isn’t a feeling that registers. When he’s bitten by the bug of his own tumultuous thoughts, it doesn’t take long for Diluc to turn cold despite all of his heat. It’s a tell tale sign, one you can predict, but have never been able to fix. You can only pretend to understand what went through the mind of the Great Duke of Mondstadt. 

Whatever it was that made him so cold, made the lick of heat that you’ve always associated with the man disappear in an instant, clearly is one he’s not ready to share. He has always been stubborn; An adult he may be, but a child he frequently can become. That, however, is always something you have been able to meet with equal measure. With a roll of your eyes, you follow after him.

“But Diluc!” You protest, rather immaturely, hand finding his and tugging him back to the water. “We just got here!” 

He hardly budges. “I dislike the water and clearly, you dislike the fish that reside in it.”

“An overreaction on my part! I wasn’t mindful of my steps.”

“You haven’t brought any extra clothing. You’ll be walking home soaking and cold.”

“Then you can just snap your fingers and make me warm again!”

Diluc sighs heavily, “Ambassador—”

“So formal, Diluc. Let go, for a second. Come have fun with me!”

He yanks his hand away from yours, turning to face you in a ferocious manner. “Is that what you came all this way for? To have fun?”

All joy seems stripped from you in that moment as you halt in place, “Do you… not want me here?” 

“Of course I do.” He says, and while the statement is true, his tone is stoic and cold—almost making you wonder about the validity of his claim. 

He watches your brows furrow, watches as the skirts of your dress dampen as you no longer care to hold them upward but instead stare deeply at him. Watch as something clouds his mind that he cannot seem to shake off. 

Shame, mostly, for his anger. “I just… am curious. You’re busy these days, my friend.” He says, eyes softening as he meets yours. You give him a gentle smile.

“As are you, dearest Diluc. I just wanted to see you.” 

His heart should flutter and soar at this measly proclamation, but it doesn’t. Because in all the years that he has had the pleasure to know you, he can’t shake the feeling that something is off. That your arrival isn’t for any reason, that your touch is lingering, and that there is something you aren’t telling him. 

He doesn’t confront you about it even though his mind races and wars and urges for him to. You will tell him in your own time, that much he trusts. If he confronts you now, when no initiative has been taken to show that anything is awry other than his own confidence in knowing you, then you will lie. Tell him that everything is alright, nothing is wrong.

Diluc doesn’t trust words, despises lies more— even if they do come from someone as agreeable as you. So, he says nothing. Only insists that you return home lest the food burn. And you do as he asks; Walking beside him in silence and climbing over obstructing rocks without his assistance. Feeling both of your skins burn despite no longer being close enough to touch the other.

—

“Well,” you say, peering over his shoulder and onto the food that he neatly plates onto two white porcelain dishes, “It looks edible.”

He huffs in laughter despite himself. A scolding tone far from his realm of view as he spares a sideways glance towards your face hovering above his shoulder. 

“I can still arrange for it to be burnt.” He says, without any real threat.

“It was a compliment.” You meet his gaze in kind— soft over the warmth of his creation, diluted in the wake of previous tension.

“I recant all previous judgements of your character; You make a horrible foreign dignitary. I am terribly offended.” He says flatly. 

“I hardly think my skills in flattery uphold our relationship.”

“You’re right. They destroy it.”

“The Great Duke, Mondstadt’s very own Darknight Hero, in need of reassurance?”

“Would you look at that?” Dilic begins boredly, his eyes half lidded as he looks at you, his index finger held upward in the air and a flame dancing atop it, “I suddenly have lost control of my motor functions.”

—

Dinner, even in the simmering of side glances and veiled suspense, is much like it has always been between you two. Easy and warm, seated beside one another despite the great length of the table; Him at the head of the hall table, and you to his left, finding one another and enjoying the closeness in company with a surprisingly well-made meal. 

You tell him as much, with a shrug, a raise of your brow, and a disbelieving nod of your head. “It’s edible.”

He glares, you smile, and the ire of before dissipates into nonexistence. Neither of you able to remember what caused it. 

The company at the table extends beyond dinner. Plates scraped clean of their respective meals, yet you remained seated. Weaving through the ebbs and flows of bountiful conversation and comfortable silences. Diluc listens with quiet interest as you recount the mining operations, the new additions to your family, friends and their gossip, books you’ve read and you, in turn, let him interject his dry responses that then turn into debates on trivial items. Most recently, the introduction of a new card game that you can’t understand the rules of no matter how many times it is explained, much to Diluc’s mild exhaustion.

It hardly lasts long, before you’re mentioning something and discussion is renewed. It is the most Diluc has spoken in months. A surprise to everyone but him. The night ticks on, a fire stoked and the familiar orange hue cast on your person and all is right once more. 

It is in discussing ledgers and letters that it happens. The itch is finally revealed. 

“Have you received any?” You ask, head tucked downward as you swirl your glass of wine, avoiding his eyes. 

Diluc stares, and can only stare, startled upon the realization that he’s forgotten himself once again. Got lost in the intricate tethers of commonality and the sanctity of long-awaited reunions that he forgot that at the basis of he and you, lies a fundamental difference. 

Between upbringing and duty, between values and expectations, between daydreams and reality. He knows exactly what you are asking, girl from the land of contracts. 

“No.” He lies, easily.  Diluc dons the farce of nonchalance that strains against the lines of his face at this very moment. He doesn’t need you to know of the large box that he tosses the offers in at the end of every day, the box that Adelinde insists he keep. The box piled with letter after letter that he hardly spares a second glance at. “Have you?”

He knows the answer. Maybe it’s hoping otherwise that has him asking anyway. Such is a stupid, stupid notion.

“Yes. A few.” You say, eyes still averted, neutrality in your words. No excitement or dismay, no begging or joy; Just fact. He nods, emptily. A motion without purpose.

“Have you accepted any?” He questions further, and it’s then that the mask slips. The air of coolness he so expertly concocts suddenly grows hot with invasive curiosity, with burning bitterness. His jaw pulses and his knuckles blanche beneath the table. Your eyes meet his, honest and open and he finally sees it.

The teachings of prim and properness fade and you crumble with the weight of emotion, too. Something, in your eyes. Slight and small, but noticeable to him— for he’s seen these eyes in every shade and situation. In childhood, in mourning, in light, in dark, in duty, and in dreams. Diluc knows your eyes better than his own; Sees them in every phase of the moon and every Spring. 

He knows of longing well enough to be able to see it surface in the pools of your irises. He knows you, girl from the land of contracts. And the itch, that blasted thing, starts to be scratched.  

“A decision is expected soon,” You say with a thick swallow, placing the napkin on the table yet never losing his heady gaze. The air shifts, the stale politeness gone and replaced with something more ignited. 

You adjust in your seat and he watches. Shoulders stiffen, neck elongating, posture righting itself as if you’ve now realized the revelation that came to Diluc only a moment before, regarding the stiffness of the air; Regarding the mutuality in the suppression of all things inherent and true, burning and blazing alight. 

“I wanted to speak with you before I gave an answer.”

He wants to yell, wants to throw the plates off the table, shout to the gods above about the cruel and cynical games they make him play, but instead he does as he has learned to do and stares. Looks at you, soft and comfortable, entirely at home in his manor. The manor he has made to be suitable for you. 

Arranged marriages, Diluc finds, are the most atrocious of practices that Liyue has ever had the audacity to uphold in their commitment to contracts. Very much a Mondstadt originated belief— a city of freedom— but a sure one, he thinks. 

He heaves a breath, one that shudders at the slow cracking of his ribs and heart. “Surely, you don’t want me to make the decision for you?”

“No… but advice would be welcome.”

“Fine.” He settles into his seat, noting with little amusement that he suddenly can’t get comfortable anymore, “Tell me.”

“There’s Liu Fuey’s son, an aspiring noctilucous jade merchant—”

He hums discontentedly and you pause in consideration of it. You look at him, and he places his index finger against his temple. “You couldn’t possibly think that an advantageous match, could you?”

You lift your cup to your lips speaking into the glass and shrugging lightly. “His son is quite nice. A bit too young, however.”

“Nice is one thing; Prosperous is another.” 

You tease a gentle gasp, a coy smile curling onto your face as you ask, “Whatever do you mean?” 

Diluc rolls his eyes. Sarcasm, unfortunately, a color you wear too well in times where it’s less than appropriate. You must know what he is going to say, wouldn’t be the inheriting child of one of the biggest exporting businesses in Liyue to not know— your father would all but roll over in his eventual grave before he ever let you exist without the capabilities to be exactly as you are now. And still, the fact that you're even contemplating a match of this nature turns him acetic. 

The fact that this is happening at all turns him more bitter than the drinks he makes nightly.

“I hardly meddle with Liyue affairs and yet even I know one cannot derive a great fortune from the noctilucous jade market. Too much supply, little demand.” Diluc says after a gentle pause.

“Controversial opinion.” You smile at him and he must turn his gaze away before the cracks of an ill-tempered scowl breaks out onto his face. 

“Yet, you agree with me.” He mutters.

Your smile—it’s too ill-fitting for something like this. He can hardly stomach it, much less fathom how you can even muster the curl of your lips when taking the businesslike approach to this. To think of your potential spouse as a transaction than what it actually is: the tying of life and body. It’s archaic; It’s depriving; It is the death to the bloom of life; It is not befitting for his beloved of Liyue that shines brighter than the most carefully extracted gems and blossoms with the incoming warmth of the replenishing seasons. 

This is not you—but it’s not as though he could really say more than that. 

He meets your amused gaze with little more than a stoic one, “Continue.”

You detail, with fine-lined trepidation and mirth, a number of other suitors that have been presented before you. Isamu from the Yashiro Commission, a match considered for the strengthening of national ties and Diluc grits his teeth because that’s hardly a bad option. Shabandar, the Navbed of Sumeru for merchant dealings and exports and while it certainly isn’t a creative choice, it’s a solid one.

“And—” You pause and Diluc raises his gaze. Hesitation flashes for the briefest second before you gather yourself, etiquette kicking in to disguise the weakness with mere coincidence. But he sees it, he sees all of it. 

And he waits with a sip of his drink. 

“The second son of Tsaverich, who will soon be taking over the overseas branch of his father’s merchant operations.” His glass of grape juice stays perched against his lips, halted at the words and weighted. 

“Mikhail?” He repeats seriously, once the words have settled— albeit thickly— and you nod. “Mikhail, the one that engages surreptitiously with Fatui officers and embezzles from lowly merchants when he can. Namely, merchants here in Springvale; That, Mikhail?” 

There’s a sharp edge to his tone that digs and pierces you at every syllable. Try as you might to not physically cringe at what he’s said, you can hardly suppress the waver in your voice as you speak.

“They’ve offered a grand sum for a marital union—”

“He’s a criminal.” Diluc spits and you sigh. Fingers place themselves onto the center of your forehead and press, attempting to soothe the beginning pulses of a tension headache.

While you hadn’t expected this conversation to be one of ease, you certainly hadn’t anticipated the extent of which this pit of turmoil would lie in your stomach. This surge of angst that causes your shoulders to tense and your heart to thrum with exertion. You’ve had far more heated negotiations with merchants and political officials that did less damage to your psyche than this. 

You should’ve known better. 

A conversation of this nature with Diluc would not only be painful, but would serve to have you aching and longing for a different fate altogether. One where he looked at you with less contempt, one where the conversation around marriage was less centered around other men and more around him, one where your hands were intertwined with his rather than clenched and white-knuckled. 

You discard such a fantasy with the release of a heavy sigh, and begin once more. “The only reason you know that is because you interfere with Fatui business in an equally surreptitious manner. To everyone else, he’s just a wealthy young man. To my father, he’s a handsome prospect.”

Diluc scoffs, flaming and burning, aimed directly towards your heart. “And you would agree to a marriage and condone such immoral behavior? That is not you.”

“It’s not like I can make such a claim without evidence, Diluc. Tsaverich is funded by a number of businesses across Teyvat. They all have an interest in him and your preventative measures for some of his endeavors have caused quite the stir.” You explain, leaning forward in your seat if only to put yourself further into his blazing eyesight. If only to make him see.

“I’ve had a hard enough time convincing merchants to not pursue the Darknight Hero on their own volition, it would be even harder to convince them of Mikhail’s bad behavior with Fatui. Especially when he is the one fueling the hatred for your alter ego.” 

Your words meet the side of his angular face as he finds his body slumping into the wooden dining chair. This is nothing he doesn’t already know, nothing you haven’t already transcribed in your monthly letters to him as he dons his nighttime persona and you wield the mantle as his political protector in the daytime. Nothing you haven’t discussed moments prior to this.

“Would you rather I expose your nightly endeavors in the presentation of proof and have the consequence be multiple nations come down against you and Dawn Winery for interference in business?”

His averted gaze meets yours once more, quickly. But he’s even quicker in his reply, “If it means you don’t marry him, yes.”

It is your turn to roll your eyes, as you throw yourself back into your chair, “Oh, please.”

“What I am hearing is that you would be okay with marrying a murderous, thieving, criminal—”

“I am not. I just don’t have a choice.”

“There is always a choice—“

“The Tsaverichs have been the most enticing opportunity that’s been presented thus far and my father’s never been much for politics anyway. And… hypothetically, if I were to marry Mikhail…” Your voice trails off, as though the mere mention of marrying the man were enough to have bile pushing up your throat, “Hypothetically, I would have more political leverage and be able to wield it in favor of the Darknight Hero and—” 

“Do not use me as your excuse. I would never ask this of you.” Diluc adds, missing only the liquid of venom for his statement to be rendered poisonous. It stings nonetheless.

You shrug, defeated, “Your consternation is just a matter of principles, but you mustn't forget that this is just what it must be. I am just trying to consider all the positives here.”

“No. You’re wrong.”

“A contract is a contract—”

“One you haven’t willingly entered into yet.”

“Only because I was able to barter for some time of contemplation with my father. My time is running out.”

Diluc breathes out a wry breath of amusement through his nose, “Hence why you are here.”

His tone is bitter and disapproving, but you can only nod in agreement for it is the truth. “Hence why I am here.” You repeat, and Diluc turns his head to the side with a heavy sigh. 

“How long?” He asks, eyes finding the window, watching as the wind sways the orange trees and leaves descend to the fading green grass. Silence encompasses the room and drowns in the undercurrent of his ire and bitterness. Thick and unrelenting.

“Until Spring.” You supply lowly, and he scoffs. His head shakes, fingers finding his chin. 

The food that once brought great warmth to you now churns unpleasantly within your stomach. Maybe it would’ve been better to have made a decision in private with your father and inform Diluc through an invitation to the ceremony— it certainly would’ve saved you the exhaustion of the debate you now found yourself glued to. But such a thing is a matter that you would never find it within yourself to do. 

There is too much respect for Diluc, too much admiration, too much love to do something so cruel to him. Maybe, it is even crueler to make him privy and liable to the decision you make here, too. 

You had prepared early on for the day requiring this commitment— knew in the depths of young childhood and the blossoming of your role as Ambassador and heir to your father’s business that this fate was inevitable. It was easy to separate yourself from it when understanding it to be a part of your duty. There were no tears, no despair, no tantrums thrown when your father presented the candidates he deemed most viable to a marriage. You had anticipated such a resignation of yourself throughout the duration of your choosing and eventual betrothed.

Here, sitting before Diluc in the home you know too well, in the space of memories that belong to him and you, and drowning in the heat of his anger, does such a resignation wilt and the weight of your repressed feelings come forward.

“Tsaverich does not fit with your name.” Diluc mutters after a moment.

There is one man you would choose without a moment’s hesitation, but he is not a candidate. Has not made himself to be one, no matter how often you wish he would. Unsure if he has ever thought about you as more than a beloved friend.

That is something you could live with—being his beloved friend for years and years, if only to have him close to you—but, you fear, as this conversation grows more sour and the figurative space between you seems to increase in size, that the berth has become too wide and a bridge of reconciliation is too weak to span such a distance. There are few things you dislike more than Diluc being upset with you.

But you try for remedy, nonetheless. 

“I… knew,” You begin quietly after a moment, and Diluc finds his eyes drawn to you without much more of a reasonable request other than the sound of your voice, “I wouldn’t be able to get your blessing. But I figured I could at least get your advice. Or comfort… in your presence.”

He takes a moment’s pause, voice only finding grounding once he’s able to temper the severity of his feelings to little more than a dull ache in his chest. He’s monotonous when he says it. 

“Is that what you want? My blessing?”

“I want to make a decision. And I want you to be happy with it.”

He scoffs once more, vicious and mean, and unafraid to be so because it’s you. You, who knows him in and out, through years of flaming moods and dark lows, who knows what he thinks and says before he even gets the chance to. He, who sits astounded because how could he ever say, in the gentlest ways possible, that his happiness on your betrothal to anyone other than him is something that would never be granted? And more importantly, how could you not know that?

“My happiness?” He responds, no longer trying to hide any disdain, “And pray tell, of what use could my happiness serve in making that kind of a decision?”

You tilt your head in soft dismay, “Diluc—”

“Would you like me to choose for you the best man I see fit, is that it? Lay the offers out on the table and have me select which seems to reap the most monetary benefits for you?”

You shake your head, “No, that isn’t what I—”

His tongue grows more ire, the toxin that resided in the depths of his soul is now unlocked, and seeping through him. Gasoline to the flame, and he burns, burns, burns. “Oh, I see. You’d like to make me equal, if not worse, to the role your father currently plays in this hell of a mess. You’d like me to select in accordance with familial values. What would make father happy, is that right?”

“You forget yourself.” You spit at him, equal in the anger that he has pushed you to. “Not all of us were born in the land of freedom. Some of us have duties that must be seen through.”

Diluc leans forward, elbow braced on the table as he pushes his finger into the hardwood for emphasis, “This isn’t duty, this is atrocity.”

(Diluc has only ever known duty to himself and the Dawn Winery. Diluc only expects that your own duty would be so aligned— duty to yourself and the business you hold dear. A voice speaks from the recesses of his mind, the parts not addled by fire and brimstone, reminding him that he has always had a duty to you, too.)

“Arranged marriages are common!” You speak with a broken laugh, in disbelief as the red-haired man stands from the table with a violent push of his chair back. 

“A violation against the wants of the person, in favor of what?” Diluc paces around the table, feet taking him towards the walls decorated with paintings yet hardly sparing a glance. He turns back to you, hands placed on his hips and brows furrowed in desperate anger, “Connections? Land? Wealth?”

He looks to you in charged silence, awaiting an answer. You shake your head at him.

“It isn’t a simple answer, Diluc. You know that. It’s culture, and duty, and—and the need for security. I want to—”

“This isn’t what you want.”

“And how do you know what I want?” You narrow your eyes and such a thing would be insulting we’re Diluc already not a few stops short of a blown fuse. “You’ve spent most of this conversation speaking over me to know what I want.”

“Because I know you.” He insists harshly. “This is your father’s doing.”

He takes a step forward, “And if it's money he wants then tell him I have more than enough that I know not what to do with. If it’s land, tell him I own acres of Mondstandt with the plans for expansion. Your children, your grandchildren, and their children will have land to their name, I will make it my life’s mission to make sure of it. Connections?” He holds his hands out, letting them drop to his thighs with a resounding clap.

“You bring more of that than I ever could.”

To anyone else, his words sound much like a proposal. 

To you, it sounds like a proposal. 

Your breath hitches, and the words are practically whispered. “...What are you saying?”

And the truth that you both know in your own respective manners, yet remains unknown to the other, comes forward on his tongue. It waits there, stagnated yet burning in his mouth. 

He should just say it, make the feelings that survive deep within the depths of his soul actualized in this very moment— where you demand them to make their appearance. Tell you that he says these things for the sole purpose of making himself the contender for your hand in marriage. Tell you that he says these things not so that you could abide by duty, but so that you could have the freedom to choose. 

So that you could choose him.

The words are desperate in their crawl up his throat, digging their nails into soft tissue and drawing blood. His mouth floods with the ichor, too stubborn to swallow and too scared to spit. 

So, he does nothing but choke.

“Freedom… within the contract.” He says quietly, cowardly. “I will… sponsor whatever fee or promise may be necessary if only to give you what you want. The chance to choose whomever it may be that you wish to marry. This decision isn’t mine to make. Nor should you make it because of me. And to be frank, I don’t want to be a part of it.”

Silence encumbers the space.

A look of measured disbelief sits ill on your face, and in feats unlike him, he finds himself raging. At this, at you, at himself. His decision feels like brittled tar coming off his tongue, settles in the room like a death sentence, and yet the stubbornness within him threatens the burning flame of truth in his stomach like a hovering guillotine. The blade shining with the promise of an ill fate.

“...sponsor?” You murmur.

Behead the hope before it can take flight. The blade descends.

“Yes. Sponsor.” He bites, “Until you can rid yourself of that inane notion of duty.”

You stare at him, a heartbreaking silence filling the room as fragments of the friendship seem to crack and shatter in place. Baring your soul to him, open and honest, vulnerability displayed at the most monumental decision you could make, when you were desperate for comfort, and he spits at you. Treats you pedantically, insulting the very thing you care deeply enough about to ask for consultation on; Throws things as insignificant as money your way and tells you, more or less, to leave him alone.

This is a Diluc that you have heard of yet, seen on occasion, but have never met. Angry and distanced, cutting strings before they have the chance to vibrate against him. You don’t like it. It sparks something within you, something equally as vitriolic and vile. 

“What is it about this situation that angers you, Diluc? Hm? Because I believe that you are misguided in directing your anger to me.” You return to him woefully digging for a futile truth that Diluc has already locked deep within him, key thrown into a fire and burned with no remorse. If only you knew how close you were to uncovering it, the root of his ire. How your hand almost brushed the cage of his heart, fingertips barely scraping along the bars of its confinement.

He yanks you away, “You sit there content with this, amiable as you always are. You always want to placate, you stand up for everything but yourself when you clearly must. Then, you bring this to me, seeking help in something I greatly disapprove of, something I do not wish to be involved in, and yet I am misguided for trying to save you—”

“I don’t need your money, Diluc. And I certainly don’t need saving.” 

“Then what could you possibly be doing here, then?”

“I apologize for inconveniencing you with my need to seek the comfort of a friend. How burdensome of me, how juvenile. Because I forget that the great Master Diluc can handle these things on his own, so why should I do anything different!”

“I gave you my answer.” He says, eyes burning. An ashen field of the garden of your friendship reflected in his stare, “I suggest you take it.”

And for the second time today, you feel the hot brand of Diluc’s rejection.

He doesn’t need to spell it out, his words are as clear as day to you— the professional linguist in Diluc's veiled bluntness. He has no intention of respecting your decision, nor does he intend to be involved any further within it. 

The room is silent once more, this time in a way that is entirely different from the other instances. This is a silence of heartbreak as Diluc embraces the characteristics of his nature that he knows well and fine to be true of himself. This is the silence of heartbreak that shatters your soul and clogs your throat as it comes to actualization that your long held resignation of this fate was not born out of duty, but of hope that maybe, Diluc had felt the same way about you as you did to him. That from this, maybe, survived the chance of an outcome unneeding of your intervention, but instead a mutual confession that would sweep you off your feet. 

Such a thing will never happen.  

He does not return your feelings, nor will he ever. He sees you only as a pitiful friend in need; A friend that he can help free from the shackles of inane duty like a good gentleman should. You aren’t sure what stings more— the unrequited feelings, or the insult against your capability.  

Diluc may be a formidable blaze that anyone may stand intimated by, but it is equally remiss to take you as something not equal in that strength. As a damsel in distress, as a child, as someone in need of a savior. He, of all people, knows better than that. 

This is the silence of a heartbreak at the realization that a dear friend has misunderstood you horribly— romantically or otherwise. And born from its stillness is a blade of your own.

You rise from your chair. Vermillion eyes follow you with focused intensity, titillating as you waver not. Steel becomes you, and it is in the few moments like this that Diluc is astounded that the gods did not grant you a vision. 

“That is an honorable offer, but I will not subject you to a stipulation of pity. This is not a horrid fate, it is a duty I have and will continue to embrace.” There is no amiability in your words despite the cordiality of them. Your tone is the embodiment of the negotiator that you have assumed completely in your adulthood.

Surely, he could back down now— apologize, admit his foolishness, but that would mean accepting the circumstances of the arranged marriage and that is something he could never do. He holds his head high. 

Optimism lies decapitated most cruelly on the floor between him and you, two blades now stained with the blood of a lost union.

“A duty that I accept without remorse. Something I thought you of all people would respect. I see now that I was wrong.” You bow your head curtly to the gentleman of the home. “Thank you for the enlightening dinner and your hospitality, but I believe there is nothing further to be discussed. Good night, Master Diluc.”

You return to your bedroom without a glance backward, the sound of the bedroom door slamming echoing loudly throughout the manor. The mansion is soon thereafter submerged in a freeze that etches away at his skin. He stands there, the last witness of the murder. 

If there was something to do, if he had an idea about it, maybe he would’ve handled the next moment more appropriately. But he doesn’t; he returns to his room a few moments later, stopping only to briefly glance at your door. No light peeks from underneath the door sill and no noise sounds when he leans his ear against it. 

Sleep doesn’t come. Dawn breaks and his eyes ache with the need to fall yet his mind roams. It ambles around in so many directions he hardly notices the sound of movement in the hallway as the sun breaks the night and pinks and oranges become the day.

It isn’t until he receives silence when he knocks on your door that the thought of doing something becomes a tasteful thought. He knows it’s too late. Your room and all of your belongings are vacant by the morning and he does nothing but stand there. 

—

Your sudden departure with a written note of goodbye on your neatly made bed inspired all of a twelve-hour huff and puff from Adelinde and a stern shake of the head from Elzer, but the deep scowl on Diluc’s face stops any further questioning cold in its place. Diluc is more than aware that such a response, particularly a nonverbal one, leaves much to be desired, but truth be told, he has no desire to explain himself. 

Whatever transpired between you two rests solely between he and you, no one else; No matter how strong third party affinities may lie. He will honor the privacy of your friendship by keeping your argument under wraps and, subsequently, his rather… brutish behavior unknown to further scrutiny. 

(Let it be known that that was hardly the deciding factor in his secrecy. His shame pride. No, of course not. Rather, he believes it pertinent to only describe a story if both sides are there to present it, lest any details become muddied by perceived rights and wrongs, transgressions and righteousness, little he said, she said’s. It is best to act accordingly, with honor to the other even if they aren’t there to defend themselves. Which is why he pledges his silence to the issue.

Even as he spends minutes, hours, days mulling over his words, reliving the argument and the kind of temperament that was exalted from him in response. He can hardly be ashamed by the genuinity of his anger, it is a direct reflection of his morals and to be dismayed by those is to be deceptive of himself. 

So, no. He does not tell Adelinde and Elzer the intricate details of your battle, unsure as to whether he would omit certain phrases he had uttered or not, in honor of keeping the situation between the war of morals and opinion between you and he. 

Or so he says.)

“You needn’t be concerned.” He tells the vexed headmistress, keeping his breath and stare as neutral as one could possibly muster when one hardly believes the words they say. “It was a minor incident. It will be nothing in two weeks’ time.”

The words do not placate Adelinde. They only serve to make the older woman shake her head in agitation and return to the kitchen in a brisk walk as she prepares breakfast. She mutters something underneath her breath, but Diluc is too concerned with pretending to focus on ledgers to listen intently to the words. If he did, he’s sure there would be some vernacular strung together to express the sentiment of “foolish” and “idiotic”. 

And he’s likely to agree with them. 

Winter

Fall exits Mondstadt with haste and winter follows on its heels with great delight. Nipping at skin and verdure mercilessly, the wind gusts powerfully from Dragonspine, expelling its subzero climate onto Mondstadtians as though it had been waiting for lifetimes for the chance to taste skin once more. 

It has sparked many an overheard conversation. The weather being the heated topic of discussion, irony of the statement notated with a hearty laugh— even within the Dawn Winery.

Adelaide remarked to Elzer one frigid morning how unfathomable it was to even try to adjust to the suddenness of the cold as she wrapped a third quilted cardigan around her shoulders. Much too vicious, she screeched. Elzer nodded with little more than a mumble, trying to play off the chattering of his teeth as purposeful, pondering what could have brought forth such a merciless chill so quickly; So violently. 

The answer seems obvious to Diluc, but that is a truth he keeps held tightly to himself. 

Punishment, he thinks. You took the warmth from the manor and all of Mondstadt when you left. Absence of heat has left an arctic presence in its retreat. He tries not to focus too much on it; But the days grow colder, the days fall shorter, and life is ever more bleaker. Trees are barren, snow builds on the veranda, and the lake you once pirouetted and danced in freezes over. 

Even worse, Ernst exemplifies himself as Mondstadt’s greatest mail courier in his commitment to delivery despite the freeze and danger. Diluc sees him every mid-morning, the man trudging through the blockage of snow with a wagon in tow. 

Diluc nods courteously to the man’s gloved wave. Sometimes a greeting is verbalized, other times the two men meet eyes and continue on with the day, and yet try as he might to deny it, carmine eyes linger on the postman in repressed desire. Hoping even as the man treks past the deciduous trees and his figure becomes smaller and smaller in Diluc’s line of sight, that maybe, just maybe, the man will stop in his place. Maybe, he’ll look into the wagon that holds the great number of tied mail, and turn around in surprise. Run back to Diluc with paper in his hand and a hearty laugh, forgot your mail, Master Diluc! The phrase caught on the wind and swirling its way back to him. Your script on the front of the letter. 

It never happens. 

Ernst fades into the white blanket of snow and Diluc finds great difficulty in trying to take his eyes off of his figure. It is only when the chill finally catches up to him and Adelinde screeches a scold to him that he returns inside. No letter in hand. He can't say that he’s surprised.

It’s been a little more than two weeks and the incident remains frigid. Only, no longer is it a crime scene of stained blood, but a coffin buried in the ground. A headstone hidden under two feet of snow. 

Reading: Here lies the friendship I once knew.

—

"Ah, Master Diluc. What a pleasant surprise."

"Kaeya."

It isn’t a surprise to see the owner of the Angel’s Share doing as he usually does behind the counter, but both men know that. To find Diluc in the sanctity of the tavern, away from the emptiness of the manor and in the warmth of the hearth  is almost traditional. But there is a certain stink that circulates throughout the tavern this morning; A pitiful one, sour and rancid. It emanates from the bartender in a choking waft that is even more pungent than usual. Kaeya almost coughs. 

Sauntering over to the counter, Kaeya seats himself with the kind of confidence that exists uniquely to him, hesitation hardly a recognizable shade in the man when asking for his usual. The request is met with a visible eye roll, but other than that, the two remain silent. 

Angel’s Share is empty this morning, save for the owner— understandably. Seven feet of snow lines the buildings within the walls of Mondstadt and were it not for the official weather advisory granted by the Knights of Favonius, business most likely would have come to a standstill on its own. Not Diluc, though. Never the honorable Master Diluc. 

His business stays open despite sending all of his workers home for shelter during the cold. How noble, how sweet. What a kind capitalist he is, one that knows exactly how to make Death After Noon just as Kaeya likes it.

Kaeya sips from the glass before finally deciding to break the silence. 

“Lovely weather we’re having, wouldn’t you agree?”

Diluc grunts disapprovingly. Kaeya takes another languid sip. Despite being appropriately dressed for it at all occasions and all hours of the day, Kaeya knows rather intimately Diluc’s averseness to freezing temperatures and strikes of chills.

“There is something so beautiful in the snow. Shame that our neighboring nations don’t get to see it too often. I’ve recently returned from an expedition to Liyue,” The corner of Kaeya’s mouth curls upward as he swirls his wine around in his glass. A knowing smile in the fact that even as Diluc maintains a focused gaze on the glass that he is drying, he has his complete attention. Caught at the mention of the nation, of what resides there. “Whispers of an outgroup seizing trading merchandise a little ways beyond Stone Gate led me there, and I must say I am quite envious at how un-winter-like Liyue can be.”

“Fascinating.” Diluc drolls, placing one glass down only to pick another up. Kaeya plows on, hardly bothered by the man.

“The snow practically stops at the edge, right before the marker of the two nations. Pretty impressive, if you ask me. Apparently they will see the rare bout of snow pull in from Dragonspine in a particularly cold season, or so I’ve heard. From a… friend.”

There is no room for insinuation, it couldn’t squeeze into the damn place even if it tried. Your name all but shouted throughout the emptiness of the tavern. Diluc grits his teeth, and try as Kaeya might to find some smugness in this—sadistic joy in the way that the man grows uncomfortable and fights the urge to run— he cannot.  For, try as he might to deny, Kaeya is and always remains his brother’s keeper. 

And Kaeya knows a man in longing when he sees one.

He figures he might earn some deductions on his ledger of sins for ending the other man’s suffering early. So he begins again. 

“You know, I was told a story during my time there. One, in particular, that I think you would find great value in.” Kaeya places the cup down, the sweet liquor of Death After Noon blossoming on his tongue, “Of course, it is a tale told to the children of Liyue to teach them certain morals, so I think you will be rather challenged in this story. Would you like to hear it?”

“I can’t imagine that I have much of a choice.”

“You don’t. Do try to pay attention.” Diluc gives nothing more than a bored glare at the man across the counter. Kaeya plows on. 

“This story began with a question: When roads converge, do we assume them as fate, or do we impose our will upon them?”

And so he weaves a familiar tale of the target of two gods, Morax and Guizhong. The brawn and brains, the seal of a contract and the cursive words it comprises of written by plume, stone and dust; The firm and the wise. An unlikely partnership formed throughout the centuries, the makers of the era.

A tale of Morax, who has always been much too hard-headed, incapable of seeing the path laid before them, and Guizhong— sweet Guizhong, whose smile settled ashes and her wrath decimated stone to particles— finding herself as Morax’s advisor. The growth of wisdom from shouldered burdens and friendship, an unexpected term that hardened stone accepted in time. 

A tale of growing affections, hidden smiles, and intertwining fates, lingering in the coiling of their lives together yet never voiced. Always dancing beneath the grounds of sand and stone. Until war ravaged their land of prosperity and brought an end to their union—Guizhong laying stricken upon the Guili Plains, her ichor forming into the rivers of the land, her flesh becoming one with the grass. Dying, in his hands, bemoaning their fate of all that was left unspoken.

“And Morax looked down upon the fallen god with what one could only describe as deep sorrow and asked, ‘Why has this happened? Why could you not have waited for me?’. Guizhong, taking her last breath, said to the god of stone, ‘I would if you had asked me.’” 

Kaeya draws a finger around the rim of his cup, his one revealed eye flicking up to Diluc, knowing stare boring into the red-haired man. “A tragic story of missed opportunities. But of course, it is just a fable.” 

Diluc says nothing, but meets his brother’s stare with a stoic one of his own. Cold and void, as it always is, but swirling in the iris of flames lies the starting spark Kaeya was looking for. The twinge of reminiscence; The flint striking against stone in the flicker of realized parallels. 

“Riveting.” The barkeep says, tearing the windows of his soul away from the man who rivals him in skill of knowing all. But, is it really in the silent ability to read the room or is it in knowing Diluc well beyond any shadow of a doubt that has Kaeya acting as lighter for the wicker of ignition?

"I heard our friend came into town."

“You heard correctly.”

“I heard she came with a question.”

Diluc stills and Kaeya hums. As though he had nary a worry in the world and all the time for this moment, he brings the cup to his lips and takes a slow sip of the wine. Long and obnoxious and captivating for all the wrong reasons. Diluc can’t help but watch as terse silence settles between the two of them, the fire of frustration licking at the nape of his neck just as Kaeya seems to grow colder in his seat. 

If only arrogant Kaeya would stop playing his mind games. 

Detached and quiet and entirely too pleased, Kaeya sits at the fact that as much as Diluc tries to deny it, they both know he is dying for Kaeya’s next words.

 If only precious Diluc would stop being so stubborn and admit that he needs help.

The glass is placed on the counter with a gentle clack, and neither man can deny the weight that escalates at that moment. “The poor girl practically offered herself on a golden platter. Well, as much as a dignified noble woman could.” 

“She asked for my opinion on her suitors—”

“And she was hoping you would make yourself one of them.”

“That—you do not know that.” Diluc seems affronted, almost scandalized.

Kaeya sighs this time, loud and obnoxious, “No, of course I don’t. It’s not like she and I remain friends outside of you.”

Gloved hands place an ivory piece of paper on the wooden bar surface. Beckoned forward by unfettered curiosity, Diluc wastes no time in picking the item up, hardly remorseful even if a smirk settles onto the tanned man’s face. 

“If you do not make yourself known, someone else will. Sooner rather than later, it seems.”

The paper reads: Kaeya Alberich, you are cordially invited to the wedding of Mikhail Tsaverich and — 

Diluc tears his eyes away before he can make out the neat script of your name on the paper. 

“I know that you have a tendency to make a fool of yourself, but do try to not waste the opportunity that is presented before you.” Kaeya raises a brow, leaning his head on his closed fist. “The gods have made the mistakes so that we do not repeat them.”

Vermillion eyes meet crystalline ones, perfect fragments meeting together. 

“I am, unfortunately, rooting for you. I quite like our girl.”

The words linger within Diluc far longer than he would like to admit. They swirl around him even as Kaeya makes his teasing departure—Until next time, he said. They echo in the emptiness of the tavern, they trail behind him as he rides horseback to the manor. His boots are caked with the frost, and his ears are bitten with the freeze, but all that he can feel is the steady pulse of his Kaeya’s words. 

Do not waste the opportunity before you.

Night falls but sleep eludes him. He sits in his bed and ponders, before deciding that he must do what he does with all of Kaeya’s keen words of wisdom and ignore it. 

Imagine his surprise when he finds that he just can’t.

—

Rage finds Diluc in the guest bedroom a month later. Your bedroom.

The snow is at its thickest, wet and cold, blanketing all of Mondstadt in its frosty embrace and daring them to try to escape. No one attempts to compete with the force of nature, even the valiant Ernst throwing in the towel as blizzards obscure the pathways and the days begin to blur together in the white wall of relentless snow. 

The manor is kept warm by the fires that Adelinde stokes, but it does nothing to soothe the deep and aching chill that settles within Diluc. It grinds his teeth, has him pacing the rooms. Unable to sit with the unease now in being so cold all the time. 

(He remembers a time like this once before. When the shadows of blue and red converged so violently, only to part in equal fierceness. The kind of wintry bitterness that stings from the hollowness of a severed bond. The immediate aftermath of his father’s death.

Quietly, he wonders what Kaeya is up to.) 

Adelinde, for all her mother henning, seems to understand that the discomposure that runs through him isn’t something she can solve. So, she keeps the fires warm, lights the candles in corridors and arched niches of the home, and keeps her distance. Although, if Diluc didn’t know any better he would think she’s keeping him out of her way. Annoyance and ire from the woman has been kept well fed and loved by her hand if her continued scoffs and mumbles are anything to bear in mind. It leaves her just one hair's width away from lecturing him once more—not that he needs anymore of it. He’s at the receiving end of his own indignation plenty.

Tonight, however, that familiar bite of his own self hatred is sparked by the flames. 

In the crackle of the wood, he hears a laugh oddly similar to yours ringing throughout the room; Sees your figure dancing in the swirling and heightening flames. As quick as he sees it, it disappears.

He had been attempting to write a letter—an unfortunate consequence of Kaeya’s lingering words. At the very least, an explanation behind his behavior, a request for an update on your life, and maybe even, hidden beneath the flowery description of a cold Mondstadt and the dull season of the wine business, a quiet apology; A plea to reconsider. Each attempt is more pitiful than the last, the words becoming less poised and more of a mad man’s ramble as ink scribbles across the surface; Looking more jagged and unsteady than the previous. Paper after paper is thrown into the inferno and with it, his patience. 

Frustration leads to the rage. He has no clue as to what parasite of uncertainty has bitten him so deeply, and that pushes him further. Hating that he has no idea where this has come from, why it is happening now after so many months, why this blasted thing won’t go away. Macabrely, he wonders what limb he needs to cut off to finally rid himself of its unabated punishment. It burrows so profoundly within him that he’s willing to take a gamble and partake in self-mutilation of all visible skin until he is fixed. Hack away at each joint of meeting bone with his claymore until the solution is found. 

Until his mind is rid of your violent eyes and your corrosive goodbye. Maybe then he will find some semblance of sweet relief. 

Diluc is proud fire and acidic sulfur. He does not and should not doubt himself. It is unbecoming of him to be so dubious of his own actions. Were you to stand before him now and pose the same question that you did in the Fall, he would have largely the same response that he did then. He’s sure of it. He would still be unmoving in his confidence that an arranged marriage was a barbaric idea; He would continue to rage at your disposition in being so accepting of it; He would maintain his morality in asserting that you need not be bound by such a restricting design. There was no need, no purpose. 

But…if he was to be largely the exact same now as he was before, why does he keep replaying the memory in his mind? Running every look, every sigh, every word that comes off your tongue over and over and over. Wondering what could have been said differently to make you see what he meant; Wondering what he could have posed more nicely and less igniting to have made you stay. 

He quickly shakes away the thought. No— there is nothing he could have done or said that would not have been a compromisation of his own ethics. He himself is not only to blame. You were equally as acidic, as defamin of his meaning in the height of the argument. 

Such is the truth and the truth is final. The truth cares not about feelings. He has grown accustomed to that notion. 

(Then why are his so hurt?)

His feet find himself in the bedroom before he knows any better. In search of… something. An answer, maybe, in an item left behind. Any sign of you that he can conjure up seeing as three months have passed since that wretched argument and he has nothing to show for the fate of the friendship other than its ashes.

No letter and no lingering scent of you; No gifted cor lapis and certainly no mundane detailing of day to day life, and thoughts, and jests, and imparted wisdom that he knows to only come from you. That he only listens to if they come from you. There is nothing left but a raging mind and the burning lacerated wound of a scorned memory. 

It’s a fool's game, he knows. Adelinde had gone in and cleaned the room after her long stew of anger upon your departure, so chances are if there was anything for Diluc to find, it is long gone now. Having been taken away by Adelinde’s hand. The thought of that fills him with a quiet seethe that he knows is beyond irrational. It’s his fault he hadn’t entered the room after you left, much like it is his fault that he hadn’t entered when you were still here. Even with the light off, he should’ve entered, admitted his faults and come to a truce. If only to still have you. 

The room is dark upon his entrance, lit only by the dying fire previously mended by the headmistress. The bed is made neatly, royal ruby covers folded with expert precision and the curtained posts drawn back to reveal the array of pillows that decorate its surface. 

This room has, more or less, always belonged to you. It is where his father hosted yours and when you tagged along on business ventures, where you stayed. That tradition remained. The room becoming less of a guest room and more of your own room, right between Diluc’s and Kaeya’s. Playing in one or the other when either brother decided they wanted your attention. 

Toys and Guoba plushies left behind remained in there, sometimes summer clothing and bathing suits would remain stocked and stored in the dresser drawers for your future arrivals. Remnants of you have always decorated the room beside his which is what makes its neat barrenness so much more jarring. 

The room is practically wiped of any memory of you, due in part to the natural passage of time— where plushies were replaced with whatever task you brought that is seen as the new fad taken up by young socialites, and summer clothes were outgrown and changed with wear that are appropriate for maturing young women, everything in this room has aged just as you and he— 

This is the natural progression of things, yet he remains resistant. This is what would have naturally happened; You would soon marry, arranged or otherwise, and this room that belongs to you would slowly become empty. Disused, void of you, unless you were to occasionally visit alongside your husband, whoever he may be. and your… children; because that too would be the natural progression of things. 

Then this room would become theirs, and he would make sure it was known that it was theirs. 

And maybe that is what bothers him the most. It never came to mind that this room would be empty because he had always assumed, one way or another, a part of you would always be in it—married or not. Ideally, it would have been you married to him. Or neither of you married. Together in the infinite in the ways and routines that are so known to you both, content with each other. 

He would have been elated, beyond happy were that the case. It speaks volumes to him that he hadn’t realized that sooner or later, you wouldn’t be. 

He is sat on the edge of your bed, lost in the thought of possibility, when Adelinde enters. 

“Would you like me to start a fire, Master Diluc?” She asks, quietly, head poking into the room. 

Diluc’s gaze is too fixed, too comfortable staring into the void, so he remains there. He says, “No, thank you. No need.”

“You are not cold?”

“If I was, I could surely start one myself.”

Adelinde hums noncommittally. She lingers for a second in the doorway before moving forward to him, sitting beside him on the bed. She heaves a great breath and Diluc prepares for the lecture. 

He will take it, as he always does. He just hopes she’ll cut it short this time. 

Instead, she asks only a question. “Are you going to finally tell me what happened or would you rather continue looking into the void?”

Quiet settles, in the same way that it has existed in this house for eons. Sobering, stilting quiet that aches and etches into the depths of bones. Weaving into the fabric of skin, unspoken truths tearing at the seams, begging for their voice.

It is through great misery and effort that Diluc is able to clench his teeth together and finally utter the wretched words. “She is… getting married.”

Adelinde’s face betrays no thought, unfortunately. There would have been great catharsis in being able to see some kind of validation seep into her face, but alas, wrinkled lines of wisdom remain soft. She hums. “To a good man?”

Diluc is quick. “No.”

“Does she know that?”

He grits his teeth, skin splitting further as the coal ignited deep in him simmers a low broil. “It was made abundantly clear.”

“Well, you have always had a way with words.” Adelinde folds her hands on her thighs with a sigh. “How do you feel about it?”

“Fine.”

“Hush now, child. Do not lie in this house. Your father taught you better than that.”

Offense should be taken at the reduction of age, but he cannot muster strength nor energy to deny the truth of the matter. The angst within him reduces him, grinds him, wears away the tethers of tendon to bone and makes him feel like the rageful child he once was years ago. Violent at the spring of growth, harboring resentment for a world that demanded so much from his father, from his brother, from him— 

He is eleven, again. Furious at the news of his mother’s death at sea, Adelinde whispering in his ear to voice the tense feelings of grief that he could not yet name, feelings that you smothered with the feel of your hug. He is eighteen, blade stained with the ichor of his father, readying it at the throat of another and willing to stain it once more with that of his brother, stuck in the aftermath of a solitude interrupted only by the delivery of your letters—letters he could not answer, yet. He is twenty, swallowing the thirst for revenge with the blood of fatui, traversing through Teyvat in search of answers that will forever be inadequate, writing to you (finally) from wherever he lands, detailing no more than his safety and a promise to return home. 

He is all of those at once, a child again. Sitting on this bed, feeling the emotion that turmoiled in his youth bubble once more within him. 

“...Angry.” He grits out, finally. The ability to voice that which festers within him is less of an achievement of emotional intelligence but instead the identification of the familiar taste of a fire that simmers on his tongue. 

“And why is that?” Adelinde probes. Diluc rolls his eyes.

“Because she should not marry him.” 

Adelinde blinks calmly. “Because she should not marry him or because you do not want her to marry him?”

A mirthless laugh tumbles out of his mouth. “Is that not the same thing?”

Adelinde knowingly hums and he can taste wrath that settles like burnt tar, charred pieces of skin that rolls around in his mouth before he finally decides to spit them out. “If you have something to say, Adelinde, speak it.”

She waits for a moment, a solid and silent beat that weighs in the air before she asks. “Why did you not offer?”

“Arranged marriages are barbaric. She should be free to choose whoever she wants to marry—”

“And she had her pick to choose from. Why did you not make yourself one?”

“Selecting from a batch of suitors is not a free choice. That is asking to pick the lesser of two evils, where is the freedom in that?”

“There is freedom in the choice.” She says, simply.

“It is a forced hand.”

“One that only you are unsettled by.”

Diluc’s head snaps towards the headmistress, his eyes narrowed in a venomous stare that she meets with fortified steel. “What is it that you trying to say?”

Adelinde shrugs elegantly, as though this were a mere discussion about the weather, or dinner options rather than a fated conversation about marriage, and love, and you. “You are attempting to rewrite rules to a game that has existed long before you. You clearly want something, and yet, you are unwilling to navigate the game to get it—”

“You believing marriage to be a game affirms that my position is correct.”

“Diluc—” Adelinde says, suddenly serious. “Did you not offer yourself because you are afraid she would not pick you?” 

Diluc stares widely into the woman, stomach dropping at the utterance of his great fear. Coal stifled in its blaze, water dousing the flame as he is realized in the words of actuality. 

He stares, eyes of vermillion boring into the motherly figure. Adelinde takes his silence for affirmation and speaks with a heaviness that should take to mean her conviction in the matter, or, the extent of her confusion. “Why ever would she not?”

Words unable to string together, he is a child again. Figuring out how to piece emotions together through crafted hand cards made by the headmistress for moments when he could not voice what he felt, but instead could point. His finger, made bloody with how often he picked at the skin, pointing to the card written in purple ink, stained with juices of grapes for emphasis. 

Humiliated.

He finds himself muttering, “You did not see how she looked at me.”

“As though she were angry?” Adelinde raises a brow, a quiet admonish to the man beside her that looks just like the boy she used to wipe tears from, “People are allowed to be angry at you Diluc and it mean nothing more than the fact that they were angry with you. Just as you were angry with her. It is not a statement of your character.”

“You do not understand.” Diluc begins again, self-hatred and reproach ready to be released from the confines of the mind that it has swirled around so viciously in for all of these months. He is tired. He is weary. He wishes he could wake up and have this be the end of the nightmare. “I am not a good match for her.”

“A decade of friendship would speak otherwise.”

“We cannot return from where we came because of how I acted. I was mean and insulting, and yet I had never been more true to my feelings. I could not hide my nature even for the one I love the most, how could anyone ever be deserving of that?”

“Did you ever think that, maybe, the severity of your feelings intensified your anger?” “That does not make it acceptable.”

“You are right. You are long overdue in issuing an apology, but my dear, you spoke without filter in the heat of a moment. It is but a mistake.”

“She deserves better.”

“Archons above, Diluc, one would think with your manner of speaking that you have violated her innocence! She is not a girl, she is a woman. Give her more credit to understand and make her own decisions—with,” Adelinde emphasizes, holding a finger up before Diluc could even think to interrupt her with a string of excuses explaining how you have, in fact, made your decision to marry, “all of the facts of the situation. Namely, how you feel about her.”

Adelinde scoffs. Tickled at her train of thought. “Besides, if either of you cannot handle one disagreement, then maybe marriage should be a tabled conversation.”

“This was a fight.”

“One you will overcome. Diluc, here you sit looking into a darkness that promises you nothing because you believe that is what you deserve. But I am telling you that you are deserving of a happiness that you may think is well beyond your reach, but it is right there. You need only to apologize and speak to her.”

“What if it goes wrong?”

“You have sat in rage for years, my dearest. Why not let yourself find joy in what you know will bring it?” Adelinde smiles. She steps closer, her fingertips brushing aside the stray crimson hairs that fall onto his face. “You forget, my darling boy, that I raised all three of you. I know each of you better than you know yourselves.” 

And for a moment, Adelinde’s heart aches with a pointed swell. She sees a young boy once more, eyes glassy, fear holding tightly onto a long-held hope.

“When you decide to stop looking through your own eyes, and start looking through another, maybe then you will see that they want it, too. So instead, ask yourself, what if it goes right?”

Equinox

The Tsaverichs are an ambitious bunch. 

Your father makes note of this characteristic to you in a low murmur, watching with little enthusiasm as your future father-in-law booms and bellows with audacious designs for the impending wedding. Gathered in your family’s office in Feiyun Slope, the Tsaverich Family sits opposite of yours as details of the union slowly begin to be ironed out—emphasis on slowly. 

Despite the eager receipt in which the Tsaverichs acknowledged your acceptance of the marriage arrangement, their propensity for grandeur is oftentimes contradicting and irritating to your father’s own demands.

(“Cranes are a sacred animal to Liyue. We will not be detaining five-hundred of them for release at the wedding.”

“You wish to invite… how many people?”

“Out of the question! My daughter will not declare herself allegiant to the fatui in her vows!”)

Your groom-to-be sits quiet beside his father, silent to his demands and hardly makes any effort to look you in the eyes. Ten meetings so far about wedding preparations and your groom has done little more than provide a quick nod of his head and offer a surprised gasp at his father’s mentioning of future children. (Another detail attempted to be negotiated into the preparations: the immediacy of an heir upon your union. Your father—your hero, really—is quick to strike that from the table altogether.)

You do well to hide your smile as your father huffs another sigh of annoyance underneath his breath, but it remains a difficult task. Especially as your future father-in-law preaches incessantly about how important the venue to the wedding is for the sixth time, about what it means for the union, and other details that you try to listen to but repeatedly find slipping between the threshold of reality and thought. 

Consciousness caught between the dismayed feelings of your reality, of the eerie creep of the winter chill that seeps through the floorboards despite the fire blazing in the corner; Thoughts linger on the remaining tasks for the day, impending ledgers to sign, travels to prepare for; Memories springing to the forefront of your mind, how you wish you were ten again, running through fields of open grass without a care or an obligation to a man who can hardly look your way. 

How you wish Diluc were around to keep you company. How unassuming he would find these negotiations to be, how you would make it your life purpose to get him to crack a smile at that very moment. How angry you are with him.

You sip at your tea, bitterly. 

“--and that is why we demand that the union take place in the Schneznayan Mountains, as a respect for our culture and a formal introduction of the bride into her new home nation.”

Your father heaves a great breath, rubbing the weariness out of his eyes with two fingers. “As mentioned before, Tsaverich, we do not oppose a celebration within Snezhnaya. This is a union of two families, we will have two celebrations.” 

Tsaverich guffaws, his rotund stomach jumping with the action. “I will take a firm stance that two celebrations are preposterous! We are already spending a fortune on the one alone, two is simply making a mockery of the whole affair. And it must be in Snezhnaya, where the bride will live and where her children will be born.”

“I take this as a grand offense to my daughter’s nationality, Tsaverich. Do you wish to erase Liyue entirely from my daughter and my future grandchildren? These were not terms we agreed to upon acceptance of your arrangement.”

“Of course not, my good sir, but you must consider this from our perspective.”

“I have heard of your perspective greatly.” Your father sighs before standing to address the whole table. “I propose a different solution altogether.”

An array of pensive gazes follow his movements, your own included. Your father is prone to his eccentricities, the many of which have become great friends of his during his time as an entrepreneur. It has made for moments like this, a simple gesture coupled with a phrase having the entirety of the room still in anticipation of his next movement. Your father, a monolith, in a room full of mortal men. 

“They marry in neither of our nations.”

Said monolith states his solution with little qualm, even as the entourage of advisors and planners emit a low gasp at your father’s suggestion and your own head snaps to him in earnest—beyond curious. It’s not an unheard of solution, but certainly a drastic one considering the company currently kept.   

Your father bypasses the general din of unease with little more than a wave of his hand. 

“If we cannot come to an agreement about either location, we shall find another means of compromise. Hence the idea. I believe I have sourced an appropriate and fair opportunity for this and I hope—” In perfect timing, a knock resounds throughout the office. The door behind your father being the spotted culprit. He turns towards it with comical eagerness, practically dancing on his feet. “Ah, right on time!”

He approaches the door with a giddiness that is hardly seen within a negotiation room— as though his victory lies behind the wooden divide. His trump card ready for presentation, willing to wipe the room and render everyone speechless. 

There is much to admire about your father, but his ability to forgo proprietary notions in business meetings will certainly always be a top quality. It never fails to pull the corners of your lips, much like it currently does. A small smile crossing your face despite the horrendous nature of the planning so far, particularly when your father’s hanfu sways with his flippant movements. It is hard to deny that your father’s own excitement functions as a social contagion, your own interest beyond piqued. 

“I present the solution to our venue issue!” With his hand on the knob, your father delivers a grand smile to the room of waiting attendants and a pointed wink your way. Opening the door, he announces his winning deal with grandeur and delight. 

“Master Diluc Ragnvindr!”

Said interest shatters at the mere mention. 

There is great fortune in the fact that the name of the individual is equally as egregious to your Snezhnayan counterparts as it is to you— your startlement quickly concealed by the furious uproar of your future father-in-law and gasps of his entourage. 

A vision of red and black steps into the room, hardened boots deafening a hollow sound on the wooden floor as his presence fills the empty spaces of the room not contained by the shrieks of shock. 

You stare in angered amazement; Three months of stilted silence and lingering wounds have obscured the memory of his face into something more treacherous, vicious, and unkind. But, as he stands in the room affronted with the great upset that his arrival has caused, in a room filled with people, his eyes find yours in a split second. And they hold. 

You remember this face, even as your heart has tampered with recollection to protect you from the hurt, made him into something jagged and meaner. But you know this face, know the softness of his skin and the sharpness of his jaw; Dream of the breadth of his shoulders and the hauntingly beautiful warmth of his smile. 

You have gone a great deal of time without seeing him before—such is the nature of a long distance friendship. But, this time, Diluc Ragnvindr stands before you exactly as you remember him to be— eyes still the same burning shade, sharp and narrowed and able to pick apart a person with little more than a quick flick up and down. He is dressed as intimidatingly as he always does and the air that surrounds him is much the same as it always has been, and yet— there is something entirely different about him.

He is not the same man that stood in the dining room staunchly opposed to you, alight with anger and a furrowed brow that creases the delicacy of his even face. He is someone new altogether; A renewed vigor. A sense of determination.

Handsome. Frustratingly so.

You do not dare to take your eyes off him, even as anger simmers beneath you and the memories of your argument fill the silence. He does not move himself either; He lets himself be scrutinized and the object of ire. Not a new position for him to be in, but it is clear from the direction of his gaze that he lets himself be seen—unabashedly, unwaveringly by the entirety of the room—for you. 

A familiar language seems to speak in the meeting of your gazes. The words natural and inherent even in the gliding fit of anger. Bad habits finding themselves once more. 

It is your future father-in-law that shatters the charged gaze. 

“My, this is absolutely preposterous! You have invited a traitor to our familial conversations. He is not welcome here and I find your behavior to be most insulting to us and our great nation!” The Tsaverich patriarch boasts a face as red as jueyun chilis, his head shaking from side to side in search of validation in his entourage’s gaze. 

Your father placates, his hands held up in surrender. “Please, Tsaverich. Hear us, for just a moment. Master Diluc is not only one of Teyvat’s greatest businessmen, but he is an upstanding gentleman and friend. His late father was my dear companion, and Master Diluc has come to be his exact likeness. He has been a most trusted advisor and also a dear ally to my daughter. Let bygones be bygones in pursuit of our children’s future.”

Only then does Diluc tear his eyes from yours, meeting the gaze of Tsaverich and his son with a polite bow of his head that you imagine he swallowed a great amount of pride to do. 

It is only then can you finally exhale the breath you had not realized you were holding.

“I come only to offer a solution.” He says, low and even. Steadied, as if practiced. Sure, as though he truly believed the words he had said. “In favor of a friend.”

“Unbelievable.” Tsaverich mutters, and you can’t help but agree. 

You find it difficult to believe, relatively unfathomable. You were made acquainted with a man blistering in fury at the prospect of your marriage to a Tsaverich and here he stands offering a solution. 

Insult to injury, practically. A machination of divine intervention, surely, for only the gods would be so interested in seeing the mortals squirm with discomfort. 

“I offer a venue in Dawn Winery.” Diluc begins again, his hands folded behind his back and his stature erect and poised. Standing beside your father, he appears the very picture of an intimidating man. The spitting image of his father, with the same sense of honor. “The couple can hold the ceremony on our grounds with the full assistance of the manor’s staff and complimentary wine to celebrate the event.”

“No. The couple will be married in Snezhnaya and that is final!”

“I offer Mondstadt not as a means to usurp your desire, but to find a middle ground. Mondstadt is a friendly and fair nation, it holds allegiance to both families. The couple marries on neutral lands and the families avoid a generational war of resentment. It is a fair offer, Tsaverich.”

Whatever logic could be perceived at the suggestion at this moment is thoroughly clouded by the vindicating sulfur of rage. Tsaverich ignores Diluc entirely, his gaze and finger aimed directly at your father. “This is an insult to our very name. You could not be honorable enough to suggest it yourself, you had to be in cahoots with an enemy to our great nation—”

“Not an enemy. Just banned from entry.” Diluc clarifies stoically and, finally, you find reason to interject within the conversation. Albeit, involuntarily. A huff of laughter escapes your mouth, one that you quickly try to mask lest you fuel fires further. (Either, the branding fire of anger belonging to Tsaverich or the slow burning flame in the eyes of vermillion that are waiting, begging, for the catch of wind to breathe life into it. You wish to avoid both. A glance upward reveals that you’ve stoked one.

Familiar eyes flicker to yours again and a corner of his mouth is pulled upward. For only a second.)

“For heinous behavior!” Tsaverich bellows again, finger wagging in the air. 

Your father begins again, tone soothing. “Once more, I beg you to let things remain in the past—” 

Tsaverich points a finger accusingly at your father, “This is all very odd on your part, my good sir. Are you intending to sabotage this wedding?”

“Why don’t we defer to the couple for their opinions on the matter?” Your father says, quieting the murmurs of the room. Eyes fall quickly to Mikhail for answer but you feel the flaming burn of a particular pair land on you.

Mikhail seems startled that things have landed on him. A cold sweat seems to emerge upon his brow as his hands wring together. “Me?”

“Yes, you! Out with it, boy!”

Mikhail hesitates, his eyes bouncing from his father to the other members of his party. His mouth opens, his own thoughts and words coming to the forefront—the first to have ever graced the many convened sessions of wedding planning so far— before they disappear entirely at the closing of his mouth. His father bores a heinous glare into him and, briefly, you see the rest of your life in this moment. 

Set forever to be sat at a table on the discussions of your marriage between three people. You, Mikhail, and his father. It is a desolate image and, not for the first time since this all began, do you feel the bile of dread push up your throat. 

Finally, Mikhail decides to voice an opinion. “I-I believe my father is right.”

“That settles it!” Tsaverich begins quickly thereafter, his hand clapping his son’s shoulder so hard it jerks the boy forward. “The couple wishes to be married in their future nation. Let us put an end to this nonsense—”

“There are two people to be married and one of them has yet to speak.” Diluc’s tone is that familiar bite, the kind that was aimed at you three months ago. It is a gentlemanly gnash of his teeth, but his intent is verbose. Poisonous as he tears his deathly glare away from Tsaverich before finally falling onto you. 

Eyes softening, only then. 

“You have not spoken.” He says to you, gently. 

And you’ve never been one to need anyone to offer you the stage—you’re a negotiator, an Ambassador. You’ve learned how to command things when necessary. This is not Diluc being a savior, but instead, him being earnest—interested to know your position, determined to hear your thoughts. Which makes this all the more confusing.

He did not want to hear your opinion three months ago. Diluc was wholeheartedly, completely, and violently uninterested in any conversation surrounding arranged marriages— and yet, here he stands. Asking for your opinion on your own. 

You hate how easy it is to give it upon being asked by him.

“Forgive my silence,” You begin after a long beat. Sparing a glance to the number of people in the room, you compose yourself as quickly as you can. “I meant only to consider all positions before offering an opinion.”

“Heartily forgiven, my darling.” Your father beams, sweetly. “This is your wedding, you are allowed to do and ask as you please. Forgive us for forgetting that detail. Tell us, what are your thoughts?”

You nod, fingers fiddling with themselves as you find the correct words to tell. 

“It… is as Master Diluc says. Mondstadt is not only friendly territory for the two families that have conducted business there, but it is also my second home. Let us abide by a matter of principles. If venue is the object of contention, then I vote for the compromise.”

Tsaverich looks heartily annoyed by your words while your father beams a perfect picture of a proud man. Entirely too pleased to see that his plan has worked, thus far. You find your attention, however, drawn to someone else entirely.

Diluc stares at you as though fate were predicated on you entirely. 

And it is. The words are heavy coming from your mouth, an admitted desire at the revelation of your long held truth. It is breathy and uneven and the unearthing of truths that shatters the foundations of carefully built walls.  

“Let us begin a marriage with peace and trust. End the stalemate. I wish to be married on Dawn Winery.” 

He looks at you, a burning flame in his eyes. And for a moment you can see the unspoken language, you can hear the whisper of what he means to say ring in your ear.

Your father claps, its startling sound resounding throughout the room. 

“Well! There’s our answer! It is the bride’s big day after all, I believe we should defer to her wishes on this matter. Let’s put this down as a tentative idea. I will gather with Master Diluc to discuss more of the finer details of the venue, but for now let us all break for a much needed dinner.”

— 

He is quick to follow you, right on your heels as you lead a path from your father’s office into the upper pavilion. Past the lingering staff and into the seclusion of your own personal office where high windows overlook Liyue Harbor and the sun casts its setting hue into the room. The warmth of orange bathes the quaintness of your personal items in a settling glow. Your desk is filled with papers, and ledgers, and charming trinkets given to you over the years; Pictures of your family, a childhood dog, and even him, scattered on surfaces. The room is hardly fitting for the arena in which your emotions threaten to spill onto the man before you, but you suppose neither was a dining hall. 

You and Diluc certainly are aiming to have a knack for disagreements emboldened in the safety of personal spaces. 

“Is this your way of mocking me?” You turn quickly on your heels as soon as the doors to the office close. The question is pointedly aimed and his face contorts into a furrow.

“No, this isn’t that at all—”

“Then petty revenge, is it? A final ‘I told you so’? Even if my father did come to you for assistance, you should not have involved yourself—”

“He didn’t.” Diluc interrupts quickly. He holds his hand up in gesture and you notice briefly that in the duration of the walk back to your office, he has removed his gloves. They remain folded in his hands. “I offered to your father the Dawn Winery as a venue for your wedding.”

Your head pulls back, confusion etched on your brow. “...You offered?”

“Yes.”

You blink owlishly and despite the discomfort, Diluc has never stood more surely on his feet. “I do not understand. You oppose this wedding.”

“I do.”

“You said you did not wish to be involved.”

“I did.”

“Then why would you offer?”

The question does not catch him by surprise. It is one he knew would be asked and yet it still renders him quiet. All that which he had rehearsed, fortified as explanation when sleep evaded him and his attention waning as he rode horseback between the trail leading to Liyue, falls through at the moment of demand. He is speechless despite having much to say. 

The only words able to fall through his mouth at the sight of your furrowed gaze and waiting figure is: “I was a complete fool—“

“Of epic proportions.” You interject, and he nods absently. Deservedly.

“Yes. And, in my foolishness, I realized that I do not wish to be right. I care only to have you speak to me again. I was wrong to dismiss what was so important to you, and it was wrong of me to treat you so coldly. That is not how one treats their friends, and it certainly never should have been how I treated you, especially not when you had come to me for comfort.” He grips the gloves tightly in his hands, fingers wrenching over the leather material. If you look hard enough, you can see the blanching of his knuckles. “I was prideful, and angry, and that is my nature that I am ashamed I could not hide, even for you. But, I had to come. I had to see you.”

The space between you two—where he stands by the door and you by your desk—feels like the proverbial sea splitting apart lighthouses. Both of you, lamps circling and splitting through the fog, just barely missing alignment with one another. 

"I am not, nor will I ever be, proud of the man I was that night." He says and there is no shyness to his tone. He almost seems to grow taller, more emboldened where he stands, displaying his seriousness to the words he speaks. He means to make no mistake with his words. 

He stands before you replacing the man of rage you saw all those months ago with an apologetic one. Believing everything he says.

The hue of the setting sun wafts across his figure pristinely, softening the sharpness of the features that your angry mind made him out to be. The sculpted physique that has turned him from boy to man. An honorable man, always and still. 

The fortified walls of your sorrow crumble at the sight of him. Three months of built steel and rage crumbling in an instant and it is pathetic, and pitiful of you. Your beating heart tears at the sinews and seams as the truth confronts itself once more. You are and will always be in love with a man you cannot have. 

You will live your life in union with another, and still think of the tenderness of his gaze and the honesty of his words. Of his care for you. To cross a nation and offer his home in something that he despises, solely for the sake of an apology. For you.

For his friend.

You pull your gaze away, looking instead to the gold inlaid hourglass on your desk. You spin the object, more content to watch the sand spin than to look at the man before you. "I am not foolish enough to think that I am blameless in this disagreement. I cannot fault you entirely for your response. I knew it would draw forth an argument and still, I sought your counsel. And then, I ran when I was hurt by your feelings that were the fault of my actions. But, it was not your temper that hurt me."

The floorboards creak with the shuffling of his feet, his nerves once safely concealed by the steadiness of his figure suddenly betrayed by the squeaking wood. "Then…it was what I said?"

You sigh, sadly. "It was what you didn't say."

Diluc swallows, almost stuttering. "What... what did you want me to say?"

Your eyes are drawn to him, then. Something burns there, something that was burning once before in your father’s office. Your mouth opens and closes, hesitancy shuddering through you like a frigid chill. 

It comes forward, the truth, "...Diluc." You exhale it away, softly, before shaking your head. 

Diluc steps forward, crossing the sea and approaching the gravel of your shore. “No, no. Please. Tell me. I would like to be better. I would like to have my friend back.”

He takes your reticence to mean ways in which he can be a better comfort, a better friend in times of need. It isn't what you mean at all. You know what you wanted him to say, what you wished he would do. 

Sensing you pulling away further, Diluc begins again. “I… do not know how to express myself so freely like you. I do not know how to express myself so freely to you. But in that inability I realized that I was at risk of losing one of the most important people in my life. So, please, tell me how I can be better and I will.”

It would be pathetic to tell him that you had hoped that he would declare a love for you that he has never given an indication of. How stupid of you would it be to admit that the love you held for Diluc is not in the way that friends do, but something deeper, something more consuming.

“Maybe we are no longer meant to be friends. Maybe this was meant to happen.” You whisper. There is a tightness in your throat, a stone forming in the depths that your voice cannot overcome. “I am to be married soon and off to another nation. The nature of our friendship will surely change. Maybe this is for the best.”

Diluc steps forward again, a desperate hurry to his movements as he draws himself ever nearer. “I do not believe that. And I do not believe that you believe that.”

“I cannot live with a crumbling friendship, Diluc. Let us end it, be done with it. This is too big of an obstacle, we cannot be as we once were.”

In a turn of efforts, it is Diluc then who is forcing himself into your eyesight. A sharp contrast to months ago when you were the one pleading to be seen by his avoiding gaze. He bends his head down, boring his eyes into yours as you try to lean away. “You mean to tell me that only I have lived in the misery of our silence for these past three months?”

And you want to lie, if only to further avoid the ache and the drawing out of this, but you cannot. Your heart does not allow it. Not with him. 

“No.” The sharp threat of tears line your eyes. Diluc’s hands move quickly. They cast his gloves onto the surface of your desk and rest on the sides of your arms, gathering you into his hold. Squeezing you softly. 

“You cannot live with a crumbling friendship, but I will never be able to live without you. Your company, your voice, just thinking of you keeps me sane. My words cannot be easily forgotten, I know, but I beg you, come back. Be angry at me, treat me coldly, I do not care. So long as you are here. I cannot live without my friend.”

“But can you live with a friend who has made a decision that you disapprove of?”

Slow moving and rolling fog of silence clutters the room. Diluc swallows. The answer is obvious in the wavering of his stare, in the tightening of his hands on your arms. You wait. 

His voice is a low and a desperate plea. “Do not marry him—”

“Diluc—” 

He remains determined. Words picking up in speed, in desperation.

“You deserve more than him. You deserve someone who knows you like I do, knows your heart—not your fortune. You deserve to be in a marriage that is happy, and true, and of your choice—”

“Some people are not meant to marry for love. Some concessions must be made. And that is my choice!” You argue, again. Shaking your vehemently. His hold on you remains fixed and in this battle you realize that his face has become so much more closer to yours. 

“You can. We can.” He insists. “Make a choice with all facts presented before you.”

“I have—”

“Marry me.”

Your mouth widens, falling open and shut in a foolish manner. Your heart stops beating altogether. “...What?”

It is only then that he seems to realize what he has said. It flashes across his face in a masterful play of emotions. Surprise, fear, disbelief all replaced soon thereafter with a blazing determination. 

It can no longer be denied. Diluc has run from this for too long. Words fall before he can catch them, truth and the resounding levity taking over him. His hands slowly move from grasping onto your arms, to cupping the underside of your jaw. Holding, gently, within his palms.

“I raged against the imposition of an arranged marriage because it forced me to confront the fact that I am a coward in not making my affections for you known. Yearning for your presence, your heart, your mind in every waking hour and yet having to discuss your future with another… A future without me. I could not bear it and so I was reduced to a child. Helpless, and angry, and afraid to lose you. But it has only pushed you away, because that is what I know best.”

Tendrils of loose hair fall onto his face, painting the perfect image of raw sincerity. He’s beautiful and it crumbles the remaining walls of your heart. “Three months without you have been agony. I wake thinking of you, I sleep dreaming of how you are. I would rather be near you than to ever be right about something, again. And I must tell you that I have been in love with you since I first saw you on your father’s ship all those years ago.” 

His thumb sweeps against your chin, sweetly and you find your own hands being drawn to grabbing onto his wrists. He continues, his head dropping and finally tearing from your gaze, “I love you enough to hope for the return of your affections, but I will love you enough to put your happiness above my own. Even if your final decision is to marry him, with all the facts.”

You breathe out, disbelief and incredulity stiliting your words.

“Diluc, I don’t want this if you feel as though this is your last obligated effort to save me from something. I don’t want this if you don’t feel this.”

He shakes his head vehemently. Dispelling your thoughts before it could even take flight. “No. It should have been my first effort. I should have told you my feelings long ago. But, I hadn’t thought it possible. And, I was blinded by rage.” A humorless laugh tumbles out of his mouth, “Kaeya and Adelinde were quick to inform me otherwise.”

It is your turn to cup his face, his face falling gently into the touch of your palms. “You are everything to me, Diluc, and have been for so long. How could I not be affectionate for you?”

He shrugs, “Because I am prideful, and stubborn, and you deserve… much more than that.”

“You say that as if I am perfect.”

“To me, you are.” He says quickly. 

“I am not. Our disagreement made each of our faults abundantly clear.” You insist.

“You are to me.” He says again, resolutely. “Even your faults are everything good. You are intelligent, kind, and beautiful and… the good things of me, what little there are, are because of you.” 

His hands, strong and ungloved, calloused from years of labor yet soft to the touch, grab onto yours, then. Gently holding your palms to his, fitting together as though they were always meant to. He brings your hand to his lips, a gentle kiss to the surface as he utters his words. “And I do not deserve your forgiveness, but… if you will allow me to try, I will spend every waking moment of this life and the next hundred, earning it.”

And it is everything you had hoped and more. Eyes of vermillion boring into yours earnestly as he descends onto one knee and procures a ring. A single stone of cor lapis shining in the center of an embezzled design.

“If you will have me.” 

Epilogue: Spring

It is finally accepted, the idea that was presented and discussed so feverishly once before. A ceremony will be conducted at Dawn Winery—with complimentary wine and the assistance of the full staff, as was promised. Which, fortunately enough, didn’t take much negotiation this time around, further doubling your father’s excitement. His sense of propriety and restraint was thrown out the window the moment you informed him of the change in plans. 

Or rather, the change in groom.

No event could be more worthy of grandiosity than this. His daughter’s wedding— the long awaited union to the man they had all hoped it would be; had prayed to the gods to enact their divinity in making it happen. And in their blessed favor, it had finally come true. 

Your father gleefully informed the Tsaverich family of the broken arrangement while shoving a drafted wedding invitation into their hands — one that crudely scratched off the Tsaverich’s last name beside yours and messily wrote ‘Ragnvindr’ atop of the strikethrough— and shouted from the rooftops in Liyue Harbor of the great news.

His beloved daughter was marrying the love of her life!

You had been more than content to have a small affair, and Diluc had been at peace to do as you pleased, but when your father in his great glory had appealed to your senses and emphasized how important it was to honor the union of your families and their respective nations—how great of a duty it was to respect the ancestral lines!— you both had acquiesced with little issue. 

It would end the same whether the ceremony was performed in the great peaks of Mount Hulao or in the ravines of Windrise, whether there were two hundred guests or two people.

You would be married to Diluc, and he to you.

(And Diluc—

Poor Diluc who found himself at wit’s end with how elated is, who has found himself lost for words despite never trying to speak. A kiss from you, of which have they become more frequent these days, quells the simmering rage and forges a new fire in him; One of great joy, of great desire that he hadn’t even thought possible.

Poor Diluc who lays beside you on your shared bed in the manor as you peruse a booklet of different colors for table linen, offering a sweet yet lazy opinion whenever you ask for it, his fingers trailing slowly up the curve of your spine. Exposed skin the fodder for his eager touch, brushing over splotches of red, revealed only after the intimate moment of the night prior. 

—realizes rather latently and with great awe that Adelinde was right.)

“This is a good look for you, my boy.” Your father had told him when it was just the two of them. You, having been stolen away by Adelinde and a few older women of your family to plan, plan, plan!, just a few moments prior. 

Diluc raises a brow. “Hm?”

“Happiness. It does wonders for a man.” Your father says simply, patting Diluc on the shoulder, “My dear late friend would be proud of the man his son came to be.”

It’s a warmth he hadn’t realized he was waiting to hear. An affirmation he hadn’t realized he wanted. It strikes him rather deep in his chest. Has his throat closing and a sharp prickling irritating the corner of his eyes.

That is until your father, for all his eccentricities, pushes the matter further. 

“He would, however, be humiliated to know that he now owes me ten-thousand mora.”

“Ten-thousand?” Diluc questions after swallowing the ball in his throat. “What for?”

“I wanted to formalize your union when you were children but your father insisted that you both would eventually find your way. Ah, the scruples of men from the land of contracts and freedom. We bet the amount on it.”

Diluc pauses, “Forgive me, sir, but it sounds as though you owe my father. We made the decision on our own accord.”

Your father hums, a twinkle in his eyes. “You’re right. It does sound that way. But it would not have happened without a little push.” 

Your father gives a knowing glance to Diluc, patting him lovingly on the shoulder.  Diluc huffs a mirthless breath, realization falling onto him. 

"She was never going to marry Tsaverich."

"Archons above, no. Me? Tied to that man? Puh. I thought she was going to finally confront her ‘secret’ feelings when I informed her of the need to decide. Or, that you would have made your sentiments known when she brought that wretched boy to you as a candidate. But, you two have always been a stubborn pair, so I was hardly surprised when she came home early slamming doors. I decided to take matters into my own hands and push. With a little help from some friends, of course." 

Diluc huffs a breathless laugh. Speechless. Curious how he hadn’t seen the two strategically placed agents in Kaeya and Adelinde before. “Ten-thousand, it is. I don’t suppose you have a preference on cash or check?”

Your father laughs heartily, “Keep it. Invest it in my grandchildren. Now go, your bride is calling you.”

You are married, twice, in the Spring. With the sun setting on the horizons and the cranes returning to the land from their winter migrations, blessing your union with their homecomings. 

It’s a beautiful event, one that habitants of Liyue and Mondstadt are sure to discuss for the rest of their lives. Unable to forget the melodious romantic hymns of a joyful bard, and the profound prose of a well-versed director who insisted that this was the most harmonious wedding he had ever seen.

Now, that life has settled and the routine has become normal— your life being lived between Liyue and Mondstadt, in the warmth of the manor that was always yours and in the arms of the man that always belonged to you—when bar attendants jokingly ask Diluc these days how’s that friend of yours?

He tells them the truth with a roll of his eyes and a small smile.

“My wife is very happy.”

And when the manor is soon thereafter honored to welcome another guest to the home the following Spring—a swaddled bundle of joy with the scarlet hair of her father and the warm eyes of her mother that the gaggle that is your conjoined families can’t keep their hands off of— 

Well, Diluc is all too pleased to admit how happy he is, too.

a/n: if you made it here, thank you. i have been working on this fic for four years now. its taken up so much of my heart and space. kind of in disbelief that its finished.

[hearts4renaa]

YOU'RE LOSING ME.

summary: how the love began to die out between you and them. featuring kamisato ayato, alhaitham, diluc, and zhongli. gn! reader (see a/n below) pt. 2 here w/c: 2.1k words in total a/n: inspired by the new vault track from midnights by taylor swift. meant to be a gender neutral reader but one of the lyrics i reference uses "her". otherwise, no pronouns used.

And I wouldn’t marry me either, a pathological people pleaser, who only wanted you to see her.

“I’ll be entering an arranged marriage to the daughter of another clan.” Ayato said matter of factly, as if it was as casual as discussing the weather. Today was the off day Ayato had free. He’s been so busy the past month that he barely has time for you. You can’t even remember the last time the two of you woke up together. He always slept late and woke up earlier than you. The affection was rarely there too; The usual loving kisses and cuddles were reduced to pecks on the cheek and pats on the arm. This was one of the rare times you were actually able to sit down with him. 

The air was tense, almost impossible to breathe in. What was supposed to be a romantic dinner quickly turned sour the moment Ayato announced a piece of news you never wanted to hear. “I’ll be meeting her in two weeks. I’m expecting the marriage ceremony to take place within the next three months or so.” He wasn’t looking at you, instead more focused on the food in front of him. Your chopsticks fall from your hands, the clatter piercing the silence between you two. Ayato looks at you, completely deadpanned. You take the moment to really, truly look at him. His expression was standoffish, and his eyes were dispassionate. Just where did that loving gaze go? “What?” He asks.

“Ayato, you can’t just expect me to be happy about this.” You huff in frustration, picking up your chopsticks and setting them down in a proper manner. “When you accepted the proposal, did you just forget about our relationship? About me?” 

Ayato rolled his eyes and sighed. “You’re acting like I declared undying love for her. I’m simply doing what’s best for the clan, and for Inazuma as a whole.” He puts down his chopsticks as well, clearly not focused on eating anymore. “It’s not like I’m ending things with you. Marrying her opens many opportunities I can’t pass on.”

“You’re not ending things with me, but you’re just gonna go off and marry some girl?” Your heart broke a little more with every word. If someone were to listen closely, they could probably hear each individual crack. “Ayato, our relationship has already been wavering a little…you’re so busy. It’s like you just can’t fit me into your schedule.” Your eyes start to become glossy, and you need to swallow back your tears to fight against them falling. “How can I expect us to stay together when you need to make room for two spouses now? I thought love meant more to you than business did.” Your voice cracked with every syllable that fell from your lips.

Ayato stood up from his seat on the floor, adjusting his sleeves and beginning to make his way to the door. He slides it open before stopping in place. “Marrying her has a lot to offer.” He speaks, but he isn’t even looking at you.

“And I don’t?” You ask. You didn’t even know if you wanted the answer to that. Luckily for you, he didn’t answer at all. He looked back at you from over his shoulder. He takes a breath, and you feel as if he’s stealing the air straight out of your lungs. He turns his head back and sighs. He steps forward, leaving the room. 

The door shuts, and you are left in silence.

And I’m fading, thinking: Do something babe, say something.

With Alhaitham being appointed as Acting Grand Sage, it’s only natural that his workload for the Akademiya would increase. However, if there’s one thing that Alhaitham truly hates, it’s when unnecessary work piles up and begins to leak into his personal life, like a bucket overflowing with water. A work-life balance can only go so far before work begins to completely tilt the scale in its favor. Naturally, this takes away from time the two of you could spend together.

Normally, that would be completely fine with you. You knew Alhaitham was a busy man with a busy lifestyle. It’s completely reasonable for him to not throw aside his work just for you. Alhaitham always tries to make time for you, to show you his affection in small ways that don’t take up too much time. Either with tea he makes for you before he leaves for work, small trinkets that begin to appear on your bedside table, or a hushed declaration of love when he accidentally wakes you up when he rises early. But recently, his efforts have been slowly dwindling. You no longer wake up to the smell of tea. You no longer reach over to your nightstand in a sleepy haze, only to feel an object that was not there before. You no longer hear an “I love you” amongst the sound of your bedsheets ruffling in the early hours of the morning.

Of course, you noticed. So you took it amongst yourself to try and do something to express your love. You usually go to sleep before him, but here you are in the living room, waiting for him to return. It’s already quite late, and you fight back a yawn every twenty minutes or so, but you’re determined to stay awake to greet him. The smell of his favorite food wafts in from the kitchen, and you smile while thinking of his reaction. You might not be a Michelin star chef, but you pour love into everything you make him.

Finally, the door opens, and there he is. His eyes are tired, and an annoyed expression is etched onto his face. “Hey, honey.” You shoot up from your seat to greet him at the door. His head snaps in your direction slightly, not expecting you to still be awake. He lets out a little grunt as a response. You can tell he’s in a bad mood, but you keep pushing. “You’re home late.” You state before realizing how you pointed out the painfully obvious.

“I always am.” His voice is monotone, cold. He walks straight past you, barely even sparing you a glance.

Your hope begins to falter, but you try again. “Are you hungry? I made you dinner.” You reach your hand out to lightly touch his. He pulls his hand away with no hesitation. You feel the familiar sting deep in your stomach, and you try your best to ignore it. You clear your throat as if to rid the moment of his past action before speaking again. “Then, maybe we could eat together-”

He groans aloud. “Can you just be quiet?” He snaps. His voice wasn’t angry. It wasn’t filled with love or hate. It was indifference, and in all honesty, that hurt so much more. “I’m exhausted. The last thing I need today is you nagging me.” 

You falter, as if you were shrinking away in a desperate attempt to try and disappear. “Right.” Your voice is quiet, meek. “Of course.” You turn away to walk into the kitchen, and you hear your shared bedroom door slam shut. You sit at the dinner table, gazing at the untouched meals on the opposite ends. Your hand moves to touch the spoon and stir it around in the food, but any outsider could tell that you have no intention of eating a single bite. 

For the rest of the night, you sit there alone as the food goes cold.

Lose something babe, risk something. (You’re losing me.)

If there’s one thing Diluc strives to do, it’s protect you. He lost his father already, he can’t risk losing you too. It brings him peace to know that you’re safe at Dawn Winery, away from things that can bring you harm. But even though he is protective, it’s not as though he keeps you locked inside the house. He knows of your adventurous spirit and he would never want to hurt you. However, he has a habit of being a little paranoid. The people of Mondstadt are aware of your relationship, but he rarely lets the two of you be seen together. He prefers things quite private, but you’re starting to get a little sick of it.

You just returned from a small commission; it’s been ages since you’ve done one. It felt so refreshing to wield your weapon and go on a mini adventure! Even if it was just a few slimes near Windrise, the experience was one you haven’t had in far too long. You end up with a small cut on your hand, but you look at it in pride as you walk back to the winery. You open the heavy door, and you’re met with the face of your lover.

“Y/N, where were you?” Diluc’s question is loud, his voice laced in concern. A second barely passes, and he’s already by your side. He catches sight of your hand and cages it in his larger ones. “Why is your hand hurt?”

You shake him off lightly, heading to the couch to set your things down. “I took a small commission.” You explain. “Just a little group of slimes. My hand got cut, but I’m okay. Don’t worry about it!” You attempt to reassure him, but the crease in his eyebrows doesn't go away.

“Y/N, how many times have I told you?” Diluc scolded. He folds his arms over his chest. “You don’t need to take commissions. I provide for us enough already.”

Your eyes roll before you can stop them. You can feel your frustration rise inside you. “I didn’t take the commission for the money, Diluc.” You huff at him. “I wanted an adventure, even if it was a small one. It’s the experience I wanted.”

Diluc scoffs. “Oh, so getting hurt is an enjoyable experience for you?” Diluc never had the most friendly tone, but you’d have to be truly clueless to miss the sarcasm weaved into his words.

“By the Seven, Diluc, it was a cut!” You exclaim. “All of this over a cut?”

He looks you in the eyes. “You know I just want you to be safe.”

Your eyes softened slightly, biting your lip. “But Diluc, you play it too safe sometimes.” You grab your weapons and bag again, adjusting your jacket before heading towards the door. Despite just getting home, you felt the need to get away, to cool off. Maybe to kill some other monsters, you weren’t sure.

“Where are you going?” He asks.

“Out.” You respond curtly. You weren’t sure of your destination, but you didn’t care. You just needed to be away from him.

“Y/N-“ He called out. You cut him off by slamming the heavy winery doors.

Choose something babe, I’ve got nothing to believe, unless you’re choosing me.

“I love you.” Zhongli murmured, knuckles turning white with how hard he was gripping his pole arm. He towered over you, who was on the ground in a pool of blood. The metallic smell was hard to ignore. “I love you, I truly do. And I always will.”

You laugh bitterly. “You love me, and you caused my injury.” You use your hand to weakly gesture towards your torso. “Some love you have…”

Zhongli grips his weapon even harder. He digs the heels of his feet into the group as an effort to ground himself. He knew that if he were to take a single step, he’d run to you, and he’s not sure if he can stop himself. He takes a breath to calm himself, and every breath of air he breathes makes him wish he could breathe that same life into you instead. “It’s for my nation.” He says as calmly as he can. Oh, how he wished he could run to you, kiss you, and heal you. He continues with bated breath. “You know I cherish my nation.”

You cough, blood splattering out. “More than you cherish me?” You ask weakly. “More than you cherish us?”

Zhongli’s eyes soften with sadness. “Yes…more than I cherish you, my love.”

You sigh, suddenly feeling the fatigue hit you like a truck. You’re so tired. So, so tired. You voice out your thoughts. “I’m exhausted, Zhongli.” Your voice is weak, along with your body.

“I’m sorry.” He says before facing away from you. He can’t bear to look at you in this state. He can’t bear to see what he’s done to you. He takes slow steps away, using all his willpower to not turn around and run to your side.

“I love you, Zhongli.” You call out.

He takes one final look. “I love you too, dearest.”

A sad, soft smile etches itself onto your face. Your eyelids droop, and eventually, they flutter closed. Zhongli stares at you sadly. His weapon drops to the ground, making a loud clatter. The silence is deafening. He peers at your lifeless body before closing his eyes. “You’ll always be my favorite story.” He whispers.

A single tear falls from his eyes.

[lair-of-platonic-yanderes]

Platonic yandere step father Diluc has so huge potential... Just imagine he and his teen! step child. Like to bring a kitten from street. Something like that. My English is bad sorr

Fluffy companion

Platonic! Yandere! Step-father! Diluc Ragnvindr x GN! Teen! Step-child! Reader

Description: You were in a bad mood. You wanted some company.

Diluc didn't like, that you had a bad mood. He tries to make up for it.

Warnings and tags: OOC. Platonic Yandere. English is my second language. Unpleasant Donna. Diluc is married (somewhat). Diluc's spouse's (Reader's biological parent) gender aren't specified. Reader's biological parent are a lousy parent. Child abandonment. Arranged marriage. Discussion of arranged marriages. Long backstory. Lumine is Traveler. Attempt at worldbuilding (arranged marriages in Mondstadt, CPS in Mondstadt). Diluc's age aren't specified. Implied blackmail, murder, robbery.

_______

Sometimes, people of Mondstadt didn't look at you. They had to make themselves to look at you. And then, they would not.

The "would not" part was almost the same in all cases. They would look above your head, at the ground, at the birds, at Barbatos's statue. Anywhere, but not at you. Someone would even ignore you talking to them, forcing you to repeat your words again and again. Well, perhaps, such people want you to yell to get their attention, so they could call you a disrespectful brat, complain to Master Diluc and get you in trouble.

But, before "would not" part, came a "look". And "looks" were different.

~~~~~~

Moco's and Hillie's looks were curious. In the worst way possible. They were looking at the source of gossip, when they looked at you.

You tried to shield away their whispers, focusing on a book.

"So... Are they a part of the Ragnvindr clan or not?"

just focus on a text

"No one knows... They weren't officially adopted..."

on a text

"Really? Well, it explains what I heard about their upbringing..."

text

"Tell me..."

please, stop talking about me

"Discuss your poorly done work, you lazy gossips!" Adelinde was livid. "Get back to work!"

A pair of maids quickly strode off, looking with fear at the Head Housemaid. She turned towards you.

Her look was full of pity.

"[Y/N], are you okay?"

You nodded. You weren't, but you don't want to discuss it right now. Adelinde didn't believe you, but decided to drop the subject.

"[Y/N], can I ask you for a small favor? Can you go to "Floral Whisper" and get decorations? They are supposed to be ready."

You immediately put your book down.

"Of course, Miss Adelinde!"

She gave you a small smile. She held a basket towards you.

"Here. For carrying them."

You took the basket and were ready to go, when Elzer called for you.

Elzer's look was full of sorrow and guilt. His gaze didn't linger, choosing to look at the owl statue.

"[Y/N], can you, please, bring that bottle to Master Diluc?" He pointed at the bottle on his table and turned around, showing, that he won't speak to you again.

You quickly put the bottle in your basket to leave the manor, heading to Mondstadt City.

~~~~~~

People from the Winery were, mostly, fine.

Citizens, on the other hand...

~~~~~~

Getting decorations would be a fine task, if Flora was there. She was kind. She looked at you.

Unfortunately, she wasn't here. But Donna was.

She was the worst. And that days she will be even worse.

"Hello. I am here to get commissioned decorations."

Your voice was loud enough to be heard. Yet Donna didn't react, choosing to look at the Quinn's stall. You waited. You repeat your words again.

"Please, can I have decorations? Are they ready?"

Donna didn't answer. But she spoke.

"Such a shame, that Windblume Festivals and Ludi Harpastum lost a lot of charm during last two years. Especially for a young maiden."

She gave you a quick side-eye. A very angry side-eye. You flinched, but repeat.

"Please... The decorations..."

Donna groaned, tear off the basket from your arms, took a box with Master Diluc's name on it, that was full of small flower decorations, and dumped the contents in the basket.

"Here. Be on your way."

You clenched the basket and walked off.

It has been going on for the last two years.

Young and unmarried were borderline hating you.

You were a constant reminder, that the Uncrowned King of Mondstadt was married.

_______

______

Mondstadt was beautiful that days. Well, it's not like Mondstadt wasn't beautiful in any other days. But, no one would disagree, that during Windblume Festival, capital city would become especially beautiful.

"Angel's Share" tavern has surprisingly a lot of free tables for a Windblume Festival.

Right now, on the first floor, Lumine spotted Nelson and Payne, both were sitting on their usual spots. She and Paimon were occupying a table on the second floor, and were the only ones up here. Lumine and Paimon were enjoying their berry juices, when Paimon noticed someone else.

"Look, Lumine, there is a kid down here!" Paimon pointed a finger at the first floor's corner. It was hard to look at it from duo's spot (and if Paimon didn't float a little bit higher, she also wouldn't spot the kid), so Lumine had to stand up.

In the far corner, there were a teen. They sat at one of the tables, looking before them. A basket full of flower decoration were standing on the table before them. They looked deep in thoughts. And very sad.

What was conserving, is that there also was a bottle of wine on the table.

Paimon float closer to the railing, taking a better look at the bar counter.

"Charles isn't here. Do you think they steal the bottle?"

Lumine and Paimon glanced at each other. They have never seen an underage drinker, and they knew, that people of Mondstadt are very careful with drinking age. But, everything can happen.

Lumine and Paimon hurry to the first floor.

They didn't notice, that two more people walked into the tavern.

"Hi! Happy Windblume Festival!" Paimon waved her hand, trying to get teen's attention. Lumine smiled.

"Happy Windblume Festival!"

They almost jumped, and turn their head towards them. A solemn look returned to their face.

"Oh... Hello. Happy Windblume Festival." teen looked uncomfortable. They chew their lip. "Do you... need something?"

Paimon float forward.

"Paimon's name is Paimon. And that's Lumine!"

Lumine waved.

"Nice to meet you." Traveler cast a sneaky glance at the bottle. It still was full. And wasn't open.

Teen nodded. They didn't say a word. Paimon continued.

We just saw you here alone. In a tavern..."

Teen slammed both hands against the table. Their voice trembled. It looked like they were on a verge of crying.

"I have the right to be here! I didn't do anything wrong!"

Lumine raised both of her hands.

"Calm down, please, we didn't mean anything bad!"

"Oh, is our Honorary Knight harassing kids?"

Lumine could hear a smirk in Kaeya's voice. Calvary Captain slowly approached them. Diluc was silently walking beside him. Kaeya ignored Lumine and Paimon, instead focusing on the teen.

"Sad, [Y/N]? Want to have a hug from your uncle to make you feel better?" Kaeya opened his arms, inviting [Y/N] for a hug.

"Uncle?! Kaeya? Master Diluc?" Paimon and Lumine asked in unison. Diluc didn't answer immediately. He walked closer to the teen and awkwardly pet them on the head. After that, he finally answered.

"I am married. [Y/N] are my child."

"What?!" Paimon squeaked. Her eyes sparkled with interest. "Master Diluc is married? Who managed to win his heart?"

Lumine looked as interested as Paimon.

Duo failed to see an uncomfortable look on Diluc's, Kaeya's and [Y/N]'s faces.

_____

Everyone in Teyvat know, that Mondstadt is a city of freedom. So, people would assume, that arranged marriages in Barbatos's land are forbidden.

People, who think like that, aren't mistaken, but, they also aren't completely right.

Marriages, that are arranged only for the sake of getting a hair, are banned. Here, parents can't sell their children into what can be called a slavery.

However, marriages, that arranged for establishing new business connections, for helping to Mondstadt, for making lives of both families better, are still legal. As long as parents discussed everything with their kids, there should be no problem with a consensual, mutually beneficial arranged marriage of Mondstadt's citizen.

On multiple occasions, Crepus spoke to Diluc about arranged marriages.

First time, he explained in the smallest details, in what situation he will consider arranging a marriage between Diluc and another person. Crepus also promised not to think about arranging a marriage, and doing it only as a last resort.

Second time, Crepus talked to Diluc and Kaeya at the same time. It happened few years after Kaeya was adopted into a clan. Crepus explained, that Diluc and Kaeya, despite both being part of Ragnvindr Clan, have different "fiancé" values. Diluc was more valuable, as future head of a clan. However, marriage with Kaeya will let someone have a higher title, without getting the hardest responsibilities of the clan members. Crepus gave a permission to hit anyone, who would discuss Diluc's and Kaeya's value as possible husbands.

The third time, Crepus discussed with Diluc reasons for agreeing to a marriage.

Of course, not for getting an heir. Diluc should find someone he loves, to have children with. And, Diluc should be careful about having kids in an arranged marriage. If one day, they decided to get a divorce, Diluc and his spouse won't deal with traumatized children.

Think twice, before agreeing to a marriage to help Dawn Winery. It would be better, if Diluc will deal with business problems with his own power.

It's a good reason to help Mondstadt by marrying a possible ally. And, as usual, it should be Diluc's decision.

Getting married to help someone is a noble cause. However, Diluc should be careful about who he helps.

Crepus Ragnvindr never insisted on Diluc getting married. He never tried to arrange a marriage for him or Kaeya. Master Crepus just wanted his sons to be happy.

Diluc didn't think about having a spouse.

Not before Crepus's death.

And, he wasn't thinking about getting married after Crepus died.

Perhaps, it was the end of Ragnvindr bloodline.

_________

Diluc was sitting beside the fireplace, deep in his thoughts, when someone, who were standing behind his chair, coughed. He looked behind him. Elzer was standing here, looking exhausted and slightly guilty. Diluc raised an eyebrow.

"Elzer? Is something wrong?"

Elzer take a deep breath, before he spoke. He was speaking slowly, carefully choosing his words.

"It's complicated... Master Diluc, let me start with this... What I say next in no way, shape or form is a request, a plea or an offer." Elzer take another breath. "An old... acquaintance of mine has some problems. Many years ago he helped me with some serious task, so I have a small debt. So, to fulfill it, I agree to pass his message." Elzer looked at Diluc again. "I am simply delivering a message."

Diluc remained quiet. Elzer was always professional and collected, when he talked to him. Seeing him in that state wasn't something Diluc expected to ever see in his life. Diluc nodded to encourage Elzer.

"I understand. Please, continue."

Elzer sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose. He even slightly lumped forward. He looked... tired.

"Will it be strange for me to say, Master Diluc, that I was hoping that you wouldn't listen to me?" Elzer asked rhetorically. The next second, Elzer spoke again.

"My old acquaintance is from Liyue. He is from one of the smaller noble families. He is facing some serious troubles." Elzer looked into the fireplace. Diluc could swear, that, for a moment, Elzer hopped, that fire would escape the fireplace and either burned him, or his mysterious acquaintance with troubles.

"He has two children. And older one messed up. Badly." Elzer, once again, spoke slowly and carefully. Diluc decided not to interrupt him. Better gave him as much time as he needs. "Twelve years ago they disappeared. Or, perhaps, they just decided to travel. Their father refused to elaborate. It's not that important. What's important, is that Older One returned a few months ago. With a spouse and a child. New made grandfather was delighted. Until the first family dinner."

Elzer rubbed his temples. This time, Diluc decided to ask a question.

"What happened?"

Elzer answered immediately. With every world, Elzer's voice became more and more irritated.

"Older One got drunk. And confessed, that they did something to... They trick their spouse into... Dear Barbatos!" Elzer was almost growling at that point. "That idiot confessed, that twelve years ago they were sabotaging protection and contraceptives, so their child would be conceived and born. They wanted their spouse to always be with them. They used the child to chain their spouse to them." Elzer became silent. Diluc waited. Elzer voice was tired.

"Their spouse weren't happy about it. They asked for divorce. And disowned [Y/N] on a spot."

"Their own child." Diluc wasn't asking. There was no need for it. Still, Elzer nodded.

"The word about the whole situation get outside the family. And now their reputation is in shambles, they are loosing their wealth. However, there is one way to fix the situation. To marry a younger one to a good family, to someone outside Liyue. That's why they asked for help."

Elzer looked at Diluc with a guilty expression.

"Master Diluc. They asked me to deliver their proposition. Fourth of their future income, partnership with Dawn Winery, base for gathering information in other nation. In return, they ask..."

Before Elzer could finish, Diluc spoke.

"For me to marry the younger one."

Elzer nodded.

"Yes. But, as I said, I only was asked to carry a message. I never promised them an answer, or an agreement."

Diluc looked at the fire.

"I understand... Never thought, that I would get such an offer."

It was a messy situation. And none of Diluc's business. He should just reject this "offer".

However...

"The kid... How they are doing?"

Elzer shrugged.

"I can't tell for sure. "Happy" grandfather mentioned his kids and himself, but hardly spoke about [Y/N]. But, I can guess, that they aren't in a good place right now."

There was no doubt in it. Kid lost everything in one moment. And, it was unclear, if they have someone, who weren't busy and can reassure them.

Crepus did mention, that helping someone through arrange marriage was a noble cause. It would be a good deed, to help a kid. By marrying their relative.

Diluc turned his head towards Elzer.

"Can you, please, arrange a meeting? I want to talk to them."

______

Meetings went surprisingly fine and productive. Diluc counted at least five times, when his "future father-in-law" was ready to bow before him.

It was concerning, that there was hardly any interactions between him and his "future partner". But, as Diluc can see, that all family members were focusing on salvaging what remains of their family's connections. They didn't have much time for a small talk.

The contract was made.

Marriage will end, when the family establish themselves in a different nation and will be able to have a normal income, that will let them live and not survive.

Diluc can ask for divorce anytime he wants.

Cheating is punishable with divorce.

Diluc and future generations of Ragnvindr Clan will get all support family can give them.

Diluc's property and finances were secured, he shouldn't worry about losing them during divorce.

It wasn't relationship. It won't be a fairy tale romance.

It was a business relationship. That, hopefully, would help people in bad situation.

_______

There was no need for a wedding ceremony. They could just go to the Cathedral and have a small ceremony. Just two of them. No guests, no feast. Nothing.

They could just sigh a contract in Liyue. No guests, no feast. Nothing.

But Diluc felt bad. He wanted to let his future partner have at least a celebration.

And all went downhill.

Wedding started with a scandal.

He said his wow.

And they start screaming.

Accusing him of being a monster. Of taking advantage over their sorrow. Of being a virtue.

Soon, the whole family was screaming at each other.

Younger one refused to get married.

But the contract was signed.

And Liyue citizens value contracts. Heir of family should marry Diluc Ragnvindr.

That day, the wedding did happen.

Diluc and Older Sibling got married.

And Diluc became [Y/N]'s step-father.

_______

It was evening.

Diluc was checking on the vineyard. His mood was sour.

His "spouse" were an unpleasant person. They spent days pitying their previous marriage, they disrespect his workers and ignored [Y/N]. The kid were eleven, their family was destroyed, their parent disowned them and second parent didn't pay attention to them. Moreover, every time Diluc tried to talk with [Y/N], his attempt would be shut down with a "Don't you dare to parent my child, Diluc!"

And now, Diluc has loosed all chances to help [Y/N].

His "spouse" wanted to help their family in establishing a new life in a new region. So, they left in the morning, right after Diluc left for a Mondstadt city. Diluc didn't have a chance to say goodbye to [Y/N].

Vineyard was quiet and peaceful. Only sounds of wind were heard...

"ACHOO!"

Diluc froze. Which of his grapevines caught a cold?

Diluc looked down, after he heard rustling of the grass. Red eyes met with [e/c] ones.

[Y/N] were shivering. They looked tired and hungry.

"Sorry, Master Diluc... I don't know if I am allowed to stay in the Winery! I will leave if I..."

Diluc shushed them.

"We will go inside. Adelinde will prepare a warm bath for you. We will have dinner."

________

Year passed.

[Y/N] were living with Diluc. Live was more or less normal.

Diluc can't say, for sure, when exactly he started to think about [Y/N] as his own child.

Diluc didn't think twice about hosting a birthday party for them.

But, one problem remained.

[Y/N]'s biological family.

Mondstadt laws about abandoned children were simple.

Child abandonment was a crime.

However, there was also an "Exception".

If the child in question had guardians, caretakers, and their distant parents can be reached via mail, in that case, it won't be viewed as an abandonment.

Currently, only Alice's and Klee's situation was considered an "Exception".

Alice treated that arrangement seriously. She spoke to Knights, nuns, her old friends and even Diluc's staff, making sure, that her little girl won't be left unsupervised. Alice was always reachable. Jean could write a letter to her, and Alice would respond. And would return to Mondstadt, if situation calls for that.

Was it a good solution? Maybe not, but no one would dare to call her a "bad mother". She did her best to care for Klee and fulfill her responsibilities for Knights.

Diluc's and [Y/N]'s situation shouldn't be an "Exception".

Diluc has no reason to let [Y/N] stay. He could just divorce their parent, who were nowhere to be found and who refused to contact their child.

There were no reason for Diluc to keep being involved with them.

But, Diluc knew, that he was the only one, who cared about [Y/N].

Two months after [Y/N]'s twelfth birthday, Diluc filled necessary paperwork.

Now, there were two "Exceptions" in Mondstadt.

________

While Kaeya was keeping Lumine's and Paimon's attention on himself, Master Diluc leaned towards you.

"Are you okay?"

You nodded.

"Yes..."

Master Diluc pat you on a head again.

"Are you sure?"

You could lie again. Like you lied to Adeline. But Master Diluc wasn't Adelinde.

"Moco and Hillie were gossiping again. Donna was rude. Grandfather and others... still didn't write."

You missed Diluc's dark glare.

"Don't pay attention to them. They aren't worth it." Diluc saw, that his words didn't work so well, and you still were upset. He should find a way to cheer you up. But he still was busy and can't spend time with you. And you barely have any friends in Mondstadt. Adults knew about your family's behavior and were suspicious of you. They thought, that your situation was your family's ploy to get into Ragnvindr Clan. And kids tend to mimic parents' behavior, so, a lot of kids and teens ignored you. Still, Diluc didn't want you to spend the whole day in the tavern on in the manor. He took a heavy coin purse, full of Mora, from his pocket, and gave it to you.

"Hey... [Y/N]. Take it. Have some fun. Play games, eat a lot of treats. At the end of the day, we will go home together. Deal?"

A faint smile appeared on your face. You took the purse.

"Thank you, Mister Diluc."

You still have troubles with calling him "dad". Well, can't have everything at the same time.

You left the tavern. The basket and the bottle remained on the table.

_______

You were bored and lonely. You were sitting on a bench, munching on a Hash Brown.

Food was delicious, but you weren't that hungry to eat for a whole day.

Most of the games weren't interesting to play by yourself.

You wish you had some company.

Something soft rubbed against your legs. You looked down and saw a fluffy ginger kitten. You always wanted to have a kitten, but your parents didn't let you, and you still were nervous near Master Diluc to ask for a kitten.

"Hi... Are you also alone?"

The kitten meowed, rubbing against your leg. You slowly reached towards kitten. He sniffed your hand, before bumping it with his forehead.

It looks like, you get a company you wanted.

________

The workday was finally over. Master Diluc and you were on your way home. You had your kitten with you. He was hidden. 

It was wrong to sneak in an animal. But, you wanted to keep the kitten.

"[Y/N]... Are you hiding something?" Master Diluc looked unamused. You tried to give him an innocent smile.

"No, Mister Diluc. I am not hiding anything."

Diluc skeptically looked at the suspicious bungle under your shirt. 

"Really?" Diluc flatly asked, pocking the bungle. One offended "meow" later, and a ginger kitten climbed under your shirt and sat on your shoulder. You were busted.

"Master Diluc... Cookie played with me today... I thought..." You swallowed your words under Diluc's gaze.  

"Today we will give him a bath and feed him. Tomorrow we will go to Margaret and ask for advices on kitten care." simply stated Diluc.

You looked at him with wide eyes.

"You mean... You are fine with me having a pet?" 

Diluc ruffled your hair.

"Why I should be against it? You could have asked for one long ago."

 You didn't know, what got into you. But you hugged Diluc, kitten was still on your shoulder.

 "Thank you do much, dad!"

��Diluc let your words sunk in. He put his hand on the top of your head. Diluc's lips barely moved.

 "You called me... dad." 

 You froze. You tried to get from the hug.

 "It was an accident, I didn't mean..."

 Diluc's hand pressed you against his chest in an awkward hug.

 "That accident... It will make me really happy, if you start repeating them more often."

 ________

It was middle of the night.

Diluc was patrolling Mondstadt City. Right now, he was observing, how Donna got in serious trouble.

Windblume Festival tend to lure criminals. People, who were trying to get their hands on something valuable.

Quite stupid and gullible people. Who believed an anonymous note about maiden from flower shop having some rare expensive jewelry at home.

Donna will be terrified, and her house will end up completely messed up.

Darknight Hero should probably help her.

But, she was so rude to Darknight Hero's child. 

That should be a lesson to her.

Diluc will make sure, that the rest of Mondstadt won't be damaged.

He had a busy evening.

He helped [Y/N] take care of Cookie.

He had a strict talk with maids. Reminding them, that they should do their job, and not gossip about his child. And reminding them, that he has connections, money, and he knows where their families live.

He had dinner with [Y/N]. [Y/N] called him "dad" a few more times.

 Last time, Diluc was that happy, was when he got a letter on [Y/N]'s thirteenth birthday.

From his allies from underground intelligence network. 

About a successful operation to get an intel on Fatui.

Unfortunately, they arrived a little bit late. There were casualties. 

A certain noble from Mondsdat became a widower.

To keep the network safe, that casualties should be hidden from the public.

Diluc was patrolling Mondstadt City.

And his thoughts were focused on [Y/N].

On how Mondstadt view them.

He could easily put the end to all rumors.

He could make Mondstadt citizens accept [Y/N].

He didn't do it.

It’s probably for the best that no one else tries to be friendly with them. Diluc wouldn’t want to see [Y/N] break out of that shell they were forced in, after all. As long as they are like this, he will be their only source of comfort. 

Their father.

[abbacchiosbelt]

you asked for diluc asks and i couldnt help myself, but indulge in it as well.

ive been thinking about an arranged marriage au with diluc, where both of you are kinda like, yeah it is what it is. yall dont like each other romantically, but its tolerable enough. it feels like a surface level friendship between the two of you, so thats something. until one day, everyone around you starts talking about when are you and diluc going to have a baby, because you know, thats kinda a pertinent part in this entire marriage. i mean, you guys didnt get married willy nilly because of some deep passionate love shared between you and diluc. you barely knew him when you had to marry him the moment you were of age. rather, because both your families thought that through your marriage, a child conceived out of it will surely further both family legacies. why else did they get you two together? both families are rich and influential, so you gotta respect family honor somehow.

so, wheres the baby?

tbh, both of you are really not on board with that idea. and so far, have managed to ignore the idea of it for the first few years together. but as you and diluc continue to live together as a married couple, it starts to get a little hard to push this aside. it seems to be your main duty as a couple and you feel the pressure burdening you. you can only ignore it for so long, until you see how your "husband" begins to look at you less with coldness but... with something deeper. with all this baby talk, diluc cant help himself but grow to almost like--no, open to the idea of it. especially with you...maybe it isnt too bad? if you were to become a parent, you'd make a good one, he thinks, because youre nice and caring...youre always eager to help others around you...you always seem happy too, with a pretty smile...and you smell nice...and you have soft skin...have you always looked this beautiful?

you cant help but shiver at the dark glint reflected in his eyes.

but in all honesty, i just kinda wanna see diluc slowly go feral after putting up with all this baby talk </3 one moment hes like, not into it at all. diluc never thought of having kids, ever, in the first place. but then the next moment, hes raising an eyebrow and going: "did this unlock something in me?"

[this could divulge into dark/yan content tbh. bc imagine diluc goes from being fine with sleeping in separate rooms and even letting this marriage be an open relationship, to suddenly forcing you to sleep next to him and demanding that both of you should start acting like a "proper" couple. you ought to listen to him more and to never stray too far from home.]

anon 👀👀👀 this is so tasty!! i am a sucker for arranged marriages gone yandere, but i do like the idea of a regular diluc just getting baby fever from being with you.

and yandere diluc in this scenario... hhh. his possessive side rears its ugly head FAST. he's not forceful about things - he'd never want to hurt you - but he makes it clear that his requests aren't something you can ignore. you'll understand, diluc thinks, when you see how he's going to properly romance you. you're going to treat him like a proper husband now, and that means fulfilling your duties as his spouse...

[ordowrites]

Of Archery and Apples

cw: smut, slow burn, arranged marriage, afab reader, minors dni, mdni. reader is mentioned to have an abusive family, but nothing shown. fluff, gentle sex, not sfw. diluc frequently asking for consent. reader has a vision. please let me know if i'm missing a warning!

word count: 6,509

notes: this is a pretty long slow burn and build up, so be warned!! this is also unbeta'ed. this also gets pretty fluffy at the end.

diluc birthday month!!

He's avoiding you, you can say this for certain - he was barely present at your wedding ceremony, only staying until it was socially acceptable to hurry off, politely engaging in conversation here and there, and his kiss was simply a quick peck on the lips. Of course, the vows were very basic and quick but you figured it's because he's not exactly the best at words.

The business man being terrible at social engagement is quite the entertaining thought, or well, you would normally think so if this wasn't you trying to navigate this new marriage. You'd known Diluc Ragnvindr in your childhood, the two of you had exchanged a whole handful of words but you remember very clearly how social he'd been back then. You remember him, very clearly, sneaking some living frogs into a maid's pockets at some social event with his adoptive brother glued to his side. And you also remember how much chaos it had caused - expensive red wine being spilled, some screams, and you - little old you - had managed to sneak a sip of wine amidst it all. His father, Crepus Ragnvindr, had to pull both his sons aside, while apologizing profusely and Diluc sobbing his eyes out over getting caught.

The other few times you remember of him was when he'd been in the Knights of Favonious - chivalrous, well loved, everyone talked about him with pride in their voices. "Mondstadt's Pride and Joy'', is what they'd call him - he was sure to take the Grandmaster's job once Varka grew too old for his position and nobody would fight nor question it.

You two had talked during that time, exchanging names and he'd given you some flowers because you'd looked lonely and "everyone deserves flowers!" You'd thanked him, albeit very shyly, avoiding eye contact because the heir of the biggest name in Mondstadt was paying attention to you. (And you barely remember what made you so sad, though you're sure it had to do with one of your fathers outbursts.) A small part of you wonders if he remembers that.

The reasoning for your arranged marriage with him is not lost on you - Ragnvindr is a household anyone would want to be part of, the Young Master was the most eligible and the promise was made between your father and Crepus a long time ago. The two, from what you understand, had been close friends in their youth and worked closely with one another, even if you - personally - never met his sons. Of course, once Crepus had passed - a few months before your own eighteenth birthday - you figured that the arrangement was done and over with, and your mother would cart you off with some older man in another country.

Except, that wasn't the case - three years later and you received an invitation from the Dawn Winery. Diluc was still keeping up his fathers promise, but the two of you hadn't even seen each other in adulthood. And your first meeting after that was uncomfortable and awkward - he'd done his engagement with you, but it was clear that he had no idea how to navigate any of this. (Not like you did, either).

The wedding still happened - you'd begged for it to be small, but your mother does not do things small. And Diluc merely wanted it to be done and over with, and you'd spent your entire wedding day apologizing profusely and him reassuring you that he doesn't really care, the mora doesn't matter.

And now, four months into the marriage, you're still trying to even get a glimpse of your elusive and quiet husband. The two of you don't even share a bedroom, and you often find yourself in a confused haze, wandering around the Winery and vineyard with very little to do. A good wife stays at home, cooks and cleans, but you can't do that because he has maids doing that and they shoo you off if you even try to help. Your embroidery skills have a lot left to be desired and whenever you offer assistance in the vineyard, you're told not to worry about it.

Boredom left you asking the head maid for something to do and Adelinde had given you a few tasks to do, you just had to organize things and that was about it. The manor is well staffed, there isn't much work for you to do, is what she'd told you. Perhaps Master Diluc would like your company.

Oh yes, your dear, beloved husband who seems to be avoiding you. Archons, you'd much rather be working for the Adventurer's Guild. You're proficient in archery because you had begged your mother into letting you learn, it was the only way she could get you to do anything else she'd wanted. Of course, being someone of nobility means that your only job is to be a dutiful spouse who bears children and stays at home, but you're going insane.

What most people don't know about the manor is that he does have a small weapons collection - some swords, a few bows and arrows, his great sword, and other things. You're not sure why he needs this armory, but you'd happened upon it one day in your usual afternoon hauntings of the hallway when staff locked you out of the busier places they'd be. (Of course, you'd be more than happy to receive guests but apparently, that's the Head Maid's job and you feel slightly insulted your husband can't even trust you with the business of the Winery)

With the bow and a few arrows in hand, you meander outside - unnoticed by the staff as they rush around for one reason or another (rumors have it that the Traveler is visiting today or someone equally important) - and find a secluded spot to start shooting.

Place the arrow, draw the string, shoot. Repeat.

You're, by no means, an expert but you like to think you're pretty good. You knock down quite a few apples, but you never aim for animals - you repeat this until your fingers are sore and hurting. Still, you load up the arrow again, point, and -

"What are you doing?"

The voice cuts your concentration and you let out a yelp of surprise, releasing the arrow in a loose and awkward manner.

"Archons! I could have shot you!" You shout as you turn to look at the person who broke your concentration. It takes you a few moments to realize who had approached you, arms crossed over his chest, and an unimpressed look on his face. "Oh, sorry, Master Diluc. I thought you were someone else."

"I didn't know you do archery." He says, hardly acknowledging your words as he steps closer. "You're pretty good."

"Of course I am," you boast. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He considers his words and you frown at him, as if daring him to say anything untoward and awful. "Not a lot of nobles take it upon themselves to become proficient in weaponry," he finally answers. You're pretty sure he's spoken to you more now than he ever has in the entire time you've known each other. "Anyways, Add- Adelinde was calling for you. It's time for dinner."

"Will you be joining?" You ask as you pick up what fallen arrows you could, frowning when you realized that there's no way you could re-use them. At least you have yourself a handful of apples. "Or will you be assisting the Traveler with some things?"

"Ah - well," Diluc seems to be stumbling over his words now. It's as if he's remembering he's married to you, and you're not some familiar stranger who has decided to hunker down in his home. "If I have your okay, I would certainly like to join you for dinner."

You're handing him the apples, and he's taking them into his arms without question. You wonder if you could get away with just...handing him things and if he'd noticed. Because his eyes are trained away from you, at the horizon. His face is a tiny bit red.

"Are you not the master of the house and my husband?" You prompt. "Why would you seek permission to have dinner in your own home, with your own spouse?"

He opens his mouth to say something and closes it again. He doesn't know how to talk to you, you realize.

"What are all these for?" Diluc asks, awkwardly changing the subject.

"You eat them." You answer, as if he doesn't comprehend what apples are for. "Obviously."

He makes a noise that sounds like an annoyed growl but seems to drop the subject as he is a good husband and carries the dozen apples back, just for you.

Dinner is quiet - he's been joining you for dinner nightly now, and every time, it's just quiet. The soft clinking of silverware, and he keeps his head down as if it's hard to look at you. Sometimes, Adelinde whispers something in his ear and he'd have to look up, but not at you.

You think this is worse than eating by yourself. And he's always quick to leave once he's finished, thanking Adelinde and uncomfortably wishing you a good night.

One thing you noticed now, is that you're not without apples since that day. And there's more arrows stocked in his armory.

"Master Diluc thinks they're your favorite fruit," Adelinde explains as you ask her one day. "He ordered quite a bit. I think it's a bit too much for one person to eat, and I can only use them for so many recipes."

"Rumors have it that the Anemo Archon loves apples," you tell her. "Leave 'em out as an offering."

The head maid laughs a bit. "Perhaps. I'm not sure why he won't ask you about the things you do like."

"He'd learn things about me - and I, about him - if he stayed longer than the thirty minutes it takes him to finish his dinner." You say as you inspect one of the red fruits. Bruiseless, perfect, round. And juicy, when you bite into it. (You're sick of snacking on them, but hey, he bought them so you might as well make sure they don't waste away) "I timed him one night." You clarify after a moment.

"Yes, well, the Master is a very busy man." Adelinde says, after a moment. You're unsure if she's displeased with your comments about him - the staff is very loyal to Diluc. Of course they would be, he’s their employer and he treats them way better than most people of his status. You’re pretty sure he pays them pretty well on top of that - considering the servant houses are well constructed and well kept. "It cannot be helped."

"Sure," you simply agree, not wanting to anger the one that is in charge of quite...literally everything in the household that Diluc doesn't oversee. "But perhaps he could make time in his busy schedule for me?"

"One could only hope." Adelinde says. "Perhaps you'd like to entertain yourself with other means?" It's a polite way of kicking you out of her kitchen.

You grab an extra apple and head out. Diluc is in his study - you're surprised that he's stationed himself there. You're even more surprised when he looks up at you.

"You missed breakfast and lunch." you say, after a long stretch of silence. A small part of you wonders if you'd be having children right now if you had a husband who actually wanted to be at your side, instead of carrying an apple in your hand. "Have you eaten?"

Diluc regards you for a moment, before glancing at the small plate with crumbs of some confectionery on it and an empty tea cup.

"...At some point." he says as he looks back down at his papers.

You set the uneaten apple down on his desk.

"We apparently have an overabundance of apples," you inform him with a small smile. "Do your part and eat some then."

Diluc stares at it as if he's never seen an apple before. "Right," he says, after a moment. "Right. Yes. Thank you." The way he says your name sounds lovely but strange, like he's sounding it out. "There's a target range outside."

You quirk a brow and head out.

The target range is simple - it resembles something the Hilichurls would use, but you can at least practice your aim.

Your evening goes quietly - Diluc joins you for dinner again. Tonight it's your favorite meal.

"How come you don't go to Mondstadt anymore?"

Huh? You look at him with surprise.

"Well, I guess...I don't know. Most of my friends are married and have kids or like, moved." Because if you saw your parents, you might cry is the real answer.

"The maids tell me you're bored." You're likely to become the tale of a poltergeist haunting the Ragvnidr mansion, a tale for the children to tell for ages to come. "You can get a job in the city if you'd like. Come work at the Angel's Share."

"With you?"

His face tinges red and he clears his throat. "Maybe."

"How 'bout the Cat's Tail?"

A silence. A grumble.

"If you must." Diluc sounds resigned at the thought - you, however, find yourself wanting to work with the cats at that cute tavern but you wouldn’t actually do that to Diluc, regardless of the current standing you’re both in. You’re not even sure what kind of work you want to do, but bar work doesn’t sound all that great for you (or a match). You decide to let him think you’re willing to work with the competition.

It's in the middle of the night when you're woken up to something - a sound. You've always been a light sleeper and the Manor is always so silent at this hour. There's some shifting, you let out a breath when you feel a familiar but comforting sense of energy around you.

When you fully wake up, you're met with your Vision at your bedside. It flows with familiarity, glowing when you touch it. The Electrical element gives you more energy than you thought you’d ever imagine-

You'd received it in your teens and your mother confiscated it from you. She claimed you had no need for it - someone like you does not deserve it. After all, Visions are only for people who are worthy and who are you to believe you're worthy of such a blessing?

How?

You wonder if Adelinde had quietly dropped it off or if -

Would he? Diluc? The man who can barely stand being in the same room as you? Hardly. Maybe an Archon chose to give it back to you.

With energy that you haven't had in ages, you dress and head down for breakfast. Diluc is there.

"Good morning," he says, barely glancing at you. His face is tinged red again.

"What a lovely surprise," you say. "Truly blessed by the Archons today to see my husband."

He makes a soft 'hmph' sound. "Were you not complaining about never seeing me?"

"I'm glad you came."

Diluc gives no answer.

He heads to Mondstadt Proper, offering you a chance to come along - but you decline. You'd rather practice what you were blessed with. Also, you’re not really up for seeing anybody you know at the moment - you’d rather not field questions on what it’s like to be married to the Diluc Ragnvinidr. Sure, it’s bragging rights but neither of you even share a bed and barely speak to one another as is.

He is back by lunch.

And you are a bit singed - bruised but energetic from practicing with your Electro Vision. It glows at your side.

Diluc looks pleased.

"You seem happier these days." Adelinde says as you enter the kitchen for your daily snack of the never ending abundance of apples. They even taste sweeter. "Have you told the Master to stop ordering these apples for you?"

"I prefer that they become part of our nightmares," you answer her with a small shrug. Adelinde gives you an odd look. "'sides, they're an alright snack." 

You snag one extra one and bid her a quick goodbye as you head to Diluc's office. As before, you set the apple down for him to eat.

This time, you stay.

"Is there something you need?"

"Thank you."

"Whatever for?"

So, you gesture to the Vision that hangs at your side. “If you brought this to me, thank you.” Diluc peeks at it and says nothing. “The apples too, but the maids seem displeased with those.” He shifts uncomfortably. “Am I bothering you?”

“No.” he answers, tensely. “I’m just…don’t worry about it. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.” Silence falls over you, and you look everywhere but at him as he pointedly stares at his desk. “Um-”

“So why are you ordering an over abundance of apples?”

“Do you not like them? I can order something else. Sunseittas, those fruits from Fontaine, anything-”

“N-no, they’re fine.” You force out, interrupting him before Diluc works himself into some sort of anxiety induced panic attack. “They’re perfect, thank you.” You need to learn to put your foot down, but you didn’t want to accidentally upset him and think you hated how kind he was, even if the apples were a bit much. Hopefully Adelinde will talk to him instead.

–

It's been a week since the two of you have last exchanged any sort of conversation or words - the schedule went back to relatively normal. He’s there for breakfast, lunch, and dinner now - sometimes, there’s an uncomfortable invitation for tea and no conversation to flow with it. You find yourself wondering if Diluc even knows what he wants at this point, even when you try to better engage with him, he seems to barely meet your eyes this days and barely responds so you tend to dominate the conversation.

“Is something wrong, Diluc?” you finally ask, during afternoon tea, one day. He’d barely touched his own tea and his eyes lowered with shame on his beautiful face. “Did something happen?”

“No,” he says, after a moment and clears his throat. “My apologies, I was daydreaming, that’s all.”

“About me?” You tease, unable to help the fact you noticed how he looked at you earlier - with this strange look of longing and hunger. But he always acts as if there is a barrier between the two of one, and if he broke that barrier…of what might happen afterwards. You have to swallow a giggle when his face goes redder and he looks away. “Wait - really?”

“M-my apologies. It seems I have some important matters to get to.”

Now it’s your turn to be red faced and shying away - watching as Diluc walks away before you can muster up the bravery to call out to him to come back.

What a great start to your marriage, you think sarcastically as you wander the halls again - confused as to what to do. It’s been what, two months? Since the two of you got married now. Something like that, and what looked like behavior starting to change for the better, was now becoming a problem again. You let out a heavy sigh and sit down on a bench in the garden, burying your face in your hands. Maybe this marriage really is a sham - maybe you could get a divorce, no harm, no foul. Nobody would blame you for that, right? Or him.

You do not go down for dinner that night - feeling way too humiliated over what had happened between the two of you. It takes a week to be brave enough to be in the same vicinity as him, or well, you would be but your husband isn’t anywhere to be seen. With a sigh, you decide to venture out on your own for a while, armed with the wooden bow that’s intended more for practice than actual self defense and some arrows. It isn’t like there are any hilichurls or treasure hoarders who linger nearby or even in the vicinity of the Dawn Winery. 

As you wander along the shore of the riverbank behind the Winery, you find yourself lost in your own thoughts - puzzling together the enigma that is your husband. He avoids you sometimes, and a lot of the time, doesn’t seem to know what to do with you, as if he’s surprised you’re there whenever he sees you. You know you can be pretty shy, but this man takes it to another level. You know Diluc had suffered a tragic loss or two, and you know he can be pretty closed off and rough around the edges, but this feels just ridiculous.

You pluck flowers as you go along - Calla Lily’s, Lamp Grass, really, whatever catches your eye. You figure you could spruce up your room some with decorations, now that it’s been bare for close to five months. It’s not as if you’re forbidden from decorating, it’s just that you haven’t felt like it just in case something happened within your marriage that would ruin that time and effort.

When dusk hits the horizon, you finally force yourself to trek back to the manor, flowers in one hand, your makeshift weapon in the other. As the manor appears in your sights, you decide you won’t go inside just yet - though you’re sure everyone is worried about your disappearance, you don’t particularly care right now.

Diluc is sitting on a stone bench in the garden, his eyes downcast and a small frown on his face and you stop dead in your tracks. You can’t help but think of how beautiful he looks with the sun setting behind him, casting soft hues on his face, his red hair down and waving with the soft winds. Beautiful but sad.

“Hey.” you greet, finally catching his attention.

“Where have you been?” he asks, quickly getting to his feet. “You left and you didn’t say anything to anyone, I thought you were hurt!”

“Sorry, Master Diluc,” you say, sheepishly. “I just went for a walk and lost track of time.” Diluc reaches out, as if he wants to touch you and hug you but withdraws just as quickly. He clears his throat. “I’m sorry, I should have said something.”

You hold the flowers you had plucked from your impromptu adventure.

“Some flowers because everyone deserves flowers.” You echo something from the past and his beautiful red eyes widen for a moment. “Remember? You said that to me once. So here, some flowers because I think you need some.”

Tentatively, he reaches out, accepting them from your outstretched hand. Your face, you realize, is red and not because it’s sunburned.

“Thank you.” he murmurs. You remember, once, that Adelinde had mentioned he likes Lamp Grass.

–

Diluc puts any flowers you give him in vases that sit in the best spots in the manor - you’d found that he really likes to receive them as gifts, so you go out of your way to find them out in the wild and present them to him like a dog presenting the fruits of its hunt. He always looks much happier when he receives these flowers, and the manor looks a bit better too - the artwork, you always thought was a bit bleak (but never said anything because apparently Master Crepus painted some of them) and the whole place just needs more color.

He stays around now, to talk to you or to be around you even if neither of you talk. It feels normal, like what a normal, married couple would do. But maybe the two of you just aren’t normal - he most certainly isn’t.

Sometimes, Diluc leaves for the city in the evenings and always says that it’s a night shift at the tavern so Charles can have a night off or two. You don’t think much of it, so long as you can actually see your husband more frequently, he still has his job to do.

It’s late, and you haven’t even considered going to bed yet - despite having taken a bath and switching into a nightgown because summer nights in Mondstadt are hot and you’re a bit too absorbed into the book you’d been reading since after dinner time. So, you’re slung on the couch, with a blanket on your lap and legs (sliding off, of course) as you get more and more engrossed in the mystery romance that you’d found in Diluc’s library. The downpour of the rain outside only adds to the ambience and it makes you quite sleepy.

Neither of you were sure when the Master of the house was going to be home, so when it came close to midnight, you insisted that Adelinde head to bed. You’re Diluc’s spouse, after all, you can greet him and take care of him when he gets home. There was a moment where the head maid looked like she was going to argue this with you, but she’d decided against it. It’s about two in the morning when you’re falling asleep, half slipping off the couch yourself when you hear the front door open a bit louder than usual. This startles you from your sleep, and you get up, making your way to see who has the audacity and the bravery to try to break into the manor.

“Diluc?!” you gasp as you rush forward, trying to quell the Electro energy that had been surging in you, ready to attack. He looks like a pathetic wet cat at this moment, hair sopping wet and sticking to his face, clothes just as drenched, his clothes askew and torn, he smells a bit burned. “Are you okay?” Your arm is already snaking around him, and he can’t even look at you. “Archons, you’re warm. C’mon, let’s get you upstairs and in bed.”

“I’m -” he stutters out. Clears his throat. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” You answer, a bit more snappishly than intended. He doesn’t fight you as you help him up the winding staircase and down the hall - into the master bedroom. “What happened?”

“I got caught in the downpour is all.” he says, still unable to meet your gaze. You’re already working to unbutton his shirt to make sure he isn’t injured anywhere that you can’t see. There’s a few bruises and welts forming on his body. “H-hey, I said I’m fine.”

“Why won’t you let me help you?” You ask, pulling away - feeling more hurt and exasperated than you think you should be. “Diluc, I’m your wife and you won’t even look at me.” Despite your words, he’s doing his best to look everywhere but at you. “Diluc, look at me.”

Carefully, he lifts his gaze to yours - his eyes are so enticing. His face is a little bit red, and you think you catch his eyes drifting downward for a moment before meeting your own eyes again.

“What happened?” You prompt.

“I got caught in the downpour.” Diluc answers, simply. “There was a - there was a treasure hoarder lurking outside of Mondstadt’s walls.”

“You got into a fight?”

“Yes, but I’m fine. They aren’t worth much energy or attention.” You sigh and rub your forehead. “It’s just a little bit of rain, I’m honestly more lucky you didn’t try to electrocute me.” It’s an attempt at a joke, one where he’s forcing a smile but you can’t bring yourself to return it. “I…I don’t know what you want me to say or do.”

“As long as you’re okay.” you tell him, finally resigned. “It’s late, we both should go to bed. Um…Adelinde will lose her mind tomorrow when she sees you tracked mud on her clean floors but I’ll take the blame for that.” You bid him a quick good night, turning to leave him to his own devices if he doesn’t actually need your help.

“Hey, wait.” His voice is slightly strained. Your hand is on the brass knob and you look over at him, watching as he gets up and takes a few strides towards you. Before you could ask what he needs, his lips brush up against yours for a brief moment. The kiss is soft and he breaks away after a moment, his thumb caressing your cheek. You tilt your head to the side, trying to comprehend what he just did. “I’m sorry.” He mumbles. “I should have asked.”

“So ask.” You whisper, feeling oddly cheeky.

He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing as he does so. He clears his throat, a nervous habit of his. “Then, may I kiss you again?”

“Yes.” You murmur and he pulls you in for another kiss, this time more certain - needier. You find yourself melting into his touch, leaning against him as the two of you make it back to his bed. Clothes start to scatter around, his skin is weirdly dry to the touch (and you attribute it to his Pyro vision) but lovely anyways. There’s scars all over his body, your eyes rake over the muscle and old injuries, you start to ask him what happened but he stops you with another searing kiss. Tongue in mouth, teeth nipping at your lips. Soon, those lips, that hot mouth, find their way to your neck - biting and sucking.

But he always stops short of going down further, looking at you with hunger, looking unhinged with those red eyes and wild red hair and the soft glow of the candlelight. Your body aches with need.

“I wish to touch you.” he whispers.

“So touch me.” you breathe. That seems to be all he needs for him to remove those damn gloves, tossing them to the side. Teeth graze at a nipple, making you gasp and arch as his hand teases your other nipple. Lips move down further and further, searing kisses with soft bites that follow, and he tries to get every inch of your skin.

“So beautiful,” he breathes and gently bites your hip bone. Diluc kisses the area above your pubic bone, before moving to kiss along your thighs - teeth digging in deeper and he stops his ministrations right before hitting the spot you want him to focus on. Your eyes lock together. Your heart skips a beat when he bends down and presses his lips against your clit, tenderly kissing at your wet cunt and you gasp. His tongue pokes out, giving your slit a curious lick before diving right in.

His lips and tongue work at you as if he were a starving man - the noises that escape you are lewd and embarrassing as he licks and sucks, a finger slowly working at your entrance. You gasp when he presses a finger inside of you - it’s bigger and thicker than your own, and you can’t help but squirm at the intrusion. Much to your dismay, he pulls away from your soaking cunt to look up at you, his face a mess.

“Are you okay?” his voice is raspy and he’s definitely drunk on your pussy. His face is about as red as his hair at this point, he’s panting slightly and oh, he looks more like a demon of temptation than anything sweet or angelic. Want is etched on every bit of his features and your slick shines on his lips.

“Just - ah - unused to the feeling.”

“Mm,” he gives your clit a lick and you gasp, tightening around the appendage that gently presses in a bit further. “Tell me if I hurt you.” At your nod, he dives right back in - and he slowly adds in another finger and you whine, your fingers finding perch in his soft, but soaked hair. He pays that no mind as he starts to move his fingers in and out, slowly stretching you until he curves them upwards and - oh. You see stars.

“Diluc!” You moan out, grinding against him now. “Fuck.” You’re pretty sure he’s probably grinning to himself. He continues to eat you out and fuck you with his fingers until you’ve ridden out your orgasm, and are more of a mess of noises and moans, fingers pulling at his hair.

He pulls away soon enough, and you stare up at him with slight disappointment - your body trembling from your orgasm and the cold air that hits your heated skin. Diluc trails his fingers along your torso, playing with your breasts for a few moments.

“You’re perfect like this.” Diluc murmurs. Unable to properly formulate a reply, all you can do is reach to meet his hands for a brief moment until you find him gripping one of your legs and under your waist, pulling you flush close to him. “Remember to tell me if I hurt you too much.” You nod, watching him give his cock a few pumps, some pre-cum shining at the tip and you can’t help but feel a sense of nervousness. Sure, you’ve had sex with a partner or two before but that still doesn’t alleviate the anticipation or worry, considering his size. “We don’t have to do this.” He tells you, softly.

“I want to.” You murmur. He guides himself to your slick entrance, gently teasing your folds with the head of his cock for a moment, watching in delight as your eyes close and you push yourself closer, trying to encourage him. Once his head penetrates, you can’t help but reach to grip his arm. He shifts, gently pushing himself in, inch by inch, and your hands finally find each other. Soon enough, Diluc’s bottomed out - your legs on either side of his waist as his hands hold yours down on the bed. And oh, you feel so full - stretched out on his cock.

He stays still for a few minutes, peppering your face and neck with kisses as he whispers words of affirmation - before slowly pulling out and pushing back in. He keeps a slow pace at first, watching your face and kissing you whenever you look like you’re about to cry out.

“So wet for me,” he breathes against your ear. “So good for me.” And those words go straight to your cunt, clenching around him. “Look at you, so needy for me.” Archons, you wonder what else you can get him so say in that tone. Maybe even filthier things.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders and you cling as he continues to fuck you - your second orgasm hitting you as hard as your first, this time you let out a shrill sound and a sob, your nails digging into his back. You think you hear him let out a hiss at that, but you don’t care as you dig your teeth into his shoulder to try to muffle your cries. There’s a taste of copper in your mouth so you let go, giving the bite wound an apologetic kiss.

“Mine.” he groans out, pace quickening. “Ah - I’m gonna -” His thrusts become harder, deeper and your legs lock around his waist as he bites and sucks at your throat, leaving hickies in his wake. He groans as he cums, his pace slowing down to shallow thrusts - the wet noises filling the air. Your muscles feel weak as your legs slowly free him, his cock finally slipping out - followed by a mess of his cum. Your arms fall away as well and much like before, his hands find yours as he kisses you, deeply. He shifts a bit so he isn’t caging you.

The kiss breaks, a string of saliva hangs between both your lips and he looks at you with want - like he could easily go another round.

“We should get you cleaned up,” he murmurs, shifting to get up. “Do you need anything?” You reach out, catching his arm before he can actually get up and off the bed.

“Just…lay with me for a while.” Diluc looks at the mess you both made - or well, mostly him - with a sheepish and slightly ashamed look but he lays down next to you. “I just want to be next to you.”

“Okay,” he murmurs and nuzzles the crown of your head. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He’s silent for a moment and you open your eyes. “Diluc, for what?”

“Avoiding you.” There’s some shame in his voice. “I-you don’t know how long I’ve been wanting you but couldn’t have you.”

“And why not?” you prompt as you sit up. “We’re married, aren’t we?”

“Well yes but -” he pauses for a moment, as if thinking. “I figured you hated me or resented me for our…arrangement. I didn’t want to impose.” You stare at Diluc, slightly stunned. “I know I sound ridiculous, but I would have thought you’d be against an arranged marriage. I remember when we were kids and you were telling everyone you’d never get married, that you were going to join the Adventurer’s Guild and become a famous adventurer.”

You snort. “You remember that?”

“Of course I do. You know, we were introduced when we were young, and when father said that the two of us were going to be married, you told him straight to his face that you’d never marry a boy.” Diluc lets out a soft sigh.

You snort back your laughter. “Did that upset you?”

“N-no.” He lets out a soft laugh. “I wish we’d been able to speak more while growing up but…I was busy. I think the last time we actually ever interacted was at some ball or party, you were crying over something and…”

“You gave me flowers.” you finish, quietly. “I remember that very distinctly. Honestly, you made my night way better for that. I’m surprised you remember that moment.”

Diluc frowns at you. “Of course I do. Father actually had a few choice words to your mother about making you cry like that.” He lets out a soft breath. “I actually went off out of the city to find the perfect flowers to give to you in hopes that it’d cheer you up. I…was lucky you hadn’t already left the city when I got back.”

“Thank you, Diluc,” you murmur. “Really.”

A comfortable quiet lapses between the two of you - his fingers stroking your hair. You could fall asleep like this. “If you still want to join the Adventurer’s Guild, I would not be opposed to it.” He finally says, quietly. “Or if you want to work in the city - it isn’t uncommon these days, and I fear your family was a bit too traditionalist in how they raised you.”

“Maybe.” you mumble. “I could work at the Cat’s Tail, give you a bit of trouble.”

He leans down and kisses you on the lips. “I’d much prefer you joining the Guild.” he murmurs against your lips. “I might even have bragging rights if you get better at not breaking my weapons that you get your hands on.”

“Hmm, I’ll consider it.” You curl up close to him, your eyes drooping shut. You feel him relax and rest next to you, his breath warm. “Diluc?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.” You feel him kiss the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his hair tickling you as he does.

“I love you too, my flame.”

[fallingdownhell]

Genshin Impact

SFW Posts

When someone is talking down to you (with Diluc, Ayato and Tighnari)

Of broken Promises Part 1 Part 2

Decisions to be made - Kaeya x Reader

They ask "Who hurt you?" (with Tighnari; Wanderer; Kazuha and Xiao)

Sweet, sweet Revenge (Cheater!Diluc x Reader)

Your best friend tries to make them dump you:

Part 1: Alhaitham; Kaveh; Cyno; Tighnari; Wanderer

Part 2: Ayato; Kaeya; Diluc; Childe; Zhongli

Part 3: Itto; Gorou

Anemo Users as a "pseudo family" headcanons

Comfort headcanons for depression with Alhaitham and Kaveh

When you write them little notes (with Alhaitham; Kaveh; Cyno; Tighnari and Wanderer)

Comfort Poly Relationship: Cyno x Reader x Tighnari

Headcanons on Poly Relationship with Diluc and Tartaglia

Comfort for academic stress: Thoma x Reader

Relationship headcanons (with Diluc; Kaeya; Tighnari and Wanderer)

When you tell Dad jokes with him: Cyno x Reader

Headcanons on Poly Relationship with Ayato and Kaeya

When they wake up before you (with Venti; Heizou; Kazuha; Xiao and Wanderer)

You take care of a sick Tighnari

You get into an argument with them about their work

Part 1: Albedo; Cyno; Alhaitham; Kazuha

Part 2: Tighnari; Wanderer; Heizou

When you sing in the shower (with Cyno; Tighnari; Alhaitham and Kaveh)

You pluck their "First grey hair" (with Itto; Kaveh; Zhongli and Kazuha)

They are dealing with separation anxiety (with Xiao; Wanderer; Tighnari and Diluc)

When you are a Water Dragon (with Diluc; Xiao; Zhongli and Ayato)

You pamper them with a massage (with Childe; Xiao and Zhongli)

You and Tighnari adopt Collei together

You ask them "Do I look fat?" (with Cyno; Kaeya and Wanderer)

You walk in on them cheating on you (with Ayato; Heizou; Kazuha and Gorou)

When someone is talking down on them (with Diluc; Kaeya; Alhaitham; Zhongli)

They forget about your birthday (with Diluc and Kaeya)

Part 1

Part 2

Pen pals getting together: Cyno x Reader x Tighnari

When they find out your sister is the favoured child in the family

Part 1: Heizou; Thoma; Alhaitham

Part 2: Kaeya; Dainsleif; Baizhu

Part 3: Wanderer; Xiao; Tighnari

You compliment them while drunk (with Tighnari; Cyno; Alhaitham; Kaveh and Wanderer)

You feel neglected by them (with Kazuha; Heizou and Venti)

You and Alhaitham teasing poor Kaveh

They are oblivious to your flirting (with Tighnari; Cyno; Alhaitham and Kaveh)

They are getting possessive when someone is flirting with you (with Tighnari; Cyno; Kaveh and Xiao)

Both of you forget it's your birthday: Diluc x Reader

You forgot to wear your glasses to class (with Tighnari; Cyno; Alhaitham and Kaveh)

You're hugging them from behind (with Alhaitham; Kaveh; Kaeya and Zhongli)

You're falling asleep on their shoulder (with Scaramouche; Kazuha; Kaveh and Alhaitham)

You giving them a massage (with Kaveh and Alhaitham)

Archons with Dragon!Reader: platonic headcanons (with Venti; Zhongli and Nahida)

Dancing in the rain with them (with Alhaitham and Kaveh)

Tighnari with a Shinobu Kocho like s/o

You are a people pleaser (with Tighnari; Cyno; Kaveh; Alhaitham and Wanderer)

You argue with them about your strenght (with Xiao and Wanderer)

Complimenting them while drunk (with Diluc; Xiao and Thoma)

They find out you have a delusion (with Kaeya; Diluc; Zhongli and Childe)

Randomly calling them "Teyvat's Beauty King" (with Wanderer; Itto; Thoma and Kaveh)

Hugging a Chibi Plushy of them (with Kaeya; Childe; Cyno and Kaveh)

Ayato x Reader: Hanahaki AU/Arranged Marriage

You're Kaveh's younger sibling and they are crushing on you (with Tighnari and Cyno)

They see your trained body for the first time (with Childe; Kazuha and Alhaitham)

Headcanons on Poly Relationship with Alhaitham and Kaveh

You having a panic attack when hearing them argue with someone (with Diluc; Kaveh and Ayato)

They comfort you after a nightmare (with Diluc and Kaeya)

You're getting shrunk (with Tighnari; Cyno; Alhaitham; Kaveh and Wanderer)

Headcanons on Poly Relationship with Ayato and Childe

You have crazy good luck (with Itto; Cyno; Zhongli and Kaveh)

You are a Vampire (with Neuvillette; Diluc and Heizou)

You're breaking up with them (with Aether; Dainsleif and Kaeya)

They are defending you (with Cyno; Dehya and Childe)

You have selective mutism (with Xiao and Alhaitham)

They are your best friend and get jealous when you get gifts on Valentine's day (with Tighnari; Cyno; Kaveh; Alhaitham and Wanderer)

They ask if you would choose them or the world (with Neuvillette; Diluc; Kaeya and Zhongli)

Headcanons about Cyno as your boyfriend

Calling them by their full name (with Kazuha; Ayato; Diluc and Kaeya)

NSFW Posts (MINORS PLEASE DON'T INTERACT!!)

Top!Xiao x Bottom!Female!Reader

When you sit on their face (with Tighnari; Heizou; Xiao and Dainsleif)

They are going through a rut without you (with Itto; Gorou and Tighnari)

Bottom!Yoimiya x Top!Female!Reader

Top!Zhongli x Bottom!Female!Reader: First Time Smut

Bottom!Puppy Hybrid!Reader with an early heat (with Zhongli and Diluc)

Top!Wanderer x Bottom!Reader

Breakup Sex headcanons (with Kazuha; Diluc and Neuvillette)

Sub!Neuvillette x Dom!Female!Reader

[urlovebrini]

arranged marriage with alhaitham

⋆❀ — includes: alhaitham x fem! reader

⋆❀ — content: arranged marriage, alhaitham is bad at feelings, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, little miscommunication, you are a sunshine, he calls you nymph, little age gap, alhaitham is like 27 and you are like 20/21 its not mentioned in the writing but he calls you little, sfw but there will be a second part with the nsfw, i love arranged marriage i can't help myself, maybe little occ alhaitam at the end but his in love, smirking alhaitham is in my mind all the time

⋆❀ — a/n: hello sorry for the disappearance, but you know life happens, i don't promise that i will be so active, but will try to write more things. i tried not to go into the story too much, especially in the beginning and get to the good part of the drama, angst and romance, tell me what you think, if you like it maybe I'll think about enlarging it on ao3, i will do a follow up with the nsfw and this is a part of a serie so next character is ayato.

⋆❀ — arranged marries series: ayato | tartaglia | diluc

⋆❀˖°·࿐ ࿔ alhaitham

he knew about arranged marriages, in reality, they were pretty common in sumeru society, when the grand majority of people were putting all their minds and time into the endless pursuit of knowledge there was little time for romance and love all that fairy tale things were out of the equation of the people lives. alhaitham was no exception to the rule, in fact, he cared so little about the idea of infatuation and romance that it didn't cross his mind at all, not until his old grandma told him, that she had found an adequate and nice girl to be his bride.

the truth was, he didn't care at all, he could have refused with good reasons, in reality, he liked being alone, it was easier, lets complications meant more accomplishments. but if the girl didn't bother him and let him be with his studies and do his things, he didn't see the problem with accepting the marriage. so the preparations begin

the first time he met you, alhaitham didn't know what to make about you. you were a pretty young girl, he could appreciate that, a nice smile, bright eyes, and a cheerful disposition. you seemed so far away from the common world. you looked nervous but he could tell you had what people seemed to categorize as a sweet personality. it was a little eerie looking at you, so nice and cheerful, with a fitting lilac dress… and your eyes met his, a smile on your face, he could only nod in acknowledgement, but your smile grew more as you talked with a friend excitedly. so contrasting.  

in the days leading to the wedding, he discovered some things about you, it resulted, you were an ex akademiya student, and you had a decent academic record, but for some reason, you decided not to follow the academic path. all the times he saw you, it seemed like you always were happy, with a smile, and going to one place and another, you had a liveness in you. one day you asked him something maybe it was about the flowers, maybe it was about the cake he could only answer the true 《he didn't care》 something seemed to change in your expression but you nodded not the less. you seemed like you wanted to tell something more, so he observed you; you were in another dress it was white but it had lilac ornaments. with all the people you talked to, you smiled, he was surprised your face didn't hurt at this point. 

and the wedding day came. it was lively, decorated with care, rainbow roses and paradises hung over chandeliers, and the bride, you looked eerie in the bridal dress, your always present smile shining and brightening the room, and your eyes looking at him almost like searching for something. alhaitham was stoic as always, but even he felt his breath taken away at your sign. for you almost all seemed unreal, you were getting married, his face was serious like always, and you were searching for something, something in him that could tell you that this was going to work. you wanted to believe that there was some curiosity behind his eyes, it all felt helpless but you hoped. 

the ceremony was quick, nothing special in particular, traditional rites and votes, it was like a trance it finished almost as it started, and the wedding continued with the fest and the party, and especially the first dance you smile at him, but he didn't say anything, his face with the same expression, you didn't know what you were waiting but it was something, maybe at 《you look beautiful》 but you would be conformed with an 《the weather is nice》 in that moment. 

alhaitham was in his seat of honour, he was watching you dazzling with some girls, your cousins he believed you said? but in a strange way, you seemed in your element, he couldn't keep his eyes out of you, you were an enchantress, it was not natural, the sweetness, the brightness, the way you flow in your moves, he was there with you some hours ago, the first dance, it was brief, as he only wanted to go to his place and end all this, and you seemed distracted, he remembers you asked about the decorations “they are fine, i guess” he answered, you smile seemed to felt for a second and came back almost immediately, averting your gaze he could her you murmur “the rainbow rose is one of my favourite flowers, all people say they are pink but sometimes they seem lilac to me, and the colour is pretty, and the meaning…”  alhaitham looked at you waiting for you to continue talking in the dance "it can symbolize several things" you said quickly to look away as if wanting to avoid something, alhaitam decided not to pressure if you wanted to say something you would say it he tought. 

and now he was watching you dance, laughing, and dazzling, you asked him if he wanted to dance more, but he refused, “im comfortable here, thank you” was his short answer, something shifted in your face, but as you enjoy your time it seemed left past. and as he looked at you a single word could only describe you, nymph, he thought, an ethereal nymph, that bewitched all the room. 

the day ended, and the moment came, time to go to alhaitham house, no, your new house you remember yourself, the way was silent, but he seemed comfortable with that, so you stayed silent. he looked as always, with the same expression, he was now your husband, and you were in way to his home, no, in way to your home. as you passed the portal, the place seemed nice, but you couldn't help to feel disappointed, there were no laughs, no bridal carry, and there was so much silence. 

he looked at you seeing the place, you seemed lost, like a deer in bright lights, you watched him walk to a door and clear his throat “there is an extra set of keys in the kitchen that you can take tomorrow, this is the bedroom you can refresh and make yourself comfortable” you enter the room it was nice and big, but it seemed lonely? “someone of your family brought somethings of yours these last days, all is in the boxes so you can accommodate the how you want” you nodded your head, what you can say in this moments? “that door leads to the bathroom, the other one is the closet” you looked at him maybe hopping that he say something more but he didn't.

when you came out of the shower after bathing and putting in one of the pajamas one cousin gave you joking that with that you could even conquist a god, it was pretty, but it made you feel shy. the bedroom was alone, alhaitham was not in sign, and all seemed to be in so much silence, you carefully get out of the bedroom looking for alhaitham, the house was dark, but there was a dim light coming out from a door, opening the door slowly, you saw what it seems to be the study room, alhaitham was there in an soffa, bathed and in comfortable clothes. his eyes looked at you quickly only to return his gaze to the pages of the book "there is something you need?" the question came in surprise, how you answer that? "i was just wondering a little... and didnt saw you" you answered as he changed the page, with out apparting his eyes from the words in the book he said "yes i came to finish some reports, and continue with my reading" you could saw that, but in the wedding night? you were hopping maybe you could talk more, try to know each other. you didn't knew what to answer and he seemed that had little interest in conversation, so you only nodded and walked to the bedroom. and as you lied in bed your thoughts seemed to spiral in what is to come.

the light wake you and you woke up alone with the other side of the bed, almost intact, it seemed like he sleep in the studio. you get up of the bed and walked only to saw alhaitham already dressed up and drinking his morning coffee. he looked at you briefly "there is some coffee left, but you can make whatever" you looked at him with keys in his hand, he was leaving? today? "are you going out" tried to sound as casual as possible, "yes" he said and didn't give more explanation as you looked him going to the door only to stop "oh i am going to the akademiya, have somethings to do" he saw you giving him an small smile, your hair was messy of the sleep, and if he looked more down, well in reality yes you were beautiful "when you arrive?".

"don't know, so don't worry about that" was the last words he said, and you were alone. the rest of the day you just accommodated your things, and recieved the wedding gifts, you were curious, but decided to wait for alhaitham, maybe it could be a chance to talk, and past time together. the house seemed nice, but it felt solitary almost like a chell, just some place to rest and store things. and there were a lot of books, all academic and of a lot of subjects, maybe you should ask your mother of bringing you your novels. but even if there was something you wanted to read, your mind were wondering about the man that lived in the house, maybe he was just nervous you were too, he was polite, maybe it was cuestion of time, maybe you just needed time.

time passed, day by day, and as time goes bye, things seem to stay the same. that first day when he arrive you commented him about the gifts, you were excited but all semmed to faint when he answered "i think you can check them and sortem alone" you tried to smile to him "you don't want to look at them" his only response was "no its fine, trust in you" so you opened your wedding gifts alone, in a house that you felt will never be yours.

and as time still went , week by week, things didn't seem to change, the feelings of rejection were groing, he was not bad, he was not good, you think the only answer was that he wasnt, you tried to stay positive, tried to stay optimistic, but it was waiting on you, the house feeled strange, and you couldnt balance yourself in this eviroment that semmed so far away for you. he was not cruel, so there was nothing you could complain about. you only feel lonely.

you started to fall in routine or so you believed, only half of the time you could wake before of him and doing a breakfast he always say "its not necessary" and after that alone time, sometimes you will get out and go with some friend to talk or eat something, and every fifteen days in saturday, you visited your family, alone. they didnt ask, your father talked things about the akademiya, you found out about the changes there, even if your husband was the grand scribe.

at the beginning you took advantage of the house alone, to dance and sing, and just move yourself, you were alone soo you say to yourself that you could made a fool of yourself, unknowngly of the little times alhaitham catch you, dancing and singing in the kitchen or common room, for him it was a little fascinating but he would never comment something about that, but he would smile to himself, you were a nymph he tought is obvious that dance is in you second nature. but as time passed you danced every time less, you didn't feel motivation to sign, and you almost not feel like yourself.

alhaitham moved towards his own things, all within his space, you didn't knew his colleagues, or friends? only one Kaveh he was fine, but commonly it was only bickering between him and alhaitham. all made you feel invisible. more when people when people at the akademiya, were surprised that alhaitham was married. only one time you went to the akademiya to leave him something he had left behind, and the way some akademics treat you, thats what you left in the first place, but why nobody new alhaitham was married? so invisible you were. all more feel lonely.

if someone asked you what alhaitham was to you, and if you would tell the true, the only answer was 《 a ghost, an spirit that just lives there, and you know that is there, is not an evil one but either a good one, he is just a ghost i live within this walls, of a place that seems unknow to me, a ghost that don't disturbs, it almost difficult to feel his presence but you know is there, and don't matter what you try, you can never recognize him, talk to him, comprehend him, you could never recognize his will. in the end the ghost is just part of the place, but you also are becoming just a part of the house, a wallflower of life 》

alhaitham noted your change, the energy, the life and the bright in your eyes, faded everyday, for several days now he didn't catch you signing or dancing like before, and now the brief chitchat that you had when your ate, was more brief, being now him the one to talk more, he observe you, you didn't seem sick, you looked tired, and you body sometimes trembled, he saw your hands they had injuries from cleaning, the last days, you seemed a little obsessed with that everything where clean he told you, that it was not necesary, that all were spotless but you said you prefered so he let you be, but he couldn't saw you hurt.

so after dinner he enter the bedroom, you were there with that pajamas more akin to a babydoll, you seemed lost reading a book but in reality not reading "you hurt yourself" was the thing that he said, and take you out of your trance, without letting you answer, he took your hand and began to put ointment on it and bandage it. your eyes round looked at him, but as always he just discussed what is in hand "i'm going to hide the cleaning products, if you keep going, you can't be hurt, understood?" he saw you, and you looked so helpless there, hair let down, pink babydoll, and eyes wide like a doe, nooding to answer to him "fine" he couldn't look you more so he looked briefly at the book in your hands, a novel. "not more cleaning, now rest" he left with a word more.

when you wakeup the next morning the house were alone, but there was tea waiting for you, and a fiction book in the table. when alhaitham arrived home an smile face was painted in his face as he saw you reading the book he left for you, without a world he put a candy box in the bureau and left to the studyroom.

alhaitham missed the shine in your smile, and your cheerfulness, but he could spotit sometimes everytime you looked at a new book, or saw a desert, even somethings so simple like flowers made you smile. so everyday without a word he let something for you, first only the thing and after that with a little nottee, he feel stupid, but you seemed to smile to the notes.

it was morning, it was strange, you didn't have hopes for the day, this last days, he seemed to disappear for some days only to cameback, an expeditions they where, in reality you didn't coment on it, all ways confused, the tug of war, of your feelings was getting out of crontol. and maybe the thing that made you crazy, was that he looked the same, you belived that you liked stoic man, but not the stoicism in person. in the other side there was his care, the gifts, but there also was the silence and the space. you looked to the vase of flowers with some rainbow roses, that he left there, was he so confusing, you didnt want to fall for him, you didnt want to be the one to get hurt, you were scare, that even after all this time, you felt helpless in his presence.

you wished you could sleep the day away, maybe was the better, so that were the plan of the day, if you sleep, nothing could happen, and life moved without you so it was fine. but after some hours, and some headache you couldn't help to cry, and just cry in the dark room of this house that wasn't your home and hounted your heart.

alhaitham hated sometimes those stupid scolars of the akademiya, he thought as he entered his house, it was dark, it was pretty late, so you must be asleep now, although he sometimes notted how you couldn't sleep at night. alhaitham new things were slow, but he could say they were a little progress, your eyes seemed to shine almost like at the start, and he conversed more with you, when he accepted to get married, he didn't think that he will feel so enchanted for his wife. but you were a nymph in his life, 《 you had bewitched him of body and soul 》 as the corny books you read put it. in the beginning he started distance for him, after that it was for you, and after that it was just a routine of you. but he was restless, all the time he did what he wanted, and say what he wanted, but with you it was different, he wanted you, but he didn't knew what to do now.

he saw the table and frown all was intact since the morning, he made its way to the master bedroom, that seemed almost yours, but in wanting his space and then in not making you uncomfortable, maybe he could change that, his thoughts close as he heard you sniff and cry, it seemed you were almost out of breath and he never felt so shitty in his life like in that moment, he didn't care what people thought of him, but now he care about your thoughts.

you fell him in the room, and telling you something that seemed far away, you tried not to, but you couldn't help of hugging him, of trying to hide yourself in his arms. you thought maybe just for night, he didn't say nothing, and he let you be. so you hide in him, until you felt asleep.

the next morning you wakeup expecting to be alone like always but he was there looking at you. alhaitham couldn't help himself looking you so helpless his hand traveled to your hair, getting it out your face "you know my little wife?" it seemed so surreal almost like a dream, "i have been thinking of the shitty husband i was being and how much i have neglected my marital duties" his voice was low and hoarse of the morning. his hand hold you chin and made you look into his eyes "i wonder if my sweet little wife could forgive me" you were left for word and only form a perfect o with your lips "maybe i should try harder to fulfill my duties as a husband" he smile when the words seemed to fall on you and your eyes shined like when he met you "maybe you should try" your voice were eerie "maybe i should but only if my so sweet wife let me" his face was serious, but you wanted, he was breaking the wall, yes it started with the presents the notes, but this felt real, you only nodded to him, for a reason you felt shy in his gaze.

his voice lowered more as he hold you "nymph you have been so sweet forgiving me, i promise that i will be better for you" there was that smile "you hadn't being that bad, i guest" you wanted to jock a little but you couldnt not know that it all seemed unreal "alhaitham thank you , for the books, and the sweets, and the notes and the flowers, you remembered my favourite flowers" his face was the same serious face of always but there were something in his eyes some shine and a little smirk that was appearing in the corner of his lips "so polite my nymph...."

⋆❀ — a/n: i hope you like this, i am not so sure if i liked it, but is my first long post, so maybe if i do a change will be little and i will warn. i try to stay in alhaitham pov most of the time but the angst is better in the reader's pov, like always asks are open, if you have ideas, or want to comment something. dont know if the next post would be the second part of this or the ayato one. thank you for reading as always. if you had a better name for the tittle its welcome 🌸🍨🪼

⋆❀ — lovelies tags: @oveloof,

[justdecentshawty]

At the end of the day. Chapter:2

You’re the only daughter of a noble family, and get introduced to your future husband for the first time.

^^chapter one

Again thank you for taking your time to read this!

Word count: 1.2k

At last, after a slew of tearful goodbyes from your family, you go on your way to meet him. The whole way you feel anxious, you can only hope your husband is a kind man.

Once you arrive you are escorted to an office. You stay there for a minute before a man walks in. His hair was long and wavy , the shade of red matched the color of eyes. His seemed like a calm and clean man. Even so his hair was messily tied back into a ponytail that flowed down to his lower back. He gazes down at you before he sits down in front of you with a huff.

He hands you a folder of paperwork, still not saying a word. You give him a quick glance before looking at the folder in your hands. “Sir, if you don’t mind me asking.. what is this?” He takes in a deep breath before he looks at you, he speaks in a calm but stern tone. “I want to be honest with you, but I will only say it once so make sure you listen.” You nod silently and wait for him to continue speaking.

He looks away from you while talking. "Let me be clear: even though we are legally married, don't look to me for affection. Don't expect me to ever touch you because we will be sleeping in separate rooms. Just act the part of the wife in public, and at home you are to live quietly." He looks at your face for a reaction before handing you a pen. You take the pen from him, glaring at him the whole time. You put the pen down on the table debating on whether or not you should sign. You sigh and look at him, bringing your hands together. “I mean this in the most respectful way Sir, how in anyway would this contract benefit me?” He abruptly stands up and dusts off his coat. “You are to speak only when spoken to.” he says evenly, his voice calm and stern. “We can discuss that after you sign the papers. Once you sign the papers, you can make as many requests and conditions as you like, but I have a very busy life, and you are not a priority in my life, and will never be. Sign the papers.” Stunned by his long rant you place the pen on the table before silently standing up. “I am going to be your wife, do not speak to me in that way.” You let out a sigh out before leaving the room without another word. You slam the door behind you. The sound of the door being aggressively slammed causes Diluc’s voice to rise higher than before.

"If you think you are going to act in such a way, you are sorely mistaken. I am doing you a favor by agreeing to provide for you for the rest of your life, and this is how you show your gratitude. You have no place speaking to me in such a manner. Learn your place."

He rises calmly before walking into his office and closing the door to continue working.

You were now officially married. After your first meeting with your husband you shut yourself in your room. Rarely coming out other than to eat. Even though you still feel insulted by his words, you couldn’t do anything about it. The daily routines went by as you spent most of the time in your room. From time to time, you'd hear your husband's voice in the other room, barking out orders and speaking to his secretaries. Aside from that, you'd only ever see your husband leaving the house in the morning or arriving in the evening. He had even given you your own bathroom to ensure you didn't ever bump into each other at home.

A few days pass and you begin to feel sick of staying in your room. Craving fresh air, you end up taking a walk in the mansions garden. As you walk around the garden you take in your surroundings. It is a beautiful spring morning, the birds soaring in the sky, the mindless wandering of a butterfly. The view was peaceful and serene. You go ahead and sit down at the fountain in the middle of it all. You spend the next hour and a half just watching it all.

You sat peacefully in the garden, taking in the fresh spring air which is usually so rare to have in the bustling city.

You noticed a figure in the distance standing by a tree. It was slightly blurry but looked a lot like your husband. As he walks up to where you stand you see the most beautiful flower, you slowly bend down to pick it. You bent down to the bushes, picking up a gorgeous flower when suddenly, your husband jumped out from behind you, startling both you and himself.

"Ah! What is your business here!?" he yelled out as he turned to see you in the garden. He looked angry but when he saw you pick up the flower in your hands, his tone softened. "For me?"

You smile a like awkwardly knowing that it wasn’t for him. Nevertheless you hand it to him, not wanting to insult him. You bow your head and begin to walk off farther into the garden. Your husband takes the flower, inspecting it and smiling.

"This is the first time someone has ever given me a gift that isn't work-related. Thank you."

Diluc then turned to see you already too deep in the garden for him to even spot you, so he called out.

"Come here. Please." Thoughts swirl through your head hearing him call for you. Your past experiences with him have been less than pleasant. Still you reluctantly walk over to where he stands. “Is there something you need, sir?”

"Come closer."

He seems to struggle with finding his words. You have never seen him be gentle towards you before.

"I'm...sorry for the way I treat you...I'm just not good at being around people for long periods of time..."

He looks uncomfortable for the first time, yet there is a hint of sincerity in his voice.

You nod trying to understand where he’s coming from, not wanting to upset him you back up one step. “It’s fine, really. You don’t have to apologize, I was out of line for how I reacted to your requests. My behavior was rash and disrespectful.”

Diluc ignores your apology, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out what looks to be a small gift box.

"I...got this for you. I know it's nothing compared to your gift to me but...please accept my offer."

Diluc hands it to you while looking down, unable to bring himself to look at you in the eyes for more than two seconds.

You smile up at him gently taking the box from his hands. “Thank you, you really didn’t have to get me anything.” You open the box. Inside the small black velvet box, there was a beautiful diamond necklace as well as a card that had a handwritten note.

"To my lov...my wife," your husband corrected, "...please have this as a token of our marriage.

Your husband takes a moment, looking for the right words,

"I must admit I've never been the romantic type. This is the best I could do."

You let out a little laugh before looking at the necklace fondly. “It’s perfect, thank you Diluc.” "You're welcome."

Diluc stood there, not knowing when he should go back to work.

"I should get back to work. This necklace should look great on you. You shouldn't take it off once you out it on."

He then starts to walk away slowly before stopping in the doorway briefly.

"I...I'm serious. I don't want to see you wearing any other necklaces, just this one."